Marrying Miss Marshal (8 page)

Was this what Danna looked like in her marshal's clothes?

“Let me out of here!” the girl shouted when she caught sight of Danna and Chas. She stood up from the cot, and Danna got a good look at her dirt-smudged face. She didn't know the girl.

The girl shook the cell door, rattling the metal. “You can't keep me here!”

“You were caught stealing earlier, so yes, we can keep you here.” Chas spoke calmly, ignoring the girl's ire. Again, almost distracted.

Danna turned to him with raised brows. “Which store?”

“Hereford's Grocery. I was walking down the street and caught her myself when she ran out front with a half a ham in her hands.”

Danna walked up to the bars, and the girl backed away. As if she was afraid. “I don't know you,” Danna said quietly, hoping to calm the girl. “Do your parents live in town? What's your name?”

The girl didn't answer, only crossed her arms over her middle.

“If you don't talk to me, I can't get you back home.”

“Store owner didn't recognize her either. She can't be more than fifteen. I would've turned her over to her parents, but there was no one else around, and I couldn't get anything out of her.” Chas sat down in his now customary chair and propped his feet on the desk. Danna frowned at him—she'd told him twice not to put his boots there—but he ignored her glare and went on. “I wasn't sure you'd want to leave her locked up all night.”

The girl's face blanched at his casually spoken words.

Danna considered it for a moment. “I don't know that we've got a choice. She's a minor. I can't just turn her out on her own. Maybe a night in that cell will make her want to tell us who she belongs to.”

Now the girl's shoulders slumped; she seemed to sink into herself.

Danna felt sorry for her. She approached the cell and touched the bars. “If you're afraid your parents are going to be angry, I could talk to them. They're probably worried about you right now.”

The girl curled up on the cot, giving Danna her profile. She swiped at her face with one hand, and Danna thought she saw a bit of moisture before it was whisked away. But what choice did she have if the girl refused to cooperate?

Moving to the pot-bellied stove in the corner,
Danna stirred the coals and fed in two sturdy logs. The autumn nights were getting cooler and the girl didn't have a coat; Danna didn't want her to get chilled overnight.

Chas's booted feet hit the floor with a thump.

“You heading out?” Danna asked, intent on her task. His attention had been diverted all evening. She didn't want him to know it mattered.

“Mmm-hmm. See you in the morning.” And he was gone.

Danna turned to give the girl one more chance. “I want to help you. Won't you tell me who you are?”

Still no answer. The girl only sunk her chin into her folded arms, a ball of misery.

 

Climbing the stairs to her room, Danna considered what she could do. The mystery girl couldn't stay in the jail indefinitely, especially if any men were arrested. But who was she? Why weren't her parents looking for her? Was she an orphan?

The questions had no answers, at least not tonight.

Danna toed off her boots and changed into her nightshirt, but her thoughts stayed with the girl below. If she was an orphan, was she lonely?

Like Danna was?

Maybe that was the key to getting the girl to open up. Just spending time with her. Showing her that Danna could be trusted.

Danna pulled on a pair of pants, tucked her nightgown into them. Threw her coat on over that, then pulled the extra quilt off the end of the bed, added Fred's pillow on top.

She ducked back outside and made her way down the steps without really looking, even though the moon
was mostly hidden by clouds. She was pushing open the door to the jail when a hulking figure loomed over her.

Resisting the urge to shriek, she reached for her pistol and realized she'd left it upstairs when she'd started getting ready for bed. Could she—

The moon came out from behind a cloud and threw the face of Chas O'Grady into relief. Danna's shoulders dropped and she let out a silent breath. It was just her deputy. But…

“What are you doing here?”

 

Chas grinned at the marshal's discomfited expression. “Scare ya?”

She shook her head but he didn't believe her. Seeing her vulnerable put a hitch in his stomach, just like he'd felt when he'd seen the mercantile owner grab the teen girl Chas'd taken into custody.

Women. They brought out the best in him—his desire to protect, take care of them. And also the worst—he seemed unable to stay away, even when he knew he should.

He spotted the bundle in Danna's arms and couldn't help his smile. Something warm unfurled in his chest at the realization that Danna had the same thoughts he had about making friends with the mystery girl.

“You felt for her, too,” he whispered. “I thought—the girl was stealing food. Figured you'd have to be pretty desperate—hungry—to do that. So I brought some things from the hotel.” He held up the burlap sack he carried.

She nodded. “Perhaps, if we show her that we care, she will open up?”

Those had been his thoughts exactly. He could put
aside his quest for vengeance for a few hours. On his walk down from the hotel, the town had seemed almost deserted—probably most folks were still at the party outside of town. Finding Hank Lewis could wait until morning.

Chas pushed the door open and allowed Danna to brush past him. In the warmth and light inside, he held up the burlap sack he'd filled with the goods begged from the hotel manager.

“So you brought some leftovers from the hotel?” Danna asked, probably for the girl's benefit, since they'd just discussed this in whispers outside.

“Unfortunately, the hotel's kitchen was closed—I had to bribe the manager for some eggs and bacon from tomorrow morning's breakfast.”

He waved the cast-iron frying pan in the air, moved across the room to the pot-bellied stove. “I borrowed this, as well.”

The girl did her best to appear disinterested, but Chas saw the way her eyes tracked both his and Danna's movements across the room. Danna moved to the desk, putting the bundle of cloth and pillow she carried on its top.

The girl's head came up off her folded arms, but she remained motionless on the cot.

Danna moved closer to him, reached for the coffeepot on the shelf near the stove. “You want me to make some?”

How could he cushion his answer? He didn't have to. Danna's eyes narrowed. “You don't like my coffee.”

It wasn't a question. “Your coffee is a little…ah…” He started to say
strong
.

She shook her head, cutting him off. “Don't say it. I'll fetch some water.
You
can make the coffee.”

When she brought the pot back in, he had to push back the skillet to make room—the stove was made for heat, not cooking, but it would still work for their purposes. The food should be edible, at least.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” Danna asked as Chas cracked several eggs into the skillet, where they sizzled.

“I've been a bachelor long enough to know how to fry a couple of eggs.” He added some bacon to the far side of the pan and the scent of cooking meat wafted through the air. When he looked up at her, Danna's mouth was pinched and white.

“My husband used to say that.”

“He cooked?”

“One of us had to,” she said, and this time there was fond remembrance and a bit of humor in her soft smile.

Chas jerked his focus back to the frying pan and away from her mouth.

A glance from the side of his eyes revealed the girl sat forward on her cot, watching them. If they kept the conversation going, would she eventually say something?

“I thought most mamas taught their daughters how to cook.”

“My ma died when I was little.”

She said the words so matter-of-factly that he glanced up quickly and the fork scraped across the bottom of the frying pan with a screech. “Sorry.” Was he apologizing for the noise or for her mother's death? She always tangled his emotions until he didn't know which way was up.

“Who raised you?” He hadn't meant for the words to come out of his mouth, hadn't meant for the con
versation to turn serious, but he couldn't take them back now.

“My brother. Until I was sixteen and he sent me away.”

“Let me guess. He sent you to a finishing school, but it didn't take?”

She shook her head stiffly and gave Chas her profile, sitting on the edge of the desk. “No, he sent me away to get married.”

The sound of bacon grease popping was the only noise in the room for a moment that stretched long.

Finally, not knowing what to say, Chas scraped the bacon and turned it over. “Almost done.”

Danna popped up from the desk and scurried to the door. “I'm going to run upstairs and get a plate for our…guest.” She nodded toward the girl now sitting on the edge of the cot.

“Bring a couple,” he said, not looking away from what he was doing.

“Hmm?”

“I got a glimpse of that fancy spread at the party, but I didn't get to partake.” He pointed the fork he was using to turn the bacon at the girl in the cell. “I can hear her stomach growling from here. I think you're the only one who ate supper tonight.”

“I didn't eat either.”

“Why not?”

When she didn't answer, he looked up from the popping grease in the pan to see her turn for the door with a faint trace of a flush on her face. “I'll get the plates.”

She closed the door behind her with a snap. A few moments went by and Chas heard movement above his head.

Chas took a moment to try and make sense out of
Danna's comment. From the way she'd said it, it seemed as if her brother had pushed her into marriage. But why? And was it inappropriate for Chas to ask more questions of his boss?

The door banged open again and Danna reappeared, holding tin plates and cutlery in her hands. “Are you burning that bacon?”

She was going to ignore his question if he let her. So he didn't. “No, I'm not. Why didn't you eat supper at the dance?”

She shrugged, but she wouldn't meet his eye either, as he waved her over. He waited her out, scooping eggs and bacon onto the plates she held.

“Goodness, there is a lot of food here. I was too busy avoiding rumors to stop and eat,” Danna said, all in a rush. “Someone believes they saw a man in my rooms, and it has scandalized everyone from town. Even the council members cautioned me about my behavior.”

The thought of someone calling on Danna put a hot rock in the center of his chest, but he instantly knew she wouldn't allow any inappropriate behavior around her. She was too straight-laced for that.

He tried to make a joke out of it. “I'm sure once the idea of you accepting callers gets around, things will settle down.”

If he'd hoped to calm her ire, his statement hadn't worked. She sputtered. “I haven't had any callers—or any men in my rooms—and I don't
want
another husband.”

The pressure on his chest eased a bit. Chas took the girl's plate before Danna could dump it on him in her annoyance, and brought it to the cell. The teen still sat on the cot, her eyes fastened on the food in his hands, hope shining from their depths.

“For you.”

She was slow to get up, hesitated before she accepted the plate from his hands, but then began shoveling the eggs into her mouth with her fingers, not even using the fork.

Chas turned away to give her privacy. Danna sat behind the desk, eating slowly, staring off at a point across the room. Had he offended her by his teasing comment? He could easily see her getting remarried—she was uncommonly beautiful, with her dark hair and eyes. The way she dressed couldn't disguise it, men's clothes couldn't hide it. And her sense of duty was strong. Her dedication to the people of this town proved it; as a wife, she would never betray her husband.

Scooping the last of his eggs—he hadn't done too bad of a job—into his mouth, Chas let his gaze linger on Danna where she sat behind her desk. As he watched, she slid open the top drawer and fingered something just inside.

He'd snooped one afternoon when she'd been out visiting a sick friend and knew that the only thing in that drawer was a worn leather journal. Her husband's journal. He'd glanced through the first few pages then decided it was too personal to keep reading.

This wasn't the first time Chas had seen Danna touch the object. Did she miss her husband? Did she keep the journal near as a reminder of him?

It was another reminder of how deep her loyalty ran. Even after the man's death, she sought to uphold his honor by defending this town.

“I suppose your sister is a good cook? Pays lots of social calls?”

Danna's quiet question surprised him. He didn't want to talk about his family, about home, but he could
feel the teen's eyes on him, though he didn't turn and look at her.

“Erin? Yes, I suppose my mother has been instructing her on how to best run a household.” Although his wealthy Boston parents would have a very different opinion on what that entailed from anyone in this small town. “She was only fourteen when I left home. Still having lessons with her tutors.”

And it made him ache to think about home. He couldn't speak of it any more. “It's late,” he said, pushing off the wall where he'd been leaning. “Wouldn't want any more rumors to get started about you, Marshal.” He winked at Danna.

Chas collected the frying pan and fork he'd borrowed from the hotel kitchen and moved toward the door.

Danna had gathered the plates and utensils on the desk and took the bundle she'd carried into the jail over to the cell.

“I brought you a blanket,” Danna said, offering the girl a folded quilt. “I know the cots in those cells aren't the most comfortable, but this will have to do if you won't tell us your name or where you come from.”