Muffled cries came from the back room where the woman was jailed. Quinn stared at the door that led to the cells. Was the woman as frightened as Anna had been in there? “I’d like to see her.” The words came out before he could lasso them back.
Will stared at him for a moment then grinned. “She’ll give you an earful. She’s a feisty little thing.”
Quinn wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He needed to get his supplies and head home. But he wasn’t in any hurry to disappoint his grandmother.
“I need to talk to her anyway. C’mon.” Will stood and shuffled across the room, digging a key from his pocket. The latch clicked, and he opened the door.
That sound was enough to make Quinn sweat. The feeling of being totally helpless—of knowing he was innocent but no one believed him—hit him full force in the chest. For a moment, he wasn’t sure he could walk through that door again.
“You comin’?” Will called as he peered around the doorway. He grinned. “Got cold feet, McFarland?”
Quinn narrowed his eyes at the man and sucked in a breath. He strode to the door and halted. The dank odor of mold and a chamber pot assailed him. He’d never been afraid of anything except losing his good reputation when he had been locked up for a crime he hadn’t committed. Quinn stepped halfway across the threshold. He could see plenty well from there.
Will chuckled and faced the prisoner. The memory of Anna alone in the cell before Quinn had been arrested hit him suddenly as his gaze landed on the red-faced waif. Why, the girl couldn’t be out of her teens yet. Quinn’s irritation with Will grew. Wasn’t imprisoning one woman enough for him?
She wiped her eyes and hiked up her chin as her confused gaze darted between Quinn and Will. She grabbed the bars, and her gaze turned frantic. “Please, I’m innocent. You’ve got to believe me.”
Bile rose to Quinn’s throat. She wasn’t a hard-edged criminal, but a frightened young woman. Her haunted eyes held desperate fear, not the cold, hardened guilt of an outlaw. She was as innocent as Anna had been. He knew it in his gut.
Will shook his head. “I want to believe you, miss, but there’s the gold and horse you had in your possession. Horse stealing is a hangin’ offense in these parts.”
“But I didn’t steal it. I found it, and I was returning the gold. It didn’t come from Medora. You can clearly see that if you look at the bag it was in.” Her gaze darted to Quinn as if he could help her.
“You need anything, miss? More water?” Will asked.
She glared at him. “I just need to get out. Ryan and Beth are depending on me.”
Will heaved a heavy sigh and nodded for Quinn to head back into the office. Quinn was glad to be away from that dark hole. The door clanked as Will pulled it shut, sending a shiver down Quinn’s spine.
“Now you see why I can’t marry her off to just anyone—if I decide to go that route. She’s too young and naive.”
“You don’t even know if she’d want to marry. She’s just a kid.” Quinn leaned against the wall across from Will’s desk. He glanced at the locked door, glad he was on this side of it.
“She said something about her parents dying.” Will leaned back in his chair and propped his feet onto his desk.
Quinn stared out the window, knowing the pain of losing one’s parents. He needed to get going. Grandma would be fit to be tied that he hadn’t come home yesterday. Too bad he didn’t have a good enough excuse to stay gone another week.
“What are you grinning about? I don’t see anything funny.” Will laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.
Quinn stared at the wanted poster above Will’s head. He was glad the girl’s pretty face wasn’t up there. Her eyes had looked like yesterday’s storm clouds one moment and then turned soft and sincere. . .pleading, the next. Her long, dark hair reminded him of a wild mustang when she’d flipped it over her shoulder.
“I said, what’s so funny?”
Quinn took a deep breath and told his friend what his grandma had done. Will’s eyes went wide.
“That’s not the worst part. The bride didn’t come. Wrote me a letter saying she’d changed her mind.”
Will slapped his leg and hooted with laughter. “Dumped by a bride you didn’t even want. Oh, that’s a good one.”
Quinn straightened. “Don’t you tell anyone. A man’s got his pride, you know.”
“Are you threatening a lawman?” Will grinned wickedly, then suddenly sobered. Quinn glanced out the window to see if something had drawn his attention.
“So”—Will’s feet dropped to the floor and he leaned forward—“let me get this straight. Your grandma ordered you a bride who didn’t show. Now you’ve got to go home and tell her. No wonder you’ve been dawdling in my office so long.”
“I’m not dawdling. I’m paying a friendly visit.” Quinn picked up his hat from Will’s desk. “I can see I’ve worn out my welcome.”
“Hold on. I can help.”
“How?”
Will grinned again. “I’ve got a gal in my jail who needs a husband.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes. Suddenly he realized what Will meant. “Oh, no. You’re not going to pawn her off onto me. I never said I’d marry her. I just wanted a look at her.”
“Hold on.” Will held up his calloused hand. “Let’s think this through. You need a bride—”
“No. I don’t.” Quinn rolled his eyes. He didn’t need a bride, especially an outlaw one, although Anna would love that story.
“I saw how that gal affected you. She’s frightened and alone, just like your sister was when she was locked up before you were. I’ve got a feeling she’s innocent. A good man like you could keep a woman on the straight and narrow.”
Quinn’s gaze darted to the closed door. Anna had been so scared and heartbroken to be locked up in jail. He felt sure the woman was innocent, but what if she wasn’t?
“You said yourself that women are hard to come by out here. You’d better take the bird-in-the-hand.”
“Don’t you mean bird-in-the-cell?” Quinn cocked a brow.
Will shrugged. “You want to marry her or not? I’ve got plenty of others ready to jump at the chance.”
Quinn gritted his teeth. He didn’t like being coerced into doing something but couldn’t get that tear-streaked face out of his mind. That gal had looked scared to death—and innocent. If she was guilty, she wouldn’t be putting up such a ruckus, and the thought of one of those mangy men getting their hands on someone so naive stuck in his craw. “How do you even know she’d want to marry me? I have to be ten years her senior.”
Will waved his hand in the air. “That doesn’t matter. Herbert Simms is fifteen years older than his wife. You’d be doing me a huge favor, Quinn. How can I arrest real criminals if I have a woman in my jail? I couldn’t subject her to that.”
The girl was comely enough, and if he married her, one of his problems would be solved. Quinn grinned. “It would almost be worth it to see Grandma’s face. She’s expecting a hazel-eyed redhead.”
“Wish I could be there to see her reaction. But this ain’t no laughing matter. Marriage is for life. So. . .you willing?”
Quinn swallowed, unable to believe he could actually go through with such a crazy plan. He wasn’t one to be impulsive. He preferred to think through things and look at them from all angles. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt marrying this woman was the right thing to do. Swallowing hard, he nodded. “I’m willing. . .if she is.”
❧
The outer door opened again, and Sarah jumped off the cot, hit by a wave of dizziness. The lack of sleep and appetite, along with the stagnant air and worry for her siblings had left her woozy. She held on to the bars as the sheriff and his friend entered again. The other man was taller than the sheriff with shoulders so wide he looked uncomfortable in the narrow walkway. His brown hair matched his dark eyes, which held a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. He twisted his western hat in his hands.
He leaned against the doorjam
b, with one foot barely over the threshold, as if he were afraid to come in further. He glanced over his shoulder. Perhaps he didn’t like small, confining spaces. Well. . .neither did she.
The sheriff stopped in front of her and stared as if taking her measure. She’d just finished braiding her hair and tying it off with a piece of fabric she’d torn from the tail of her shirt.
Sheriff Jones cleared his throat. “You say you’re innocent, Miss Oakley, and I’m inclined to believe you. The law out here is—shall we say—a bit more flexible than back East, and there are times a sheriff has to go with his gut, and mine says you’re not guilty.”
Sarah’s heart jumped. Was he going to release her?
He rubbed his hand over his cheek. “I have a proposal for you, miss. Well. . .I don’t but he does.” The sheriff used his thumb to point at the stranger, and his lips tugged up in a cocky grin.
Sarah narrowed her gaze and glanced at the tall man. How could he help her?
Sheriff Jones cleared his voice. “Here’s the thing, ma’am. I got nobody who can identify you as the thief who shot Mary and stole her horse.”
Sarah hiked up her chin. “That’s because I didn’t do it.”
“Be that as it may, here’s the deal. You can sit in this cell until the circuit judge from Dickinson comes around in a month or so, or. . .” The sheriff glanced at the other man, who looked at Sarah then pursed his lips and nodded.
Her heart thundered and her knees shook. No matter what the alternative was, she had to take it.
“Or you can marry up with this man and get out of jail today.”
Sarah’s mouth dipped down, but no words came out. Surely the sheriff couldn’t be serious. Marry a stranger?
She glanced at the other man—the one who was willing to marry her. Why would he want to wed a woman he didn’t know? A woman in jail, no less. He was handsome enough to marry any woman he wanted. She looked him in the eye and swallowed back her fear. He was the key to getting out of here. “Why?”
He glanced at the sheriff and twisted the hat in his hand. The lantern cast flickering light across his face. “Why what?”
“Why would you want to marry me?”
He studied his hat for a moment. With his head ducked down, Sarah saw that his hair had a curl to it. “I’ve got my reasons.”
“There’s no point in you wasting away in jail when you can marry Quinn. He owns one of the best ranches in this area. He’s got, what”—the sheriff glanced sideways—“a couple of thousand acres?”
“Four thousand.”
“And he’s got one of the finest cabins I’ve seen. He’s an honorable man and raises some of the best cattle and horses in these parts.”
Sarah’s mind raced but nothing made sense. She looked at the sheriff. “You’re saying if I agree to marry him”—she pointed at the stranger—“then I can go free? Today? I wouldn’t have to come back to stand trial?”
Sheriff Jones nodded. “Yep. I don’t much like having a woman locked up in my jail. Causes all kinds of problems. I figure if you marry up with Quinn, he’ll keep you out of trouble and my jail will be free for real outlaws.”
“Does he have a last name?”
“McFarland,” the sheriff and her potential husband said at the same time. The sheriff chuckled, but Mr. McFarland scowled.
At least he understood this wasn’t a laughing matter. “I do have one question,” her would-be spouse said, as he stared her in the eye.
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat and resisted the urge to flee to the back of the cell. He looked fierce enough to make a person do what he wanted. Would he be mean to her if she married him? To Ryan and Beth?
“I have an ailing grandmother. She’s got her mind set on finding me a bride before she dies. If I marry up with you, will you treat her kindly? Take care of her while I’m out working the ranch?”
Ahhh. . .so that was it. Sarah nodded and clung to the slats of the cell, relieved that what he asked was something she could easily agree to. “Yes, I’d be happy to care for your grandmother—if I decide to marry you. Mine died before I was born and I’ve always wanted one.”
Mr. McFarland visibly relaxed and nodded his gratitude. Sarah licked her lips. Maybe she was pushing her luck, but she had to know. “Are you a God-fearing man, Mr. McFarland?”
He blinked then glanced sideways. The sheriff grinned. A muscle ticked in Mr. McFarland’s clean-shaven jaw. “I believe in the good Lord, ma’am. It’s just that He and I aren’t as close as we should be.”
Was any person ever as close to God as they could be? His answer wasn’t what she’d hoped for, but it would suffice. “You wouldn’t ever hit a woman or child, would you?”
His expression, which had just softened, turned hard. His dark eyes glinted. “I resent that question.”
The sheriff turned to him. “Now, Quinn, it’s a fair question. She don’t know you, and she’s considering becoming your wife.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. What decent man would?” Mr. McFarland crossed his arms, pulling his shirt tight across his wide shoulders.
Sarah’s mouth went dry. If he treated her as nice as he looked, she’d be all right, but she knew that handsome men could be as hurtful as ugly ones. Hadn’t her uncle proven that?
“Do you like children?”
The sheriff snorted and seemed to be holding in his laughter. He looked at Mr. McFarland with his brows raised. “You want kids, Quinn?”
Mr. McFarland’s eyes widened. “Well. . .I hardly think this is the place to discuss such a matter.”
Oh, dear. They had misconstrued her inquiry. Sarah was grateful for the dimness of the room. She hadn’t considered how he’d take that question. She opened her mouth to explain but slammed it shut. He was her only way out of this cell. If he knew she had two siblings, he might rescind his offer. If he misunderstood, so be it.
She wasn’t sure but thought he might be blushing. “So. . .do you like children?”
He straightened. “I reckon I like them as much as any man. I’ve got the cutest nephew in the world.” A soft grin tilted his lips.
“I guess we ought to give the gal some time to think about your proposal, Quinn.” The sheriff nudged his chin toward his office, indicating Quinn should head out of the cell room.
He nodded at her. With her whole being trembling, Sarah watched him turn, slow and easy. So in control of his big body. She had no real choice. She had to get out of jail and get back to Ryan and Beth. This Quinn McFarland was her only option. She’d hoped to marry for love like her parents had, but that wasn’t to be. According to the sheriff, this man had a nice home and a good ranch. Ryan and Beth would have plenty of food to eat and a decent place to stay.
But was it far enough away that Uncle Harlan couldn’t find them?
Would they be safe on an isolated ranch?
The sheriff reached out to close the door.
“Wait. I–I’ll marry him.”
Four
“Will you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, ma’am?”
Sarah stared at the skinny parson who waited with lifted brows, a worn Bible tucked against his chest. Was this truly what she wanted?
Dodging his stare, she let her gaze skip past the sheriff, and she peered around his sparse office, so unlike a church, where she’d always wanted to be married. Instead of stained glass windows, there were dingy panes looking out on a muddy street. Instead of her family to celebrate what should be the most joyous of days, stern-faced outlaws glared at her from the wanted posters on the walls.
Mr. McFarland peered down at her, looking as if he’d swallowed a wormy apple. Could she actually marry this stranger? Was he having second thoughts, too? He may have another option, but she didn’t. She nodded, before he could change his mind.
“You’ll have to say the words out loud, miss.” The parson rubbed a finger along his thin moustache. He looked more like a gambler than a minister.
She hated marrying a man she didn’t kno
w, but he was her only chance to get out of jail. Sarah cleared her throat. “Yes, I will take him as my husband.”
The parson nodded. “All right then, I reckon you two are hitched.” He glanced at Mr. McFarland and grinned. “You can kiss your bride now, Quinn.”
Heat engulfed her cheeks. Sarah could feel the warmth emanating off her husband’s—oh, that word was hard to swallow—arm as he stood beside her, not moving an inch. The back of his hand had bumped hers during the brief ceremony, and he’d jerked away. He didn’t want to touch, much less kiss her.
“I reckon we can skip that part, Parson. We’ve a long ride ahead and need to get on the road.” Mr. McFarland shoved his hat on his head and handed the man some coins from his pocket.
Skipping the kissing part was the right thing to do since this wasn’t a love union. So why was she disappointed that he felt the same way? They were united together for life. Was it foolish to hope he might grow to like her one day?
In the light of the office window, Sarah realized her husband’s hair was a dark blond and not plain brown as she’d thought earlier, and his eyes were such a deep brown that she could barely make out his pupils. He had nice eyes, when they weren’t glaring.
“You ready?” He caught her watching him.
She turned to the sheriff. “Am I free to go?”
He nodded. “Yes, Mrs. McFarland. You sure are. I’ll escort you two until you’re clear of town, just so you don’t have problems with anyone.”
“I’m obliged, Will.” Her husband spun toward the door. He strode outside, then turned back quickly and held the door open for her.
Sarah forced a smile and walked outside, blinking against the sun she hadn’t seen in nearly a day. Her stomach gurgled. She was hungry but anxious to be on their way. Please, God, let Beth and Ryan be where I left them.
“I’ve got to pick up my buckboard from the livery and get supplies at the mercantile; then we can head out.” He glanced down at Sarah’s pants and grimaced. “You got any clothes besides those?”
She knew how bad she looked in her uncle’s baggy clothing, especially after being locked up in that grimy cell. She could do with a bath, but she didn’t want to take the time, not that he’d given her that option. “I have a dress back where I left my belongings.”
Straight For The Heart Page 4
