“No, I just think it’s time I reevaluated certain things in life.”
Was this part of the act? Jo wondered curiously.
“I think that’s very wise of you, Fletcher,” Elizabeth said. “Love is the most important thing.”
“No, not love,” Zeb disagreed. “You cannot depend on it. Family, and the responsibility that goes with it, is what matters most.”
“With any luck, I’ll have a family soon enough,” Fletcher said, refusing to meet Jo’s gaze across the table.
Elizabeth wiggled in her chair. “I’m sure you will, Fletcher, in no time at all.” Her eyes smiled at Jo, who wanted to crawl under the table and hide until this conversation was over.
“Do you want a large wedding or something more intimate?” Elizabeth asked both of them. “Either way would be lovely. We could hold the celebration here afterward. What a delightful time it would be.”
Jo tried not to sound unappreciative. “Please, you don’t have to go to all that trouble. We just want to keep things simple.”
“It would be no trouble at all. But if you really do prefer a simple ceremony, I wouldn’t dream of interfering. Your happiness is what matters most.” She smiled warmly at Jo, who could not bring herself to meet Elizabeth’s kindhearted gaze.
During the remainder of the meal, Jo was happy to turn the discussion toward the embroidery group that Elizabeth had begun on Tuesday evenings, then to lead the conversation into the poor selection of men’s formal wear in town.
After dessert and coffee, when the table was cleared, Elizabeth gathered up her gloves and said to Jo, “Shall we retire to my private sitting room and allow the men a chance to talk business?”
“We really should be going,” Fletcher said, sliding back his chair and standing.
Jo stopped him with her hand. “Please, Fletcher, sit down. There’s no hurry. It’s only early yet.”
His eyes clouded with a warning.
Zeb signaled the footman to bring the cigars and a bottle of brandy. “Yes, do as your future bride tells you, Fletcher. You’ll have to start sometime.”
Jo breathed deeply to prevent herself from responding to Zeb’s comment, then joined Elizabeth on her way out of the dining room. She felt Fletcher’s eyes follow her, but refused to acknowledge it. She could only hope that he would do as much with his opportunity as she intended to do with hers.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“This is so romantic,” Elizabeth mused. “It must have been love at first sight.”
Jo nodded amiably.
Elizabeth rose from the sofa and walked to the window, pulled the heavy brocade curtain aside with one finger and looked out at the darkness. “I envy you, marrying a man like my brother.”
“I’m sure most women in Dodge envy you for your husband.”
Elizabeth let the curtain fall closed. “Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s the truth. You must be…” Jo could barely get the bitter-tasting words past her lips. “You must be very happy.”
Elizabeth sat down again. “We are fortunate in what we have—this house and the business. It’s a good life, but you will be fortunate in other ways when you marry my brother. You’ll be far happier than most people could ever dream.”
Jo imagined that it would be true, if this engagement were not a sham. “May I ask you something, Elizabeth?”
“Of course. We’re going to be sisters, remember?”
Jo knew she should focus on connecting Zeb to George Greer, but she couldn’t resist the opportunity to ask a question that only Elizabeth could answer. “Do you think Fletcher truly enjoys being a lawman?”
Elizabeth touched Jo’s knee. “I knew you were the right woman for him.”
“Why do you say that?”
She smiled. “For someone who hasn’t known him very long, you’ve seen right through him, past his badge.”
“I suppose,” Jo replied uncertainly.
“Maybe it’s because you’re cut from the same cloth,” Elizabeth continued. “When you said earlier that you wanted to build something, I wanted to weep with joy that you and Fletcher had found each other. Fletcher always used to say the exact thing—those very words. Before he got caught up in upholding the law, of course.”
“You don’t approve of his career choice?”
“It’s not that I don’t approve. I’d approve of anything he truly wanted. I just don’t believe that being a lawman makes him happy. It just keeps him from letting go of something that happened a long time ago. Something he needs to put behind him.”
“Your father.”
Elizabeth regarded Jo with surprise. “He told you about that? He must trust you a great deal, because he rarely speaks of that to anyone. Maybe there is hope for him after all.”
“Hope?”
“Yes—that one day he’ll leave the law to someone else and follow his dreams.”
“Of owning a ranch,” Jo finished for her, remembering John’s proposal and feeling a twinge of disappointment.
“No.” Elizabeth’s blue-eyed gaze intensified. “Dreams of having a family to love, people to call home. That’s what he always wanted to build.”
In that moment, Jo wondered how she could have thought Fletcher soulless, when all he’d ever wanted was the very thing that mattered most to her as well. A part of her wanted, more than anything, to help him find what he was searching for—to find it with him, the two of them, together. Perhaps it might have been possible, if things were different.
She looked down at the shiny gold ring she wore. Had Fletcher truly wished all this was real when he slipped it on her finger and told her that his mother would have wanted her to wear it? Was the love in his eyes genuine?
Drowning in confusion—and remembering that she had come here to prove Zeb’s guilt, not fall in love with Fletcher—Jo removed the snug ring and handed it to Elizabeth. “It’s too early for me to be wearing this.”
Elizabeth accepted the tiny gold band and closed her fingers around it. “I’ll take good care of it until the special day.” She stood and placed it in a mother-of-pearl, heart-shaped box on the corner desk.
All Jo wanted to do now was run out of this room and go to Fletcher, wrap her arms around him, tell him that she loved him, and beg him to love her in return. But would he be ready to hear that? Or to lay aside his duty to arrest her? Jo knew Fletcher cared for her, but she also knew he would have to forgive his father and understand the man’s actions before he’d ever be able to give up his obsession with the law and allow himself to be close to someone again.
Gazing uncertainly at Elizabeth, who was setting the ring box up on a shelf behind the fancy roll-top desk, Jo reminded herself that nothing with Fletcher would even come close to being resolved if she didn’t find some evidence about Zeb to end this pursuit, because she knew enough about Fletcher to know that he would never let it go unsolved.
“It’s a shame what happened to that man Fletcher mentioned,” Jo said unsteadily. “I saw him earlier today. He looked fit as a fiddle, loading his herd onto the railcar. I believe he said he worked for George Greer.”
Elizabeth returned to the sofa and sat down. “It makes you stop and think about how fragile life is, doesn’t it? Makes you want to live it to the fullest.”
Jo realized she’d have to be more direct. “Have you ever met George Greer?”
“No, but someone delivered something here for him once. I had to send it back, all the way to Amarillo.” Jo was too startled by the comment to feign indifference. “What was it?”
“I have no idea. It was a small box from a bank and I didn’t think it proper to open it.”
“Did you tell your husband about it?”
“Yes, of course. He explained to me later that it must have been a clerical error on the bank’s part.”
“The bank?”
“Yes. Zeb also keeps an account in Amarillo.” Feeling her heart begin to pound harder, Jo cleared her throat. “Why would he keep an account there?�
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“To diversify his holdings, he tells me. It’s a good way to keep his inheritance safe from thieves and vagabonds and banks that fail.”
“How very wise of him. Does he keep many? It must be a bookkeeping nightmare.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I don’t know. That was the only time I’ve ever spoken to him of such matters. Zeb handles those things, of course.”
“Of course,” Jo replied, understanding. When Edwyn was alive, he had managed their financial affairs as well. “But goodness, how very rude of me,” she added. “I don’t know who would be more shocked—Zeb or Fletcher—to know I’d been speaking about money with you.”
They shared a smile.
“Don’t worry,” Elizabeth assured her. “You’re my future sister-in-law, and from now on, our conversations will always be kept in the strictest confidence.”
Jo smiled, and asked for more tea.
* * *
“How very clever of you, Fletcher.” Zeb picked up his brandy glass and swirled the amber liquid around. “I was beginning to think you’d lost your mind.” Fletcher tapped his cigar ashes into the tray. “If folks hear I’m going to hitch my wagon to one of the Dodge City widows, they’ll realize I’m here to stay, and the sheriff’s office will be a snap.”
“Music to my ears.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“When do you plan to announce a date for the wedding? We’ve got to manage this in the best possible way.”
Fletcher settled back in his chair, carefully contemplating his answer. “The election for sheriff isn’t until November. If we move too fast, all the hoopla will be over by the time folks go to vote, and I’ll be saddled with a wife. I reckon the anticipation of a big wedding—real romantic-like—will be better than the actual thing. If you get my meaning.”
Zeb nodded. “I believe I do. You want to plan something marvelous, then after you’re elected…a lover’s quarrel, perhaps?”
Fletcher took a slow sip of brandy. “Perhaps.”
Zeb studied Fletcher, as if testing him. “Mmm, no, I don’t like it.”
“Why not?”
Zeb ran his finger around the top of his glass, thinking. “You don’t want to spend the next few months courting a woman like Josephine O’Malley. Besides, Elizabeth will be impossible to live with if she has all that time to plan your nuptials.”
“It’ll give her something to do.”
Zeb considered that. “What will your ‘widow’ do in the meantime?”
“What she always does. Sit out at her ranch and let the men run things while she’s waiting to marry me.” He hated saying all this, but it seemed to be working in his favor. It was exactly what Zeb wanted to hear.
He tapped his finger on the table. “And you’ll be too busy upholding the law to visit her.”
“Most of the time, I reckon that’ll be the case.”
“Most of the time. You won’t become infatuated with her, will you? The effect will be lost if you decide to go through with it and push things forward.”
“I told you, I’m not the marrying kind.”
“But you’re married to your job,” Zeb commented, his eyes narrowing as he waited for Fletcher’s response.
“A man’s gotta believe in something.”
“Yes, he does.” After a pause, Zeb inclined his head. “Have you considered actually going through with it? The O’Malley land is the best around.”
Fletcher raised his eyebrows. “And what exactly would I do with a ranch?”
“If we’re going to own Dodge, you and I, we might as well really own it, don’t you think?”
Fletcher lounged casually in his chair. “Interesting suggestion, but why make me marry her? Why not just buy her out?”
“That widow will never sell. I know it for a fact. And she’s bequeathing the place to her son, then a whole string of Irish relations who will probably be too sentimental to ever sell.”
Fletcher kept his expression deceptively cool. “Thinking about getting into the cattle business?”
“It never hurts to control things.”
“But ranching, Zeb? After all that talk about not needing to own land when there’s open range to be had?”
“Let’s just say my interests are varied. We’ll leave it at that for now while you think about all this.”
Fletcher would think about it. Very carefully.
“So, what about that raise you promised me?” he asked, rising to his feet. “When does that start?”
Laughing, Zeb stood also. “You’re a shrewd man, Fletcher. I thank you for bringing it to my attention. What did I promise you? A hundred a week? Two hundred?”
“If I recall correctly, it was an extra hundred a month.”
“Gracious, that won’t do at all. A hundred a week sounds better, don’t you think? I wasn’t exactly at my best, was I? Did I thank you for seeing me home?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, I’ll thank you now with your first installment. How does that sound?”
“Sounds mighty fine, Zeb.”
“I thought it would. Use the money to buy yourself some new clothes. Take Elizabeth with you. She has excellent taste. We need to tidy up your image if we want things to go our way, and if you can get your hands on that ranch land, things will get even more interesting. I promise you that.”
Fletcher spoke with restraint, hiding his suspicions for the time being. “I’ll look forward to finding out what you have in mind, Zeb.”
* * *
“You’ll never believe what I learned from Elizabeth,” Jo said to Fletcher as their wagon rattled off Zeb’s property and onto the dark, quiet street back to town.
Fletcher pulled at the brim of his hat, seeming distracted. “I’d believe anything right now. My pockets are stuffed with cash and I’ve committed to run for sheriff.”
“You have? What did Zeb say about the wedding?”
Fletcher wouldn’t look at her. “Don’t worry. We’re off the hook until November.”
“Why November?”
“Because that’s when the election will be, and no voter can resist a groom in a big romantic wedding to which they’ve been invited.”
Jo huffed with disgust. “That must have been Zeb’s idea. I’m not surprised.” Fletcher said nothing. “What’s the money for?”
“It’s my salary from Zeb—but the job description is still pretty vague. Either way, it’s shady for him to be offering cash to a lawman. I’ll set it aside, write up a report about it, and see where it leads.” Fletcher thought about it for another moment. “He must keep a safe somewhere hidden in the house, because I didn’t see it when I snuck into his office.”
“You snuck in? When?”
“After Deputy Anderson came,” he replied. “That’s what took me so long.”
Jo turned to him. “Did you find anything on George Greer?”
“No. Just papers relating to the store.”
“Well, if there was nothing in Zeb’s study that mentioned Greer, he must have another hiding place, because Elizabeth told me they once received a package for Greer.”
He shot her a look. “You asked her about that?”
“Don’t worry. I was clever about it. We were talking about the man who died, and it came up that he worked for Greer. So now do you believe me about Zeb?”
Fletcher considered it. “I do believe he’s up to something, and that he’s not the man Elizabeth thinks she married.”
Having waited so long to hear those words, Jo exhaled. She leaned in close, gave Fletcher a hug, and knocked his hat off-kilter in the process.
“What are you doing?” he asked, half laughing while he straightened his hat.
“I just wanted to thank you.”
“Don’t get too excited,” he said, giving her a flirtatious grin with those soft, sensual lips. The glimmer in his eyes made her heart pound like a hammer. “I haven’t done much yet. We still need to know more before we can be certain.”
But
Jo couldn’t help but feel excited—although it had more to do with the handsome, rugged marshal who sat beside her, driving this rig with those manly hands, his big, muscular thigh bumping against hers. Everything about him made her feel flushed and hot with nervous energy.
What was wrong with her tonight? All she wanted to do was slide closer to him again, press her body against his, and satisfy these burning womanly urges that kept coming out of nowhere.
She sat back in her seat, working hard to control—and hide—her desires, but still feeling eager to make plans. “So, where do we go from here?”
He steered the wagon onto Walnut Street. “First we’ll go look at a dead body. Then we’ll head home. To your home. And I don’t care what folks say about it, Jo. I’m going with you and I’m staying to make sure that you’re safe. I’m staying the whole damn night.”
Jo couldn’t deny, she rather liked the sound of that.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After going to see MacGregor’s body and finding him just as Deputy Anderson had described—dead from a bullet wound through the heart—Fletcher and Jo drove out to the ranch.
The horses pulled the wagon toward the barn, and as always, Jo felt a rush of anxiety at the thought of going inside, of seeing the place where Edwyn had gasped his last breath.
Not wanting Fletcher to know about this irrational fear of hers, she made some excuse and hopped down from the wagon before Fletcher drove in. She waited by the barn door, nervously tapping her foot while he unhitched the team and fed and watered the horses. When he finally walked out with his hand on his gun, she let out a breath of relief, rose up on her toes and hugged him.
“What’s that for?” he asked, falling back against the barn wall. “You’re affectionate tonight, Mrs. O’Malley.”
She leaned into his warm, muscular frame, gazing up at him in the moonlight. “I’m just glad you’re here. You make me feel safe.”
“I’m glad, too,” he replied, his eyes roaming inquisitively over her face. Then his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Are you all right?” He touched her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Tempting the Marshal: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Series Book 2) Page 19
