The Marshal and Mrs. O'Malley

by Julianne MacLean

“No, Leo.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, I did.” Leo shifted in his seat, as if he knew how angry Jo would be and was preparing himself.

  She stiffened, trying to control her voice. “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him what those horse thieves did and that the sheriff couldn’t find them. Fletcher said he wouldn’t have stopped hunting them until they were brought to justice.”

  Jo swallowed hard. “Is that all?”

  Leo cleared his throat nervously. “I asked him to see what he could do.”

  “You what!”

  “Why won’t you let me do something? I want things to be right again.”

  It was bitterly ironic that Leo had no idea how much she wanted that, too, and how far she was willing to go to get it. If only she could explain it to him. But if he knew what she knew, he would not survive the day.

  “You’re all I have left, Leo, and I don’t want you getting mixed up in it.”

  “But Fletcher said he’d do all the work. He’s going to look into it for us. You don’t have to worry.”

  “There will be no looking into it, do you understand?”

  Leo flicked the reins and said nothing more.

  Stunned to speechlessness, Jo stared straight ahead. As desperately as she’d wanted to mend the broken feelings between her and Leo, what he was asking of her was the very thing she could not give him. Trusting Marshal Collins to investigate Edwyn’s murder was too great a risk. What if he was with Zeb right now, telling him that a young rancher boy was dead set on finding the man who had killed his pa?

  Jo needed to stop Zeb on her own, without anyone’s help, particularly the marshal’s. Her son was growing more and more determined every day and the new marshal with his shiny revolver was giving Leo false hopes he’d do better without. On top of that, she’d actually thought about kissing the man.

  Ah, her choice was clear. The best thing for everyone now was to stay as far away from Dodge City’s new lawman as was humanly possible.

  After finally retrieving her gunman’s disguise from the privy, Jo returned to the wagon and hid her bag under a worsted blanket in the back. She stood for a while under the hot sun, thankful for her wide bonnet brim shading her eyes, and waited for Leo. When she heard people cheering at the other end of Front Street, she turned to look and saw a crowd gathering near the water tower.

  Jo picked up her skirts and walked curiously along the boardwalk past the saloons and mercantiles, her boot heels clicking a steady rhythm over the uneven planks until she reached the far end of town where the smell of burnt pastry wafted out of the bakery.

  Jo stood on the boardwalk shading her eyes, squinting up at the raised platform, and when she saw the speaker, her heart began to race.

  There, in a black suit and top hat, his dark mustache waxed into curls, his deep eyes gleaming with the charisma that had gotten him everything his black heart had ever wanted, stood Zeb Stone.

  And what was this? He was announcing his candidacy for mayor!

  He looked down and spotted Jo in the crowd. For the briefest of seconds their gazes met, and she saw the sparkle of recognition, the hint of a smile. Her stomach clenched tight with fear.

  The crowd erupted in applause and Jo looked around without the slightest idea of what he had said to gain such approval. She hadn’t been able to hear anything above the thundering rhythm of her blood pulsing through her veins.

  Then she remembered Leo and tried to spot him. He was probably watching from up front. A sea of colorful feathered hats and Stetsons blocked her view, so she stepped onto the street and circled around the audience, going by the tall water tower, still searching. Then, one word from Zeb caught her attention. Family.

  She stood off to the side, watching. Zeb’s voice gentled. “I want to introduce my beautiful wife, Elizabeth, whose support has been and will continue to be my greatest bounty.”

  “Isn’t she lovely?” the woman next to Jo said, her gloved hands muting the sound of her clapping.

  A warning voice whispered in Jo’s head telling her not to look, but she couldn’t help herself. She lifted her gaze for one peek. A suffocating sensation squeezed around her chest.

  Elizabeth Stone was lovely, without question, but that was not what nearly knocked Jo over onto her backside. The young woman with the dark features possessed an uncanny resemblance to her brother.

  Elizabeth smiled down at the citizens of Dodge, making shy eye contact with them. It was not surprising Zeb had chosen her for his wife. She was any politically ambitious man’s dream.

  Zeb bowed before her and kissed her white-gloved hand, a well-thought-out spectacle that made the crowd cheer and whistle. Elizabeth blushed sweetly.

  “And I must also introduce,” Zeb went on, “a gentleman who I am confident will bring pride and dignity and restraint to our growing city. My brother-in-law, Marshal Fletcher Collins.”

  The audience held back their applause, murmuring with gossip about the shooting and the way their marshal had decorously collapsed before the gunman. A flicker of infuriation passed across Zeb’s face. Jo rose up on her toes to see Fletcher.

  He climbed the platform steps, appearing relaxed and confident despite the crowd’s quiet chatter. Jo felt the tension for him, as if it was she who was up there facing the difficult crowd. He didn’t speak, only touched the brim of his hat. He and Elizabeth said something to each other with reassuring smiles.

  “And I want to take this opportunity to clear up some misconceptions about our new marshal,” Zeb said. A hush fell over the crowd. “Whatever was reported in the newspaper about Tuesday night’s shooting was grossly inaccurate. I witnessed the event, and let me assure you, the marshal did not flinch or cower. He walked into my store with his weapon drawn, ready to fire, and that gunman had agreed to surrender. He was, in fact, shaking in his boots!”

  A hum of approving laughter filtered through the crowd. “Marshal Collins was wounded in the line of duty because that outlaw was so terrified, he shot his pistol off by mistake!”

  People began whispering to each other. Some laughed, and Fletcher shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable being the focus of so much attention.

  Zeb added, “But what this city needs to know, is that I did not bring this man here because he is my brother-in-law. I brought him here because we need someone to clean up our town’s disagreeable reputation. I have brought to you, good people of Dodge—The Bruiser!”

  The roar of merriment nearly shook down the water tower. Jo was bumped on either side by men unable to control their excitement. Hats were being tossed into the air.

  She looked up at the platform where Zeb was shaking Fletcher’s hand. Smiling, they patted each other on the back like true blood brothers, hearing the cheer below them and feeling their power grow.

  Searching for Leo, Jo circled the crowd and spotted him up front, clapping his hands over his head, leaping up and down. “Leo!” she called, sidling along the platform. She reached him and grabbed his hand with her weak arm. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she pulled him through the crowd out into the open.

  “Ma! What are you doing? Didn’t you hear? Marshal Collins is The Bruiser!”

  “Let’s go, Leo.” She started off toward their wagon down the street, but Leo didn’t follow.

  “Don’t you want to hear the rest of the speech?”

  She turned back, her temper rising and overflowing. She’d never been so furious with Leo. He’d never given her reason to be. “Leo, you have disobeyed me enough. Come with me now.”

  “But Ma!”

  Just then, Zeb raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “As president of the city council, I can report that the election for mayor will be held one week from today. The election for county sheriff will be held as usual in November, and I believe…” He paused, then his voice took on a humorous tone. “I believe, judging by the enthusiasm I hear today, that we may have a suitable candidate in our
very presence!” He gestured toward Fletcher and Jo shook her head in disbelief.

  “I want to thank you all for your support, and I’ll see you on election day!” The crowd applauded and cheered.

  “All right, Leo, it’s over. Come with me now.”

  “But Ma! If Mr. Stone’s going to be mayor and Marshal Collins is going to be county sheriff, maybe they can help us find the men who killed Pa!”

  Before Jo could stop him, Leo turned and ran into the crowd toward Zeb.

  Chapter Ten

  Breathing hard, Jo followed Leo into the crowd. She pushed her way to the center of the shifting mass, but others were eager to brush elbows with the future mayor. Ambitious businessmen butted ahead of her, bumped her in the shoulder, knocked her off balance and into other equally aggressive money-grubbers. Shouts and laughter came at her from all angles as people swarmed together like bees.

  “Leo!” she called out, but the noisy mob smothered her voice.

  Forcing her way forward, she found herself stuck somewhere in the middle of the hubbub, not sure which way to go. She grunted and pushed at someone, then felt a hand squeeze her arm and pull her back.

  “Are you looking for Leo?” the familiar voice asked as they emerged from the mob. Jo whipped around to face Marshal Collins, just as a breeze lifted his hair off his broad shoulders.

  “Yes. Have you seen him?” she replied, smoothing her rumpled skirts.

  Fletcher lifted his chin. “Over there.”

  Jo looked up at the platform. Zeb was down on one knee, the tail of his long black coat laid out behind him, his top hat tilting rakishly. His attention was fully upon the young man standing in the front row, looking up at him and talking. It was Leo.

  A flash memory of the night in the barn filled Jo with burning panic. She saw the unmistakable eyes that peered out from holes in a black hood while she’d watched everything from a shadowy stall, knowing she would die if she showed herself.

  Jo knew she must show herself now and retrieve Leo if she was to make a difference this time. She squared her shoulders and took a step forward, but Fletcher stopped her.

  “Wait, I’ll take you. There are a lot of men wanting to be first.” He donned his hat and guided her toward the platform steps, his hand on the small of her back.

  With a poise and composure Jo fought to maintain, she moved through the crowd that willingly moved aside for the new marshal. Oddly enough, and despite the camaraderie she’d just seen between him and Zeb, she was glad he was here to escort her to the front. His touch and his presence made her feel less alone, less powerless as she made her way to face Zeb.

  She picked up her skirts to climb the steps, her movements slow and controlled. She could hear her heart drumming in her ears, voices from the crowd distant and muffled. Each stride took her closer to her enemy until she was standing behind him, looking down at his clean black coat stretched tight across his back, hearing his laughter as he spoke to her son.

  “Zeb, there’s someone here to see you,” Fletcher said. Jo put on her most captivating smile.

  Zeb tousled Leo’s hair and idly rose to his feet. He turned to face Jo. “Why, Mrs. O’Malley, I saw you in the crowd. It is a sincere pleasure, indeed, to see you again. It has been too long.”

  Jo answered in a light tone that masked what she truly felt—nauseous from being so near to him. She held out her hand and he shook it. “Congratulations on your campaign for mayor.”

  He focused his steely gaze upon her. “I understand you were wounded the other night. How is your injury?”

  His question caught her off guard, and she had to remind herself of the role she was playing. “It’s much better, thank you.”

  Zeb rested his hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. “I have every confidence that this man’s presence will discourage such crimes in the future. It’s why I brought him here in the first place.”

  Fletcher responded in good humor. “And I thought it was because my sister missed me.”

  Elizabeth approached from behind. “Oh, but it was, dear brother. You have no idea how I hounded my husband about it. He had no choice but to finally give in.”

  Fletcher walked to the edge of the platform. “Leo, come and meet my sister.” The boy ran around to the stairs while Fletcher began the introductions. “Mrs. O’Malley, this is my sister, Elizabeth Stone.”

  Too much was happening at once. Jo had not wanted any of this. She had only wanted to get her bag out of the privy floor and return home again. How had she ended up here, shaking hands with the woman she had tried to make a widow? “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Stone.”

  “No, it’s my pleasure, Mrs. O’Malley. My brother has spoken of you, and let me assure you he plans to do everything in his power to apprehend the man who shot you. I was beside myself thinking of it. You, my brother and my husband, all nearly killed in one shoot-out.”

  Jo found it increasingly difficult to look into this woman’s kind eyes. She seemed so different from Zeb. How had she ended up as his wife? She could not possibly know the truth.

  Fletcher affectionately rested his hand on Leo’s shoulder and introduced him to Elizabeth. They shook hands, then Elizabeth turned to Jo.

  “Will you come for tea sometime? I’m starting an embroidery club on Tuesday evenings if you would like to join us. Tonight we’re meeting at the Presbyterian church on Central Avenue at seven o’clock.”

  Scrambling for a polite reply, Jo smiled. “I shouldn’t commit myself. Things are busy on the ranch this time of year and so much has fallen upon my shoulders….”

  An awkward silence ensued until Leo offered a needless explanation. “My pa died last winter.”

  Elizabeth nodded serenely. “Yes, I know. I’m very sorry about that. Unfortunately, I know what it is to lose someone you love.” She directed her gaze at Jo, who felt shaken. “Will you at least stop by for tea when you are in town next?”

  After a long pause, Jo gave in. “Yes, of course.” She felt Zeb’s inquisitive stare.

  Elizabeth kissed her brother on the cheek. “We’ll see you at supper, Fletcher? We missed you last night.” Smiling, she headed for the stairs. “I must go and speak to Mrs. Jennings about this evening. Excuse me. It was a pleasure meeting you both.” She descended from the platform and met an older woman at the bottom. Jo watched them converse, envious of such a simple existence where the greatest concern was in acquiring the proper color thread.

  She glanced back at Leo. “We must be getting home. There’s work to do.” She turned to go, hoping the departure would not be difficult.

  “But wait,” Leo called after her. She halted, closing her eyes with sinking hopes. “I need to talk to Mr. Stone.”

  Jo turned around, feeling the impatient crowd all listening and staring directly at her, waiting for her response. “I’m sure he’s very busy, Leo. Perhaps another time.”

  She stood tall and silent, willing Leo with her eyes to follow, but knowing she would have to remain and control the damage to come.

  “What is it, son?” Zeb asked, resting his hand on Leo’s shoulder. The intimate gesture made Jo’s skin prickle.

  Leo looked up at him hopefully. “The men who killed my father were never caught. Now that you’re going to be mayor, I thought you might be able to do something about it.”

  Revealing nothing, he replied, “Like what?”

  “You could spread word around. Marshal Collins said he’d help, and if he becomes sheriff, then—”

  Zeb’s eyes darted suspiciously at his brother-in-law. Jo saw the subtle annoyance and knew she had to interrupt. “Leo, you have to let it go. Those men left no trail.”

  Zeb’s left eyebrow rose a fraction while he looked down at her curiously. “How do you know there were more than one?”

  Jo tried not to let her rising panic show. “I don’t. I was just guessing.”

  Zeb continued to stare at her, saying nothing, and Jo made the mistake of trying to fill the unbearable silence with an explanation. “There must ha
ve been more than one because of the tracks I saw.”

  “But as I recall, you told the marshal you saw no tracks. You said they’d been covered by snowfall.” He stared down at her and she knew he could see the truth in her eyes. “Perhaps you saw more than you lead people to believe.”

  Jo tried to backtrack. “They were very clever to have gotten away without being seen.”

  “How clever do you have to be to hang someone?” Leo asked.

  The retort shocked everyone into silence. Jo knew nothing she could say would improve this situation.

  Fletcher knelt down. “If it means that much to you, Leo, why don’t we go on over to the jailhouse now, if it’s okay with your ma, and look up the reports. I’ll tell you what was done about your father’s death.”

  Zeb’s jaw clenched visibly, but he said nothing.

  Jo couldn’t believe what she was hearing or seeing. There were no reassuring looks between Fletcher and Zeb, no winks or nudges. Only Zeb’s uneasiness and the marshal’s sincere interest in seeing the report.

  Whatever suspicions Jo had held about Fletcher Collins dissolved right there. She was certain that, for all he knew, her husband had been murdered by horse thieves.

  Not that any of that mattered. Zeb knew the truth now. That was obvious. And she was in grave danger.

  Fletcher rose to his feet. “Is that all right with you, Mrs. O’Malley?”

  Jo knew the answer had to be yes, but she felt suddenly ill equipped to see what was written about Edwyn’s death. She barely remembered the things she had said to the old marshal about it; she had been in a state of shock, shaking and winded after the midnight ride through the snow all alone. So much of that night was a blur to her now.

  “Mrs. O’Malley? Would it be all right?” Fletcher’s voice startled her, and she realized suddenly that she had been staring blankly at him. His eyes were intense with concern for her and she found she wanted to leave with him now. It didn’t matter where they went, she just wanted him to take her away.

  She cleared her throat, feeling Zeb studying her. “That would be fine. I’ll come along, of course.”