Free The Marshal's Ready-Made Family by Sherri Shackelford Page A

bit.”
    “The package is just fine the way it is.” Jo tapped her foot. “Now, I’d best go. I don’t want to be late.”
    The older woman shook her head. “Suit yourself.”
    “My mind is made up.” Jo adjusted her hat. “Besides, he’s the one who needs me. Not the other way around.”
    Beatrice lifted an eyebrow. “Whatever you say.”
    Jo kept her silence.
    “Ah, don’t be sore,” Beatrice pleaded. “I’m just trying to help.”
    “I’m not sore. I’m just—” Jo heaved a sigh “—confused.”
    “Men will do that.” Beatrice yanked Jo into a quick embrace. “And thank you. For the lessons. A lot of people wouldn’t go to the trouble for someone like me.”
    “And that’s their loss. I’ll see you at six,” Jo replied with no hard feelings. “There should even be some apple cobbler left.”
    Beatrice flashed a relieved grin and set off in the opposite direction.
    Jo caught sight of the marshal and Cora on the boardwalk outside the sheriff’s office.
    The cool morning air was burning off with the rising sun. The marshal had whitewashed the front of the sheriff’s office, and the building appeared too cheerful for prisoners. They’d even etched the oval front window with his name. The marshal kept an open-door policy, and the shades were always raised.
    “Good morning,” Jo called, her voice a touch too loud.
    “Mornin’.”
    His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. He studied the tips of his boots. “Nice weather we’re having.”
    “Seasonal.”
    “Could be worse.”
    “Yep.”
    The knotted muscles in Jo’s neck tightened. This wasn’t going quite as smoothly as she’d hoped.
    He cleared his throat and focused his attention on his niece. The marshal hovered behind Cora, and Jo’s pulse trembled. His dark hair hung low over his forehead, and his coffee-colored eyes flashed with worry. “Are you sure you’re gonna be all right?”
    The little girl leaped up and launched herself at Jo, gripping her around the waist. “You’re here!”
    Jo mocked an exaggerated stumble. “Easy there.”
    “I guess that answers my question,” the marshal declared.
    Cora glanced over her shoulder. “Jo is teaching me how to be a telegram operator today.”
    “Tele graph operator,” Jo corrected.
    Garrett crouched and handed her a pail. “This is Cora’s lunch. If you need anything, I’ll be at the lawyer’s office. He’s got some information from Missouri.”
    “We’ll be fine.”
    “And after that I’ll be in my office going over some paperwork. The judge is coming through town next week.”
    “Okay.”
    “I might have lunch at the hotel. If you can’t find me at my office or with the lawyer, check over at the hotel.”
    Jo rolled her eyes. The man was circling like a mother hen. “Relax. I’m taking her to the telegraph office, not a wolf den. Cora and I have developed our own routine. Don’t forget, we’ve already been doing this for a couple of days.”
    Remorse flitted across his bold features, and once again her conscience pricked. How come she never said the right thing?
    Hooking his thumbs into his belt loops, Marshal Cain glanced down the street. “I reckon you’re right. This business with my cousin, Edward, has me shook up. I’d best let you two get to work.”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe.”
    “I know you will.”
    “I promise.”
    “Okay, then.”
    The marshal tipped his hat with a murmured “Ladies,”and set off.
    Jo and Cora watched his receding steps before strolling along the boardwalk. So much for all her previous resolutions. She’d blown it on their very first conversation after her staunch resolution only moments before. Her feet slowed.
    Cora stared at her expectantly, and Jo plastered a smile on her face. “Ready?”
    “Ready!” Cora declared.
    Tapping her foot, Jo paused a moment. “I give him an hour before he comes and checks on you.”
    Cora giggled, and together they crossed the short distance, passing the depot and the