Tempting the Marshal: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Series Book 2) (25 page)

“Yep. Straight through the heart. You gonna come and see for yourself?”

As much as he wanted to, Fletcher couldn’t leave Jo alone with Zeb, especially not with this new development. “Not right away. I trust you to take care of things. Seal off the area. Ask if anyone saw anything. I’ll be by later to take a look.”

“Yes, sir.” Anderson settled his hat on his head and saluted the butler. “Don’t bother yourself. I know the way out. Door’s right there.”

Fletcher stood in the dining room thinking, then approached Matthews. “Tell everyone I had to step out for a few minutes. I’ll be back in time for supper, though. I just want to ask Anderson a few more questions and check something at the jailhouse.”

“Shall I get your hat, sir?”

“Not necessary,” Fletcher replied, going for the door.

He stepped outside into the twilight, hearing birds chirping in the straight row of trees Zeb had imported to line his driveway.

Fletcher looked all around the yard for witnesses. Seeing only Deputy Anderson on his horse, trotting off the property without looking back, Fletcher ducked down below the windows and circled the outside of the large stone house toward the back.

He knew the servants were busy downstairs preparing supper. Jo, Elizabeth and Zeb were still in the drawing room, and because Zeb had chosen a property on a hill on the edge of town, it was secluded enough to avoid the company and curiosity of neighbors.

Fletcher sneaked around to the back and found an open window, hoping it would take him into a closed room and not a hall or some other visible section of the house. Grabbing hold of the wooden window ledge, he pulled himself up. With one swift thrust, he was inside.

He straightened his shirt, looked around the dark room and found himself in Elizabeth’s private sitting room. He went to the door and peered into the hall, then quietly walked across and tried the door on the other side. Finding it locked, he retrieved the rusty hairpin he kept on his key ring for moments like these, and gently persuaded the lock to open.

Fletcher walked in and closed the door behind him, straining to hear any sounds from the hall outside as he made his way across the room. He walked to the desk near the back wall, sat down and grabbed for whatever he could get his hands on—papers, letters, invoices, bank statements. Most letters were addressed to Zeb at Zeb Stone’s Dry Goods. The invoices were for store merchandise he brought in from all parts of the country.

Reaching for the bank records, Fletcher checked over the amounts and had to swallow his surprise at the balance carried forward each month. There was enough money in there to stuff the entire county courthouse to the roof.

Fletcher searched for large deposits, but there were only standard amounts from the business, the balance having been deposited when he originally opened the account. Elizabeth’s explanation about Zeb inheriting his money seemed legitimate.

Hearing silverware clinking in the dining room, Fletcher decided to get back before Jo had to sit down at Zeb’s table on her own.

He left the same way he came in and, within moments, he was walking through the front door of the grand house and smelling roast beef in the downstairs kitchen.

Matthews stood outside the drawing room with his hands clasped behind his back. “They have been waiting for you, sir,” he said, opening the door to the drawing room.

Fletcher walked in, and there was Jo, sitting where he’d left her, her gaze darting up at him and her eyes shimmering with relief and happiness to see him. He took a deep breath at the sight of her sitting there, wearing his mother’s wedding ring, returning his enamored gaze as if there were no one else in the room but the two of them.

Only the sound of Zeb’s voice pulled Fletcher out of his stupor. “You’re back, finally. What did the deputy want that couldn’t wait until after dinner?”

Fletcher regarded him with an inquisitive gaze. “He came to report a death.”

“Good heavens,” Elizabeth said, covering her mouth with a hand. “Who was it?”

Fletcher didn’t take his eyes off Zeb, who sat calmly in the chair, revealing nothing. “No one you would know, Liz. He was a drover who’d just shipped a herd out east.”

“How did he die?” Zeb asked, leaning back in the chair, his hands relaxed on the armrests.

“Looks like his heart gave out,” Fletcher replied, not wanting to mention in front of Elizabeth the true circumstances, or that Zeb had played poker with the man the night before.

“What a shame. The fellow must have been working too hard,” Zeb said.

“I reckon so.”

“Shall we go to the table?” Zeb asked, his tone light.

Elizabeth nodded serenely and accepted her husband’s hand to lead her out of the room. All Fletcher could do was meet Jo’s inquisitive gaze, her pale cheeks revealing her concern.

He knew without a doubt that something was going on in this town, and Jo was a sitting duck in the middle of it.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said, rising.

“Why? Did something happen? If Zeb said or did anything—”

“Nothing at all. I’m just glad to see you. I was worried about you.”

“I was worried about you, too,” he replied, fighting to keep the emotion from his voice, but it was no use. “I didn’t like leaving you.”

He offered his arm and she looped hers through it on the way out of the room.

“Then don’t do it again,” she said.

He wished with all his heart that he could give her that promise.

* * *

The ladies’ refined presence at the diningroom table may have steered the conversation away from cattle rustling and murder, but it anchored it in far more dangerous territory.

“Perhaps we should set the date,” Elizabeth suggested, sipping on red wine from a crystal glass.

Fletcher and Jo regarded each other immediately.

“We don’t want to rush anything,” she said, moving her food around on her plate. “With the election coming up…”

“All the more reason to plan it now. We could make it a double celebration. I would be happy to help arrange things.”

“My dear,” Zeb said, cutting her off, “you’ll have more than enough planning to do for my victory celebration. Perhaps Fletcher and Mrs. O’Malley are wise to wait until afterward.”

Elizabeth smiled politely. “Yes of course, you’re right.”

“But you don’t plan to take up ranching, do you?” Zeb asked Fletcher. “What about your career? The sheriff s office? I hope you haven’t forgotten it.”

“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.