Tempting the Marshal: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Series Book 2) (3 page)

Good Lord, she hoped not.

She began to sit up, but even the slightest movement gave way to her broken body’s protest. She let out a low groan, squeezed her eyes shut and touched her injured shoulder.

“Land’s sakes,” she whispered, feeling the large dressing over her wound. Someone had tended to her and put her in a borrowed nightdress. Was she in the doctor’s clinic?

Her ears suddenly tuned to footsteps and a man’s voice just outside her door. Perhaps someone was coming to arrest her. Perhaps the world now knew that a vengeful heart had lived inside the breast of a desperate widow. What if a lynch mob was forming outside? What would she do?

Telling herself these fears were irrational at this point, Jo watched nervously as the brass knob turned. The white-painted door squeaked open and Dr. Green walked in. Jo let out a tightly held breath and prepared herself for whatever fate held in store.

“Mrs. O’Malley, you’re awake,” he said, closing the door with a light click behind him.

Jo wet her dry lips and tried to bring the approaching doctor into focus. She had to gather her wits, carefully plan her responses. Was it too much to hope that her identity had not been discovered? “Yes, I…what happened?”

Dr. Green approached the bed, his black sleeve stained with blood. Was it her blood? she wondered, worrying not just about her own wounds, but about whoever else might have been hurt because of what she had done.

“You were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the doctor said.

Jo paused, contemplating before she spoke. “Who brought me here?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Not exactly.”

Dr. Green cupped his fingers around her wrist and took her pulse, which was probably thumping faster than he could count. “You were shot. Deputy Anderson found you in the necessary behind Zimmerman’s.” He glared down at her, and Jo thought she saw suspicion in his brown eyes. “Do you remember?”

“I…I’m not sure.”

The doctor looked closely into both her eyes, pulling each of her lower lids down with his thumb. “You were lucky. The bullet went straight through without too much damage. I closed the wound and it should heal just fine. I want to keep you here, though, for at least a day or two to watch for infection.”

Jo barely heard a word the doctor was saying. All she could think of was how lucky she was to be alive, and what Leo would have done if he’d had to bury another parent.

“I’ve already sent word out to your ranch. Your son will want to see you, I reckon.”

Jo smiled weakly at him. “Thank you.”

How was she going to explain this to Leo? she wondered. She was supposed to have been running errands when all of this happened.

As the doctor turned to leave, Jo thought again of the lawman she had gunned down in Zeb’s store. A mental picture of him, sprawled out on his back and bleeding onto the plank floor, made her heart wrench. “Wait, please, Doctor. Was anyone else hurt tonight?”

“Besides you? Why, yes. The new marshal took a bullet.”

“He’s not dead, is he?”

At that moment, a knock sounded. Dr. Green crossed the room and opened the door.

Jo suddenly found herself staring in stunned silence at the man she thought she’d killed. Her heart did a quick
pitter-pat,
then her mind was struck numb by the strangeness of it all—how she could be so plagued by him one moment, then so happy to see him the next.

“Why don’t you ask Marshal Collins yourself?” Dr. Green suggested.

Leaning heavily on a cane, the marshal limped like a Civil War vet into the room. A white, bloodstained bandage was wrapped around his head. He wore black wool trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a dark brown vest, no hat, and his chestnut-colored hair was neatly trimmed.

“Ask me what?” he drawled good-naturedly.

Jo couldn’t find words to reply. She was too busy trying to keep herself from spilling out her relief in a gigantic wave of apologies and confessions and useless reparations, all of which would land her in the county jail.

The marshal glanced questioningly at the doctor.

“She wants to know if you’re dead,” Dr. Green answered.

The marshal’s lips parted with a grin that revealed straight white teeth and deep dimples around his mouth, and his eyes sparkled flirtatiously. “There are days, ma’am, when I think I might be. Thankfully, this ain’t one of ’em.”

The two gentlemen shared a chuckle, but all Jo could respond to was the charming, congenial glint in the lawman’s eyes—so different from the threatening glare he’d produced in Zeb’s store when he first burst through the doors.

When the moment of humor passed, however, the marshal peered at Jo, and his smile faded. She swallowed nervously, not wanting to think of all the things he could say to her at this moment, all the accusations she deserved to hear.

He limped a little closer, his cane tapping twice on the floor. “Are you well enough to speak with me, Mrs. O’Malley? Or would you prefer I come back later?”

She would have to face this man at some point, she knew. She might as well get it over with now and try to learn as much as she could about the situation. Jo tried to speak with a steady voice. “I believe I could manage it. Please, sit down.”

He took a seat in the corner rocker, wincing subtly when he bent his knee. The doctor stood just inside the door.

“I’m very sorry about what happened to you,” the marshal said, leaning his elbow on the armrest. “I can’t help feeling responsible.”

Knowing it was the most absurd thing for him to say—considering it was
she
who had shot
him
in the leg—Jo waited in silence for him to continue.

“As luck would have it, today was my first day on the job. It was my intent when I walked in on that holdup to disarm the man who shot you.”

The marshal still believed the outlaw was a man….
“You must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he continued. “Where were you, exactly?”

“I was in the privy.”

Marshal Collins stared at her intently. “But there were no bullet holes in the privy walls, I’m told.”

“I mean, when
they found
me,” she added.

“I’m aware of that much. I was here when Deputy Anderson brought you in.”

So much had happened while she was unconscious. She was groping for an explanation in the dark with both hands tied behind her back. “What happened to you?” she asked, stalling. “Were you badly hurt?”

“Thank you for your concern, ma’am, but I’m fine.” Dr. Green interrupted. “Rumors are going around that he was shot in the head and laid out cold as a wagon tire. But as you can see, he hasn’t hung up his holster yet.”

Marshal Collins shot the doctor a rankled glance, then looked back at Jo. “I was wounded, is all.”

Jo gestured to the bandage on his head. “What happened there?”

“It’s nothing serious—”

“He fainted,” Dr. Green said.

The marshal shook his head. “I didn’t faint, ma’am. I took a bullet in the leg and cracked my skull on the counter when I went down.”

“The bullet just grazed him, actually,” the doctor added.

“If you don’t mind, Doc, I’m trying to interrogate a witness.”

Witness.
Jo felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders.

The marshal looked back at Jo, his expression sobering. “I’ll have to ask you again. Where were you when you were shot?”

Jo did her best to answer sensibly. “I was late in running my errands today and I was on my way to the privy before heading home.”

“A lady like yourself shouldn’t be walking the streets alone after dark. In the future you might want to be more careful.”

“A woman like me doesn’t have the means to be careful, Marshal. I’m raising a son and running my late husband’s ranch. If I need supplies, I get them. I don’t pay much mind to whether it’s the sun or the moon lighting my way.”

Something unreadable flickered in the marshal’s eyes as he digested her reply. He hesitated a moment, staring, before steering the subject back to where he wanted it. “Did you see the man who shot you?”

“I didn’t see him. I only heard gunfire, stopped to look in the direction I thought it was coming from, then felt the bullet strike. I have no idea where it came from, or who shot me. Then I ran to the privy and locked the door. I was quite frightened.”

“Of course you were.” He narrowed his eyes and his inquisitive gaze routed some of Jo’s resolve. “Would you excuse us for a moment, Doc? I have some questions of a private nature, and I’m sure Mrs. O’Malley would want her answers kept private as well.”

She felt a rush of anxiety. What would this private conversation be about?

Jo nodded her consent at the doctor.

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need me,” he said. “But you go easy on her, Marshal. She’s in a delicate state.”

As soon as the doctor walked out, the pain in Jo’s shoulder grew worse, if that was possible, but she tried to ignore it. She had to keep the situation in focus. Her future depended on the marshal’s questions and what she might learn from them. She had to protect Leo from his father’s killer, and if that meant skirting the law until she had a chance to meet Zeb again, then so be it. The most important thing now was to lead this marshal away from her masquerade.

He leaned forward in his chair and the muscles in his sun-bronzed forearms tensed, then relaxed, distracting her from everything. Accordingly, Jo tried instead to concentrate on his voice, but that wasn’t much better. His slow drawl had the same calming effect it had in Zeb’s store when he’d told her to lower her weapons. And she
had
lowered them.

Oh, if she wasn’t careful, she would confess everything.

“You were on your way to the privy?” he asked again.

“That’s right.”

“Mrs. O’Malley—” he tilted his head “—I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”

Jo’s heart began to beat faster until she could hear it pounding in her ears. “Of course I am.”

“In order for me to do my job, I need you to trust me and tell me where you
really
were when you were shot.”

How could he know all this? It wasn’t possible. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, Marshal.”

He watched her with discerning green eyes that told her she could hide nothing from him. “I know you weren’t injured in the dress you were wearing when Deputy Anderson brought you here. After Dr. Green transferred you from his operating table to this room, I was curious about the extent of your wound. Please forgive me, but I examined the bodice of your dress. There was no bullet hole.”

Jo stared blankly at the marshal, knowing she couldn’t stand up to him much longer. Surely, she was done for.

“So let me ask you again, Mrs. O’Malley. Where were you when the bullet struck your shoulder?”

Chapter Three

Marshal Collins sat with his forefinger resting on his temple, studying Jo and seeming to find her as guilty as the last fox who’d emptied her chicken coop.

All Jo could do was stare into those green-and-gold flecked eyes and scramble for an explanation. Why wouldn’t she have been wearing her dress when she was shot? she asked herself. What possible reason could there be?

“Mrs. O’Malley, I only want to know the truth so I can find and arrest the man who shot you.”

“The truth.”

“Well, yes, ma’am.”

She tried to imagine herself not wearing her bodice outdoors in the full dark of night, why any person would ever do such a thing. Anyone respectable, that is. At the same time, she knew what folks had been saying about her living on her ranch with all those cowhands in her bunkhouse, and those same folks probably wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to hear she’d been out behind the saloons in her unmentionables.

Maybe those rumors might get her out of this—at least temporarily.

Jo pursed her lips. What did it matter if she told a little lie? After all the gossip, she couldn’t possibly do any more damage to her reputation.

She tried to speak with conviction. “I…I was with someone.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Marshal, this conversation is highly improper.”

At that instant, he seemed to grasp her meaning and his elbow slipped right off the armrest. He quickly pulled it back and cleared his throat.

“This is awkward, I know,” she said, lowering her eyes. “That’s why I don’t wish to speak about it any further.”

The chair creaked as he shifted uncomfortably. “But perhaps whoever you were
with
might have seen something more.”

“No, he’d already left.”

“Left…left where? The privy? You were in the privy together?”

“No, we were in back of Zimmerman’s. As I told you before, I was on my way to the privy before heading home when I was shot.”

The marshal seemed reluctant to believe it. “Can I have his name? He might have seen something.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mrs. O’Malley, this is a deadly situation. You have my word as a peace officer that I will do my best not to repeat what you tell me.”