Tempting the Marshal: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Series Book 2) (14 page)

“Jo,” he whispered hotly in her ear, sending ripples of gooseflesh down the length of her body.

She turned her cheek to the side, and his lips grazed the side of her mouth.

“Please, Fletcher…” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, because she was terrified and frustrated with him for getting in her way tonight, but at the same time, her heart was racing with desire at the feel of his body so tight and snug up against her.

Reaching around with her good arm, she buried her fingers into the hair at his nape, pulled him closer, and tipped her face up to the sky as he dropped wet kisses onto her tingling neck. It felt so good, so intoxicating, her knees nearly buckled beneath her.

But he wasn’t going to take this further. Somehow she knew he would put a stop to it very soon. She could sense it. She felt it in his touch.

Sure enough, he spoke softly in her ear. “I’m sorry, but I have to take you in. It’s my job.”

She looked up at the starry sky and exhaled heavily as she dropped her arms to her sides. Everything inside her wanted only to surrender to Fletcher and put her fate in his hands—for good or bad, no matter the outcome. But then she thought of Leo and her conversation with Zeb that afternoon. She couldn’t let Zeb win. She had to protect her son, and she certainly couldn’t do that from behind bars.

Jo broke away from Fletcher’s hold. She had to talk to him, to make him understand. Perhaps there was a chance she could trust him…

“It’s not what it seems,” she carefully said.

He stood motionless, not making a move to handcuff her at least. “I’m listening.”

She tried to find the right words to explain, but there was no right way to talk of murder. And what if Fletcher’s righteous talk about his father and the importance of upholding the law was all a ruse, and he was secretly in Zeb’s pocket and on his payroll? Zeb was married to Fletcher’s sister, after all. Surely Fletcher had to know what kind of man he was.

Still, she had to feel him out, because something in her wanted to believe he could be trusted—that he genuinely cared about her and Leo.

She licked her parched, throbbing lips. “I…I wasn’t trying to rob Zeb’s store the other night. It was more complicated than that.”

“Continue.”

Jo’s ribs were squeezing around her heart. “I was there that night because I believed I had no other choice left to me. I had to protect myself. And Leo.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I know. Just give me a chance. The problems began long before the night I walked into Zeb’s store. I…I lied about what I saw the night Edwyn was murdered.”

Fletcher stared at her for a moment, then his eyes softened and he helped her to sit down in the grass, away from the horses. She felt the weight of his anger lift a little and prayed it would continue.

“I knew something was wrong today when you came to the clerk’s office,” he said. “I could see that you were scared. Please believe that I wanted to help you.”

“You knew?”

She worked hard to keep her voice steady as he sat down in the grass beside her. When had anyone seen the fear she had fought so hard to hide, and known she needed help? Matilda hadn’t seen it. Leo had seen a change in her, but he’d not understood what horrors were at the root of it.

She took Fletcher’s hand, knowing with surprising certainty that it was time to confess the truth to someone. To
him.

“I didn’t find Edwyn murdered, Fletcher. I saw it happen.”

He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then he whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Then he pulled her close.

She let her forehead rest on his shoulder and recalled the dreadfulness of what had occurred that night. Only then did she realize that by keeping this secret bottled up, she had not let herself express all of her grief for Edwyn. It was a strange comfort to do so now.

“What happened?” Fletcher asked.

“We were both in the barn late one night,” she explained, “waiting for a mare to deliver. There was some commotion outside, and Edwyn went out to see what was going on. I heard him yelling, and then it was just a lot of angry voices. I backed into a stall, not sure what was happening. Then the barn door swung open and three men wearing hoods walked in dragging Edwyn, who was weak and staggering. They must have beaten him.” She began to feel sick as she connected with the memories. She paused a moment, searching for strength. “They tossed a rope over a beam, forced Edwyn onto a chair and into the noose, and without a second’s hesitation, the leader kicked the chair out from under him. It happened very quickly and I watched everything.”

Fletcher stroked the hair away from her eyes and kissed the top of her head. A cloud floated in front of the moon.

“The men stayed to watch until Edwyn stopped struggling, and I knew if I tried to stop it, I’d be dead too, and I had to stay alive for Leo. That’s all I could think of. I couldn’t move, I was so terrified. By the time they left, it was too late. I tried to cut Edwyn down and save him, but he was…gone, and I’d done nothing to stop it.
Nothing
. How could I have been such a coward?”

“You were outnumbered, Jo, and you were frightened, thinking of your son.” She pressed her face into his coat, and felt a single tear soak into the thick fabric. “Believe me, you did the right thing,” he added. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“But I do,
I do.”

A deep well of tears—which she had not been able to shed before—overflowed. To her dismay, she realized that where she thought she had been winning a battle against them, she had only been postponing them, while they multiplied, every day, inside her. “I want to be strong, for Leo,” she cried. “He’s all I have left and I love him so much.”

“I can see that,” Fletcher said. “And I promise, everything’s going to be all right.”

“
How
can you promise that?” she asked hopelessly, sniffling and gazing up at him with tearstained cheeks.

“Did you get a look at the men?” he asked.

This was the difficult part—the truth about that night. Would Fletcher even believe her? If he didn’t, there was no hope for her life, or for Leo’s.

Nevertheless, she had to try. Jo sat back, wiped her eyes and whispered, “Yes.”

Fletcher’s astonishment showed on his face, and Jo knew he was connecting these events to the ones that had brought them both here. He was remembering the night in the store, when they’d first met and when Jo had shot him in the leg. He stared speechless at her, then he shook his head in disbelief. “Jo, you don’t think that Zeb—”

He stopped midsentence and laughed skeptically, but it was void of humor.

“I saw it happen,” she firmly said.

“But you said they were wearing hoods. How can you be sure it was him?”

Jo looked down at her hands in her lap. “I know it. I heard his voice, saw the way he moved. It was him.” Fletcher stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. “Zeb Stone is my sister’s husband—a respected, prominent citizen of Dodge. You can’t make accusations like that without some kind of proof.”

“I realize that. That’s why I’m not making accusations.”

Fletcher turned away, staring across the dark prairie, the fast wind lifting his hair. “You can’t do that, Jo. I won’t let you. It’s not right.”

“Not right?” Jo stood up as well and pulled him around to face her. “You dare talk to me about what’s right? My husband dangled from a rope and struggled for his life in front of my eyes, and all I could do was watch. Zeb forced me to choose between my husband and my son, and I made that choice, but not without a lot of pain. I’ve not slept a full night since. I’ve felt so much hate and anger and guilt…I’ll never be the woman I was. Six months ago, I never would have even
considered
taking a man’s life, but now, I just can’t see any other way to protect my family, even if it destroys me inside. So don’t tell me about what’s right.”

Jo let out a breath. The realization hit hard—that she’d been surrounding her heart with ice just to escape the voice of her conscience, and this was the first time the ice had broken. The truth was out. Finally someone knew what she had suffered and what sinful, shameful impulses now lived in her doomed soul.

Fletcher stared at her. She waited with sickening dread for him to say something, but there were no words. He took a step forward and gathered her into his arms again. She felt breathless and surprised.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Jo. And I
do
know what it’s like.”

All she could do was press her cheek into the warmth of his chest. “Your father…”

“Yes, and there was nothing I could do either. Just like you, I was too late.”

“That’s why I have to do this
now,”
she tried to explain
.

Fletcher gently pushed her back a step so that he could look at her face. “No, you don’t have to do it. Not
that
.”

“Zeb is a dangerous man. He’ll kill anyone who gets in his way. I’ve kept my secret all this time, knowing he would never let me live if he knew what I’d seen. But he knows now, Fletcher. Leo and I are in danger.”

Panic flickered across his face. “What do you mean?”

“Today, I saw it in his eyes that he knew.”

“Saw it in his eyes!” Fletcher waved an arm in frustration. “You can’t base decisions on something as subjective as that. What if you’re wrong? What if it was someone else who just sounded like Zeb? He’s a wealthy man with everything going for him. Why would he kill your husband and steal your horses?”

“I don’t know, and there’s no way to find out without him getting suspicious. I have no other choice.”

“Jo, you’re not thinking rationally. You’re driven by guilt. You’re trying to do now what you couldn’t do that night in the barn.” His quick, concise and all too certain summary of the matter caught her off guard.

Was he right? she wondered, while she mentally squirmed to understand her emotions.

“Did you ever try to have Zeb investigated?” Fletcher asked.

“A few tried before, and they ended up dead. I won’t let that happen to Leo and me.”

“You’re saying that you think Zeb has killed others? Jo, I need proof before I can believe something like that.”

“I know, I know. Proof. The impossible.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“It is. Zeb’s too smart. He knows how to cover his tracks and he has the whole town fooled into thinking he’s a man they can trust.”

There was no sign of surrender in Fletcher’s eyes as he replied. “I can’t just accept all this. Even if it’s true, it still doesn’t excuse you. You tried to kill an innocent man—”

“He’s not innocent!”

“He is, in the eyes of the law, and that’s how I see things. I’ll take your suspicions about Zeb into consideration, but for now, the only person I know for sure is guilty is
you.
I’m sorry about this Jo, but I took an oath as a lawman. You tried to kill a man. I have to take you in.”

All the explaining in the world, it seemed, wasn’t going to change his mind. He couldn’t understand, nor did he want to, and that fact alone made her want to shake him, to force him to see this through her eyes.

“Please come with me willingly.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

She could see that he was struggling with himself, but it didn’t ease her frustrations or her sense of dread about what was to come.

The thought to escape and disappear with Leo filled her mind—as it had on many occasions before—but she knew she could not outsmart or outmaneuver Fletcher. He would find them. He would never give up. He had never in his career let any outlaw go free.

Instead, she asked something else of him—the thing that mattered most to her. “Just promise, if anything happens to me, you’ll look out for Leo. There’s no one else I can ask. At least not in Dodge.”

He looked stricken by the request, and after a moment’s deliberation, he nodded. Then he took her by the hand and led her toward his horse. She went without a fight, but not without hope. There was still one possibility—one more thing she could say—and it just might be the thing to get through to him.

Chapter Thirteen

Jo offered her bared wrists to Fletcher and he clicked the cuffs around them. “Is that too tight?”

With no effort at all, she slipped them off her tiny wrists.

“I guess not,” he said softly.

For a moment she thought she might be spared the humiliation of being cuffed, until he reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a small rope.

“I guess this’ll have to do.” He wrapped the prickly rope around her wrists and tied it in a knot, then whistled to Jo’s horse. “Can I help you into the saddle?”

“I’m not going to fly up there,” she replied.

He bent forward and weaved his fingers together for Jo to step into his palms. He lifted her slowly and it was painful, with her injured shoulder, to grab on to the horn and swing her leg over the other side. Before she knew it, she was sitting high in the creaky leather saddle with her wrists bound together, trying to hold on to some shred of dignity when all she felt was hopelessness.

Fletcher rested his hand on her knee, and despite everything, she felt a shock of awareness over every inch of her body. She stared into his shadowed eyes and saw doubt and regret—felt the same things herself—because all she wanted to do was to put herself into his hands and trust him completely, which made no sense because he was determined to lock her up.