Katie and the Marshal (Montana Women Book 1) Page 2

  “I haven’t been able to find folks to help me build a house.”

  Katie resisted—by the skin of her teeth—the urge to laugh out loud. Raising her brow, she drawled, “Why, I can’t imagine why none of the men folk in town would help you build a place, can you?”

  His scowl nearly set her to rolling on the floor with laughter. For the most part, the men in Bozeman were God-fearing, good folk—the married ones, at least, good husbands. But a fair share of them liked a dalliance now and again. Mostly innocent little things like a night out drinking, especially after a harvest or cow-run. Sometimes the drinking got a bit out of hand, and that was where some of the ladies of less fortunate means plied their wares. Life wasn’t easy in Montana, and Maggie had never faulted the brothel owners for trying to make a living.

  But he’d changed all of that as he closed the brothels down one by one. The men in town were as gentlemanly as the hard life would allow. Releasing steam and relaxing in one of the brothels kept them quiet and tame, which helped keep the peace at home. Most wives tended toward pragmatic acceptance, turning a blind eye to their husbands’ occasional trysts.

  Katie had known for as long as she could remember that she wouldn’t be so acquiescent as a wife. Perhaps it explained why she hadn’t married yet, perhaps never would.

  “Well?” he said gruffly. “You got an extra room or not?”

  She gave him a long look, wanting to say no, but ended up agreeing with a sharp edge to her voice. “Sure do. Follow me, and I’ll show you the vacant ones.”

  He joined her without delay. Katie nearly laughed at the relieved expression crossing his face as he scrambled from his seat. One of these days she’d ask him to give her a tour of the jailhouse.

  “Woo-ho, Miz Katie! You going to show the marshal a…”

  ‘Good time’ was left unsaid, but insinuated.

  Katie paused on the steps to the second floor and glared down at Duke Bright, one of her regulars and, unfortunately, a trouble-maker at times. He grinned ear to ear up at her from his position at the bar. She opened her mouth to give him ‘what for’ when James intervened.

  “Apologize to Miss Katie, Bright.” James’s low voice boomed in the silence.

  Duke Bright didn’t live up to his last name, that was for sure, Katie decided when he hauled his hefty frame off the bar stool and faced the marshal, jaw jutting. It didn’t help that he was drunk either. “Miz Katie knows I was just funning’ with her,” he said, his words slurring. “What’s it to you?”

  “I’m not telling you again,” James warned, heading back down the steps. “Apologize.”

  Katie froze and watched the men square off. Then Bright did the most ridiculous thing; he pulled a gun—fast. But not fast enough.

  Light flashed and a booming sound filled the Palace, followed by a high-pitched scream.

  Katie gasped and looked down at Bright who lay in the fetal position, squeezing his wrist to staunch the blood flowing from his mangled hand and onto the wooden floor. Then she gazed at the marshal, bent over… She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, even as the room started spinning so she latched onto the railing and willed herself not to faint.

  Chapter 2

  The shooting silenced the crowd. “Get me something to staunch the blood!” James snarled, snatching up Bright’s gun from the floor. “And call for Doc Adamson.”

  Annie Callahan ran into the dining room, her hands full of cloths from the kitchen. James started ripping the cotton into strips when he happened to look up. He saw Katie on the steps, noting the whiteness of her face, then her eyes rolled back. Cursing, he dropped Bright’s hand, ignoring the man’s loud, painful groan. In two strides, James arrived at the steps and caught Katie as she crumpled and swooned in his arms.

  Damn! Shooting Bright, protecting himself from the blasted fool’s trigger finger, happened so fast James hadn’t had a chance to think the situation over. He would have been a dead man if he’d taken the time to think instead of following his gut-reaction, as lawmen have always done.

  James looked down the steps, saw Bright trying to get up off the floor.

  “Brewster!” James called. “Lock the doors, then come over here and keep an eye on Bright!” James met the injured man’s furious expression. “You aren’t going anywhere. You’re under arrest.”

  “You shot me for no good reason!” Bright shouted.

  Meeting several men’s eyes, James knew he had their support. “I’ve got witnesses that will back me up you drew first.”

  Brewster, who’d been at his usual position at the door, met Annie’s gaze. She looked at the marshal, then nodded at Brewster. James offered Annie a gentle, thankful smile. From the moment he’d met Annie, he liked her, but not romantically. She was only eighteen but the sweetest woman he’d ever met. Yet, she didn’t compare to Katie, a woman full-grown. He’d fleetingly entertained the notion of courting Annie, but then just as quickly set the idea aside in accordance with the vows he’d made to himself. Besides, he was thirty-three years old, likely a good ten to twelve years older than Katie. What would a pretty young thing like her want with an old codger like him?

  James made his way up the stairs and marveled at Katie’s lightness in his arms. Meat on her bones, that was what she needed he decided as he placed her gently on the bed in the first room at the top of the steps, on the right.

  He grabbed a neatly folded quilt from the rack in the corner, started to cover her up but paused. It was hotter than Hades this August day. Eyeing her long-sleeved, buttoned-up-to-the-neck dress he decided she’d die of the heat with the quilt atop her. Dropping the quilt over the rack again, he turned to Katie, gingerly sat down beside her on the bed and chafed one small hand. He noticed the other hand at her side, palm up and blistered. He frowned.

  “Come on, wake up,” he coaxed, wondering about the vivid red burn marks. Then he thought about her work in the Palace and decided it likely wasn’t the first time she’d been burned in the kitchen.

  Her hands felt cold—lifeless. Shock, he decided. He’d shocked the poor woman into a dead faint. James had always lumped brothel owners into one category. Tough as nails they were. This one, however, was far from tough. Would a hard-as-nails brothel owner faint at the first sign of a gunfight? He didn’t think so, but Katie had, which left him in a dilemma, having second thoughts about how he thought she’d been running a brothel.

  Truth be told, it was just one reason he wanted to take up residence at Katie’s place, to keep a close eye on things. He hoped he was wrong in thinking the place might not be legal. There was something comforting about Katie’s Palace, and he’d hate to have to close it down. Besides, he couldn’t endure another night in a jail cell on a lumpy cot and looked forward to sleeping under Katie’s roof.

  Soon color started returning to her cheeks, and that’s when he noticed the smattering of freckles across her small nose for the first time. With her red hair, it was no surprise. He found himself wondering again about her age. She wasn’t eighteen, he knew, but still, she appeared young, healthy…pretty. Too pretty for his own peace of mind.

  He looked down when Katie moaned, then Annie ran into the room.

  James rose from the bed and stood beside it, arms crossed.

  Katie opened her eyes and looked up at James as she frowned and swiped a swathe of hair off her face.

  “No need to worry, ma’am. You’re fine.”

  “What happened?”

  “You fainted, Katie,” Annie said worriedly.

  “Oh.” Katie looked up at James in confusion. “You didn’t get shot?”

  Raising his brow, James said, “Not me. Bright tried though.” Scowling, he added, “Thought Brewster had everyone check their weapons at the door before entering the Palace?”

  She sighed. “He doesn’t physically check people, though I can see he’ll have to in the future. I hadn’t realized Bright possessed such a nasty streak.”

  “He was drunk, and drunken men do impulsive, stupid things.”
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  Katie frowned. “Hmm, no one’s ever shot a gun inside my place—until you walked through the doors. So you weren’t hit?” At the shake of his head, she added, “I’m beginning to think you’re going to be trouble, marshal, living under my roof.”

  James took umbrage with her words and stiffened his spine. “If you’ve changed your mind, ma’am…”

  “No, no. Just an observation’s all I’m making.”

  She started to sit up but sank back when Annie pressed down on her shoulders. “You need to rest a bit more, Katie.”

  “No.” Katie sat up and smiled at Annie. “I’m fine. Besides, the marshal here is in the process of picking out a room. He’ll be living here until his house is built.”

  Annie’s brows shot up. “Is that a fact?” She smiled at James and reached out her hand. “Well then, welcome, marshal. We’ll take good care of you here.”

  James took Annie’s hand gently in his and squeezed, then released it. “Thank you, Miss Annie.” A slow grin crossed his lips. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

  Dryly, Katie said, “I imagine any place would be better than a jail cell.”

  “True.” Sweeping his hand toward the door, he added, “If you’re well enough, Miss O’Malley, I await the tour.”

  “I’d better get back to the kitchen,” Annie said.

  James doffed his hat with a nod. “Thank you, Miss Annie.”

  Katie figured he’d choose her most spacious room. It was also located at the opposite end of the hall from hers. Ironically, he chose one of the smaller rooms, directly across from hers.

  As long as Annie had been with them, Katie had felt comfortable with James, but she’d left them upon beginning the tour. Not wanting him so close to her room, she suggested “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in the larger room I showed you at the other end of the hallway?”

  He shook his head and guided her back down the steps with a hand at her waist. “Nope. The location’s wrong.”

  As she stepped off the last step, she faced him and gave him a quizzical look. “Why?”

  “Too far away for an escape route other than the main staircase. I’d be like a sitting duck in that room.”

  “I see. Um, are you expecting trouble?”

  “Always, Miss Katie. Call it the nature of my job.”

  “Have you ever thought about pursuing some other sort of work?”

  “No.”

  His flat, firm tone made Katie curious. He wanted to end the conversation with no further discussion.

  “You’re welcome to move in any time then.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be by with my stuff in the morning. Thank you, Miss Katie.”

  “Just Katie is fine.”

  His smile widened. “Katie, it is. And I’m James.”

  She looked into his gentle eyes that crinkled in the corners from his smile. Glancing down, she saw he’d stuck out his hand—something a man would do to another man—sealing the deal. She started to take it but paused and pulled the hand back, remembering the burns.

  He didn’t say a word as he slowly moved his hand back, but she couldn’t miss the disappointment in his eyes. Before she could defend herself not taking his hand, he touched the brim of his hat. “’Evenin’, ma’am,” he said curtly, turning on his heel and leaving the Palace.

  Katie watched him, her gaze drifting appreciatively over his broad back and narrow legs as his long legs carried him across the lobby and out the door. His slight swagger brought a smile to her lips. Her feelings were mixed though. In a way, having the law right under her roof might be a good thing. She’d fibbed to him earlier, about no shooting at the Palace, thinking a year ago how she’d had her fair share of trouble with cowboys passing through town during the last cattle drive.

  The Palace was empty now, the lunch crowd having left, yet she knew, as she headed for the kitchen, within four hours, the place would be full for supper.

  The marshal didn’t wait for morning, but arrived in the midst of the busy supper hour with minimal possessions. A few suitcases and a blanket and saddle over one wide shoulder was all. He tossed her a nod while he headed up the stairs. With two heaping high plates of fried chicken, she paused at the foot of the steps, watching him easily take the stairs with his load.

  She settled the dinners in front of two new-to-town cowboys with a smile and turned to leave when a tug on her apron made her glance over her shoulder. One of the men had caught her apron string and held it gripped in his hand.

  Katie sighed. Here we go again. Just like last year. And she knew more men would be arriving in the next several days. “Did I forget something?” she innocently asked. Then her eyes caught Marshal Freeman’s from the top of the stairs, his eyes narrowed.

  The cowboy released the string and sank back in his chair. “When we’re finished eating, maybe you can fill us in on what’s going on in town.”

  “And where we can find some feminine company, ma’am,” the other cowboy inserted.

  “Well,” Katie said slowly, turning to face them with her hands propped on her hips, “maybe the marshal here can help you out with your requests.”

  The second, younger cowboy blanched. “Did you say marshal?”

  Katie nodded. “Yes. Our law enforcer lives right here at the Palace. I’m certain he’ll be here for supper any moment. You can ask him then.”

  The men fell silent, the younger one blushed to the roots of his tousled blonde hair, the first one scowling at Katie as she turned away and headed for the kitchen again.

  “Miss Katie!”

  Katie looked to her left and found old Timothy Patterson, one of the town’s blacksmiths calling for her.

  “Yes, Timothy?”

  “Any chance I could get a refill?”

  Katie noticed his empty plate, then tried not to focus on the man’s substantial paunch.” She knew his wife would not be happy with his eating a second helping, but that wasn’t Katie’s problem.

  “Sure, thing, Timothy. Be right back.”

  Oh, that was too easy. Katie headed for the kitchen again. Having the marshal’s protection would be comforting, she admitted. Her step was light and lively when she shoved through the kitchen’s swinging doors.

  Annie looked up from her position at the stove where she stood frying chicken pieces in cast-iron skillets on every burner.

  “Glad to see a smile on your face,” Annie said, grinning back at Katie. “Want to let me in on the fun?”

  Katie chuckled. “I was hesitant about Marshal Freeman staying here, but now I’m glad of it.”

  Annie sighed. “He’s a handsome man but somewhat glum, don’t you think?”

  “I’d be glum if I had his job,” Katie said. She filled a plate with chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy. And the worry he must experience in his daily work, she decided, thinking about the incident with Duke Bright. Lord, but she’d never fainted in her life until then—when she’d thought James had been shot. Thoughts of being married to him sent chills up her spine. As his wife, she would worry every day about his safety. Whatever was she thinking? Marriage to the man would be impossible!

  Upon her return to the dining room, she frowned thoughtfully. Now why in the world had she defended that man when he’d made so much trouble from the moment he’d stepped foot in town?

  She had just placed the plate of food in front of Timothy when she caught sight of James. Her jaw gaped as she stared at him, dressed in a black jacket, pants, crisp white shirt and string tie. Never had she seen him attired in anything but his law enforcement uniform consisting of a denim shirt and pants, buckskin vest and a Stetson on his head. Why, if Katie didn’t know better, he appeared ready to go-a-courtin’.

  The room full of people fell silent. Every patron had noticed the marshal’s change of attire. Every one of them as stunned, it appeared, as Katie.

  He sank into a chair at the back of the dining hall, his elbows on the table. Overlooking the street, the table was positioned next to the window.

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nbsp; Protecting his back again, Katie decided, heading toward him to take his order.

  Pausing at his table with a smile, she asked, “What would you like, Marshal?”

  Chapter 3

  What would he like? As he looked his fill of Katie, still dressed in a pretty flower-sprigged day dress, apron covering it, he sighed. What he’d like to do is settle her into the chair across from him and enjoy a night of sweet, feminine company with her. She’d make some man a fine wife. Unfortunately, he was not that man. He had long ago decided, due to his career, he would never marry. He refused to jeopardize the safety of a wife and children, so he’d go it alone for the rest of his life.

  Not that he was any saint. He was a man with needs, but he made sure, with his occasional trips to Helena, that the women with whom he dallied knew from the start his shortcomings, including his inability to commit.

  He had no doubts Katie would fulfill every one of his needs if he allowed her into his life. Then he thought, chagrinned, why would she want anything to do with him when there were far more handsome—far more charming men than him that would possibly make her a marriage offer? Men who had a chance of living a hell of a lot longer than him, besides, he decided, thinking of his hazardous occupation.

  “Marshal?”

  He shook his head to clear it and murmured, “Call me James, Miss Katie. I’d prefer it.”

  She frowned. “Oh, do you think that would be proper, though, you being the law and all?”

  “Who cares about proper? I want you to call me by my name, not my title. Besides, I’ll be living in the same house with you. Marshal just seems plain silly to me.”

  If folks didn’t know right away he was the law, he could lay low and watch for trouble from any newcomers passing into town. The element of surprise would be in his favor.

  “All right, James,” she softly replied. “Now what would you like for supper?”

  “How about the beef stew?”

  “Excellent choice. Annie makes the best stew around these parts. Biscuits, too?”