The Marshal's Ready-Made Family Read Online Free PDF Page B

and shook her head. “I hope that’s not her best dress, because dirt multiplies on this farm. And it doesn’t wash out easy.”
    “Don’t worry, Mrs. McCoy,” the marshal replied, dusting his hands together. “She’s got plenty more dresses where that one came from.”
    Jo and Marshal Cain followed Edith into the cozy farmhouse. The aromas of fresh-baked bread and pot roast drifted from the kitchen, sending Jo’s mouth watering. Since the spring temperatures cooled after dark, a fire danced in the hearth.
    “You two have a seat,” Edith ordered. “I’m putting the finishing touches on dinner.”
    Marshal Cain pulled out a chair and paused. Jo glanced behind her. He waved his hand over the seat. “Ladies first.”
    A spoon clattered against the floor.
    Her ma bent and retrieved the utensil. “Clumsy of me. I’ll just rinse this off in the sink. If you don’t mind my being forward, how are you getting along, Marshal?”
    Jo snorted and flopped onto the proffered chair.
    The marshal sat down across from her. “No need to apologize, Mrs. McCoy. I’m sure Jo has told you all about Cora.”
    “Not Jo, no. But gossip travels with the speed of boredom around here.”
    The marshal glanced around the tidy room, and Jo knew exactly what he was noticing. All of the spices above the stove were arranged alphabetically, the pots were hung by size, and even the glasses were arranged by height. When she was younger, her ma’s habits had annoyed her, but as she grew older she realized that order made even the most cramped spaces cozy and welcoming.
    Marshal Cain shook his head. “How do you manage to keep everything in place with children running underfoot?”
    Mrs. McCoy wiped the spoon on a towel draped over the sink. “More help, I guess. I’ve got more people to make the mess, but I’ve also got more people to help with the chores.”
    “I don’t think more children will solve my problems.” The marshal rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. “I can’t keep up. I feel like my whole jailhouse was hit with a pink bomb. That little girl must have come with a magic trunk, because when I opened it, the contents tripled in size.”
    Jo hid a grin. The marshal did look a bit disheveled. And she’d never heard him so talkative. As she pondered his uncharacteristic admissions, another thought darkened her mood. They’d seen each other in passing each day this week, and yet he’d never once confided his concerns with her.
    The marshal pressed his thumb into the soft wax of the candle burning in the center of the table. “I hope nobody gets arrested, because Cora set up a tea party in the jail cell. I can’t put a fugitive in there with a couple of rag dolls having tea. There’s even a pink blanket on the cot.”
    Jo clapped her hands over her mouth.
    Her ma lifted a lid from the roaster, sending a plume of steam drifting toward the ceiling. “I can see where that would be a problem,” Edith replied, her voice ripe with amusement. “Sometimes I wish we had more pink in this house. We’re full up on boys since Jo left, and she was never one for tea parties anyway.”
    Jo scowled, her amusement waning. Just because she didn’t throw tea parties didn’t mean she wasn’t a girl. She was different, that’s all. Why did everyone insist on bringing it up all the time?
    “And it’s not just her stuff.” The marshal picked off a chunk of wax and rolled it into a ball between his thumb and forefinger. “Cora doesn’t eat much in the morning. Should I be worried about that? And she never stops asking questions. Sometimes I don’t know the answers. But if I tell her that I don’t know the answer, she just asks the same question in another way. Is that normal?”
    “That’s a five-year-old child for you, all right. As curious as a kitten and just as precious.” Edith placed a Mason jar filled with lemonade before the marshal. “You better drink something or you’ll get parched.”
    A flush of color crept up the