Rhonda Gibson

The Marshal's Promise


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dinner.

       Grace arrived shortly after school let out. “Hi, Rebecca!” she called as she came through the front door. “Oh, something smells delicious.”

       “I’m in the kitchen,” Rebecca called back to her. “I baked chocolate-chip cookies.”

       The nine-year-old tossed her lunch pail on the table. “May I have one?”

       Rebecca smiled. “Yes, you can tell me if they are any good.”

       Grace grabbed a warm cookie from the plate on the cupboard and took a big bite. “Mmm, these are great,” she mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.

       “I’m glad.” Rebecca finished wiping off the table. Grace reminded Rebecca of her sister back home. Joy would be ten in a few months. Joy loved her sweets, and her little round body was proof that their mother had been the best baker in all of Maryland. Tears filled her eyes as she thought about Joy and their mother. She blinked hard and reached for the pan of dishwater. Thankfully their stepmother had taken a liking to Joy. Probably because Joy looked so much like her father. Rebecca, on the other hand, looked like Mother, which didn’t sit well with her stepmother at all.

       “Do you want to walk home with me today, Miss Rebecca?” Grace asked as Rebecca tossed the dishwater out the kitchen door.

       Rebecca looked to the roast and potatoes she’d cooked for Seth’s dinner. They were finished and would stay warm until he came home. She looked about the house. There really was no reason for her to stay longer today. “I would like that, Grace. Thank you.”

       The little girl smiled her pleasure. “I can’t wait to tell Ma how well I did on the spelling bee.” She picked up her lunch pail. “May I have another cookie?”

       Rebecca handed her two and then covered the dish with a clean cloth. She placed it in the center of the table for Seth to find when he got home.

       “Thanks!” Grace skipped to the front door.

       She followed and pulled her shawl from a row of nails she’d hung earlier in the day. As she put it on, Rebecca looked about the house once more. The smell of fresh baked cookies was inviting, the house was clean and dinner was on the stove.

       Thanks to her hard work, Seth Billings would have no reason to fire her. She pulled the door closed behind them and followed a skipping Grace home.

       The hair prickled on Rebecca’s neck. She looked about nervously. Was it her imagination? Or was someone watching them? Seeing no one, Rebecca hurried after Grace. She prayed the stranger from earlier in the day wasn’t around.

      * * *

       Seth glanced over his shoulder at the man tied to the horse behind him. He stifled the yawn that threatened to reveal just how tired he truly felt. It had taken all night to track the man, but he’d done it. Thanks to the reverend’s quick thinking, Seth had been on his trail fairly fast.

       Thankfully the reverend had seen the stranger running from his house. He’d watched to see which direction he’d been going before returning to Rebecca. It hadn’t taken the preacher long to find Seth at the jail and give him the man’s description and details he needed to track the villain.

       A yawn over took him and he winced as the cut on his lip stretched with the motion. The prisoner had put up quite a fight and had gotten several good hits in before Seth had knocked him out. Once subdued, Seth had learned the man’s name was Jacob O’Malley and that he was the newest member of the Evans gang.

       Seth frowned; he hadn’t gotten much out of the prisoner. Jacob was willing to admit that the Evans gang had grown in the past few months. He’d even confessed he was supposed to be watching Jesse’s girl, but other than that his lips were sealed. Seth didn’t like it; he didn’t like it at all. Rebecca Ramsey was in danger. He’d put her there. Guilt over Jesse’s death and his failure to keep her safe ate at him.

       What would have happened if the reverend hadn’t arrived when he did? Would Jacob have kidnapped her? Hurt her in some way? Taken her to Maxwell, the gang leader?

       The reverend had said she’d been frightened. Had her blue eyes shown that fear? He wanted to hurry back to his house and pull her into his embrace. The thought of holding her and stroking her soft hair, inhaling the sweet fragrance of sweet vanilla that was her scent alone, pulled at him.

       He gently kicked his mount’s sides and put both horses into a gallop. The sooner he got Jacob back to Durango, the sooner he could return to Cottonwood Springs and Rebecca. He told himself he only wanted to be by her side to protect her, but knew it wasn’t true.

       Seth pulled the animal back and forced himself to remember why he and Rebecca could never be a couple. You are a U.S. Marshal and people who get too close to you die.

      Chapter Seven

      Rebecca frowned. Nothing had changed. The roast and potatoes still sat on the stove, now ruined. When Seth hadn’t answered the door, she and Grace had let themselves in. Now, seeing he hadn’t been home, Rebecca found herself chewing on her bottom lip.

       “May I have a few cookies to take to school?” Grace asked, lifting the cloth from the desert.

       She nodded and watched Grace take three. “I don’t think the marshal came home last night,” Grace said around a mouthful of cookie.

       “No, I don’t think he did either.” Rebecca moved to the stove. She removed the pan from the stove and set it on the white cabinet. They hadn’t talked about what she should do, should he not come home.

       Grace looked up at her. “What are you going to do?”

       “I’m not sure.”

       The bell at the school rang. Grace started for the front door. “I have to go. Should I come by after school?”

       “No, I think I’ll head home and when the marshal gets back, I’ll find out what I need to do in circumstances like this one.” Rebecca pulled her shawl closer about her shoulder and followed Grace outside.

       Grace raced up the hill to the school. Hannah stood on the porch. She waved and Rebecca returned the gesture. Her new friend herded the children into the building much like a mother hen shelters its chicks from a spring rainstorm.

       Rebecca decided to toss the meat and potatoes. She returned to the house and let herself in. What was she going to do with the ruined meat? Rebecca returned her shawl to the nail and walked into the kitchen. What she needed was a slop bucket. Her gaze moved about the kitchen.

       A few moments later, she’d decided on a pan to use as a slop bucket. She dumped the meat and potatoes into it. Then she went outside to get water to wash the pot she’d dirtied the night before. Her gaze darted to the trees. Seeing no one, she hurried to pull the water up and go back inside.

       While it heated, her thoughts went to Seth. Being a marshal, he probably didn’t come home every night. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She rinsed out the coffeepot and began to make fresh coffee.

       Her mind worked on what to do. She didn’t want to waste food, but she also didn’t want the marshal going hungry or having to eat at the diner in the evenings. If she didn’t come up with a solution fast, Rebecca reasoned she’d be out of a job.

       Simple food, that’s what she needed to make. She needed to create easy meals so that no matter what time he came home, Seth Billings would have something good to eat. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. What had her mother fixed? Fresh bread came to mind.

       Rebecca stood and began work. She’d make bread and see about buying a smoked ham. He’d be able to have a sandwich, if he came home too late. What else can I do? she asked herself as she worked.

       As soon as the dough was rising, Rebecca headed to the general store for the ham she intended to buy. Normally she would have gone to the Millers’, but she knew that Mrs. Miller always purchased her meats from the general store.