and smiled.
“You are loathsome, Castillo,” Mary Rose spit through her clenched teeth. Unfortunately for her, he was also right. By evening, the entire town of Cobb’s Crossing would know she wore his ring.
“That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
“What?” he asked, leading her toward the side street where the freight office lay.
“To let the town know.” She disentangled her arm. “And you think that’s going to make me agree to this marriage?”
“I think this will let whoever is watching you know that he cannot touch you without my wrath.”
“If he killed my brother, do you think he’s gonna think twice about one man?”
To her amazement, his smile broadened. “Remember, Querida, I am not only a man but a U.S. Marshal.”
She had only begun to reply when Caleb stepped out onto the platform of the freight office.
“Morning, Miss Thornton, Marshal.”
She glanced up at him. “Good morning, Mr. Gentry. Has the first run gone out?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s a short run to Claiborne. One driver only, no cost.”
“Excellent,” Trace replied. “Mr. Gentry, will you escort my betrothed to the office?”
“Trace,” she hissed under her breath. “This has gone far enough.”
“Betrothed!” The clerk seemed shocked.
“Yes,” he replied. She felt him slide his arm around her waist and pull her close. She glanced up at him with a glare to shrivel a snake, but he merely smiled down at her. “Mary Rose has agreed to become my wife.”
****
Still stewing over the conversation she’d unwillingly been a part of, she slammed papers around on her desk. How dare he announce to the world that they would marry! Her hopes of not telling anyone were blown away. Moreover, to make matters worse, every time she rose from the desk, Caleb Gentry found a way to hover at her elbow. She stared at the paperwork before her. Scheduling routes had never been her idea of fun, but at least she and Gentry had the small runs organized and were ready for the rest of the week.
Outside the open doors of the freight office, she could hear the driver’s grunts as he loaded the wagons for another short run. She read over the notes. Claiborne had been Moe’s favorite run. She’d let a new driver take that. This run to the rail head required more skill. Whom had she signed up as drivers? She scanned the papers and located two names, Ian Holt and Shawn Rivers. Both men had come with Daniel from San Antonio to Cobb’s Crossing. They could keep it together. Mary Rose’s trust grew that things would all work out well.
Folding the map, she slid it into the leather pouch each driver carried and secured the strap in the buckle. Then she rose, patted the bundle, and walked to the doorway with it in hand.
“Miss Thornton.” Gentry stood as she moved into his view.
“Just going to meet the drivers.”
“I’ll walk with you,” he murmured, closing the books.
“It’s no more than ten feet, Mr. Gentry. Surely no one will ride in and carry me off in that space,” she protested.
“All the same.” He smiled. “The marshal gave me my orders.”
“Yes he did, didn’t he.” She sighed and continued out to the loading dock, knowing he wasn’t far behind.
“Good day, gentlemen,” she greeted, interrupting their labors. “Your packet.” She held out the leather pouch. The driver closest stepped away from the wagon and took it.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you staying with the company, Mr. Rivers, Mr. Holt. Do you have the twenty dollars for the journey?”
The two drivers exchanged glances. A feeling of insecurity washed over her. She felt the pounding start in her temple. “Mr. Holt, is there a problem?”
Ian Holt tossed the rope on top of the canvas covering the red wagon and swaggered to stand near the other driver. “Well, if you’re gonna be askin’, I’ll tell you, lass.”
“Please do.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“It seems the bank wasn’t too happy this morning to redeem the conscript signed by Mr. Gentry over there.”
She glanced back at her clerk. Gentry wouldn’t meet her eyes. She felt as if someone had slowly begun to pull the rug out from under her feet and she couldn’t get her balance. Glancing back at the angry faces of the drivers, she spoke. “I apologize for this.” She took a deep breath. “Mr. Gentry.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Please pull the money out of petty cash, so these men can have the funds they’ll need for the journey.”
“I can’t,” he answered, his voice small, tinged with embarrassment.
Her arms fell as