The Marshal's Promise. Rhonda Gibson

of course Sunday is full of church.”

       Rebecca remembered someone introducing the schoolteacher last Sunday. If memory served her right, Hannah Young was a small woman maybe four feet eleven with black hair and she walked with a slight limp. She’d also seemed very shy and hadn’t spoken much. A flash of humor tugged at the corners of Rebecca’s mouth. Eliza’s fast talking must be the reason Miss Young kept to herself.

       The morning flew by as Rebecca enjoyed her visit with Eliza. It didn’t take long to learn that Eliza was lonely. She’d lost her husband two years ago; he’d died when they lived in Silverton, Colorado. According to Eliza, her Charley had been killed in an avalanche during one of the worst snowstorms she’d ever seen. Thankfully, they’d saved enough money for Eliza to get to Cottonwood Springs and purchase this house to start up her hat-and-dress business.

       The sound of the bell ringing in the shop had Eliza up and hurrying to take care of her next customer. Rebecca knew it was time to go. She needed employment if she wanted to stay in Cottonwood Springs and get to know her new friend better.

       Eliza came back into the room. “That was Mrs. Pierce. She picked up her dress and matching hat.”

       Rebecca stood to leave. “I best be going, Eliza. It’s almost lunchtime and I haven’t inquired about employment anywhere but here.” She slipped her shawl over her shoulders and headed for the door.

       “Oh, I wish you didn’t have to go.” Eliza followed her. “Do come back when you are done and let me know if you found a job.”

       Rebecca smiled. “I will and thanks for the tea.”

       Eliza had been right. An hour later, Rebecca walked out of the general store still jobless. Everyone wanted to give her employment, but none of them had the funds to do so—everyone, that was, except Mrs. Walker, the owner of the general store. Rebecca had the impression that Mrs. Walker had taken an instant disliking to her.

       Her thoughts went to the marshal. Maybe he’d had better luck in finding a house to buy. She hoped so. If nothing else good came of the day, thanks to Eliza, Rebecca now felt she had a friend close to her age in Cottonwood Springs.

       Rebecca’s gaze moved over the town. It was pleasant enough and sat back against a mountain. The mountain resembled a sand rock, but trees lined the river below and, because smaller streams ran across the back side of the town, cottonwood trees shaded the majority of the businesses and homes. A beautiful spot if ever she’d seen one.

       The marshal’s voice pulled her from her musings. “Any luck finding work?”

       Rebecca searched the shadows of the buildings to locate him. He stood propped against the blacksmith shop. His arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

       His tone indicated he wasn’t a happy man. So she answered in a short, crisp reply of, “No.”

       “I thought we had an understanding.” He pushed away from the wall and walked over to her.

       Rebecca didn’t like his tone and hardened her voice to match his. “What kind of understanding?”

       He crossed his arms again, spread his legs and glared down at her. “That you now work for me.”

       “But, that is only going to happen if you find a house. Did you buy a house, Marshal?” She crossed her arms to match his stance.

       He relaxed and grinned. “As a matter of fact I did. And, I have already moved in.” The sudden pleasure in his voice surprised her.

       Rebecca really hadn’t expected him to follow through with his offer of a job. Her spirits lifted, knowing she now held a position and would be able to stay in Cottonwood Springs. She silently thanked the Lord for yet another blessing and smiled. “That’s wonderful.”

       The dimple in his cheek winked. “Would you like to see it?”

       “I’d love to, Marshal, and while we walk you can tell me what this job entails.”

       He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and began walking. Her heart did a little flutter as tingles climbed up her hand and into her hairline. Seth Billings made her feel alive.

       With Jesse Cole dead, could this be the man God sent her to the New Mexico Territory for?

      Chapter Four

      Seth led Rebecca toward his new home. He hoped she liked it as much as he did. The front was white and had a small porch that led off the right-hand side. Two windows faced forward with dark brown shutters on each side. It was small but could be added on to, should he ever decide to marry and have a family.

       He liked the fact that it was on a side street and that there weren’t many other houses close by. Cottonwood trees surrounded the house, giving it plenty of shade. He stopped in the yard and waited for her reaction.

       Her eyes seemed to drink in the front of the little house. She sighed and pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders. “It’s wonderful, Marshal.” Rebecca turned to look up at him. She tilted her head sideways and smiled up into his face.

       Seth felt as if he would drown in the blue pools of her eyes. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it. I’m thinking of adding a couple of rosebushes to the front, under the windows. What do you think of that?”

       She stared at the windows as if she could picture the flowers already in full bloom. “They will look and smell wonderful. What color roses?”

       He reached up and gently brushed aside a wayward curl from her cheek. Seth was surprised when she turned to face him. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Pink, I think.”

       Rebecca stepped away from him and nodded. “I’m sure they will be lovely.”

       Seth realized he had embarrassed her with his actions, and moved forward to open the door. She followed him up the steps and waited. His boot heels clicked against the hardwood floor as he stepped inside the doorway and allowed her to pass.

       His gaze swept the sitting room trying to visualize how the space must look to Rebecca. It was small with a couch and end table. A bookshelf rested against one wall, empty of books at the moment.

       It felt empty, but Seth had been blessed that the Wilsons were willing to sell it at such a low price and were willing to leave some furniture behind. Granted, he had plenty of money sitting in the bank, but he had hoped not to have to touch the money until his days of marshaling were over.

       “This is beautiful, Marshal. I love that the living area is open to the kitchen.” She spun around the room, touching the furniture. “It needs a thorough dusting and the floors require a good sweeping, but other than that it is great.”

       He leaned against the door frame and watched as she flittered from room to room. It wasn’t a big house—two small bedrooms, a sitting room, kitchen with a dining area. Each room opened off of the sitting room. With her gasps and excited squeaks, you would think it was a mansion on a hill.

       Seth couldn’t stop the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. For some odd reason he felt pleasure at her excitement. “Thank you, Miss Ramsey.”

       Her skirts swirled about her ankles as she hurried to the kitchen. “How did you get moved in so quickly?”

       Seth pushed away from the frame work and followed her. “It came fully furnished and I don’t have that many clothes.”

       Her gaze moved about the rooms. “That was very fortunate for you.”

       He nodded. Her eyes sparkled as she ran her hands over the shelves and stove. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was envisioning the kitchen as her own. Maybe she was, it was easy to do.

       Seth decided right then and there to continue taking his meals over at the diner. The last thing he needed was to have Rebecca Ramsey getting too comfortable in his kitchen. Women and marshaling didn’t mix. He couldn’t live through another woman’s death caused by his job.