Tempting the Marshal: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Series Book 2) by Julianne MacLean Page B

attraction he was caught up in. He had to focus on his job instead of wishing his potential witness was wanting him to take her into his arms and start unbuttoning her blouse.
    Later, of course. After dark. When her son wasn’t around….
    He hung his hat on a hook by the door, and raked his fingers through his hair to distract himself from the heat in his blood. He went around the back of the largest desk and unlocked the top drawer to retrieve a second set of keys that jingled between his fingers.
    All the while, Mrs. O’Malley stood quietly by the door—seemingly unaware of how much her presence affected him—while Leo walked around the room, looking at the “Wanted” posters on the walls.
    “Is it true what Zeb said?” Mrs. O’Malley asked curiously. “That you plan to run for sheriff?”
    Half laughing, Fletcher replied, “No. I reckon Zeb was just trying to make up for what happened the other night, to give folks something new to talk about.” He set down the report he was looking at and added, “I’m not the political type, nor am I interested in anything that permanent.”
    “But it’s a very prestigious position.”
    “Doesn’t matter much to me. I don’t plan on stayin’ in Dodge forever. I’m only going to hang around long enough to establish some law around here and clean up the town’s reputation. Make sure Elizabeth’s okay.”
    “Why wouldn’t she be? She’s married to the future mayor.” Mrs. O’Malley stared into Fletcher’s eyes with a scrutiny he didn’t quite understand but wished he did.
    She seemed to be searching for something, waiting for him to say something….
    Then she grew uncomfortable for some reason and turned away, joining Leo, who was still reading the posters.
    Fletcher took a moment to clear his desk, then changed the subject. “I know this can’t be easy for either of you—” he crossed the room to a tall cabinet and unlocked it “—but I’ll need to know the exact date your husband was killed, Mrs. O’Malley.”
    “It was the night of February 26,” she replied, facing him. She clutched her small reticule in both hands in front of her. “Twenty minutes past ten.” Fletcher hesitated at her exactness, and felt his mood grow suddenly somber as he reached for the police court dockets. He flipped through the papers, but didn’t find what he was searching for. “February 26 of this year?”
    “Yes,” Jo answered.
    He closed the drawer and opened another. “The report must have been misfiled. Has anyone looked at it recently?”
    Leo eyed his mother, questioningly.
    “Not that I know of.” She didn’t seem all that surprised by this.
    Fletcher closed the last drawer and walked to his desk. He searched for the report there but found nothing. “You’re sure that was the day?”
    Mrs. O’Malley tilted her head at him.
    “Of course it was. Forgive me.”
    Leo’s voice filled with panic. “You mean you can’t find it? The evidence is gone?”
    “There was no evidence, Leo, that’s the point,” Jo said. “There was only the information I gave to the marshal that night about what I saw.”
    Fletcher sat down. “Was that Marshal Samson?”
    “Yes. He was only here a few months, and left town shortly after Edwyn died.”
    “I know. This city seems to have trouble holding onto their lawmen. Care to tell the story again, Mrs. O’Malley? Leo gave me the rundown, but you were the one who found your husband.” Fletcher gestured to the chair on the opposite side of his desk, knowing this wouldn’t be easy for her.
    Hesitantly, Jo sat. “Thank you, Marshal.”
    “Call me Fletcher.”
    She gave him a look, then cleared her throat and began, but her tone was surprisingly dry and emotionless. Fletcher wasn’t sure what to make of it.
    “Edwyn was in the barn late that night because one of the horses was delivering a foal. I had been reading in the parlor when I heard hoofbeats and went to the window to look. It was very dark and I didn’t see