Page 6 of Chloe's Christmas Escape
Closing the door to his uncle’s room, Jackson glanced around. It was a mirrored image of his own fireplace on the wall that would adjoin where the one in his room was. A large bed took up most of the space in the middle of the room, a table and chairs sat in front of the window and the bureau with the wash bowl sat on the wall next to the door.
“Why not charm them? I quite like this boarding house because of the staff.” Jackson made his way to the settee by the fire, slowly lowering himself onto it. The pain wasn’t too bad this morning, but he was stiff.
“You have your father’s sense of value in people,” Uncle Mac groused, washing his hands.
“You’re just more jaded than the rest. There’s no sense in being unkind, even when you don’t trust people.” From the time Jackson was a child, his parents had taught him the importance of treating everyone with respect and kindness, no matter what their station in life or their circumstances. This belief had stood him in good stead throughout his career as a marshal, helping to de-escalate potentially dangerous situations and prevent himself from getting shot. Unfortunately, that didn’t apply to the war as well. He intended to pass on this same lesson to his children when he eventually had them.
His uncle dried his hands on a towel and then moved to his bed and opened his travel bag. “Her name is Chloe Kingston. I don’t know if it’s a case of terrible luck or something else, but that girl has stumbled upon three murders in the last month. Her father owns a coal company in Pittsburgh. But if she keeps finding herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, she’s going to end up dead.”
“And I come into this because?” Jackson raised an eyebrow, but it explained why the wire had been vague.
“I like her father. He’s a good man. You wanted a wife. I’ve brought you a wife. Sean Kingston wants his daughter safe. I’ve ensured she’s as safe as I can make her.”
“What if she wants to go home when the danger has passed?” Jackson rolled his head, thinking about the possibilities.
“If I’m right, the Merrettis have a hand in this. There’s no way to clean up a problem like that in a timely manner.” Uncle Mac’s eyes cut up to meet his. “So, use that Masters’ charm and give her a reason to stay.”
“How long are you in town?” Jackson pressed up off the settee, using the mantle to steady himself.
“A couple of days. I assured Mr. Kingston that I’d make sure the marriage papers were in order. It will give you today to get to know each other, and for me to find a minister or a judge.”
“You don’t want to sign it yourself?” Jackson laughed now. It wasn’t something marshals did often, but it was something they could do.
Mac tossed a shirt at him and shook his head. A knock at the door announced the maid returning with bath water. Jackson opened the door, letting the staff member in and himself out. Glancing back over his shoulder, he met his uncle’s eyes.
“Breakfast is in an hour. We’ll see you then. I’ll check and see if the judge is still in town.”
He made his way downstairs and out the door. He could probably find the judge over at the newspaper office. The thought of marrying the pretty woman didn’t bother him at all. A marriage on paper would seal their fate, but perhaps if they fell in love, they could have a proper ceremony in Sterling.
Hubert would probably love that.
A homecoming and a Christmas wedding would be a wonderful way to enter his new town. He felt the excitement and anticipation build within him as he approached the newspaper office. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jackson whistled.
Chapter Three
Chloe felt much better after having a bath and taking the time to brush her hair out. She returned to her room to get dressed, the warmth of the fire and inviting aroma of fireplace smoke filled her nostrils. The walls were crafted out of stained wood panels, each panel a different shade than the last. An old settee with patched upholstery was against one wall and a wooden table and chair were near the window, perfect for morning musings.
In the center of the remaining wall was a gigantic bed draped in a quilt made from hand-picked fabrics patchworked together in shades of pink, blue, yellow, and white. The bureau sat opposite the door, topped with a white and blue porcelain washbasin and pitcher set along with a small looking glass.
The maid had been sweet enough to tell her breakfast started in an hour, and so Chloe had taken her time picking out a maroon day dress with a higher collar, slipping on her wool stockings and doeskin slippers. They were the only pair of shoes she had without a heel. She loved how lightweight they were.
The bell sang out, alerting her that mealtime had arrived. She snatched up her shawl from the bed and raced out of the room, only to come to an abrupt stop.
Now that she was more alert, it became abundantly clear that the two Masters men standing in the hallway were related. It was strange Marshal Masters had never chosen to wed; she couldn’t fathom any woman turning him down. She let her gaze wander over the younger marshal—he had evidently gotten a new haircut since the last time she saw him. He wore a white cotton shirt, along with dark trousers and a matching vest.
He was certainly attractive, with sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and piercing eyes. Chloe couldn’t help but feel her face flush as he caught her staring.
“Are you waiting on me?” she finally asked, when neither man moved to speak.
“Breakfast is being served in the dining room,” the younger man smiled at her. “My uncle has explained your situation and I think I can help. I need to ask, though; what name would you prefer I call you?”
Chloe felt her cheeks flush as she nervously looked between the two. UsingMiss Kingstonseemed overly haughty, and Chloe couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated as she looked at the younger Mr. Masters. She glanced at his uncle for support, and he gave her a reassuring nod. Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders protectively, she took a moment to compose herself.
“Um. You should probably call me Chloe if you’ve agreed to your uncle’s plan.”
The man’s smile widened, transforming his face from stern to joyful. “Ah, Miss Chloe! I’m Jackson. Let me show you the way.” He stepped forward and bent his arm slightly in offering. She hesitated for a moment before slipping her slender hand into the crook of his elbow. She lightly took hold of his arm, and they descended the stairs.
Marshal Masters gave a chuckle and followed them down the stairs, mumbling something about them deserving each other. Aromas of freshly cooked meats drifted from the dining room, and the yellow light of candles flickered on the walls. An old wooden table stretched across the center of the room, surrounded by benches that faced each other like a warm embrace. Despite its age, the room welcomed visitors like an old friend.
