The Good, The Bad and The Ghostly ((Paranromal Western Romance)) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: ghosts, anthology, western romance, cowboys
Publisher: Keta Diablo
Published: 2016-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

"This is not exactly what I had in mind," I mutter, putting my forehead on the bars of my jail cell. I grasp at the bars with my hands. My right hand is roughly bandaged to stop the bleeding from where the broken glass cut me. "Shouldn’t you fellows put those men in here instead of me?"

Deputy Jack frowns and then looks at Grant for guidance. I get the feeling that he isn’t very experienced in his role.

"This is probably the safest place for you to be right now, Miss Hart," Grant says as he sits on the other side of the bars. I can’t help but think he’s a free man. "You just made enemies of a lot of men in this town."

I quirk an eyebrow. "And you?"

His lips twist into a grin. "Well, you just made a headache for me. The good news is I get to spend a little bit of time with you while things cool off. Speaking of, hey, Jack," he says, looking to his deputy.

The boy straightens up. "Yessir?"

Grant gestures with his head in the direction of the saloon. "Go make sure that everything is all right back at Virgil’s. I’m sure Luke and them are grumbling about something."

Jack glances back at me, then nods and runs out the door.

"Tell Virgil I’ll pay for any damages!" I call after him.

Grant shoots me a glare. "Like hell you will. You shouldn’t have to pay for damages. Not for defending your honor like that."

My cheeks redden. "I have no honor left."

Grant doesn’t say anything, the awkward silence stretching long enough that I shift and sit on the floor with my back to him. It’s a good thing that these bars are between us. Otherwise, I might not have any control with him so close to me.

Ugh, what is wrong with me?

A former prostitute has no business hoping to be courted by a US Marshal. Anyway, I live in St. Louis when I’m not traveling across the country investigating ghostly appearances. I’m twenty-seven and unmarried. There’s no reason for me to even entertain the thought.

Then my stomach growls loudly. Embarrassingly so.

"Hungry?" Grant asks behind me.

"Ravenous. I haven’t had a good meal since I arrived. I think Missus Benson has been secretly trying to poison me."

"It’s not so secret that she would try." I hear the scrape of Grant’s chair as he gets up from his seat. "Let me see what I can rustle up for you."

"You don’t have to—" I say, twisting around to look at him.

He gives me a gentle smile. "I was taught to always treat my guests kindly. And you look like you need somethin’."

I’m not the only one who’s noticed that I’m losing weight. I’m flattered that he paid attention. I could fight him some more on bothering with getting me something to eat, but the thought of food—any sort of food—has my mouth watering.

"All right," I concede. "I’d like that. Thank you."

He nods, then disappears out back behind the jailhouse, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

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