Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) (6 page)

The next
terrifying moment
, she was flying through the air landed face down in a horse trough. Cold water flooded her nose and ears, and she blew the fetid water out of her mouth. Strong hands lifted her out of the trough by her shoulders, water cascading from her hair.

Blurry-eyed, she gasped for breath and blew a drooping bonnet feather from her nose in a most unladylike fashion, but she was too soggy to care.

“Oh, shit. Oh, dear,” she heard Deputy Kunkle curse. He stood her upright. “Here, use this,” the deputy said, holding out a filthy handkerchief.

“No. No, thanks.” She picked her purse off the ground and extracted a clean hanky. He must think her a clumsy oaf.

“Sorry ‘bout cussing, miss.”

She nodded, then blew the water out of her nose.

“What’s got you in such an all-fired hurry?”

“Uh.” Daisy tucked her wet hair under her bonnet and studied her toes—at least they were dry, and hoped her face didn’t show any incriminating evidence. Could he tell that she’d had, well, improper relations with a man—that she’d let him kiss her in a most intimate way? That she let him touch her lady’s chest? She tried to relax her face and forced a smile. “I forgot something.” Feeble, but the only thing she could think of.

“Well, I got to get back on my tail. Cole says I got to track every move them Rankin boys make.”

“Cole? Who’s Cole?” she asked, mopping her face with the hopelessly dinky hanky.

“Uh, the marshal. It’s his second name, er, remember? Sidney Cole Adler. When we was kids, we called him by his second name, Cole.”

She did recollect him telling her something like that before—the last time they had a collision.

But no collision they’d had could even compare to the devastation of just one of the marshal’s kisses. She was going to like being married to him!

Bosco skulked down the street, hiding from the two men in question. At least, that’s what she thought he was trying to do. Everyone in Oreana could see him peering around posts and darting behind horses, then peeking again. She sighed, glad the marshal seemed to be doing better, for she certainly didn’t think the town could bear too much of Deputy Kunkle’s brand of peacekeeping.

And Honey Beaulieu would have to wait, because right then Daisy needed to put on some dry clothes and wash the horse slobbers off her face.

She slogged down the street. As she passed the confectionary, Sarah came out.

“Oh, my stars! Look at you!”

Daisy dabbed at her bonnet and smoothed her sodden dress, thankful for the accident. Otherwise, she had no doubt that Sarah would guess she’d been kissing the marshal. “I had a little accident.”

“I guess you did!” She giggled, putting her gloved hand to her mouth. “The Lost Manhood Restorer must have worked better than we thought.”

“Very funny.” Daisy shot her a scowl. “If you must know, I tripped over Deputy Kunkle’s big feet and fell into a water trough.” She started walking again. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get into some clean clothes.”

Sarah tagged along. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not getting rid of me until you tell me every detail. Heavens, I haven’t even seen the marshal yet. Maybe I should visit him myself.”

Gritting her teeth, Daisy suppressed a reminder that the marshal was
hers
. “Come along if you must.”

“I must.” Sarah grinned, showing her perfect white teeth. “I wouldn’t miss the look on your mother’s face for the world.”

Daisy hadn’t even given her mother a thought. Maybe she should go to Aunt Grace’s house instead. But no, she didn’t have any spare clothes there. She had to go home—to sneak into the house to dry off and change before she faced her mother’s wrath. “All right, you can be my decoy.”

With a little skip, Sarah caught up with Daisy. “Tell me your plan!”

To avoid being seen, they took the back way to the
Gardners
’ house. When they got there, Sarah went to the front door and knocked, and when Daisy saw her mother answer the door, she slipped in the back door and ran upstairs to change.

She charged into her bedroom and shed her clothes—shawl, dress, and undies flying everywhere. With a firm tug, she cinched up her spare corset, yanked on clean clothes, and jabbed her soggy hair back into a bun. Then she raced down the stairs, taking the last three at a commendable ladylike pace.

Her mother and Sarah still chatted.
Hallelujah
, she’d made it undetected!

“What have you been up to, young lady?” her mother called without even turning around.

Rats. She’d been detected. “Just errands.”

* * * * *

A week passed and the marshal looked better, meaning “healthy,” of course, every day. “Mama, Sarah and I are going to the confectionery.” And walk by the marshal’s office to get there, which put a hop in her step, for certain.

“Not so fast. Your father needs you to spell him at the store. He’s been looking for you.”

“I’ll get right over.” Daisy rushed to the front door and grabbed Sarah’s arm. “C’mon, we’d better hurry.”

Sarah giggled and hurried to keep up. “I have this feeling that your marshal’s feeling just fine. He certainly has you in a fuss.”

“I am not. He’s been up and dressed every time I visit, and he did seem in better health today.”

Sarah still giggled while they crossed the street to
Gardner
’s Mercantile. “You’ve found yourself a beau, haven’t you? It’s
so
romantic.”

“It’s not romantic, it’s practical planning. And don’t hex it,” Daisy answered as she opened the door.

“About time you got here, little lady!” Her father peeled off his apron and threw it on the counter, then shrugged on his jacket. “I have to go get a load of supplies from the Murphy Station. Be back in three hours. Until then, it’s all yours. The shelves need dusting and there are a few things in the backroom that need to be put out. Before that, though, there’s an order I want you to write up.”

“All right.”

He nodded at Sarah and left.

“Oh, good. I can order the material for my wedding dress.”

Sarah squealed and clapped her hands together. “When did he propose?”

“He didn’t. But he will.” Daisy glanced at the paperwork, then held one small sheet up. “Hey, Sarah, see this. Doc wants to order a microscope!”

“So?”

“Honey Beaulieu uses a microscope to detect evidence.” Daisy put the paper back on the counter.

Sarah raised one eyebrow. “Honey Beaulieu is a fictional character. They don’t really use microscopes. Why on earth would you need such a thing?”

“I heard about this new thing—they’ve done it in
England
, and
New Mexico
, too. It’s called fingerprinting. Everything you touch has the marking of your finger on it, whether you can see it or not. And each person’s print is unique.”

“I don’t believe it.” She pressed her index finger onto the countertop. “And just what use is such a thing?” She stared intently at the spot she touched, then pressed her finger on another spot.

“Believe it.” Daisy picked up a pen and an order form. “Oreana is going to have a modern law enforcement agency. Fingerprinting can be used to identify criminals like the robber who held up Iris’s bank. For instance, if I can lift a print off this counter, and match it to your finger, I’d know you’re the one who robbed the store.”

“But I didn’t rob the store!” Sarah snatched her hand back, as if the counter had suddenly become fiery hot. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. People touch things every day. That certainly doesn’t mean they’re criminals. Why, the next thing you know, they’ll be wanting to fingerprint every man, woman, and child in the territory.” She took a deep breath. “If it worked, of course, which I highly doubt. At any rate, it’s sure no way to capture a husband.”

‘Ah, but I have the silver coin that Iris’s robber dropped. If they find who did it, the fingerprint on it will convict him. Surely the marshal will be so impressed that he’ll propose. And I’ll have my dress made and waiting.”

“It is if he’s—”

Sarah tugged on Daisy’s dress sleeve and pointed out the window. “Look at that man!” She sighed. “My stars, he’s handsome. I wonder if he’s married.”

“You don’t even know—”

The bell on the door tinkled and Daisy sealed her lips.

The man took a couple of steps into the store and stopped. A big man, he stood about the same height as the marshal, but not nearly as honed by hard work. He smiled at her, and she took a step back, even though the counter separated them.

“What can I get for you today?” she asked.

“I’m here to see Miss Daisy Gardner.”

She tilted her head to the side, trying to think why a stranger would have business with her. “That would be me, but you need to talk to my father about ordering things.”

“Nope, the telegram said Miss Daisy Gardner.” He offered his hand for her to shake, but she didn’t take it.

“I’m Miss Gardner.”

“I’m Sidney Adler.”

Chapter 4

Daisy stared, slack-jawed, as the man claiming to be Sidney Adler dug a ragged piece of paper from his vest pocket and gave it to her.

She glanced at it, but didn’t need to read past the first line. It was her telegram to
the
Sidney Adler, hiring him as Oreana’s marshal.

Criminey! Two men who claimed to be marshal.

“Uh, I have to go home,” Sarah said as she hurried out the store.

Deserter
, Daisy muttered under her breath. Schooling her features, she tried to think of a response to the man who stood before her. He looked pleasant enough, but she did
not
want to marry him—not after seeing the marshal, or whoever
he
was. No, the man standing before her could not be the lawman she’d hired. But how could she be sure?

Trouble looked her right square in the face and smiled. A pleasant smile, sure enough, but forced, and a handsome enough face, too. Still, she didn’t like the way he wore his gunbelt. Or something.

“How’d you get this?”

His smile faltered. “At the telegraph station.”

Not likely
. She realized that Sidney Adler probably lost the telegram when he was shot. Yes, that had to be it. Honey Beaulieu would look past the obvious, to the underlying logic. This man had stolen the telegram from the marshal’s pocket while he lay unconscious. Then she caught her breath. In fact, the man who had the telegram most likely had shot the marshal!

She schooled her features and smiled back at the imposter, frantically trying to think of an intelligent response to put him off until she could get to the marshal’s office. “Uh, I’m sorry, but the position has been temporarily filled. I didn’t think you’d be here for another month.” Lame, but the best she could do considering she was sorely put upon.

He took off his hat and swiped his brow with his sleeve. “The telegram says June first, so here I am. A few days late, but I got held up.”

Rude as it was, she couldn’t help but study him. Something about him put her on edge, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it other than she suspected he’d shot the marshal. Maybe it was because his pleasant voice didn’t match his cold eyes. Still, she didn’t know that for sure—a hunch didn’t hold up as proof in court. She did know that she wanted this man away from her. “Why don’t you take a room at Mrs. Howard’s Boarding House and I’ll discuss your, er, appointment with the mayor.”

“Now
listen here, miss, I came—
”

The doorbell tinkled. Deputy Kunkle strutted in and took a licorice stick out of the candy jar. “How much?”

“A penny.” Daisy cocked her head toward the stranger, then shook her head, but Deputy Kunkle didn’t take the hint. She shrugged at the stranger in a more exaggerated way, and finally the light of understanding came to the deputy’s eyes.

He hooked his thumbs on his belt buckle, and glared at the man eyeball-to-eyeball. “You got business with Miss Daisy?” Without waiting for an answer, he addressed Daisy. “Is this here feller bothering you?”

The tenseness drained from her shoulders and she relaxed for the first time since the ominous stranger had walked through the mercantile door. Thanks heavens for Deputy Kunkle! “No, deputy, but will you please show
Mr. Adler
to Mrs. Howard’s Boarding House?”

“Mr. Adler?”

“Mr. Adler. Mr. Sidney Adler.”

The deputy winked at her, then nudged the stranger. “This way, buddy.”

Bosco knew danger when he smelled it, and this here feller stunk like a dead skunk that had cooked in the hot desert a day too long. He remembered the stranger’s face but didn’t know name. Bosco sure as shootin’ did know that this sonuvabitch wasn’t fit to keep company with Miss Daisy. No, sirree. And he damned well wasn’t Sidney Adler, no matter what lie he told. Bosco sent the rascal a scowl as they stepped off the boardwalk in front of
Gardner
’s Mercantile. Cole would know what to do. “C’mon, buddy. I think you’d better visit the marshal’s office on the way to your fancy digs at Mrs. Howard’s.”