Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) (9 page)

Cole put up his palm. “Bosco, I don’t want to hear it. And I don’t even want to think about her sister. You don’t want to think about her, either, unless you want your neck stretched out about six inches longer.”

Bosco swallowed and rubbed his throat.

“Speaking of which, I want you to find out the name of that fellow that who claims to be Sidney Adler. And are you sure he’s out cold?”

“Yes, sirree. And Miss Daisy done fed him laudanum, even though he was already out.” Bosco scratched his head, then his chin. “I best shave before I head over to the Widow Proctor’s.” He took a step toward the door.

“Wait a minute. Laudanum? She dosed him with laudanum?”

“Sarah actually did the feeding. But yup, it was surely laudanum.”

“I want you to stop by after you eat supper and dose him again. But you’ve got to be careful and not give him too much—we don’t want to kill him. Did you pay attention to how much she gave him?”

“Sure did. And how to make him swaller it, too.”

Cole smiled. “Good. And I want you to arrest Porker Rankin for theft if you see him around. He stole a pair of boots from Gardener’s Mercantile today.” Cole hoped Gib Rankin would try to break his brother out of jail, then they could arrest him, too. In no time at all, Cole would have the two brothers put away for at least several months. The creek would have time enough to recover, the cattle wouldn’t die of thirst, and he could get away from Oreana—and Miss Daisy’s breasts. Lips. Waist. Smile. Oh, Lord!

“Will do.”

“Huh?”

“You here, Cole?” Bosco asked, waving his hand in front of Cole’s face.

Cole batted Bosco’s hand away. “And be careful with those widow women.”

Bosco put on his sorely bent hat and went on his way. Cole thought there was just a bit more spring in his step than was good for him.

Forrest Gardner ran into the office, followed by Winky. The ugly yellow mutt stood clear up to the freckled boy’s armpits. What a combination of piss and vinegar.

“Marshal Adler, I’m here for my sentencing.”

“All right. Stand in front of my desk.”

The boy straightened to attention and gulped. “I’m ready, sir.”

“I hereby sentence you to do your homework every single day
…
”

The boy groaned.

“…
in my office. I’ll check your work.”

“Aw, marshal!”

“And further, I sentence you to sweep out the jail and the office three times a week for the next month. There won’t be any need to report your crimes to your parents unless you violate your sentence. Understood?”

“But Daddy!”

“You only call me ‘Daddy’ when you’re mad, but I will
not
relent. You can take supper to your marshal this evening, but starting tomorrow, he eats here with the family. There’s no sense in making your mother go to all the extra work when the marshal’s well enough to chase bandits down the street.”

“But—”

He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “And that’s final. You tell him.”

Daisy huffed, grabbed the supper box, and made for the door.

“And another thing,” her father continued, “I don’t want to see you tumbling down the street with your skirts flying over your head. Do you hear me?”

She stopped in her tracks and rolled her eyes. Of course she heard him. Did he actually think she had planned on humiliating herself in front of the whole town?

“Yes, Dad,” she said in an even tone, even though her throat tightened. Lots of detective work lay in front of her, and she couldn’t let a quibble with her father interfere with it. And maybe, just maybe, her fingerprinting kit would come on the freight wagon the next week. She only hoped that was soon enough.

The short walk to the marshal’s office was pleasant. The sage-scented June breeze blew away the noxious odors of the livery and butcher shop across the street. People were eating supper, so she didn’t have to worry about getting sidetracked. The stranger wouldn’t wake up until later the next day, so she didn’t have to worry about him.

Marshal Adler would be so impressed once he knew about her superb detective skills. A tingle fluttered way down low, as she remembered his kiss. Oh, what a kiss! She sighed, never for a
moment had she understood…
uh, certain things. More would be good. She smiled, wondering when he’d propose. Once he did, they’d marry soon, and do the things she’d never even consider doing with a man. The wedding night didn’t seem nearly so daunting as the old ladies made it out to be. In fact, she rather looked forward to it.

Pausing before she entered his office, she took a deep breath and donned her most winning smile. Soon, he’d find that she was not only a competent detective, but that she could cook, too. She’d made the biscuits all by herself, surprising the bejeebers out of her mother.

Daisy opened the latch and walked right into Cole. He grabbed her around the waist to keep her from falling, and she threw her hands around his shoulders. But the basket did fall, and her lovely biscuits rolled onto the boardwalk. She didn’t much care at that moment, though, because he held her tight and her brain went all fuzzy again. She had a hard time even thinking why she was there in the first place.

Cole chuckled. “I think you can let go, now.”

She sprang back at the realization that she was standing on
Main Street
, embracing the marshal. Oh, good gravy! She took a quick look to make sure no one saw. Of course, if someone had seen, the marshal would fairly be forced to propose, and that wouldn’t be bad. It wouldn’t be good, either, since she wanted him
to love her as much as she…

“Are you all right?” Cole asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

“Um…
” She turned away and stooped to pick up the biscuits, throwing them back in the basket. When she stood and faced the marshal, he eyed the basket warily.

“Come on in.” He motioned for her to enter his office.

She sat the basket on his desk. “I, um, made biscuits for you. Special.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll spread your supper.” Her heart still hadn’t stopped pounding from his embrace. She wondered how she could ever endure being married to a man who made her twitterpated whenever she was near him. Was there something wrong with her?

She removed the freshly ironed napkins, spread one on his desk, and put the food beside it. The meal looked pathetic, with gravy in the green beans and meat in the rhubarb pie. And the biscuits, well, they ought to be all right if she blew the dust off them—she’d done that out at the cave several times.

But she dared not do it in front of the man she aimed to marry. At least not until the marriage license was duly signed and they were legally pronounced man and wife. With regret, she tossed her precious biscuits back into the hamper.

She stood beside the desk and waited for the marshal to take his seat.

“Won’t you have some, too?” he asked.

“No, t
hanks. We already ate. But—
” She fiddled with her gloves, wondering why she felt reticent about telling him that he’d have to eat at the house from now on. A day earlier, he had
adamantly
refused to stay with them while he recovered.

But he was an independent man, just like the hero in one of Honey Beaulieu’s adventures,
The Case of the Duplicitous Lawman
, where the lady detective revealed the county sheriff as the ringleader of a gang of bank robbers.

“But what?”

She blinked, remembering her father’s orders. “Dad says you have to come to the house for your meals from now on. Dinner’s at noon and supper’s at six.” The words tumbled out with the hope that the faster she said them, the less he would protest. “How do you like the biscuits?”

How did he like the
biscuits
? He liked
her
biscuits just fine—round and firm, with the sweet taste of cherry on top. As for the ones she baked, well, he was baked every time she came by.

Cole swallowed, calming himself. He definitely had to get out of this godforsaken town, and he sure as hell couldn’t stand the torture of eating with her and her family twice a day. “I’m sure they’re just fine, but you put them all back in the basket.”

“Oh. Yes. They were dusty.”

He’d be happy to blow them off for her, and maybe lick them just to make sure they were completely dust-free.

“I’ll bake some more for you tomorrow.”

The green beans coated with brown gravy didn’t look all that appetizing, but he sat down and took a bite, anyway, just to distract him from her. Little relief came, especially with her leaning over the desk, jutting her, uh, biscuits at him.

“You’ll be eating at our house, so the biscuits won’t roll all over the boardwalk.” She seemed to be babbling about those damned things just to make talk, while he did his level best not to think about them—either way, they were nothing but trouble.

The door crashed open, Bosco dragging one of the Rankin brothers behind him. “Cole, I got Porker!

The thief twisted free and ran. Bosco ran after him, swooping down to pick up a rock. He threw a fastball, high and inside, conking the miner on the side of his head.

Porker tumbled nose-first in the dirt. Just as he pulled himself to his knees, Bosco ran to him and jumped on his back, wrestling him back down. “Git me some rope, Cole!”

Miss Daisy grabbed a coiled rope hanging from the wall. She uncoiled an arm’s length as she ran, slipping a noose over Porker’s wrist. She pulled it behind his back, grabbed the other hand, then yanked up one leg. Three wraps and a half-hitch later, Porker laid helpless in the street, hogtied.

Bosco gawked at her. “Miss Daisy, that there was the handiest tying I ever seen!”

She smiled and dusted off her hands. “Honey Beaulieu did that in
The Case of the Grant’s Pass Rustlers
. I practiced for days. You should try it sometime—it’s quite fun.”

Cole stood beside them, cursing his inability to bring the bastard down himself, but damned glad Bosco did. “That was some rock-throwing you did, Bosco.”

“Hell, that weren’t no rock. It was a biscuit.” He looked down the street. “Oh, Lordy,” he muttered.

Trouble approached fast—the Widow Courtney in all her fury. But her face softened when she saw the prisoner. “Why, Deputy Kunkle, I see you’ve been busy with your lawman duties.” She glared at Cole, then charitably switched her gaze back to Bosco. “Unlike some others I could mention. You’re late for supper, but now I understand why. Not to worry, I’ve kept it warm for you. Deposit your prisoner and come right over.”

“I’ll be there, Prunie.”

She turned on her heel and hurried off, presumably to get things ready for her guest.

Cole looked at Bosco. “Prunie?”

“Prunella, but that’s too long to wrap my lips around.”

“Speaking of wrapping your lips around things, I thought you already ate at the Widow Proctor’s.”

“Yup. Looks like I’ll be eating again, don’t it. Like I said, this here town feeds you good. Wouldn’t mind staying for a while.”

“Looks like it.”
But don’t count on it.

Diverting his attention from Bosco’s woman problems, Cole had to think of his next step. The miners could probably identify him and Bosco, too, so he had to get the brothers to the county jail in
Silver
City
as soon as possible, which might prove a bit touchy since they only had custody of one brother.

“Can you get Porker into the jail cell?”

Bosco rolled his eyes, hitched up his britches, and hefted the prisoner over his shoulder. As he trudged to the marshal’s office, Cole knew he’d insulted his friend. Bosco liked to act tough, but he was a tender soul.

Daisy stood silently, her lower lip trembling just a bit. Damn, this innocent woman had just been through a grueling ordeal, and he’d ignored her! He felt like a big galoot. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Are you all right, Miss Daisy?”

One tear ran down her cheek, nearly ripping out his heart. “That c-c-couldn’t have been my biscuit.”

Chapter 6

The first rays of sunshine peeked through the marshal’s office window and glared in Cole’s eyes. He flopped over in his cot and punched the pillow for the three-thousandth time. His wound ached only mildly, doing nothing at all to assuage his physical frustration.

He was frustrated because he couldn’t have the woman he wanted, and frustrated because he wanted a woman he couldn’t have.

And he was tired. Between Porker’s hollers echoing from the jail room and Bosco’s snoring, not to mention the never-ending fantasies of Miss Daisy’s sweet kisses, his hands massaging her backside while
he kissed her naked breasts…
Lordy, he’d had barely slept a whit. When he did doze off, his Colt poked him in the side and woke him up all over again. Besides, he couldn’t stop thinking of how to rid the town of the stranger who called himself Sidney Adler.