“Uh, I have to go.”
She fled the doctor’s office, chastising herself all the way to the confectionery for the being such a coward.
Cole couldn’t help but appreciate the backside of the flustered woman who dashed out the door as if her skirts were on fire. Or she’d seen a naked man. No respectable woman had ever seen him without a shirt on. Hell, even the sporting gals didn’t give a man enough time to bare anything but the essentials.
He smiled and remembered how appealing she looked when her tongue darted across her lips. That girl was a sight for sore eyes, all right. The bustle emphasized her tiny waist and curvaceous bosom, and even though small of stature, she held herself tall and proud.
But he’d keep his thoughts and hands to himself. He needed to get out of this God-forsaken town. Bosco, too. Not only might the real marshal show up any time, but Daisy’s sister could get them thrown in jail—or hanged.
At least Daisy hadn’t asked him his name, but then, he supposed she thought she already knew it. Cole decided he’d answer to whatever she called him. He couldn’t do much about her misconceptions except play along, or else he and Bosco would surely be suspected of holding up the bank at Silver City.
Cursing both his wound and lack of mobility, he wondered if her sister had reported Bosco’s attempted crime. He would have cursed Bosco, too, but his friend had meant well.
Cole needed to get back to his ranch on Sinker Creek where he had a thousand things to do, but mainly to run those damned miners off the upper creek. He’d nearly lost his herd from thirst last year, and this year promised to be even worse, what with the sluice operation drying up the water supply.
The fried chicken Daisy had brought smelled delicious and he took a bite from a drumstick. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that it had been a long time since his last meal. He set to polishing off every morsel, but couldn’t seem to keep his mind off his troubles long enough even for a peaceful meal.
From what he’d heard, the miners had come up empty so far. He had a distant hope that they’d give up, but he knew that once gold fever hit, the miners wouldn’t quit until they’d dug up every bit of that creek. When the water dried up for good, his ranch and all the hard work he and the others had put into it would be worthless.
He took a slurp of hot coffee. The man who married Daisy wouldn’t be slurping coffee around her. He’d have to mind his manners, but he’d be a lucky man nonetheless.
“Damn her!” he muttered. She distracted him, and he needed to concentrate on the business at hand. If he didn’t get out of Oreana soon, he not only ran the risk of dangling for bank robbery, his ranch would go to ruin. Then he’d never be able to turn it over to his brother and make his escape to Baker Valley in Oregon.
All he wanted was to live in peace, away from his sister-in-law, the woman who’d jilted him last year to bear his brother’s child. But after what he’d done to his brother, Thomas, Cole had to make sure he left the ranch in good shape.
“Damn women,” he cursed.
The click of the doorknob interrupted his thoughts. Doc came in with a parcel.
“Here are your clothes. I see someone brought you some dinner.”
Cole nodded, grateful to see those clothes. He hadn’t relished the thought of escaping with only a sheet to cover him. “Yeah, the woman who was here earlier.”
“Miss Gardner. She’s quite a lady.” The doctor untied the package. “I’m Doc Mabry.”
Cole grunted a greeting. For some reason, it vexed the hell out of him that Doc was smitten with Daisy. “She said she’s bringing supper.”
“You’d better lie back down. I want your leg higher than your head for a few days.”
Cole shook his head. “First, I want to put my clothes on.” His shirt was clean-smelling and mended. He slipped it on and buttoned it, relaxing immediately. It had been a long time since he’d worn clean, pressed clothes.
Britches posed another problem. Longhandles were out of the question because of the bandages. Maybe the doctor could find a seamstress to make a pair of knickers. No real man would be caught dead in them, but they’d be better than wearing nothing at all.
“You’re doing well,” the doctor reported, “so you’ll be moved over to the Gardners’ house tomorrow morning.”
Gardners’ house? Cole groaned. “I’d rather stay somewhere else.” Daisy’s sister would be there, sure as the world. And so would Daisy. He really didn’t know which one of them posed the bigger threat.
Daisy nearly flew into Howard’s Livery, knowing she presented quite a sight to the townspeople with her unladylike pace. Nothing settled her mind better than the smell of fresh hay and saddle soap.
She ate the last bite of the chocolate confection and brushed her palms together. The encounter with the new marshal had been all too unsettling. She sank onto a pile of straw in front of Gal’s stall.
“Jonas, would you please saddle Gal for me?” She extracted a carrot from her pocket and held it over her shoulder. The velvety muzzle of her horse whisked over her skin as Gal chomped the carrot.
The burly blacksmith, Jonas Howard, put the tack he’d been oiling aside and stood, shaking his head. “What’s the bee in your bonnet this time?”
“I just want to get a little air.” She slipped the bit in the mare’s mouth and fastened the headstall.
Jonas flopped the blanket and sidesaddle on Gal and cinched it tight. “Sarah was in here a while ago looking for you.”
Daisy needed to get away from everyone, including her best friend, so she pretended like Jonas hadn’t mentioned his daughter. Daisy had a new Honey Beaulieu mystery waiting for her, just the distraction she needed from the handsome man she’d hired to be marshal.
Jonas patted the mare on the rump. “Sarah said the new marshal hasn’t been sworn in yet. You gonna wait until he’s on his feet?”
How did Sarah know that? She turned her head to hide her frown from Jonas. “No, Dad will do it later today, after he closes the store.”
“Doc says the marshal will stay at your folks’ house.”
Her house? She fanned herself and changed the subject. “It’s certainly a warm spring. The snow’s already melting off War Eagle Mountain, Iris says, and Jordan Creek’s running high. I guess the Masonic Temple’s practically floating.”
Jonas seemed to take her babbling in stride. “That’s what they get for building it astraddle a creek. Don’t make a whole lot of sense.”
Glad she’d diverted his attention, she mounted and wiggled around on the sidesaddle until she was comfortable. “Let’s go, Gal.” She gave her horse a nudge and charged out of the livery.
As she turned onto the street, a man walked in front of her. Gal slid to a stop and Daisy nearly kept on going. She pulled leather and managed to keep her seat, but bit her tongue.
She pressed her hand to her breast and tried to catch just one little breath. Dang it all anyway!
Bosco Kunkle patted Gal on the neck. “In a hurry there, little lady?”
The man who’d brought the marshal to town held out his hand to assist her down. Mr. Kunkle’s pants were dusty and his hair held the crease of his missing hat.
Daisy declined his offer to help her dismount. “I’m so sorry.” And she truly was. That her impulsiveness got her in trouble more often than not was bad enough, but she felt awful when it harmed others. “Are you hurt?”
“Nope.” He picked up his slightly bent hat, dusted it off, and jammed it on his head. “How’s Cole?”
“Cole?”
“Uh, yeah. The marshal.”
“The marshal’s name is Sidney Adler. Why’d you call him Cole?”
Chapter 2
“Sidney Adler, huh?” Cole shook his head. “You have to feel sorry for a fellow with a moniker like that.”
“Yup, that’s what the little lady said his name was, right after she kerplunked back on the leather.” With a dramatic swoop of his hands, Bosco demonstrated her abrupt meeting with the saddle. He shook
his head and grinned, showing the gap where a front tooth once grew. “Pretty little thing. I told her that we been calling you Cole for years, and I s’pect you’d want her to call you that.”
Cole blew out a deep breath. All he wanted Daisy Gardner to call him was g-o-n-e. That woman was nothing but trouble. And too damned pretty for her own good. “Enough of that. You have to get me home. Now.”
“No sirree, can’t do it,” Bosco disallowed, shaking his head more than necessary. “Doc Mabry says we can move you over to the Gardners’ if we use a stretcher and don’t jar you none, but you could bust that there wound wide open and bleed to death. Doc says the bullet scratched the main artery, and if you start bleeding when he ain’t around to stitch you back up, you’ll kick the bucket for sure.”
Cole knew he’d lost a lot of blood, but he healed fast. This time he’d have to heal damn fast.
He raised his head from the pillow as he drew his Colt from under the sheets and stuck it under Bosco’s nose. “I will not stay at the Gardners’ house. Move me to the marshal’s office. Move me to the livery. Hell, move me to the butcher shop. But I am not staying at the Gardners’.” He cocked the pistol.
Bosco’s eyes grew round and he gulped. “Shit-fire, Cole. I’ll take care of it.”
Lowering his weapon, Cole nodded once. “See that you do.”
Bosco stood, sending his chair tumbling backwards.
Cole chuckled. “It’s not loaded.”
“Mebbe, but my drawers is dang-neart loaded. I’ll see you later.”
Cole stared at the ceiling as the door slammed, and hoped Bosco could get them out of this town without causing more trouble. After all, this hadn’t been the only Bosco-induced pickle, just the worst. The two of them went back a long way—shortly after Cole hired on at his first job. Bosco had taken him under his wing, and taught Cole to rope, shoot, and of course, carouse. Few men had bigger hearts than Bosco, even if the poor fellow was one ox short of a team.
With nothing to do but count the nails and knotholes in the ceiling, Cole reached into his saddlebag and found his trusty harmonica. It had been his partner through a lot of bad times in the past few years—although he wouldn’t dwell on the dirty deeds of his supposed fiancé and his brother—and kept him company when no person could. He raised it to his lips and softly played “No Home, No Home” as a matter of habit.
Cole let the tune trail off. He stared at the wall, wishing he could get up and ride home. The door opened and he quickly stashed the harmonica.
“I’ll see you in the morning on the stagecoach, then,” chimed a woman’s voice.
Cole pushed himself up and leaned back on his elbows, ignoring the screaming pain shooting down his leg. He saw the doctor standing in the doorway.
“I’m looking forward to it, Iris,” Doc replied.
Iris! Cole’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He strained to get a look at her, but couldn’t see her, so he settled back down before the doctor had a chance to holler at him. “Leaving tomorrow?” Cole asked Doc in as calm a voice as he could muster, given the circumstances.
“Yes.” The doctor hung his hat on the rack next to the door. “During the good weather, I spend a week down here and three weeks at my office in Silver City.” He picked up a medicine bottle and a strip of bandages, then sat at Cole’s bedside. “Let’s see how you’re doing.”
Gritting his teeth, Cole prepared for the requisite poking and prodding that all doctors seemed inclined to do. He wished the doc would just leave him alone, but he was willing to put up with damned near anything to heal quickly and get the hell out of Oreana.
“Hmmm. The skin around those sutures looks a little red.”
“Doesn’t it always?” After all, Cole thought, it just had a needle and thread poked through it. Besides, the inner thigh area tended to be a little touchy.
The doctor poked some more, then swabbed it with some foul smelling liquid that like hell. Cole stifled a wince and held his breath a moment until the pain subsided, which did little good when Doc “examined” the wound again..
“You’re lucky, marshal. A little farther up and to the left, and you’d be the best hog-caller in Idaho Territory.” He put away his supplies and lifted his hat from the rack. “I’m going out to see a few patients. I’ll be back at six to help you eat the supper that Miss Gardner’s bringing.”
I’ll bet you will. Cole silently gnashed his teeth at the thought of the doctor mooning over Daisy.
Doc opened the door. “Oh, and her father, Cyrus Gardner, will be over about then to swear you in.”
“The preacher?”
“No, he’s the mayor. We just use him for a preacher sometimes.”
Cole was grateful to hear the door shut with Doc Mabry on the other side of it. He needed to put some serious thought into escaping from this lunatic town. If Iris came along with her father and sister, Bosco and he would be the honored guests at a necktie party.
* * * * *
What a day. Daisy pushed past the bushes and led Gal into the outer cavern and tied the mare to a hitching ring that Daisy had installed a few years back. She took the saddlebags and felt her way into the cool, inviting inner section. Only she knew about this secret cave—it had been hers since the Gardners moved to Oreana when she was little. She’d brought odds and bits here since then, and stored her most precious treasures in a trunk salvaged from the mercantile’s attic.
She opened the lid and pulled out her lantern and a thick quilt. She lit the lantern, then spread a blanket on the cave floor next to the artesian spring and took the new book out of her saddlebag. Oh, to be a Pinkerton agent like Kate Warne! Or maybe even start her own detective agency. She sat cross-legged and began reading The Great Bullion Robbery: A Honey Beaulieu Mystery. Soon swept away into a world of villains and intrigue, she became Honey Beaulieu for the entire hundred pages.
Almost two hours later, after an exciting read, she rubbed her eyes and closed the book. The advertisement on the back cover drew her attention. A fingerprinting kit! Her heart leapt a bit as she remembered a news article of a case in Arizona solved by identifying the culprit’s fingerprints. Daisy had the silver dollar that the robber had dropped. If she could get prints from it, maybe she could identify him. And better yet, if she steered the marshal toward the true robber, the townspeople would be impressed with her choice of a lawman!
She ran out of the cave and brushed the dust and wrinkles out of her mother-approved day dress. Her mare was well rested, so made the thirty-minute ride back to town on the sidesaddle in twenty.
As Daisy rode up to the livery, she glanced at her timepiece. Nearly four o’clock! She had to hurry.
Jonas met her at the door and took the reins. “Have a nice ride?” he asked as he helped her down.
“Sure did. I spent a little too much time, though.”
He chuckled as he took off Gal’s bridle and buckled a halter on her. “That you did, Daisy. I’ll brush the mare down. Your dad wants you to tend the store, so you better get over there.” He led Gal to her stall.
Daisy touched both hands to her bonnet to make sure it hadn’t been blown askew and tucked a few stray locks of hair under it. Her hair usually looked a fright so she doubted anyone would notice. Then she hastened down the dusty street to Gardners’ Mercantile, dodging the new scythes on display as she hopped onto the porch.
Sarah Howard and her mother, Ruth, stepped out of the store just as Daisy reached for the doorknob.
“Hi, Sarah,” Daisy greeted, suppressing her need to gasp for air due to her brisk trek.
Sarah grinned and clasped her hands to her heart. “Have you seen the new marshal? I hear he’s gorgeous!” She was in the marriage market, too.
“Yes, I took his dinner to him,” Daisy replied more abruptly than intended.
Mrs. Howard smiled then, in that knowing way of hers. Daisy wondered just what this woman did know, and hoped she’d be as wise when she got old. Ruth must be forty if she was a day. “Good afternoon
, Daisy.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Howard.” Remembering her manners, she smiled back. “Would you two like to visit and have some lemonade and cookies?”
“Thanks, but I need to get along and start supper for the boarders. Sarah, you can stay and chat with Daisy for half an hour. No more.”
Sarah kissed her mother on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom.” She hooked her arm around Daisy’s. “Tell me absolutely everything about him!”
“Who?”
Sarah giggled. “You know who. I bet he’s intolerable handsome!” She sighed and flipped a blonde ringlet away from her face.
Irritated by Sarah’s inquiry, Daisy led Sarah into the store. “Let’s find that lemonade. I’m parched.”
“There you are,” her father said. He stood behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. “I got merchandise in today. Your mother and I put out most of the stock, but she had to go start supper and I have a few errands.”
Daisy attempted to look appropriately guilty.
“I want you to stock the medicine bottles, then go help her cook.”
“It won’t take me long,” she assured him, then moved to the end of the counter. “May Sarah and I have some lemonade first?”
“Yes, but you’ll have to make some more.” He took off his apron and hung it on a hook beside the storefront door. “I need to have a talk with that marshal of yours—he’ll need a deputy until he’s up and about. Tell your mother I’ll be at the house at six.”
“He’s not my marshal,” she protested, but her father had gone.
“I’ll make the lemonade,” Sarah offered.
Daisy relaxed her shoulders, wondering how long they’d been so tense. “Thanks.” She picked up a box of Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters and packed it over to the pharmaceuticals shelf. “I’ll get started with these, then.”
“I’m sure glad you got Mrs. Courtney’s medicine in,” Sarah said as she squeezed the last little bit of lemon juice into the pitcher. “I thought I’d never hear the end of her stomach ailments at the quilting bee last Friday.”
Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) Page 2