The Marshal's Mission

by Anna Zogg

  “What?” Cole had never seen anything like it. Upon closer inspection, he realized the ridge hid the hinge. Amos had been clever in stacking the shingles so they looked no different on the trapdoor than on the rest of the roof.

  “Pa was a master craftsman.” Toby grinned, clearly in pride. “He made rocking chairs too, like the one on the porch. And he built this whole ranch, pert near by himself.”

  “So what’s this all about?” Cole pointed to the trapdoor.

  “I’ll show you. Gimme a moment.” Before clambering down the ladder, the boy untied himself.

  A few minutes later, Cole heard something ease—like a thick latch being moved. When the trapdoor opened a few inches, he helped lift the heavy wood.

  “Well, I’ll be a mule’s fool.” He stared at a grinning Toby, who looked up from below. After poking his head into the gap, he saw the boy’s bed in the loft.

  “It even has a rope with knots, tucked here on this shelf. I guess if the ladder isn’t handy.”

  “For what?”

  The youngster shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe if there was a fire?”

  Perhaps. Or for quick getaways?

  Cole studied the roof, noting how anyone sneaking out this way would be invisible to any riders coming up the road. Unless someone waited at the blindside of the house, they wouldn’t see the escapee sneak off toward the back corral, grab a horse and be gone before they knew it.

  The next thought slammed into Cole’s mind. What kind of man would leave his wife and son to deal with the trouble at the front door while he slunk off?

  Coward.

  Perhaps it was time to start questioning Lenora about her husband.

  * * *

  Cole stretched his tired back. After settling his boot sole on the porch rail, he sipped his coffee. With supper finished, he lingered with deliberate nonchalance.

  Twilight gripped the land with a firm hand. Crickets chirped a persistent cadence, lulling the world into slumber. In the mild evening, the fragrance of wild grasses vied with the pungent scent of cattle manure. Stifling his yawn, Cole waited.

  Behind him through the open door, he heard Lenora’s melodic tones and Toby’s high-pitched responses. Their voices lowered as they prayed together—asking God to watch over them and the ranch, to preserve their country and to help them love their neighbors as themselves.

  “And please protect Porky and Coal,” Toby prayed. “Watch over Sheba and Rowdy. And help Nips stop biting.”

  Cole clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from chuckling aloud.

  The boy continued. “Most of all, God, thank You for sending Cole to help us. And please keep him safe.”

  Sober in an instant, Cole straightened. A sense of humility washed over him. He recalled his own mother praying for him the last time he’d seen her. Since her begging had not dissuaded him from his mission, she had asked God to watch over him. To help him give up the fool notion of trying to make up for Andrew’s death by hunting outlaws for the rest of his life. To settle his heart.

  Behind Cole came a quiet “Amen.” A chair scraped, and Toby mumbled something in a sleepy voice followed by a long yawn. Lenora murmured her love and kissed her son before he clambered up the ladder to his loft. Silence again settled in the house.

  Hearing her soft step, Cole pretended he didn’t notice her pausing in the open doorway.

  “Seems like a fine night.” Her gentle voice washed over him.

  He let the sounds of crickets fill the quiet before he finally responded. “That it is.” He glanced over his shoulder.

  The light from the lamps behind her molded her shapely form and tiny waist. Would she retreat? Or join him on the shadowy, covered porch? He couldn’t see her expression but sensed her hesitation. Perhaps she needed a little prodding.

  “By the way, the gloves you gave me fit perfectly. Came in real handy today.” Earlier, he and Toby had dug holes in the hard ground to place new fence posts.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “I hope I didn’t work your son too hard.”

  A small chuckle escaped her. “He’s exhausted. Could hardly keep his eyes open during our Bible reading. Likely he’s asleep by now.” Still she remained in the doorway.

  “He’s quite a boy. Growing up to be a fine man.”

  Her sigh and smile testified his words were balm to her motherly heart.

  He turned to study the way the waning moon spilled light over the landscape. Black dots of grazing cattle littered the rolling hills. The snowy mountain peaks in the far distance glowed in the fading light.

  “Would you care to join me?” Cole mentally kicked himself, hoping his forthrightness wouldn’t scare her off.

  Her breath caught a little before she answered. “Don’t mind if I do.” She took the rocker that was a mere three feet from where he stood. Head leaning against the high back, she stared across the yard.

  They settled into companionable silence as he sipped his coffee.

  In the many days since his arrival, they’d established a routine. Every morning when he arose, he’d find that she was already up, scraping out the ashes from the stove or collecting eggs. By the time he took care of livestock and Toby had milked the cow, she had prepared a simple breakfast. Afterward, he and the youngster would head out for the bulk of the day, doing repairs around the ranch or the never-ending job of mending fences. When they returned in the early afternoon, Lenora had a big dinner prepared for them. Several more hours of work awaited after that, and then it was supper time.

  Hard to believe a week had flown by. In that time, he had accomplished a load of work.

  So why haven’t I asked her the hard questions yet?

  He mentally squirmed. Because he didn’t want to disrupt the cordiality between them? His intrusive queries would disquiet her, no matter how delicately he asked them. So where to start?

  Gripping his coffee cup, he gazed at the grassy plains to the east. “How’d you and your husband meet?”

  If the question surprised her, it shocked Cole. He hadn’t meant to be so direct.

  Though he kept his face pointed straight ahead, he could see her staring at him out of the corner of his eye. A full minute ticked by. Would she answer?

  “He came to Minneapolis,” she began slowly. “Remember my telling you about my aunt’s restaurant? Well, it was attached to a hotel that my parents owned. Ma waited on customers while Pa handled the hotel end of it. My aunt cooked and ran the kitchen. Sometimes I served tables or did odds and ends. Mostly assisted in keeping the operations running smoothly—besides my book learning.” She paused. “One day, Amos took a room at the hotel.”

  She fell silent. Because the memories pained?

  “Right off, Pa disliked him. ’Course, I was only fifteen.” The chair creaked softly as she began to rock. “Pa wanted me to grow up a little more. Then marry a banker. Or lawyer. Not some cowboy with wild dreams about owning a thousand head of cattle. But Amos kept hanging around. Stayed a couple months while working at the lumber mill.”

  So Lenora’s father hadn’t approved of Pritchard. Figures. He had probably seen right through the shallow cowboy.

  “Is your father still alive?” Though Toby had already said his grandpa had passed away, Cole pretended he didn’t know to keep Lenora talking.

  “No. He and Ma died from typhoid within a day of each other. Caught it when they were traveling—seeing about getting a contract with a new supplier. Only reason my aunt and I were spared was because we remained in Minneapolis.”

  “So after they passed, you two continued to run everything?”

  Lenora nodded. “For a few weeks. But it was too much for my aunt. Even though Minneapolis was a real city, she didn’t like how rough and tumble it was. She preferred the more sedate East Coast. After settling with creditors and sell
ing the businesses, she split the money with me. When she asked if I wanted to go with her, I...” Lenora stopped a moment. “I remained behind. Buried my folks one day and was married the next. I was barely sixteen.”

  Again, Cole stared out at the landscape. No question how she felt about her decision now. Regret laced her tone.

  So Pritchard married her for money. Once Lenora was alone, he took advantage of her youth. And that was twelve or more years ago? Then Lenora wasn’t yet thirty. A few years younger than he.

  How had she maintained a youthful face and pretty smile, with all the grief she had experienced married to a man like Amos Pritchard? No doubt her faith sustained her. While Cole had run from God, she had apparently clung all the harder to Him.

  A pang of regret gripped him. Not just for bringing up painful memories, but because he saw so clearly how they differed in handling the tragedies in their lives.

  He didn’t want to delve too deeply into that.

  “This is a nice ranch. Your husband picked a fine location.” After dumping the coffee grounds over the rail, he set his cup on the porch.

  The moonlight, coming at an angle, shone on her face as she looked up at him. “Amos had claimed his hundred and sixty acres a few years before we met—he took advantage of the Homestead Act like tens of thousands of others. He’d constructed some of these buildings before we married. After we arrived, he invested in cattle.”

  So that’s why Pritchard needed the money. Had he really tried to make a go of the ranch? What had happened?

  Cole chose his words with care. “Amos was a top-notch craftsman. Your rocking chair is as fine as creamed gravy. The house and outbuildings are excellent too.”

  “If only he’d stayed content.” The brightness of the moon highlighted her pinched brows and pursed mouth.

  Prudence told him to politely excuse himself, but Cole’s boots felt nailed to the wooden porch. He had a job to do, no matter how difficult.

  With one hand resting on her chest, she continued. “I don’t know why, but Amos always wanted more. A finer house, more cattle, more...” She bit her lip.

  Cole dug his fingers into the hard wooden rail on which he leaned. “Some men seem to be restless from birth.”

  Like his own father? Always moving from place to place, looking for...what? Ma had finally declared that she was staying put in Dodge City. Though they had settled, Pa’s gaze never turned from the horizon. Some days Cole would awaken in the morning to find his father had gone somewhere. They wouldn’t see him for weeks at a time.

  “Some men are born restless,” he repeated.

  “Or they’re discontent because their friends teach them to be.” Bitterness laced Lenora’s tone.

  Was Jeb Hackett the friend she was talking about?

  Cole let silence consume the acrid memories that hung between them.

  “How’d Amos die?” If he was going to get answers, perhaps bluntness was the best way.

  She ducked her head and stared at her hands. “They found him a few miles northwest of here.” She picked at a hangnail. “Some say he was waylaid by bandits. Or Indians.”

  “Shot?” When her head jerked up, he added, “By bullets? Or arrows?” That information could be vital. Especially since Cole had not known about Pritchard’s death before his arrival.

  Lenora chewed her lip and again looked away, this time to the moonlight-splashed yard. “Bullets. And in the back. Twice.”

  A thrill ran through Cole.

  Robbery reports claimed that an outlaw had been shot. A bystander testified he’d seen one man get hit twice.

  Was this proof that Pritchard had been one of the six robbers? If that placed him in Cheyenne, then perhaps it implicated Jeb Hackett, as well. Pritchard would never have acted on his own.

  Cole’s heart quickened as he anticipated not only solving the robbery mystery, but also retrieving the money.

  When Lenora sighed deeply, he regretted asking so many questions. If her husband had been one of the Cheyenne robbers, then she had been widowed for just over five months. Cole imagined her sitting by the fireplace through the long winter months. Had she worried what her future held?

  However, he again reminded himself of the reason he had come to Wyoming Territory. No matter how he felt about Lenora, he still had a job to do. He turned his thoughts from her to the robbery.

  If Pritchard had died a few miles from the ranch, that meant he had ridden at least six hours on a fast horse to get there. Certainly he knew his end was near. Was that why he had overshot the ranch and had ended up in the middle of nowhere? Because his mind was already failing? Or had he focused on a particular destination?

  Cole clamped his lips together to keep from speculating aloud.

  The creak of Lenora’s chair pulled him from his thoughts. Sorrow etched her expression. Had she known what kind of man her husband was? Toby said she cried a lot while Amos lived. Because she abhorred his thieving? Despised every stolen penny used to support their lives? The Hackett gang went way back—almost eight years. Rumors abounded of cattle rustling and horse thefts, of waylaid travelers and held-up stagecoaches. No evidence could ever pin the Hackett gang. Only recently had they added bank robbery to their ever-expanding exploits. The outcry against them had finally caught the attention of the US Marshals Service.

  Did Lenora know any of this? How soon after she married did she find out about Amos?

  Now that Cole knew of her gentle heart, she had to grieve over her outlaw husband.

  “Sorry I brought up such a painful subject.” He crossed his feet as he leaned on the rail.

  “I wish...” Her fingers dug into the armrests of the rocking chair. She stared down at the porch’s rough flooring. “I wish Amos had never met Jeb.”

  With care, he crafted his sentence. “He stopped by the first morning I was here, right? The blond-haired man who did all the talking?”

  “Yes. Him.” Her voice hardened. “I don’t doubt he taught Amos to be discontent with his lot. To look for the easy way through life.” Lenora suddenly roused herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t often get to...”

  To tell others what happened? To explain how she felt?

  Besides Toby, she apparently had no one to talk to. Not one person had stopped by the ranch in the time Cole had been there. Because the neighbors considered her leprous? Marriage to a man like Amos Pritchard had tainted her reputation.

  Or was something more sinister going on?

  She stopped rocking, waiting to speak until he met her gaze. “So what makes you restless, Cole?”

  The question caught him off guard. Why did she think that? He opened his mouth to deny the claim, then gritted his teeth.

  “You once said you were looking to settle down, but you haven’t yet. And send for your mother, but you haven’t. And now you’re dragging a pregnant mare across country—looking for the perfect spot?” She shook her head. “There is no such place.”

  Her perception stunned him. Was he indeed restless like his father? Though their motivations might be different, perhaps Cole had inherited more of that proclivity than he thought. Just seven months ago, his ma had asked him how many criminals he needed to put behind bars before he was satisfied that he’d finally avenged Andrew’s death. Twenty? Fifty? A hundred?

  Just one more. That had been his justification. But after arresting one outlaw, Cole would hear of another that needed to be stopped. And another. Nine years had passed and still more awaited.

  But admitting he was a lawman to Lenora Pritchard—the wife of a known criminal—would be foolish.

  With parted lips, she watched him. His speechlessness grew more unbearable, pressing down on him. For the first time in his life, someone out-silenced him.

  “Way past my bedtime.” He was off the porch and halfway to the barn before he realized
he hadn’t said good night.

  However, it was the wisest thing to do. If he turned around and went back, he’d tell her things best kept secret. For now anyway.

  No telling what she would do if he blurted that he was a US marshal, looking to fasten a host of crimes on Jeb Hackett. If nothing else, Cole would be content to tie the outlaw to the Cheyenne robbery. When things got ugly—and Cole had no doubt they would—he couldn’t ask Lenora to choose sides. Especially when he up and disappeared some morning. As with every job he accepted, he had to consider it could be his last.

  Knowing he could die on the morrow, he should not get attached to Lenora.

  Fool. You already are.

  The accusation rang in his heart.

  After he settled in his sleeping spot, he tucked one arm under his head.

  Was he as restless as both Ma and Lenora accused? Perhaps he’d been lying to himself for years about why he never let any woman get close. Why he never married.

  And most important—why he could never forgive himself for not stopping Andrew from running into the street.

  After he finished this job, maybe it was time to lay aside his badge. Buy property. Raise horses like he’d always wanted. Since his arrival, peace had wrapped around his soul and soothed the guilt that ever hounded him.

  But would this peace last if he were to finally settle in one place? Could Lenora be the one to quiet his restless heart?

  Chapter Eight

  Over breakfast, Lenora announced, “I need to hitch up the buckboard and head to town.” She watched Cole for his response. After last night’s abrupt end to their conversation, she feared he’d taken off before dawn. What had caused her to be so bold as to talk to him like that?

  His blue gaze met her steadily. “I’ll go along if you like.”

  “Can Blister come too, Ma?” Toby piped up.

  “I don’t know if that’d be such a good idea.” However, she didn’t like the thought of leaving him behind. What if he wandered away from the ranch again for days at a time? Locking him in the barn while they were gone seemed a bad idea too.