The Marshal's Mission

by Anna Zogg

  She nodded. “He’ll be down soon.”

  Less than fifteen minutes later, the boy showed up, dressed in nightshirt and boots.

  “You wanted to see me, Cole?”

  He hung the lantern on a nail. As he sat cross-legged on the straw, he waved for Toby to take a seat.

  “Your ma and I’ve been talking.” He studied the boy, trying to ascertain how much Toby knew.

  “She told me.”

  “So you know we’re gonna get married?”

  The boy nodded. Raising his head, he peered at him. “Do you love my ma, Cole?”

  For a moment, he opened his mouth, then shut it. “Can’t say exactly I love her, but I do care for her. And you.” When the boy didn’t respond right away, he added, “But I promise to treat you both right for as long as I’m here.”

  “Ma said you might someday move on.”

  Cole took a breath, debating how much to admit. “It’s a possibility.”

  The youngster’s mouth moved as he pondered the news.

  “However, the reason I asked to speak with you is I wanted to ask your permission to marry your mother. If you say no, then I won’t.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.” Part of him hoped the boy would. That would solve a passel of problems since Cole hadn’t the sense to decline.

  Toby’s jaw squared, mind apparently made up. “I’d like you to. Ma’s happier than I seen in a long time.”

  His jaw tightened. “She is?”

  The boy nodded.

  “So, I have your permission?”

  He took his time answering. “Yes.”

  “Something else you should know.” Cole shifted on the straw. “I plan to keep sleeping here in the barn. So we can all get used to the new arrangement.”

  The boy’s brow clouded. “I reckon that’s a good idea.”

  Because he worried about what Hackett had done to his mother? It wasn’t Cole’s place to explain the way of a husband and wife. Or of a violent criminal like Hackett who had no concept of what was right or decent when it came to women.

  Besides, Cole would only be guessing about what had happened on the ranch today.

  He pushed the speculations away, knowing that if he thought about it too much, he’d be tempted to hunt down the outlaw and shoot him in cold blood.

  Unclenching his fist, he blew out a breath. “Okay then. That’s all I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Toby rose and brushed off the straw that stuck to his nightshirt. “Ma says you’re getting married tomorrow. Do you think I can go?”

  Cole masked his surprise by slapping the dirt off his britches. “Don’t see why not.” He straightened. “As a matter of fact, you need to be there.”

  A happy grin split Toby’s face. Without warning, he threw his arms about Cole. “I’m glad you’re gonna marry Ma.”

  Breath trapped in his chest, Cole fought to exhale normally. He patted Toby’s shoulder, feeling out of his element. Why did the boy’s reaction bother him so?

  Because I’m a fraud.

  He had no business agreeing to a marriage that he didn’t intend to honor for a lifetime. Even if his motives were from a desire to protect Lenora.

  But the truth was, the boy’s hug of acceptance felt good. Cole battled the dual emotions of discomfort and joy.

  “Good night, Toby.”

  Again, the youngster surprised him by holding out his hand.

  With as much solemnity as he felt, Cole shook it.

  Long after Toby went to bed, he stared up at the dark ceiling wrestling with his decision.

  What if I’m wrong about Lenora? Again that worry rose to hound him. What if she knew more about Amos than she was sharing? What if she had the money? The thought crossed Cole’s mind that he might be marrying an outlaw. How could he maintain his integrity if he grew attached to her? Impossible.

  Rolling on his side, he clutched the blanket so hard his fist hurt.

  If he grew attached? Cole’s laugh of derision filled the dark barn. He was way beyond “attached” already.

  Truth be told, no other man would marry Lenora Pritchard but him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Do you, Lenora Julia Pritchard, take this man...?” The preacher droned on.

  Or was that the buzzing in her head that drowned out his voice, beginning the moment they had entered the church? She fought to concentrate.

  “...for better for worse, for richer for poorer...” Lenora’s tone sounded stilted, even to her own ears. In the quietness of the chapel, her words seemed to echo. She stumbled over the phrase, “To love and to cherish,” worried about lying to the preacher. Lying to God.

  But even if she didn’t exactly love Cole, she could promise to look out for his best interests. That wasn’t a lie, was it?

  She cut her eyes toward his inflexible jaw and stern expression as he recited the vows. His red-rimmed eyes betrayed a fitful night. Was he also troubled?

  Perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades. Another drop beaded at her temple.

  A pesky fly circled the preacher as he talked, a nuisance the entire ceremony.

  Everything about this wedding was different from her first. That morning, she had donned a clean dress, but no one would consider it “Sunday best.” Long ago she had reconciled herself to work attire—the only clothing she owned. Lenora had woven a royal blue ribbon through her braid—her only adornment. Instead of flowers, she clutched a prayer book. No happy crowds crammed the pews. This event had been hurriedly arranged and carried out in secret.

  Besides Toby, the only other person present was the preacher’s wife. Several times, the woman licked dry lips. A frown marred her forehead.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.” Preacher Jeremiah spoke with more speed than necessary. “Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder.”

  “Amen,” both Lenora and Cole answered at the same time.

  Silence filled the church.

  I’m married.

  After shutting his book with a resounding thwump, the preacher wiped sweat from his brow. He swatted at the fly that zeroed in on his nose. “Let us pray.”

  Feeling faint, Lenora closed her eyes. Dear Lord, what have I done? How could she have thought marriage was a good idea? Where had her common sense fled to when she’d thought up this crazy scheme?

  She jumped when the preacher’s wife said in a loud voice, “Amen.”

  The officiant fixed his gaze on the groom. “You may kiss your bride.”

  Catching her breath, Lenora looked up into Cole’s eyes. What would he do? Indecision flickered in the blue depths. It seemed like they stared at each other a full minute. The next, he inclined his head, but paused with his gaze fixed on her mouth.

  Her heart pounded.

  Before she could stop herself, she rose on tiptoes. His lips brushed hers with the lightest touch. In seconds, he stepped back, leaving Lenora feeling like she’d been cheated. Then she castigated herself. Hadn’t she demanded Cole not touch her?

  Swiveling away, he pulled a silver dollar from his pocket. He pressed it into the minister’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

  Without a word, Toby hugged her and Cole. After a few more requirements, the three of them were soon on the buckboard, heading out of town.

  Body rigid, Lenora looked straight ahead, fingers clutched in her lap. A glance at Cole revealed him staring at the road, brow drawn, jaw set. Did he regret his decision? Neither of them spoke during the long ride back home. Even Toby remained sober.

  When they reached the ranch, the day had nearly ended. Without a word, Cole helped her down from the buckboard, grabbing her about the waist and lifting her so that she wouldn’t have to use her sore wrist.

  “Thank
you, Cole.” She hoped he understood that she regretted unsettling him.

  When he merely nodded, she grabbed his arm. “I mean it. Thank you.”

  His gaze shifted. “I’ll see to the livestock.” After climbing into the buckboard, he clicked to his horse.

  Toby slipped one arm about her waist as they walked up the steps. “You did right, Ma.”

  She looked down at him, astounded at his comment. “You are getting much too tall, Tobias Joseph. And talking more and more like a grown-up.”

  He grinned when she mussed his hair. “Want me to set the table?”

  “No. You go help Cole.”

  “’Kay.” He bounded off the porch.

  Smiling, she watched her son race across the yard. For some reason, seeing him act like a ten-year-old lightened her spirit.

  As she scraped the ashes out of the stove and loaded it with wood and tinder, she considered the wedding ceremony. When Cole had given the preacher his full name, Jesse Phillips Cole, she had been surprised. Jesse? However, she suspected he still wanted to be called Cole.

  It was late by the time supper was ready. All she had prepared was thin soup and hard bread. Cole and Toby came inside, the skin of their faces and hands scrubbed clean.

  “Not much of a meal, I’m afraid,” she murmured. “I’ll bake tomorrow and cook up something special.”

  “This is a good enough wedding supper,” Cole answered.

  Lenora nearly choked on her soup. Not until she saw the dimple creasing one cheek did she realize he was teasing.

  Toby grinned, his gaze darting between the two of them. What was he thinking? She didn’t even want to imagine what ran through that young man’s head.

  For the remainder of the meal, Cole chatted about what he wanted to do around the ranch. They had cattle to brand and bull calves to castrate. He wanted to see about expanding the fenced-off pasture so that he could run the livestock in and assess their health. Most important, to get accurate numbers about how many head they owned so they could grow the numbers.

  Hearing him make plans calmed her heart. When they were ready to part ways, the ranch might bring a better price. Or perhaps he would be more amenable to buying her out. For the first time that day, hope surged through her.

  When he glanced her way, he stopped midsentence. “Am I talking too much?”

  She shook her head. “I like it.”

  In truth, he sounded nervous. Like he didn’t know what to do now that he was a married man.

  Pulling on his earlobe, he made a face. “I didn’t want you to think I’m showing off my greedy side.”

  “Not at all. I’m pleased you’ve taken an interest in your property.”

  “Sounds like a lotta hard work to me,” Toby piped up.

  They both chuckled, Cole’s gaze again resting on her. When the telltale heat bloomed in her cheeks, Lenora pushed her bowl away. “Before I forget...” She went into her bedroom and returned, carrying the bandannas. “I made these yesterday. For you.” She held them out to Cole.

  He took them, fingers brushing hers. “They’re right nice.”

  “I worried that they might be too fussy, but...” She bit her lip.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have a wedding present for you.”

  “Oh, they’re not...” Mortification strangled her explanation.

  “Appreciate it.” Cole rolled one lengthwise and slipped it around his neck. “Perfect.”

  Lenora hastened to clear the table. “Well, it’s about time for bed.” She blew out an exasperated breath. Couldn’t she say anything right? “Toby, change your clothes so we can do our prayers. First say good night to Cole.”

  “Can’t he pray with us, Ma? He’s family now.”

  She looked between the two of them. Surely Cole would decline, wouldn’t he? “Of course. Mr. Cole is welcome to pray with us anytime he wants.” Then she berated herself for calling him mister. Like she’d forgotten his preference.

  Palms resting on the table, he met her gaze steadily. “I’d like that.”

  Hands shaking, she finished clearing the table, dishes clattering together in her haste. After retrieving her Bible, she set it at her place.

  Cole surprised her by pulling the book closer. “Where’re you reading from?”

  Her mind went blank. “You pick.”

  While Toby climbed into the loft, she scraped leftovers into the pig slop bowl and stacked dishes. She pumped water into a pan and put it on the still-hot stove to heat. All the while, she was aware of Cole watching her.

  By the time Toby clambered down the ladder, the dishes were soaking. She sat at her place while her son took his.

  “I chose Psalm 4.” Cole’s finger marked the place on the page. He cleared his throat and began. “‘Hear me when I call, O God of my righteousness...’” He continued reading, his voice rising and falling with expression.

  Enthralled, Lenora leaned an elbow on the table. When he finished the last verse, he stopped and read it again. “‘I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.’”

  He fixed his gaze on her, eyes full of meaning. Was he assuring her he planned to keep his word? That she could rest tonight without fear?

  Something fluttered in her chest. “Thank you, Cole.” Folding her hands in her lap, she bowed her head.

  As usual, Toby began the time of prayer. He thanked God for their day, the fact that Cole had married his ma and the welfare of the animals he cared about.

  Lenora asked the Lord for His continued provision and thanked Him for His grace. After pausing a moment, she prayed that Cole would find contentment on the ranch.

  The room fell silent. Would he pray too?

  He cleared his throat and said, “Amen.” His chair scraped as he stood. “Thanks.” He nodded to them both before turning on his heel and striding out the door.

  Lenora didn’t try to guess the reason for his abrupt departure. Holding out her arms, she waited for Toby’s good-night hug.

  “I love you, Ma,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Love you too.” She caressed his cheek, tempted to snuggle with him like she used to when he was a little boy.

  Silly thought. What was that saying about half-grown youngsters? Toby was between hay and grass. It would be inappropriate for him to crawl into her bed since he was no longer a child. Next week was his eleventh birthday. How the years had flown.

  “Sleep well, my son.”

  For safety’s sake, she closed the flues in the stove to suffocate any hot coals. The crossbar on the door was soon in place and the house secured. In her bedroom, she took her time unbraiding her hair and brushing out the long strands before shrugging into her nightgown. The thought struck her again, in a new way.

  I’m no longer a widow.

  So why did she still feel like one? Because her husband should be with her, not sleeping in the barn. Guilt pounded her. How could she have turned marriage into a mockery?

  I had no choice.

  She had to protect herself and Toby. The best way to let Jeb know she was off-limits was to remarry. Only a husband would stand in his way. Lenora turned down the lantern and climbed into bed.

  Even as she excused her actions, she recognized the potential folly of her choice. Though Cole was a legal half owner, she couldn’t stop him from selling the ranch and absconding with the proceeds. Where would that leave her? How would she and her son survive?

  The bankroll. Buried with Amos.

  “But it’s not mine,” she whispered into the darkness. For many minutes she rebuked herself for even thinking she could touch that money. Regardless, the idea worked on her. If the situation became desperate, would she be justified in spending even one dollar?

  * * *

  Cole paused to wipe a
way the sweat that stung his eyes. Who knew that branding cattle was such hard work? He straightened his aching back, tempted to call it a day. Seemed like calves lined up in a never-ending stream. However, if they didn’t take care of this vital task, the cattle could be considered mavericks—and anyone could rightly claim ownership.

  He wouldn’t put it past Hackett to steal Lenora’s cattle.

  Correction—their cattle.

  Funny how shared ownership kept barging to the forefront of his thinking.

  “Okay, let ’er up.” Cole backed away with the iron while Lenora and Toby loosened the ropes that constrained the calf.

  Once freed, the bawling heifer staggered up and rushed to her mother.

  He walked back to the fire pit to check if the branding irons were hot enough, giving his muscles a chance to unkink. A glance at his two partners proved they looked as tired as he felt. Since early that morning, they’d been working. Now the sun perched high in the sky, sending down waves of heat.

  “One more calf, then I’m calling it.” He spoke more for Lenora’s sake than his own.

  Despite the hat she wore, her cheeks appeared sunburned. What his mind kept having trouble with, though, was the way she dressed. Lenora wore a loose shirt and tightly cinched pants. Had they once belonged to Amos? Obviously, she had sized down the clothing, but they still appeared huge on her. Cole dragged his gaze away and searched for the next calf to lasso.

  Pants on a woman were perfectly acceptable. No way could Lenora be such a help in long skirts. Besides, he’d concluded quick enough that he and Toby alone couldn’t handle the job. Though willing, the boy didn’t have the weight and strength to hold a wiggling calf so that Cole could seat a proper brand.

  However, her pants-wearing was definitely a distraction. He found his mind wandering—a dangerous occupation considering his current task. More than one enraged mama had tried to gore him when he pushed his way through the herd to lasso another calf.

  They finished the last one and released it. Castrating would have to wait another day. Besides, Cole figured that was something he would not let Lenora do.

  “Appreciate the help.” He spoke to them both.