The Marshal's Mission

by Anna Zogg

  The sooner she learned to handle the difficult tasks, the better. Still, she couldn’t help but remember how much easier this had been when Cole was there.

  I can’t think of him now.

  In the two weeks since he had left, she had maintained a brave face during the day—for Toby’s sake. But at night...

  Would the ache for him ever lessen?

  She squared her cramping shoulders. “Okay, let her up.”

  The heifer bolted to her feet. Breathing hard, Lenora leaned against the fence. The May sun sizzled down on them. She longed for her cool skirts, not these pants that seemed to hem in the heat. Maybe the early-morning hours would be better for this chore. Or evening. They’d started too late in the day.

  After Toby opened the gate, he giggled as the calf scampered out, bucking in freedom. He climbed back onto his horse. “Ready for another one?”

  He was good at roping, no doubt. And he liked to show off.

  “No, I...” She pushed back the hat and swiped her forehead with her arm. “I think we’re done for now.”

  “Aww.” He made a disappointed face.

  “Fine. You do the branding and I’ll—” She broke off when Rowdy suddenly raised his head and whinnied, long and loud. His nostrils flared as his ears pointed toward the road. Even Blister, who had been snoozing in the shade, leaped up and stood at attention.

  An answering neigh came from the distance.

  After Lenora grabbed her rifle, she squinted and shielded her eyes. A lone rider came into view.

  “It’s Cole.” Joy rang through Toby’s voice. “Cole! Over here.” He stood in the stirrups and waved his hat like crazy. Blister began barking in excitement.

  The gun nearly dropped from her grip. Why was Cole here?

  The next moment, she was scrubbing her hands on her pants and slapping dirt from her shirt.

  He pulled up alongside the corral, gaze taking in everything before settling on her. How hard had he ridden? And from where? Nips’s neck was wet with sweat. She could only stare while her son babbled nonstop. In less than a minute, it sounded as though he told Cole everything they’d done in the time he’d been gone.

  “Good to see you, too.” He grinned at Toby.

  Lenora couldn’t say a word, afraid that if she did, she would gush with questions like her son.

  “Looks like you’ve quite the task.” Cole nodded toward the cattle. “Mind if I help?”

  A shiver ran through her. Hadn’t he said those exact words when they’d first met?

  Finally she found her tongue. “We just finished for the day.”

  “Y’sure?”

  Her heart squeezed as he smiled and leaned his forearms on the saddle horn.

  “I was—was about to make supper.” She tried in vain to swallow the grit in her throat. “Do you have time to join us?”

  As she waited for an answer, her heart felt like it sped up to an impossible speed.

  “I’d like that.” The dimple in his cheek showed. “Toby and I’ll tidy up here while you head to the house. If you like.”

  She could only manage a nod before dashing from the corral.

  First things first. In a frenzy, she scoured her face till it stung, then shook the dust from her hair. After peeling off dirty clothes, she slipped on a blouse and skirt. With shaking fingers she bound her hair with a ribbon.

  Back in the kitchen, she discovered the stove was cold to the touch. Lenora shuffled pans, dropping a couple of them. What could she make? Nothing was ready. Not even coffee. She reached for the tin, but ended up knocking it from the shelf.

  “Sounds like a tornado in here.”

  She wheeled at Cole’s voice.

  Leaning a hand on the doorjamb, he grinned. She was about to apologize for the lack of a decent meal when he strode in and dropped his saddlebags on a chair. With casual flair, he tossed his hat at the pegs by the door, chuckling when its landing stuck.

  After she grabbed the coffee tin from the floor, she studied him. The gash on his cheek—the one she’d stitched—was well healed. Though his left arm seemed a bit stiff, he walked as though his injured ankle bothered him not a smidgen. His hair had been cut, and he’d had a close shave. Not only that, he wore a new shirt and pants.

  “So what’s the occasion?” She pointed to his clothing.

  “I swore in the new sheriff of Silver Peaks this morning.”

  “Leland Mackay’s gone?”

  “Yep, as well as a few hangers-on. Seems the townsfolk are done with the Hacketts.” He scratched his chin. “You know, they offered me the position first.”

  Of course Cole wouldn’t take it. Becoming sheriff would only tie him down.

  “So you stopped by the ranch...because you were in the area.” She didn’t ask, but spoke with mounting sadness. Her hope that he would stay faded. Did he only come to get his horses? Before moving on?

  “I brought you something.” Cole untied the flap on one of his saddlebags and retrieved a rectangular bundle, wrapped in paper.

  “What’s...?”

  The question died when Cole unwrapped bills. Stacks of them. He arranged three neat piles on the table.

  “Where’d you get all that money?”

  “The Bank of Cheyenne.” He raised one palm. “But I didn’t rob it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Why’d he bring it? Her heart sank at the obvious answer. He planned to pay her for his half of the ranch. After tying up this loose end, he would be free from all obligations to her.

  She stared at the money. “That’s way too much.”

  “It’s only fifteen hundred dollars.” He fingered the bills.

  “Fifteen...?” She gaped. “This whole ranch isn’t worth that much.”

  “What does the ranch...?” A frown wrinkled his forehead before understanding blossomed. “Ah. Seems we’re talking at cross-purposes.” He chuckled, mischief sparking in his eyes. “This ranch may not yet be worth this much, but it could be. Once we do some improvements.”

  “Improve...?” What was he talking about? “You know I can’t afford that. As soon as I find buyers, I’m selling off half the cattle. Maybe more.”

  “No need to. We can manage what we have quite nicely.”

  More confused than ever, she pressed her fingertips to her temple. Her hand froze when she finally heard what he said. She gulped. “We?”

  “Of course.”

  A squeak of disbelief escaped her. Her heart began to pound. “Aren’t you just passing through? On your way...farther west?”

  “Nope. My wandering days are done.”

  “But isn’t that money for your half of the ranch?”

  “I kinda forgot to explain.” He tapped the bills. “This is your reward money.”

  She recoiled. “Reward? For what?”

  “Not only for information leading to the arrest of the gang that robbed a Cheyenne bank, but the return of the bankroll.” Cole fanned one bound stack of bills. “This is all yours.”

  “I don’t deserve that.” She backed away even more. “You of all people know I can’t take one dollar.”

  “The bank disagrees. Since I knew you might decline, I accepted on your behalf.” He set down the stack. “Before the US Marshals Service let me resign, they gave me two stipulations. Swear in the new sheriff and deliver the reward. Since those’re done, I’m a free man.”

  She stared at him as he moved closer. “But—but what about hunting outlaws?”

  “Not interested.” His softened expression made her chest tighten. “After I formed a posse, we chased down the remainder of the Hackett gang. For the last two weeks, all I could think about was you. Returning to you as soon as I could.”

  “But you can’t quit because of me. Stopping outlaws is your life
’s mission.”

  “Not anymore.” He shook his head. “My only mission now is here.”

  She caught her breath, still unable to believe what he was saying.

  “I want to be a father to Toby.” He took her hands. “And a husband to you. If you’ll have me.”

  His tender touch and gentle voice erased the last of her doubts.

  “Oh, Jesse.” She slipped her arms about his neck. His hands came around her waist, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. But who needed air?

  “That’s the second time you’ve used my given name,” he murmured.

  “It is?” She pulled back to stare into his face.

  “The first time, it proved to me that I was no longer just ‘Cole’ to you.”

  “When did I...?” Her mind remained blank.

  “It was moments before you told me you loved me. Night and day, I haven’t been able to get your words out of my mind. Or forget the look on your face. I came back for you, Lenora.”

  “Even after I tried to convince you to keep stolen money?” She balled her fists against his chest. “I’m an outlaw—worse than Amos.”

  “Not a problem.” His blue eyes twinkled. “I know how to handle outlaws.”

  She smiled then, fingering the buttons on his shirt.

  He cupped her jaw, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I love you, Lenora Julia Cole. Will you let me be a true husband to you? And in more than just name?”

  “Oh, Jesse,” she breathed. “A thousand times, yes.”

  With that, he kissed her with a tenderness that made her heart quake. Again and again, his lips nuzzled hers. For a long time, he held her. But not nearly enough for a lifetime.

  A creaking floorboard caught her ear.

  Cole turned his head and chuckled. “You can come in now, Toby.”

  How long had her son been listening?

  He stood in the doorway, a huge grin on his face. Blister sat beside him, his gaping mouth appearing to grin, as well.

  Cole’s grip tightened about her waist. “Is it okay that I kiss your ma?”

  “Yessir.” If possible, the young man’s smile broadened.

  “Good. ’Cause I plan to do it a lot. And I don’t want you coming after me with your big ol’ bowie knife.”

  Toby laughed, his voice cracking. His gaze flickered between them.

  “C’mere, son.” Cole held out one arm, beckoning for Toby to join them.

  Once his arms came about them both, Cole tousled his hair.

  “Do you know Toby prayed for you?” Lenora smoothed one hand over her husband’s chest. “Long before you showed up on our ranch.”

  “I believe it.” His face grew serious. “And since God brought me here, I’d be a fool not to stay.”

  “I’m glad the Lord answered Toby’s prayers. And mine.” When her voice broke, the two men she loved most in the world hugged her hard.

  After her husband again sought her lips, Lenora kissed him back with all the love that sprang from a trusting heart.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed THE MARSHAL’S MISSION, look for

  RECLAIMING HIS PAST by Karen Kirst

  A FAMILY FOR THE HOLIDAYS by Sherri Shackelford

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed reading The Marshal’s Mission as much as I enjoyed writing it. I based this story on my great-grandfather’s life—he was an undercover US Marshal. Then I found out that though he had been married to my great-grandmother, he wasn’t directly related to me. What a woman—she outlived five husbands!

  The West has always fascinated me. It was a pleasure to research the lives of the tough men and women who shaped our country.

  I’d love to hear from you. Write to me at anna@annazogg.com or PO Box 1642, West Jordan, UT 84088. Please visit my website at annazogg.com.

  Anna

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE NANNY’S TEMPORARY TRIPLETS by Noelle Marchand.

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  The Nanny’s Temporary Triplets

  by Noelle Marchand

  Chapter One

  Austin, Texas

  July 1896

  “By the power vested in me by God and the state of Texas—”

  “Stop this wedding!”

  Everything around Caroline Murray seemed to blur. Yet she was more aware than she’d ever been. Time fractured until it was made up of nothing more than tiny details. Seemingly insignificant, she could still feel their indelible stamp on her soul.

  Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of the church, spilling a bizarre assortment of colors onto her pure-white gown. Her hands were clasped in her groom’s. His grip held hers tighter and tighter. So tight now that it was almost painful, not unlike the ring he’d placed on her finger only moments ago that had somehow been forged a size too small.

  None of that mattered now because through the dreamy tinge of her veil she watched another woman march down the aisle with a baby in her arms and righteous indignation on her drawn features. Caroline turned back to her groom in confusion, waiting for him to take charge. She saw panic flash across his face before his dashing smile faded to a scowl. Yet he didn’t breathe a word. It seemed she would have to be the one to deal with the stranger who’d brought their wedding to a halt.

  It was silent. Too silent with more than two hundred people in the chapel. Even the baby, with his eerily familiar eyes, stared at her without a sound. Somehow Caroline found her voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  Compassion filled the eyes of the woman who surveyed her. “My name is Lucette Calabrese.”

  “She is my sister,” Nico Calabrese asserted as if his strong Italian features bore any resemblance to the delicate ones of the woman who spoke with the inflections of the French.

  Lucette closed her eyes and winced. “No. I am his wife.”

  Caroline recoiled. “What?”

  Lucette bounced the baby in her arms slightly. “This is our son.”

  “Caroline, don’t believe her.” Nico’s dark, pleading eyes captured Caroline’s. “She is a crazy woman who follows me from town to town. She is obsessed with my career, my music, my voice.”

  “Nico is right. I am crazy...for following him from city to city, standing by as he wastes the money he earns at the gambling table, then m
akes up for it by seducing unsuspecting women out of their fortunes.” Lucette lifted her chin. “But no longer. I am going home to France. His music, career and voice do not enchant me in the least. I came here today because I could not let him ruin another life the way he has ruined mine.”

  Nico finally released Caroline’s hands. “How can you say these things?”

  Lucette ignored him. “He will take your dowry and leave you after the honeymoon. That is his plan. Save yourself and your virtue while you can.”

  With that, Lucette turned on her heel and walked out of the church. Nico swallowed hard. Turning back to Caroline, he asked, “Do you believe her?”

  Her heart screamed no, but her head silenced it. A kaleidoscope of memories paraded through her mind. Their romance had been a fairy tale from the start. They’d met through her parents’ connections in the crème de la crème of Austin’s music society. He was everything they had always wanted for her and exactly what she’d wanted for herself: educated, well-traveled and, most important of all, musical. His skill at the piano wasn’t particularly anything to brag about, especially in comparison to her father’s, but then Lawrence Murray had been a world-renowned pianist from the age of eight.

  Nico’s voice, however, was the epitome of what a classical tenor should be. His control over it was astounding, his lyrical phrasing impeccable. He put new shadow, light, vibrancy into melodies she’d heard hundreds of times before and made them exciting again.

  Her parents loved him. He’d become the musical son they’d never had. So much so that she’d been glad her tone-deaf brother, Matthew, had been too preoccupied with his cattle and growing family in Little Horn, Texas, to see how they doted on Nico.

  He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen and the only man to look beyond the influence and glamour of her parents’ lives to notice her—the girl with a voice that was pretty, but not nearly strong enough to match her mother’s mezzosoprano or to even make it onto the stage. Embarrassingly enough, Caroline had little else to recommend her. Why else would her father have set aside such an obscene amount of money for her dowry, then discreetly make it public knowledge?