The Marshal Meets His Match

by Clari Dees

  “Thank you for explaining what happened.” She swallowed the yawn that threatened.

  “You are most welcome.” Wyatt bowed. “May I drop in to see you again?”

  “Could I keep you away, Marshal?” she teased.

  “If you really don’t want to see me, Mac, I won’t come, but I’m hoping that’s not the case.” Wyatt was completely serious.

  “I…” She cleared her throat in nervous confusion. “I don’t mind if you come by.”

  Wyatt grinned hugely. “Good.” In the blink of an eye he picked her hand up from the quilt and, leaning over, kissed it gallantly. Straightening, he squeezed her fingers before releasing them, gave her a jaunty grin and headed out the door.

  Meri was speechless. Her eyes followed the broad shoulders until they disappeared. She was still staring, pondering his actions, when Dr. Kilburn stepped into the room and after a quick look at her, ordered her to get some rest. She had no desire to sleep; her mind was too busy ordering her heart not to indulge in foolish dreams, but the kiss on her hand accompanied her into dreamland where chivalrous knights wore shiny badges instead of rusty armor and rode beautiful bay stallions instead of washed-out white horses.

  * * *

  When Wyatt arrived back at his office Friday afternoon, a U.S. Marshal was waiting to escort the prisoners to the county seat. He also requested Wyatt’s assistance in delivering the two men. Wyatt thought the trip would be a quick there-and-back, but he had to stay long enough to testify in a preliminary hearing Monday morning.

  The time away gave him plenty of time to think. Almost losing Meri to a gunman’s bullet brought a new perspective to his belief that he needed to wait until life was safe before thinking about a wife and family. Seeing the hardship military life placed on wives and families, he’d erected a barrier to keep himself from being hurt or hurting someone else. The loss of his parents had shown him he couldn’t control circumstances around him, only his response, but still, he’d tried to protect himself with a wall around his heart.

  Then Miss McIsaac had sailed a rangy black horse over his carefully fortified barriers as if they were no more substantial than a cobweb fence.

  Although she had struggled for a while, she’d proved she was resilient enough to deal with the loss of her mother. Was her self-sufficient independence strong enough to deal with the uncertainty of his job and an unknown future? He hoped so, because the thought of not having her in his life was as scary as almost losing her to that bullet.

  Whether he was an officer of the law or a simple horse breeder, it was impossible to guard completely himself or those around him from loss. He could, however, stop waiting for life to be perfect and go after the woman who made him laugh and his heart beat faster. After years of trying to control his future, it was time to trust the One who held the future in His hands.

  Equal parts excitement and fear accompanied him on his return to Little Creek. Her reaction to him, whether it was a fiery retort, an all-out retreat or the shy softness she’d worn the last time he’d seen her, suggested she wasn’t completely indifferent to him. He clung to that hope as he let Charger pick his own pace—fast—toward home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Meri caught herself glancing up nervously every time the door rattled, but the longed-for sight of a particular star-toting individual did not appear. The pain in her shoulder was less severe, but she was achy and chafed at the unaccustomed inactivity of the past several days. She had slept a great deal due to the laudanum, and when she was awake, she’d had a steady stream of visitors. It felt like she’d seen everyone in town. Everyone except the one person who she most wanted to see.

  Not too many days ago you were convinced you couldn’t abide the man, yet here you are working yourself into a dither wondering why he hasn’t come by to see you again. Just because you’ve decided you lo—like him after all, doesn’t mean he’s of the same opinion.

  But he called you sweetheart and kissed your hand, the little voice argued.

  He was merely being a gentleman.

  She couldn’t bring herself to ask his whereabouts, but when Jonah casually mentioned Wyatt had escorted the prisoners to the county seat, her internal argument ceased.

  For all of ten minutes.

  In spite of her unsettled emotions, however, her soul rested in the peace of restored fellowship with her Heavenly Father.

  Meri had been injured Thursday, and by Tuesday morning, she had developed a case of cabin fever. By keeping her arm quiet in the sling Dr. Kilburn had fashioned, pain was kept to a dull ache, and he allowed her to be up and about as she had energy. He also gave her the welcome news she could return home the next morning if she promised to curtail any riding or lifting for another week.

  Mrs. Kilburn assisted her into real clothes, a pale yellow blouse and simple blue skirt, and pulled her hair up and away from her face in a soft twist. Meri then celebrated her impending release by escaping the enclosing walls of the house for Mrs. Kilburn’s shady garden.

  After exploring every nook and cranny of the verdant bower, Meri made her way to the pretty bench tucked under the rose arbor. A few buds were just beginning to peek open, subtly perfuming the air, and some thoughtful soul had padded the bench with a thick quilt and several soft pillows. She gratefully tucked her uninjured side into the pillowed corner and lifted her legs to rest on the seat, more drained than she would have admitted. It was good to be outside in the fresh breeze, but getting shot definitely took the starch out of a person.

  Leaning her head against the high-backed seat, she allowed her mind to wander as she listened to a chipper little sparrow singing his heart out as he hopped to and fro on his bird duties.

  She was drifting on a drowsy daydream somewhere between sleep and wakefulness and didn’t immediately notice when floral-scented air changed to spicy bay rum. She enjoyed the new aroma for several breaths before the contrast dawned on her. Her eyes flew open, and her gaze riveted to the shadow lying across her lap. A wave of shyness washed over her, and she hesitantly turned lowered eyes toward her visitor.

  Shiny black boots, firmly anchored to the ground and tucked beneath spotless black trousers, stood inches outside the rose arbor. Her eyes slowly traveled up the sleek, solid form. A holster circled narrow hips, and a crisp red shirt with silver buttons was belted into the pants. One hand dangled a black Stetson by the brim; the other hand was tucked into a back pocket.

  The spick-and-span, too-handsome-for-his-own-good marshal appeared as if he’d just stepped out of a bandbox. He didn’t move nor speak during Meri’s scrutiny and, swallowing past the lump in her throat, she forced her eyes to his face. There was no smirking grin or teasing eyes as there had been the first time she’d met this man. There was only a soft gaze and a hint of upturned lips.

  Intense hazel eyes snagged hesitant brown eyes as the thick silence continued. Meri felt his piercing gaze read her every thought. She tried to read him, but unfamiliar with this new language, she remained unsure of what she saw in his eyes and on his face. Her gaze dropped, breaking the connection, and a sense of loss registered.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  The husky sound drew Meri’s eyes back to the tall shadow-casting figure who bowed slightly, still keeping one hand tucked behind him.

  “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Allow me to present myself. I am Wyatt Cameron from Virginia by way of Texas.”

  A smile dawned in Meri’s heart in delight of the pretentious tone he assumed and the haughty tilt of his head.

  “Some might know me better by my job description here in Little Creek—Marshal Cameron.”

  She resisted the laugh that bubbled at his continued air of superiority but a little burble escaped her.

  Wyatt lifted an eyebrow at the outburst. “Please do not interrupt my introduction, ma’am.”

  She pulled her face into some semblance of matching dignity while the impish twinkle in his eyes made her heart do an undignified jig.

  �
��Now where was I?” He pretended to ponder a second. “Ah, yes. I was raised in the fine state of Virginia by my parents, Recyrus, better known as Cy, and Hanna Cameron. I graduated from West Point a second lieutenant in the United States Army. I served for over ten years and attained the rank of captain but resigned my commission after the death of my father.”

  Wyatt’s voice had taken on a serious note as he mentioned his parents, and he paused a moment before continuing. “Might I ask whom I have the honor of addressing?” The condescending tone had returned.

  She held out her hand in feigned hauteur. “Miss America McIsaac, sir.”

  He stepped toward her. Setting his hat on a nearby table, he cradled the offered hand in his own and saluted it with a kiss.

  Delightful tingles raced up her arm, and she admired the lustrous head of hair bent over her fingers. “But my friends call me Meri,” she added with the barest whisper, “or Mac.”

  Wyatt watched her for a long breath before straightening. The hand she had assumed to be in his back pocket emerged from hiding holding a small bouquet of deep purple violets. He bowed low again as he offered them to her. “With my compliments, Miss McIsaac.”

  His fingers brushed hers when she accepted the pretty flowers. She was beginning to look forward to the thrill that raced through her whenever he touched her. Burying her nose in the delicate blooms, she hid her face a moment and inhaled their faint sweet scent as he resumed speaking in his newly acquired supercilious manner.

  “I was hired to be the marshal of Little Creek, and soon found the town was plagued with a rash of burglaries.” He paused dramatically and rocked back on his heels, tucking his thumbs into his belt loops and gazing at the top of the arbor. “However, I was brilliantly able to resolve all but one of the thefts.”

  Meri grinned at his impudence. “You surprise me, sir.”

  “The horse theft was solved immediately by my quick action. I had the thief rounded up before she knew what hit her.”

  She rolled her eyes as he glanced down to check her reaction to this statement but refused to rise to the bait. “Next…?”

  “It took a wee bit longer, due to a slight cleverness on the part of the next thief, but I soon solved the mystery of the bank robbery with my usual dazzling detective skills.”

  This time she laughed outright at his unmitigated arrogance.

  A satisfied grin marred the haughty upturned face, until a look of abject despondence replaced the smirk, and his head fell forward abashedly. “But alas, I have been unable to resolve the most grievous theft.”

  Meri had never seen puppy-dog-sad eyes retain such a deep, mischievous gleam. “So even your brilliance has its limits?”

  “Repeat offenders are sly, hardened characters and more difficult to apprehend. Especially when they don’t even realize they’ve committed a theft.” His head shook remorsefully.

  “How can a thief not realize they’ve stolen something?”

  “This particular thief happens to be rather forgetful.”

  “So an absentminded thief has outwitted our brilliant marshal? How can that be?”

  “Shocking, I know. It has been a rather severe blow.” Again, his glossy head bowed in contrite shame. “This thief cannot seem to remember my name even though she has stolen my most valuable possession.”

  Too late, she realized the clever trap she’d blindly walked into. She crossed her arms as best as possible, considering one arm was in a sling, and narrowed her eyes at the merry hazel ones that peeked at her through thick lashes. “And what, pray tell, am I supposed to have stolen this time?”

  All traces of humor fled, and his eyes glowed with a fierce look that took Meri by surprise. Her own eyes widened, and her heart stuttered.

  He scrutinized her with a long, measuring look before responding in a low voice. “My heart, fair lady. You’ve stolen my heart. And I don’t know how to function without it.”

  Meri searched him for any trace of teasing or humor but found only resolute earnestness. “I’ve never heard of anyone living without a heart,” she said tentatively. She had to clear her throat of a sudden lump. “Would it help if I gave it back?”

  “No. It wouldn’t fit anymore. Someone has taken up residence in it.”

  Silence fell again. Meri forgot to breathe. She had two choices, fearful retreat or bold advance. After a short but hard-fought internal struggle, she chose boldness. “Would it help if I offered a replacement?” She’d forgotten to notify her mouth that she was being bold. It barely broke a whisper, and Wyatt had to step closer in order to hear. His closeness very nearly destroyed her hard-won bravery.

  “What do you mean by a replacement?” he asked cautiously.

  “Would you take mine in exchange for yours?” Fear swamped her heart, and she ducked her head as she made the request, unable to look at him. Silence fell and was almost unbearable, but she dreaded looking up to find rejection on his face.

  Gentle, calloused fingers touched the tender skin under her chin, and lightning raced through her at the unexpected contact. Like velvet steel, they softly, inexorably forced her face up out of hiding. The second she saw his expression, she understood he’d been waiting for her to look at him before replying.

  Expectation filled his eyes as he searched her face. She timidly allowed him to look his fill. “Do you mean what I hope you mean?”

  She’d never heard that tone of anxious longing from him before, and a surge of confidence replaced shyness. She’d discovered the key to a new language. What had been undecipherable before was beginning to make sense. “You called me a forgetful thief, but the charge can just as easily be leveled at you. You said I didn’t know I’d stolen your heart, yet you didn’t realize you had stolen my heart. So you see, Marshal Wyatt Cameron, I’m in good company. It takes a thief to catch a thief.”

  * * *

  Hope birthed a huge smile, and Wyatt moved to the bench. “Do you mind if I sit down? I find my knees are suddenly in need of support.” Meri started to move her legs off the seat, but Wyatt stopped her with a hand gently laid atop her slippered feet. “Let me.”

  Ever so carefully he tucked her skirt modestly around her legs, lifting them and sliding under to sit on the bench and lowering them again to rest across his lap. He kept one hand on her ankles and rested the other arm along the back of the bench as he admired the pretty, rich color that sprang to her cheeks.

  She was absolutely beautiful, and he longed to kiss her, but he didn’t want to scare her away. Besides, he’d seen the curtain move in the kitchen window and figured they had an audience. “Since we seemed to have exchanged hearts unknowingly, might I have the honor of calling on you, Miss Meri? I miss my heart, you know.”

  Her eyes twinkled before her lashes veiled his view. “I’d like that, but I do have one request, Marshal.”

  He narrowed his eyes in mock sternness. “And what might that be, Mac?”

  Her lashes swept up. “Yes. That’s it.”

  Wyatt cocked his head in confusion and felt his brows knit. “Huh?” Not exactly the most eloquent speech he’d ever uttered.

  Laughter spilled unhindered from her lips and danced along the fragrant air.

  “It’s not healthy to mock the marshal, young lady. Please explain yourself!” He jostled her ankles lightly in emphasis and felt heat race up his arm.

  “I was going to request that you call me Mac occasionally, but you beat me to it.” She grinned, blushing slightly.

  He grinned right back and shook his head. “Women! My father said I’d never understand them.”

  Two pairs of laughing eyes met and held and awareness sizzled the air between them. Wyatt found himself leaning toward her.

  “How ‘bout something to eat?” Mr. McIsaac stood by the arbor holding a tray.

  Wyatt straightened and glanced at Meri. Another blush deepened the pink of her cheeks, and she tried to twist her legs off his lap. He quietly stilled her movements, holding her in place. “I don’t know about Meri, but I’m
hungry. I think we misplaced lunchtime somewhere along the way.”

  “Meri still has a little trouble handling food one-handed. Could I impose on ye to help her since ye’re already so nicely situated?”

  “You make me sound helpless,” Meri protested.

  They ignored her as Wyatt took possession of the tray while McIsaac pulled the little table within Wyatt’s reach.

  “I’ll take yer hat into the house out of the way. Holler if ye need anything.” He gave Wyatt an approving nod and wink, and Wyatt released the breath he’d unconsciously held.

  “Would you care for a sandwich, Mac?” He offered her one of the small plates from the tray.

  She blinked in charming confusion, looking from the closing screen door back to him. “Why do I get the impression someone is being hustled?”

  She must have seen her father’s wink. “Maybe you just have a suspicious nature, dear. Sandwich?”

  Her frown held no heat, and Wyatt could see her searching for a comeback. He distracted her by asking a blessing on the food and filling her plate. There was little conversation as they ate, Wyatt keeping her supplied with food, drink and napkins as needed, but there were plenty of tentative smiles on her part and not so tentative on his.

  When they’d finished, and Wyatt had replaced the dishes on the tray, Meri suddenly blurted, “I won’t be here.”

  “Hmm?” He glanced at her, idly fingering the bow decorating the soft kid slippers on her slender feet.

  “We’re going home tomorrow. I won’t be here.” Panic colored her words.

  Wyatt stretched his arm along the back of the bench again and allowed his fingers to rest against her shoulder. “I think I remember the way to your ranch. And if not I’ll refresh my memory when I escort you home tomorrow.”

  “But what about your job?”

  “What’s the use of having a deputy if the marshal can’t take an evening now and then to court his girl?”

  The shock in her eyes would have been funny if it wasn’t so sadly genuine. “You’re courting me?” she squeaked just like a mouse.