by Clari Dees
“Does it mean something else out here when a fella asks to call?” Wyatt watched confusion cross her face again and waited patiently for her response. When it came, it was halting and muffled.
“I…I’m not sure. I’ve never had anyone ask me before.”
The men who had overlooked her were idiots. And he was extremely grateful. “Leave it to a Virginia boy to be the only one to recognize a true gem in this land of fool’s gold.” He assumed a haughty tone again, and she grinned nervously in answer.
“What happened with Mr. Samuels?” She changed the subject so abruptly, it took him a full second to catch up.
“We delivered the prisoners to the county jail without any problems, and after the hearing, the judge ordered them held for trial, which has been scheduled for next month. Your father will probably get a notice to go testify along with Jonah and myself. I figure Samuels and Mullins will go away for a long time afterward.”
She asked a couple more questions, and they chatted for several minutes before Wyatt regretfully announced he needed to return to his office. “May I walk you to the house, or do you want to stay out here?”
“I’m ready to go inside.”
Wyatt lowered her feet to the ground, and offered her his arm. His heart swelled as her hand curled around it.
Arriving too soon at the kitchen door, he again brushed his lips across the back of her slim, firm hand. “Until tomorrow.”
She nodded, the hand resting in the sling caressing the hand he’d touched with his lips.
Knowing he’d see her tomorrow didn’t soothe the ache of having to leave, but he forced himself to turn and start back toward the office.
He heard the kitchen door open before Meri spoke. “Oh! Your hat!”
Walking back, he took it from her hand and swept her a gallant bow before settling the hat on his head. “Good afternoon, my fair lady.”
A completely un-Meri-like dreamy sigh whispered past his ears as he left, and a jaunty whistle sprang to his lips. Turnabout was fair play. She’d sailed over the barriers around his heart altogether too easily, but it looked as if he’d knocked down a few of her own today.
Chapter Twenty
Meri’s departure from the Kilburns’ home was accomplished only after much to-do and many hugs the next day.
Franks delivered a freshly groomed, gleaming Sandy who nickered eagerly at sight of his mistress. Tying him to the back of the wagon, Franks hugged Meri, careful of her injured shoulder. “They be a lot a answered prayers ‘roun’ here lately, Miss Meri. I’s shore grateful He healed you.”
“He did, Franks—in more ways than one. Thank you for praying and for taking such good care of Sandy.”
“Anytime, Miss Meri, anytime.”
Naoma Van Deusen was next in line, and after an admonition to take it easy, she whispered loudly, “I hear a certain marshal can’t stay away from the doctor’s house lately. I knew you would catch his eye if you put your mind to it.”
Her exuberant hug left Meri wincing, and as she disentangled herself from the self-satisfied matchmaker, she looked into the eyes of Wyatt. He’d ridden up on Charger, and from the grin on his face, it was clear he’d heard the not-so-quiet statement. He dropped one eye in a lazy wink. Meri’s reproving look failed miserably due to a grin that impeded its progress.
The Kilburns took care to avoid her sore shoulder, and Meri was warmed by their gentle hugs. The time spent in their home had given her a new love and appreciation for this couple who’d dedicated their lives to caring for those around them, and she was profuse in her gratitude. Dr. Kilburn promised to ride out later in the week to check on her, cautioning her to allow herself time to heal before she went riding around the countryside like a wild Indian.
McIsaac grinned, vowing to keep his daughter quiet. “I believe it’s me own turn to hover tiresomely.” He and Doc assisted a grumbling Meri into the back of the wagon padded with thick quilts and pillows. “If I had to ride home in the back of the wagon, lass, so do ye.”
“You’re enjoying this entirely too much,” she groused.
“Aye, that I am.”
Meri propped a pillow against the side of the wagon and leaned in to it, primly folding her hands across her lap. She borrowed Wyatt’s look of hauteur. “Home, driver.”
Laughing goodbyes filled the air as McIsaac climbed onto the wagon seat and clucked to the horses. Wyatt turned Charger to ride alongside where Meri had a bird’s-eye view of him.
As McIsaac threaded the wagon through town, several people waved and called out cheery greetings. Danny and Billy ran out of the mercantile and hopped onto the back of the wagon as it passed to hand Meri a slightly sticky peppermint stick to “help make the trip more comfortable.” Meri thanked them, smiling at Mr. Van Deusen who waved from the doorway.
The boys amused her, jabbering of their new status as Little Creek’s detectives and bragging how the town would be safer now that they were on the job. When they reached the bridge over Little Creek, they promptly forgot their detective status and ran down the creek bank to terrify the local crawfish population.
McIsaac commenced singing a fine old Scottish ballad in a not-too-rusty tenor, and Wyatt quickly added his baritone. One song became two, and when the second one ended, Wyatt suggested a third that drew a nod of approval from McIsaac.
O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June.
O, my luve is like a melodie,
That’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
But fare-thee-weel, my only luve!
O, fare thee weel, awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho’ ‘twere ten thousand mile!
Tho’ ‘twere ten thousand mile, my luve,
Tho’ ‘twere ten thousand mile,
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho ‘twere ten thousand mile!
Meri had sung along many times when her father had crooned the familiar ballad to her mother, but never before had the song stirred her so deeply. Never before had the words my bonnie lass, or my only luve been directed at her in a lovely baritone; emphasized by a pair of luminous hazel eyes.
She was trembling by the time the song ended and closed her eyes to hide the sheen of tears. She’d always chuckled when some old book hero serenaded the heroine beneath a balcony, but it wasn’t a laughing matter. It was one of the most heart-touching moments of her life, and her emotions were about to leak all over the wagon bed.
Meri swallowed past the lump in her throat and joined the singing when they switched to the lively old “Will Ye Go Lassie?” tucking the experience deep in her heart. There would be plenty of time to examine the moment in detail in the quiet of her room.
“Ye huv a fine singing voice, laddie, and a knowledge of the auld songs, I would be able to tell ye were a Scotsman even if I didn’t ken ye carried a guid Scottish name.” Faither’s brogue was in full force as he spoke over his shoulder.
Wyatt was riding abreast of Meri in the wagon, putting him slightly behind McIsaac. “Aye, me granfaither spoke the Gaelic and taught all the wee bairns the auld songs.” Wyatt mimicked McIsaac’s brogue perfectly, and Meri laughed as he grinned at her, obviously proud of himself.
The remainder of the ride flew by and, all too soon, they slowed to a stop at the front porch of the ranch house. Their arrival acted as a signal. Ms. Maggie, Barnaby and the rest of the ranch hands swarmed the wagon.
“Is anybody left to watch after the cattle?” McIsaac’s voice was gruff, but his ey
es twinkled brightly.
“Boss man, when they heard she was coming home today, I had a near mutiny on my hands. All of a sudden nobody wanted to be a cowboy anymore; they were too busy taking baths and stinking up the bunkhouse with their hair tonics and smelly potions. This bunch of dandies would start a stampede if the cattle caught sight or smell of them. I figured it was safer to keep ‘em home today. Maybe you can do something with them.”
It was the longest speech Meri had ever heard from Barnaby, and she swallowed a giggle at the sight of the cleanest, reddest-faced ranch hands she’d ever seen. Wyatt, still mounted on Charger, reached to give her a hand up as she rose to her feet to address them. “Thank you for the warm welcome. I’ve missed each of you, and I’m very glad to be home.”
Rough voices called out greetings as they jostled each other for the best position at the back of the wagon to help her down. Meri hesitated, wondering how to handle the situation. Whom did she allow to help her descend? Wars had started with less provocation.
Her quandary resolved itself when a strong forearm circled her waist and lifted her easily out of the wagon to sit across muscular thighs.
Wyatt reined Charger around the wagon, circling until they stood at the porch’s edge, and Meri heard a muttered, “So that’s how the land lies…” as Wyatt lowered her gently to her feet on the porch.
Wyatt tipped the brim of his hat slightly. “Thank you for allowing me to escort you home, Miss McIsaac.”
“Are you leaving so soon?” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice.
“I need to get back, but with your permission, I’d like to call on you Saturday afternoon.” He spoke firmly and clearly as if some of the assembled men might have trouble hearing, but their eyes and ears were firmly glued to the little tableau playing out before them. They weren’t missing a single word.
“I would be honored, Marshal Cameron.” Meri tilted her head like a queen bestowing a favor.
A roguish grin twinkled through hazel eyes and promised retribution, but the onlookers saw only the matching nod. “Until Saturday then.”
All eyes followed Wyatt as he departed and disappeared over the rise. When they turned back to the porch, they found Meri regally ensconced in one of the rockers. She rested her aching shoulder and reigned as queen while her humble subjects paid tribute with little carvings, pretty rocks, new leather reins and additional small trinkets.
After a Ms. Maggie-enforced rest in her room, a welcome-home feast finished the day in grand style. When she tumbled into bed that evening, tired and sore but not quite sleepy, she replayed the events of the day, smiling as the strains of a Scottish ballad filtered through her thoughts. Excitement and apprehension concerning Saturday threatened to keep her awake, but a weary body prevailed and worry surrendered to dreams of a handsome, singing lawman.
* * *
Wyatt had to force himself to wait until Saturday to return to the McIsaac ranch. After all, he did have a job to do, but the three days felt like a month. At times a vague fear that Meri’s soft smiles were simply gratitude for catching the men responsible for her and McIsaac’s injuries would trouble him. At other times, a memory, like the heart-in-her-eyes look she’d worn when he’d sung the Scottish ballad to her, would leave him grinning like a simpleton.
Friday afternoon he was passing the front window of the Van Deusen mercantile, and the new window display caught his eye. A delicate parasol sat unfurled next to a handsome picnic basket. The image of Meri twirling the parasol over her shoulder as they sat together on a picnic blanket halted his steps and turned his feet toward the mercantile door. Before he could change his mind, he entered the store, plucked the parasol and picnic basket from the window and carried them to the counter where Mr. Van Deusen carefully wrapped the parasol in brown paper.
Wyatt was counting his blessings for the quiet, reserved Thomas and the absence of the voluble Naoma as he picked up his parcels and thanked the storekeeper.
Thomas nodded, waiting until Wyatt was at the door before speaking. “Happy courtin’, Marshal.”
The bell over the door jingled a jolly laugh as Wyatt exited, feeling an unaccustomed heat in his cheeks. Hurrying to his room at the back of the marshal’s office, he tucked the items out of sight underneath his bed. He was guardedly eager to court Miss McIsaac; he wasn’t quite so enthusiastic to be teased for his previously unknown romantic streak. He’d never seen Meri carry a parasol, but he had a hunch she might like it. After all, she had worn that fancy purple dress to church with her hair swept up so pretty. The parasol would just complete the picture.
Saturday morning he painstakingly tied the slender brown package to his saddle and rode toward the ranch. Keeping Charger to a fairly sedate canter, he tried to bring his attack of nerves under control. For the first time in years, he’d cut himself shaving this morning because of unsteady hands. When Jonah arrived after breakfast to watch the office, he had simply shaken his head and laughed at Wyatt’s bloody face.
He topped the rise above the ranch and gingerly felt his cheek. Good. The bleeding had stopped.
A slender figure stood from the porch rocker and walked to the edge of the porch.
Wyatt took off his hat and gave a short wave. Meri lifted a hand in acknowledgment, and his nervousness vanished.
For the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t turning and running when she saw him. The times he’d seen her after she’d been shot didn’t count; she’d been too injured to run away if she’d wanted to. This time she was not only waiting on his arrival, she actually came forward to greet him.
Wyatt gave a whoop and jammed his hat farther onto his head. Charger lived up to his name, flying down the lane to the house. They came to a sliding halt at the porch, and Wyatt leaped off the horse and onto the porch in an effortless dismount.
Meri hadn’t batted an eye as the horse had raced toward her and slid to a snorting halt nearly at her feet. Nor had she flinched when Wyatt had landed in front of her on the porch. That was his girl. Fearless almost to a fault.
Wyatt reached for her hand and kissed it. “You are looking remarkably pretty today, Mac.” She was, too. Her eyes sparkled, and her pink blouse brought out the glow in her cheeks.
A smile accompanied her thank-you as the porch door opened, and Ian McIsaac stepped out. He greeted Wyatt and waved them toward the rocking chairs before picking up Charger’s reins and leading him toward the barn.
Wyatt started to sit, but upon remembering the package he’d brought, sprang to his feet and off the porch. Running toward his horse, he brought a startled Ian to a stop and untied the paper-wrapped parasol. “Sorry. I forgot something.”
Meri was chuckling and shaking her head when he landed back on the porch. “Should you see a doctor for those fits?”
“Keep it up, Mac, and I won’t give you your surprise.”
Eager curiosity filled her face as she looked at the slender object in his hand, but the question she asked wasn’t what he was expecting. “Would you like a glass of lemonade after your long ride?”
He nodded. She filled a glass from the pitcher on the table and handed it to him before filling the second glass and sitting carefully.
He sat down in the other rocker before draining his glass. “How are you feeling? I notice you’re not wearing your sling.”
“I’m fine, and I don’t need the sling as long as I keep my arm quiet.” She eyed the package across his lap.
He grinned. “Getting curious?”
Her eyes flew back to his innocently. “No.”
He laid the parcel across her lap. “Go ahead. See what’s inside.”
Her hand shook a little as she untied the string and slowly unwrapped his gift. A smile bloomed across her face, and she fingered the parasol’s lace. “It’s so pretty.”
“I’m glad you like it. I thought we’d go for a stroll. I’d like to see your home, and this will keep the sun off your pretty face.” His mother’s romantic streak was apparently alive and w
ell in her son.
A soft blush suffused her face. “I’d like that.”
She stood, and he offered her his arm, taking the parasol from her as they stepped off the porch. Opening it, he held the sunshade over her head.
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying a parasol,” she protested without force.
“I would hate it if you strained your poor shoulder carrying my gift.” Wyatt grinned and tugged her a bit closer as they walked away from the house, pleased when she didn’t argue further.
Ms. Maggie was ringing the bell for the noon meal the minute Meri finished giving him the grand tour of the ranch grounds. When the meal was over, Ian McIsaac excused himself to talk with Barnaby, and Ms. Maggie shooed Wyatt and Meri to the front porch.
The ranch lay silent and drowsy under the afternoon sun as they settled into the rocking chairs. Wyatt toed the porch and set the rocker in motion, listening to its faint creak for a moment. “Would you tell me about your mother?”
She was quiet for so long, he was afraid he’d upset her. “I, uh…” She blinked rapidly and a tear slid down her cheek. “Fiddlesticks! I don’t cry the whole year after her death, and now I cry at the slightest thing.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you. You don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to.” Wyatt regretted his stupidity, cringing as another tear followed the first.
She shook her head. “No. I want to tell you about her. Just ignore my leaky face, please.” She leaned her head against the back of the rocker. “Growing up, it was Faither, Mither and me against the world. There weren’t a lot of children around when I was small, and my whole world was my folks and then our ranch. We had so much fun together, even in those early hardscrabble days.” She smiled a little. “Faither is the dreamer and planner. Mither was our rock.” She laughed deprecatingly. “She was very even-tempered, not like me at all. When Faither or I got too excited, she’d calm us down. On the other hand, she had the driest sense of humor and could raise our spirits whenever either of us got down. And then, out of the blue, she became sick.”