The Marshal's Pursuit

by Micki Miller

  “Well see, there you go,” she said easily, though there was a thread of wariness in her voice. “You didn’t leave me any choice. I had to follow.”

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for a woman out here alone?”

  “I wasn’t alone. You were a mere scream away.”

  “A mere…” Garrett wheeled away, trying not to think of all the terrible things that could have happened to her while he was ‘a mere scream away’. He cocked his head in the direction in which Cotter had ridden off. A haze still hung in the air from dust kicked up by the outlaw’s horse. After a couple of deep breaths, he turned back to Penny.

  “Hurry, Marshal,” she said, starting back to her horse. “He’s not too far ahead of us.”

  “It’s too late to track him tonight.” Garrett snarled.

  Penny turned toward the sun, sinking into the horizon. Darkness was already gathering around them. There would be a full moon tonight, and it would provide good light. She told the marshal just that.

  “We can sneak up on him,” Penny continued.

  “Or we’ll ride into an ambush.”

  Had Garrett been alone, he wouldn’t have worried about such a thing. He would indeed have continued on, at least for a while, with the light of a full moon, especially since Cotter was so close. With Penny, though, the dangers were too high to count, and definitely too much to risk.

  “So, we’ll ride at daybreak?” she asked.

  Garrett nodded his answer.

  Penny brightened. “That’s the spirit. He’s not very far ahead of us. We’ll catch him again for sure.”

  “We’re not going after Cotter.” He moved a step toward her. “As soon as morning comes, I’m taking you home.”

  She took a step back that was really more of a leap. “We’ve almost got him. You can’t take me back now!”

  “The hell I can’t!”

  “Don’t yell at me, Marshal. You’ve no call, especially after I just saved your life.”

  “What! Saved my…”

  “That man was about to draw his gun on you.”

  “My life was in no danger until you scared my horse right out from under me.”

  “I saw that. I would think a marshal to be a better horseman. Why, at The Boston Academy for Young Ladies, we learned all about good horsemanship. If you’d like, I could give you some tips.”

  All Garrett could do was stare at her, incredulous beyond words. What galled him most was her total lack of sarcasm. The girl was completely serious. Give him some tips!

  Finally, between clenched teeth Garrett said, “We’re going back.”

  “Sir, how can you even think about turning back now when we’re so close to capturing that killer?”

  “I’ll see you safely home, and then I’ll come back after him,” Garrett said, taking a step toward her.

  Penny took an equal stride back, hers much more of a stretch to cover the same amount of ground as Garrett’s long legs. “Think of all the time you’ll lose! And who knows where he’ll be off to by then. It could take you months to find him again.”

  How he wished she were wrong about that. By the time he got her back to Mill’s Creek and returned he could expect Cotter’s trail to lead him down many a false start. Now that Cotter was aware of the law being onto him, he’d turn every which way in an effort to lose his tail. Cotter could take up with a gang, or more likely, bury himself somewhere deep in the wilderness. There was always the chance the outlaw might wind up running into that inept posse of Sheriff McElroy’s, and that was trouble just waiting to happen.

  Still, the hardships of living on the trail and the dangers of tracking a killer was no place for a woman, especially a gentle woman like Penny Wills. He had to take her back, even if that meant costing him precious time. Garrett was about to issue his decree when Penny made a point as solid and as striking as a hard punch to the gut.

  “In the time it takes you to find him again…”

  Concern darkened her eyes, and Garrett knew why. In her mind, she was seeing the blood and the death, another funeral, the anguish of another loved one lost. He knew that’s what she was thinking because he’d been there himself. She wanted justice, of course. She also felt the urgency, knowing full well every minute Cotter was free lives were at risk.

  Snapping his gaze from her concern, Garrett stomped two long strides away from her. Then he spun around in the dirt. Penny was staring him right in the eye; she knew her point was good and valid.

  Thrusting out his large hand, Garrett said, “Give me your rifle. You’re a menace with that thing.”

  She hugged it close to her body. “I need it for protection.”

  “I need you not to have it, for my protection.”

  “Are we going then, I mean, after the man who killed my father?”

  “Yes, and you are to do exactly as I say at all times. Do you understand?” He scooped the fingers of his outstretched hand a couple of times, flicking a meaningful glance toward the Winchester.

  Penny’s head tipped back as her eyes rolled toward the sky. If he didn’t already have knowledge of her reckless behavior, Garrett would think she was on watch for the coming stars instead of evading his directive. But this woman had spent three days on the road, virtually alone. It made his teeth grind just thinking about it.

  Garrett narrowed his eyes on her. “Either that, or I’m taking you home.”

  Letting her gaze drift back to earth, Penny gave him a speculative look. A moment later, she lifted her chin and then, begrudgingly, handed over the Winchester. “Very well then, take it. But I don’t want to hear you complain if you need my help and I am unarmed, sir.”

  Torn between laughing and shouting, Garrett settled with, “One other condition.”

  “What’s that?” Penny asked warily as he stepped much closer to her than necessary to collect the rifle. His hand gripped the long barrel of the Winchester just above hers, fingers against fingers.

  ****

  At his touch, the oddest little quake rushed up her arm and through her body. Penny didn’t have time to think about it, because that brazen marshal stepped closer still. When he finally stopped, there was scarcely room for a breeze to fit between them. It was really quite uncivilized. Yet, strangely, she found such closeness to him more exciting than unsettling.

  Though Penny already knew the marshal was a big man, standing this close he towered over her. By all reason, she should feel intimidated, maybe even a little afraid, as his mood seemed rather dark. She didn’t really know this man and after she’d made him good and mad she was now about to pass the night out here with him, alone.

  Yes, she should be at least a little afraid. She wasn’t though. For a reason she couldn’t explain, Penny trusted him. Maybe it had something to do with him being more concerned for her safety than she was. While he’d been gruff, and had even become quite angry with her, he’d not threatened violence. She truly didn’t believe he would harm her. But standing in such close proximity flooded her with other feelings she was struggling to understand.

  The marshal moved his hand, then. His skin brushed against hers and that funny jolt shook her again. She looked at the Winchester as if to find a cause. Her hand looked pathetically weak beneath his strong grip. If he wanted to, he could simply take the weapon. But he was waiting for her to surrender it voluntarily. Would he take it by force if she did not? Likely, he would. He wasn’t the bluffing type and for some reason he thought it was better if she didn’t carry the rifle. So, after a just moment of consideration, she let go.

  The marshal said something, and the deep timbre of his voice sent another little quake rushing through her, setting a quiver to her lungs. What was it about him? She turned her eyes upward and regarded him. Dark whiskers, barely visible in the fading light, mesmerized her like a strange new animal. Penny found herself wondering what those whiskers would feel like against her fingertips. Tilting her head back a bit further, she raised her eyes to meet his. What little was left of the sun
’s rays shone at his broad back, shadowing the very masculine features of his face. He was looking right at her. Penny felt more than saw his scrutiny.

  “Penny, did you hear me?”

  “Um…what?”

  “I said stop calling me ‘sir’. My name is Garrett.” He turned and walked over to his horse where he slid her rifle in with his gear. “If we’re going to be on the road together, there’s no need to be so formal.”

  “Fine.” Her voice was a bit breathy, and she couldn’t stop thinking about those whiskers. Why? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen facial growth before. Her father shaved every morning, but not all the men in town did. Several of them had full beards. Why did she find the marshal’s whiskers so utterly distracting? She had no answer whatsoever, only a powerful desire to touch them. Whiskers, of all things!

  Her thoughts weren’t making any sense. She was just tired. That was it, of course. She hadn’t slept well these past nights, what with all the sounds out there from the wild and no walls to keep her safe. She’d done it, though, without tears and without running to the marshal to protect her. The reminder bolstered her. Lifting her mood further was the fact that the marshal was going to let her ride with him. Together they would bring to justice the man who killed her father, and then she would collect the much-needed reward money. Her path to an independent life was off to a good start.

  Lifting her chin, Penny said to the big man, “And you may address me as ‘Penny’.”

  ****

  She’d already given him leave to do so back at the bank. Garret was about to remind her of that when he turned around to see she was smiling, not with arrogance, not with the haughty condescension that too often accompanies victory. It was just a smile, sweet and sincere. And when she turned it on him, eyes aglow with the kind of warmth that makes a man’s breath take a pause, Garrett’s heart beat just a little bit harder.

  “I suppose we’re friends now.” She smiled even brighter.

  In that moment, she could have asked him for the moon and Garrett would have figured out a way to get a lasso around it and yank it from the sky just to give it to her. Damn, if she wasn’t pretty, even in that ridiculous getup she wore.

  After forcing his gaze from her, Garrett lifted the hat from his head and used his other hand to brush back his hair. The ease with which he did so reminded him he’d just had it cut short. Replacing his hat, he said in a voice that sounded strange to his ears, “I’ll take care of the horses. Start gathering firewood.”

  Garrett turned to collect Penny’s horse. It was then he realized for the first time she had two horses with her. One, a brown mare with speckles of cream across her back and flanks carried her saddle and some gear, and the other, a fine chestnut with a thick blanket over her back was carrying several canvas sacks.

  Incredulous, he said over his shoulder, “Don’t tell me you brought a wardrobe.”

  “No, of course not, silly, just a change of clothes. I was very practical. I only packed essentials, food, plates, utensils, soap, napkins, and such. Are you hungry? I have plenty.”

  Good God, the woman considered napkins on a manhunt practical? While that was beyond ridiculous, the thought of something to eat besides hardtack, jerky, and yet another can of beans made his stomach rumble. Garrett was indeed hungry.

  “I could eat,” he told her, and his stomach made another indiscreet sound as he wondered what kind of food she carried in those big sacks. He’d find out soon enough. It had to be better than what he’d been eating. “I’ll take care of the horses first.”

  “I’ll start collecting that firewood.”

  While Penny carried back armloads of twigs and branches, Garrett relieved the horses of their burdens and tied them near the creek where they could drink fresh water and eat sweet grass until their hearts were content. All the while, he kept an eye on Penny. It had been many years since he believed in fabled monsters in the dark, but every time she stepped too far into the deepening shadows of the woods, he found himself holding his breath, worried for her safety, until she walked out again.

  A few minutes later, Garrett walked over to see she’d laid down first the smallest twigs and stuffed them with plenty of dried grass. She made a pyramid of the larger pieces of wood over the thick bed of tinder. Her ability to put together the makings of a good campfire was impressive.

  As he searched through one of his saddlebags for matches, Penny carried over some more thick branches. “You taught me how to build a fire, you know. I watched you that first night. It was quite fascinating. I built one for myself, and it was very nice.”

  Garrett still couldn’t believe he’d been followed and watched for three days and hadn’t known, hadn’t even sensed it. That was going to grate on him for a long, long time. Maybe she had an instinctive talent. Either that or he was losing his touch. He chose to believe she was a natural. Hmm. The thought almost made him laugh. Maybe she could give him some tips. He struck a match and moved the flame around the kindling until it took on all sides.

  While he stood for a stretch and let the fire take, Penny dragged over two of her canvas sacks. From one she slipped out a red and white checkered tablecloth and laid it on the grass near the fire, smoothing out the wrinkles with her delicate hands as if laying it on a polished table instead of the ground. When the tablecloth met her standards, she sat upon it and began removing bundles out of the other bag.

  Hungry awe wove through Garrett as she unwrapped each of the thick cloth bundles with care. Like gifts on Christmas morning, she revealed glass jars of tomatoes, carrots, and green beans, corn, and fruit preserves of some kind. It looked like strawberry. He hoped so. He loved strawberry preserves.

  Simmering in anticipation, Garrett waited while she removed and unwrapped plates, actual plates, real silverware, and two checkered napkins that matched the tablecloth. Penny proceeded to dish out food for both of them with ladylike movements more appropriate for a tea party than a campsite, being far more generous with his portions.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, and then slid her hand into the sack again.

  The cloth she unwrapped this time contained about a dozen fat biscuits. They couldn’t be as soft as they’d once been, but they still looked to have plenty of give. She opened two biscuits and set them on Garrett’s plate and one on her own before rewrapping the rest. She then dropped a heaping glob of fruit preserves on each. It was indeed strawberry, he saw.

  “Dinner’s ready,” she said, after setting his plate down across from her.

  She was looking up at him again with that smile of hers, the bright one that took his breath and left him feeling weak. Garrett’s knees folded beneath him. It must have been the sight of all that good food.

  “This looks wonderful, Penny. Thank you. Did you can all these?” he asked before shoveling in a mouthful of corn. The kernels were plump and sweet. He began spearing green beans with his fork before he’d even swallowed the corn.

  Penny placed her napkin across her lap. She picked up her plate as she answered. “No. Pearl canned some of it. The rest are from the townsfolk who came to the house after the funeral. Just about everyone brought food.”

  Garrett nodded and tried the green beans. They were even better than the corn. “Who’s Pearl?” he asked once he’d swallowed.

  “She’s our housekeeper and cook, well, main housekeeper. A few of years ago, Papa insisted she have someone come in a couple days a week to help. I borrowed these clothes from her. They belonged to her sons when they were younger. They’re both grown and moved on now. I told her I wanted them to wear so I could work in the garden. She was happy to give them to me. Pearl has been with us since my mother died when I was seven.”

  He already knew she lost her mother young. It made the murder of her father that much more tragic. “Do you have many memories of your mother?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, and gave him a catalog of events and details, too many and too clear for her to have garnered in the first seven years of h
er life, a couple of which she’d been too young to retain any memory at all. Her father must have told her the stories about her mother. So often that somewhere along the line, the accounts she heard turned to memories. It was clear to Garrett her father was indeed a special man.

  Garrett nodded, listening to her precious stories while he devoured wonderful food off a real plate.

  “Do you have any family, Marshal, um, I mean Garrett?”

  “I have a younger brother, Seth, and a sister, Brianna. They live on the family farm back in Illinois with our mother.”

  As Garrett finished his dinner, he marveled at how ladylike Penny was able to eat sitting crossed legged atop a tablecloth spread on the ground. Even being dressed in Pearl’s son’s well-worn clothing couldn’t deter from her femininity. She took small, dainty bites, her jaw working beneath that raggedy old hat. It was easy to picture her in one of those pretty dresses she’d handed out to the townswomen. He got curious then, about why she’d given away much of her clothing. Before he could ask her about that, Penny asked a follow-up question he wished she hadn’t.

  “What about your father?”

  Garrett laid his fork on his plate. Just thinking about what happened to his father always made him lose his appetite.

  “I’m sorry,” Penny said after a moment. “Have I said something to upset you? Is your father a terrible person?”

  “No, my father was the best a kid could have. He was kind and patient, a solid, reliable man. He was truly a decent human being. My father was the kind of man to step right up and help anyone in need. It’s what got him killed.”

  Penny gasped. “Your father was murdered, too?”

  Garrett nodded. He leaned back, raising one knee and resting his strong forearm across it. Penny set down her plate, waiting to hear the tale. He hadn’t talked about it in years. Usually refused to, it still hurt that much. Before he knew it, though, he was telling Penny about his father’s last day.