Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) (34 page)

Cole waited in the parlor, mouth dry and heart pounding. He’d sat in the uncomfortable chair for nearly ten minutes, and still no sign of either Daisy or her sister. Her sister, he could do without. If she recognized him, his days were numbered.

He listened to the sound of pots clanging, Winky thumping, and Forrest yabbering. What bothered him more than his own guilt was how Daisy would feel. She’d be devastated, and it would be all his fault. Just like his off-hand remark about keeping money from the miners had prompted Bosco to rob the bank. Bosco was good-hearted, but not always real sharp. Cole should have known not to talk like that in front of him. And he should have pulled him out of that bank before he asked the lady banker to turn over the Rankins’ money. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d been across the street looking at geegaws for his little niece.

And then there was Thomas, crippled because of Cole’s inability to forgive. He’d known Thomas couldn’t ride that bronc—no one had, and his brother wasn’t that good of a rider. Still, he taunted Thomas until he gave it a shot, was thrown, and busted his leg into God knows how many pieces. All because Cole was mad that Etta had fallen out of love with him and in love with Thomas.

Now that he’d grown to love Daisy, he questioned the depth of his love for Etta in the first place. On hindsight, he realized he had looked at Etta from the worshipping eyes of an adolescent boy, not from a man’s eyes. Thomas had, and Thomas won, as he should have.

Cole knew his love for Daisy had climbed beyond anything he ever thought was possible. He’d never met a more amazing woman, and she made life brighter with every glance and every touch. She was his woman, and he’d be hers forever.

Mrs. Gardner came in with the coffeepot. “Would you like a refill, marshal?”

He raised his palm. “No thanks.”

“I don’t have any idea what’s keeping those girls.”

“No hurry, ma’am.” Not to see Iris, at least. But he might as well face her now as later. And, he admitted, she’d likely not remember him at all. Bosco, though, was hard to forget.

“We’ll have supper in a few minutes. I know it’s early, but I imagine after that long stage ride, Iris will want to eat.

Forrest burst into the parlor, Winky bounding after him. “Marshal, marshal, come quick!” He hopped from one foot to the other, waving wildly. “Deputy Kunkle needs your help!”

Cole sprang to his feet, glad to have something to do, but hoping Bosco hadn’t gotten himself in yet another fix. He followed the boy and his dog out of the house, down the street, to the mercantile.

Two people wrestled in the middle of the road. Curses and dust flew, and he could hear the impact of fists as the two fighters pummeled one another. Bosco stood a few feet away, alternately rubbing his chin and hiding his eyes. Winky barked as he ran around the battleground.

Cole couldn’t believe his eyes. The fist-throwing, hair-pulling, screeching combatants were women—and not just any women—Mrs. Proctor and Mrs. Courtney! Cole grabbed one of the women, but the other one threw a stiff punch to his belly and knocked the wind right out of him. He backed away to catch his breath.

“Ladies, stop!” he yelled, but the women both had blood in their eyes.

Then he saw a couple of saddled horses tied in front of the mercantile and got an idea. Each horse’s saddle had a lasso looped over the pommel. He grabbed both lassos and threw one to Bosco. He gave Bosco the first throw, since it would be more difficult to get a catch.

“Rope one of ‘em. I’ll get the other.”

Cole watched as Bosco uncoiled his lasso, then twirled the loop over his head, waiting for the right moment to throw. It was a thing of beauty—Bosco had always been the better roper, although Cole could hold his own. Meantime, Cole uncoiled his own rope and waited for Bosco.

Bosco threw his loop and it circled around one of the ladies. He gave the rope a few flicks to set it, then jerked the woman back. Cole threw his loop and caught the other one. The crowd cheered, and, for the first time, he noticed all the people who had gathered.

“You stole my raisin pie,” Mrs. Courtney spat. “You’re a sinful woman to let me blame a little boy and his poor dog for your evil actions.”

“It was my turn to have him at my house for dinner, you strumpet!” Mrs. Proctor stomped on a peacock feather in the road and ground it with her heel. “And that’s for your stupid old hat. An old woman like you shouldn’t be wearing such frippery.”

“And an old biddy like you ought not be flitting her tail under the deputy’s nose. Why, he’s a gentleman!”

Mr. Gardner walked up behind Cole. “Well, at least they’re talking to each other.”

Chapter 18

Bosco dallied his rope around the hitching post, but he didn’t dodge fast enough. Mrs. Courtney tore into him like a wildcat on a hunk of rotten meat. “You told that woman that she made the best raisin pie. You scum!” She whacked him with her bonnet. “You rat!” He blocked her assault with his forearm.

Cole chuckled, but didn’t have much time to enjoy the spectacle because the woman on the rope he held tried to yank it from his hands. He gripped harder and pulled her closer, then
Gardner
grabbed one arm and Cole held the other. Mrs. Proctor shook like a bean sprout in a hailstorm. “Calm down, Mrs. Proctor. You’ll each have the opportunity to say your piece.”

“What do you know, you—you whippersnapper!
That woman
accused me of stealing.
Stealing
, mind you! Stealing her stupid raisin pie. Why, if I’d have known what a fuss the old battle-ax would cause, I never would have taken the stupid thing.”

“So you did take it?”

She sniffed. “Of course not.”

“You did, too!” called Mrs. Courtney. “You’ve always been jealous of my cooking. Just like you were jealous when Mr. Courtney proposed to me instead of you.”

Mrs. Proctor glowered. “I’d already turned him down. Twice.”

“Ha! I happen to know that you delayed accepting Mr. Proctor’s proposal because you were waiting for Mr. Courtney. Mama told me so. But you never had a chance, because he told me he’d never even considered proposing to such a poor excuse of a woman whose pie crust was tough as leather.”

“Tough as leather!” Mrs. Proctor made a gesture that evoked a gasp from the crowd.

Any more of that, and Cole would have to put a stop to this nonsense. “Careful, Mrs. Proctor. There are children about. Do that again and I’ll toss you in jail for a while, just to give you a chance to think.”

She crumpled in his arms, sobbing loudly.

Well, hell, now what? He patted her on the back. “It’s all over now. Let’s get you back home.”

“And
…
” she sniffled, “
…
and then my sister will get him.” She sobbed louder.

Cole puffed out his cheeks in exasperation, then gingerly patted her head. Crying women weren’t his strong suit. “Well, if she gets him, he wasn’t worth your while anyway.”

She dried his eyes on his shirt and sniffled again. “You think so?”

He’d think anything as long as it kept Mrs. Proctor quiet. “I do think so. I’ll call someone to look in on you.”

“Thank you, marshal. You’re very kind.”

Gardner
took Mrs. Proctor home, and the new man in town, Sam, volunteered to ask Doc to check on her. He relaxed a moment, then cautiously approached Bosco and the harridan he’d caught.

“Need some help?”

“Need a new jaw,” Bosco answered. “Prunella here packs quite a punch. I could’ve used her down in Winne-mucca last year when a dozen outlaws attacked me.”

“Two,” Cole corrected.

“I’ll never bake you another raisin pie as long as I live, Deputy Kunkle.” She glared at him, then poked him in the gut. “You’re a two-timing, heartbreaking rogue.”

Bosco smiled. “I ain’t had that good a compliment since I roped two calves at the same time. No, sirree.” He grunted when Mrs. Courtney punched him again.

Sam came back from the doc’s. “He said he’d be right over, and he’d check on Mrs. Courtney, too.”

Cole nodded. “Good, thanks.”

“You’re most welcome,” Sam replied. “Just returning the favor. Do you need some help getting Mrs. Courtney home?”

Not likely, since she was bigger than he was. “Naw, Bosco and I can handle it. I appreciate your offer though, Sam.”

Sam left, and Cole wondered why the little fellow always looked at him like he was some sort of oddity, especially since Sam, himself, was the odd one.

Mrs. Courtney gave Bosco a swift kick in the shin.

“Gol-darn it, woman, that hurt!”

She shot him a glare. “You’re a stupid, stupid man.”

He shook his head. “I ain’t so stupid, Prunie. I knew that there raisin pie tasted lots better than that old cherry pie she baked up the other day.”

“You did?”

“Sure ‘nuff.”

She smiled. “Naturally, I’m a much better cook than
that woman
.”

Cole breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Bosco’s words had calmed her down—at least for a while. “Let’s get you home, Mrs. Courtney.” He had to get back to the
Gardners
’ and face the music. No use in delaying.

Fifteen minutes later, he knocked on Daisy’s door. He felt like he’d swallowed a freight train, but the time had come for his meeting with Iris. Maybe he should have prepared Daisy for all this, but, no matter how hard he’d thought about it, there was no easy way to tell a woman that she was engaged to a criminal.

Daisy opened the door, smiling. “Come on in, marshal. Supper’s on the table.” She looked behind her, then stood on her tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek.

He stepped in, removed his hat, and followed her to the dining room.

She held her hand out to a young lady nearly as pretty as she. “Marshal, I want you to meet my sister, Iris. Iris, this is my fiancé, Marshal Adler.”

Iris smiled. “How do you do, marshal.” Then she studied him. Cole stood his ground even though his better judgment told him to get the hell out of there. “Haven’t we met somewhere before?”

“Not likely, ma’am. I’m, uh, new here.”

They settled in for the meal—one that Cole thought would never end, with Iris staring at him from across the table. Afterwards, Mrs. Gardner and Grace washed the dishes, while Iris, Mr. Gardner, Daisy, and he visited in the parlor. Iris and her father sat on the two chairs. Daisy directed Cole to the couch and sat beside him.

Gardner
started to light a cigar, then glanced at his two daughters and put it back in the box. “You did a good job with those two ladies, marshal. I want you to know Oreana heartily appreciates your services.”

Clearing his throat, Cole nodded his thanks, but knew he didn’t really deserve it. Iris would remember him soon, of that, he was sure. And with Daisy’s nearness driving him to distraction, he focused his concentration on Iris, not on Daisy’s firm breasts.

“I always miss everything,” Daisy grumbled.

Her dad chuckled. “Believe me, it was a good thing to miss. Those two women were mighty sore at one another.”

“What were they fighting over?”

“I couldn’t tell you whether they were fighting over Bosco, or the raisin pie,” Cole said. “I’m not sure they knew.”

“I doubt they did.”
Gardner
grimaced. “But I can tell you this, I’d rather break up a man’s fight any day. Safer.”

“So,” Iris said pointedly, “how do you like your job here?”

“Right fine. The folks are friendly and, well, I met Miss Daisy.” She beamed a smile at him that made his heart thump. He smiled back. “Sure can’t complain about that.”

Daisy sat up straighter and a sparkle lit her eyes. “He’s really helped Oreana a lot. There was the fire—why, he organized the whole town in less than a minute.”

“He surely did,” Mr. Gardner agreed. “His fast thinking saved that whole block of buildings, I’d wager.”

Cole doubted that—and anyone standing nearby would have done the same as he had.

“Yes,” Daisy went on, “and he’s kept Mrs. Courtney and Mrs. Proctor at bay for the longest time, too, and you know how they are. The marshal even unveiled an imposter who rode into town claiming to be Sidney Adler!”

“Not to mention keeping Forrest and the dog out of trouble.”
Gardner
chuckled and slapped his knee. “Mrs. Courtney was like to be tied when Winky stole her drawers off the clotheline.”

“And he made Forrest his junior deputy, a job which our brother takes quite seriously.”

“Sounds like you made a good choice for a marshal, Daisy.” Iris eyed him again. “Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

Her study made him uncomfortable, but he held his ground. “No, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” Actually, he hadn’t remembered what she looked like since he’d only caught a glance of her at the bank.

But he knew one thing—he needed to talk to her alone and tell her exactly where they had met. He’d lived a lie long enough and it was damn well time to start making things right. Starting with Iris. He only hoped Daisy loved him as much as he loved her.