Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) (37 page)

He couldn’t see much—the bank’s back door was closed, a sliver of light shining under it, boots scuffling inside. He had no idea how to deal with this sort of thing, and didn’t know whether to charge in and get himself shot, or let them rob the bank and pick them off as they left.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He jerked around and drew his weapon, then breathed out when he saw Sam squatted beside him, gun drawn.

Sam put his hand out, palm down, then lowered it. Cole understood—stay low. Then after a series of gesticulations, he understood that Sam would squat on one side of the door, he, on the other.

Sam cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered in Cole’s ear. “Stand tall. I’ll open the door and duck. At the same time, in a firm voice tell them not to move. Then, duck down low as you can go so you’re under the line of fire. Whatever you do, don’t stand in the doorway, or you’ll be dead.”

Cole nodded and they both got into position. Slowly, Sam reached for the doorknob. Cole’s pulse raced. One mistake and they’d both be coyote food. It seemed to take the little fellow ten damned minutes to finally wrap his fingers around the knob. He nodded at Cole, and Cole nodded back. He was as ready as he’d ever be.

Sam flung the door open.

“Hold it right there!” Cole yelled, then sank to a squat. Bullets pierced the wood over his head.

Sam stuck his gun through the doorway and fired three rounds blind. The robbers stopped firing for a moment.

Cole stood and yelled, “Throw your guns out the door,” then ducked.

Another spray of lead split through the wall, a splinter gouging his shoulder. Shit-criminy! Cole blind-fired into the bank. Two rounds—a man’s shriek followed the second one. Three rounds left, and, with a little luck, only two robbers.

“Give it up, Flynn.” He loaded his pistol full—no need for an empty chamber. So did Sam. Then it struck Cole that they’d probably bust their way out the front door. He gestured for Sam to stay and fire occasionally. Cole ran around the confectionery and ducked behind the horse trough—nothing to stop a bullet, but at least they couldn’t see him.

His shoulder had bled a little, and his shirt stuck to his skin. He slapped some water on it, then he heard Sam fire—at least he hoped it was Sam firing. More firing back. Then, a chair flew through the window, shattering glass spraying. A shard caught Cole on the cheek.

Flynn held Porker in front of him as he charged out the door, firing this way and that. More gunshots sounded within the bank. Cole leveled his Colt and squeezed off a shot, knocking Flynn to his knees, and sending Porker’s face to the dirt. Porker lifted his head, spit, then belly-crawled as fast as he could, heading for a wagon parked in front of the doctor’s office. Flynn sent several rounds Cole’s direction, riddling the horse trough with holes. Water squirted out in three directions.

Flynn ran and ducked behind the wagon so Cole couldn’t get off a good shot, then whistled. A few seconds later, Cole heard the damnedest holler, and a couple of thumps coming from inside the bank.

Sam yelled, “This one’s down.”

A horse’s hooves pounded the road behind Cole. Flynn’s horse, he’d bet. He’d whistled for his horse. Sam whistled, too.

Flynn’s horse bounded onto the boardwalk and slid to a stop where Flynn hid behind the wagon. Cole still didn’t have a
decent
shot,
and he didn’t want to wound
the horse. He held up.

Sam raised his hand to Cole, telling him to stay put. Katie came running. “Knock him down, Katie.”

The mule kicked at Flynn’s gelding with both hind feet, then dodged when the horse reared, slashing with his hooves. Flynn scrambled under the wagon, as the two beasts fought. Cole still didn’t have a
clear
line of fire, so
he had to wait.
.

Then Flynn fired at Sam, creasing his side. Cole fired a few shots in front of the ground to keep Flynn occupied while Sam ran to the other side of the wagon. Katie gave a braying shriek, then kicked the horse in the throat. The horse staggered, then ran off.

“Come back here, you sonuvabitchin’ fleabag,” Flynn yelled.

Cole fired a couple more shots to kick dirt into Flynn’s face. Then he heard Porker grunt, and a pistol skittered out from under the wagon. Cole quickly reloaded, taking stock of the situation. Porker was wounded and unarmed—that left Flynn.

“You might as well give up, Flynn,” he yelled. Damn! If he took a couple of steps to the side of the trough, he could get a clean shot. But Flynn still brandished his pistol, firing a shot in reply. Cole ducked, hearing the bullet sing as it flew past his ear.

Sam ran to the end of the wagon, grabbed the rail on the side,
and
swung his legs under. Flynn’s Colt flew
out of his hand
and dropped a few feet in front of Cole. Then, with another windmill-like kick, Flynn collapsed on the ground, not moving a muscle.

Cole stayed put for a minute to make sure all was clear. “Are you all right, Sam?”

“Yup. We need some rope to tie up these
hombres
and a couple of men to carry them to the jail. You’ve only got two cells, though.”

“We’ll put Flynn in one and the Rankins in the other.” Cole nodded at the mule. “If Katie’s as smart as you say, then send her down to the saloon to fetch Bosco and some rope.”

Sam glanced at the mule. “Katie, you heard.”

The mule took off at a trot toward the saloon. Cole shook his head. That animal just wasn’t normal. He stood, flexing his cramped leg muscles, then walked over and shook Sam’s hand. “You’re a helluva man, Sam. Thanks.”

“You did a damned good job yourself. You got the natural instincts of a lawman.”

“Yeah, well
…
” But he was no better than the scoundrels lying in the dirt. Tomorrow, he’d turn himself in
to the judge
. “How’d you do that? Kick the guns away and knock them into next week, I mean. I never saw anyone fight with their feet before.”

“Kung fu. Learned it in
San Francisco
. I’m not big enough to fight with my fists, so I took lessons from an old Chinese man down there. Six years, practicing every single day, and I’m still not half as good as that shriveled-up old man.”

“Kung fu, you say?” He shook his head. “Never heard of it.”

Bosco ran up to them, huffing. “That gol-darned mule of yours went right into the saloon and bit me on the ass. Then she grabbed the seat of my britches and pulled me out the door.”

“Where’s the rope?” Cole asked.

“Rope?” Bosco
lifted one eyebrow
. “
Hell,
I ain’t got no rope.”

Then Katie trotted up with a rope in her mouth.

“Good girl,” Sam said as he took the rope from her mouth and patted her neck. “Let’s get these
fine fellows
tied up and carted off to the jailhouse. Luckily, Judge Glover’s in town. He can take care of them in the morning.”

“What the hell happened here?” Bosco tilted his hat and scratched his temple.

“Flynn and the Rankins tried to rob the bank,” Sam explained. “The marshal, here, found ‘em out. I happened along after that. Your buddy did a helluva job.”

“Damn. I heard the shots, but I thought they was fireworks.” Bosco walked over to Porker and nudged him with his toe. “We better get these fellers behind bars ‘fore they wake up.”

The fireworks were over. Daisy felt a little sadness that so much excitement ended in such a short time. Too bad the marshal hadn’t been there to share it.

She rode in the back of the Howards’ wagon with Sarah. While she would have preferred to ride with her own family—Judge Glover was with them and he always had interesting stories about outlaws—Sarah had wanted Daisy to ride with her.

“Do you think Sam’s handsome?” Sarah whispered.

Daisy lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “No, but he seems like a nice man,” she whispered back.

“He is.” Sarah looked dreamily out into the darkness. “I’m going to marry him.”

“Oh, Sarah, when did he propose?”

“Well, he hasn’t. Yet. I’m sure he will soon enough. Tomorrow, maybe.” She cocked her head. “Would you mind if we shared your ceremony? The judge won’t be back for another three months.”

“Isn’t that a little soon, considering Sam hasn’t even asked yet?”

“No. My dress is ready, I have two trunks fu
ll of household goods, and…
”

“And?”

“Uh,” she lowered her eyes. “I
let
him.”

Daisy sucked in her breath. “Oh, my,” she whispered, “I’m sure a proposal is forthcoming. Of course you can share our ceremony.”

They rode the rest of the way to town in silence. When Jonas pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the boarding house, Sarah said, “I wonder where Sam is. He said he’d be waiting for me on the porch swing.”

Daisy climbed down and straightened her skirts. “The marshal isn’t here to meet me, either, but I see the lanterns are lit in his office. I’m going over there, and, if Sam’s there, I’ll send him here.”

She hurried to the jailhouse. Sam and Deputy Kunkle stood beside the marshal, and all stopped talking when they saw her.

“Hi, Sam. Sarah thought you were meeting her at the porch swing. She’s waiting.”
And you better get over there and propose!

“Tell her I’m sorry, but I can’t leave right now.”

She crossed her arms under her breasts. “And why not?”

The marshal said, “Bosco will walk you home. Do you know where Judge Glover is?”

“You’re hurt! Sit down and let me clean that.” She rushed to the back and poured water in the basin, then dampened a rag.

Shaking his head and still standing, he again asked her where the judge was.

“He rode in my folks’ wagon. He’s probably at the boarding house by now.”

Bosco moved toward Daisy. “I’ll get him, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” the marshal said, still looking at Daisy, “and ask
Gardner
to send Mr. Roth over here.”

“I’ll have him fetch Doc, too. Let’s go, Miss Daisy.” The deputy touched her arm but she jerked back.

“Go yourself. I’m not leaving.” She glared at the marshal. “I want to know what’s going on here.”

Chapter 20

The marshal poured himself a cup of coffee. “Want some?” he asked Daisy. She shook her head so he put the pot back on the potbelly stove. “We caught
Mike Flynn
and the Rankin Brothers robbing the bank. Sam, here, helped me, and this town owes him a big thanks. I’d never have been able to stop them on my own.”

“Oh, dear,” she breathed. She touched the blood on his shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

“Naw, just a splinter. Sam’s shot in the side.”

“Grazed me, is all,” Sam muttered. “Messed up my shirt some. Katie’s the one who’ll need tending. That stupid gelding gashed her in a couple of places.”

The marshal raised his cup in salute and took a sip. “She’s some kind of mule, all right. Flynn would’ve got away if she hadn’t stopped his horse. We’ll ask Doc to look in on her.”

“So all three robbers are in jail?” Daisy asked.

“Yup. Probably be there for a while, too.” He nudged her toward the door. “Why don’t you go on home now, darlin’, this is no place for a lady. The excitement is over, and you’ll need a good night’s sleep.”

Lady!
No place for a lady? “Ha. I’m not leaving until you tell me everything.”

Sarah burst through the door and hurled herself at Sam, who grunted when he caught her. “Oh, Sam! Are you all right?”

He brushed a ringlet from her cheek and chuckled. “I was until you knocked the wind out of me.”

She lifted her hand from his side. “Oh, my, you’re bleeding. Bleeding, Sam. That’s not
all right
.”

“Doc’s on his way,” Daisy said. “And Judge Glover.”

“I know. The deputy came to our house and told him. Your dad’s getting Doc and Mr. Roth, but the way Deputy Kunkle talked, I thought you needed the doc for the prisoners, not Sam.”

Sam removed his bandanna and dipped it in the wash basin. “Wipe your hands on this. You don’t want to get bloodstains all over that pretty dress.” He wiped her hands for her. “Run along home, now.”

“I’ll wait up for you.”

“Yes, she’ll wait up for you.” Daisy said to Sam. “I’m sure you two have lots to talk about. And you can talk to Judge Glover about it, too.”

Sam turned all shades of red, as did Sarah.

As she made her escape, the judge came in. “Well, hello! If it isn’t Sidney Adler. Why, I haven’t seen you since you were a Pinkerton agent and I was a circuit judge down in
California
back in ’81.” He walked right past the marshal and shook Sam’s hand.

“Good to see you, Glover.”

“Judge,” Daisy said, pointing to the marshal. “That’s Sidney Adler.”

The judge raised his eyebrows.