The Marshal Meets His Match (29 page)

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 well 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.”

She broke off on a sobbed breath and another tear wet her cheek. Wyatt dug out his handkerchief. He leaned over and ever so gently blotted her cheeks.

Watery brown eyes met and clung to his. “Thank you.” The words were so quiet he saw rather than heard them. He nodded and pressed the handkerchief into her hand.

She sniffed. “When we realized just how ill she was, I starting praying like I’d never prayed before, but one night, she slipped away. Faither was beside himself. I stayed strong for him even though the only world I’d ever known was shattered. When he started healing, he wanted to talk about her, but the only way I could cope was not to think about her. The better Faither got, the angrier I became. The morning before he was shot, he simply mentioned her on the way into town, and I nearly snapped his head off.” She ducked her head. “I was feeling guilty about that and running away from another of Mrs. Van Deusen’s matchmaking attempts when I ran into you. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”

Wyatt covered the hand that was gripping the arm of the rocker with his own. Her eyes flew up and met his. “I’m tough. You didn’t hurt me. You just very effectively grabbed my attention.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Her cheeks went pink, and her eyes widened. “I mean…”

He smiled and squeezed her hand. “I know what you mean. You caught me by surprise, too. I had a plan, I had a dream and I wasn’t going to pursue a woman until I had those accomplished.”

He heard her quick intake of breath before she spoke. “Are…are you pursuing me?”

Chapter Twenty-One

W
yatt grinned. “Yes, ma’am, but if you have to ask, I must be going about it all wrong.”

Her hand had been curled over the arm of the rocker when his own had covered it. Now, however, she turned her hand until it was actually holding his, and he felt the pulse in her wrist racing madly. She cleared her throat. “No. You’re not.”

Wyatt’s heart swelled at her shy glance, and for a moment, there was no need for any words to fill the silence.

“What is your dream?” She shifted slightly in the chair to face him better and grimaced a little.

“Are you hurting?” He was a cad for keeping her out here so long. She was injured.

“Sit down. I’m fine. I just rubbed against the back of the chair a little too hard.”

He hadn’t realized he’d stood, but he hovered over her for a long minute to make sure she was really okay before he sat back down. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable inside?”

“No. Now quit dodging the question. What is your dream?” A smile softened the order.

He grinned right back. Did she have any idea how much she’d changed his dream? “I’ve long wanted a place of my own to raise good-quality horses—mix Charger’s speed and bloodlines with some of these tough Western horses like your Sandy to produce a line that has both speed and endurance.” It seemed so small compared to what he wanted now. He scooted his rocking chair closer to hers and reached for her hand again. “And maybe raise a family of my own.”

She looked out across the front yard, her fingers tightening around his. “That’s a nice dream. Do you have a particular place picked out yet?” A slight tinge to her cheeks belied the casual-sounding question.

Wyatt rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “No. I’m still looking.” His eyes traced her profile. He could easily look at her all day.

She took a deep breath. “There’s good horse land around here.” She glanced toward him and just as quickly glanced away again. “And Franks could get you started with a couple of good mares.” She paused slightly. “If you’re interested.” Her shy uncertainty was endearing and encouraging.

“I’m very interested.” In everything about her.

Meri twisted to face him, her eyes bright with cautious hope. “You are?”

Wyatt smiled and nodded. “Any place you’d recommend?”

Her face lit up, and she immediately began to list the good and bad points of various pieces of land, growing more animated the longer she talked. She attempted once to pull her hand away to emphasize a point, but he kept his grasp until it nestled back down.

His heart busy with plans, Wyatt relaxed into his chair, content for the moment to enjoy the expressive face of his new dream.

* * *

Meri twirled in front of the mirror for a final inspection, the skirt of the new dress flaring softly around her slim high-button shoes. Mother-of-pearl combs held her hair off her face, the length falling in soft waves down the back of a green calico dress sprinkled with tiny yellow flowers. She’d picked the fabric because the colors reminded her of the green-and-gold flecks in Wyatt’s eyes while making her own hair gleam with golden highlights, and the cut flattered her figure with its slim bodice and full skirt.

“Hurry up, lass. We’ll be late if ye don’t quit fussin’.”

Meri quickly pinned on a little straw confection of a hat, barely acknowledging the small twinge when her shoulder protested the movement. Picking up her Bible, reticule and lace parasol, she hurried from the room and down the stairs to her father and the awaiting buggy.

It had been a month since Meri had returned home, and Wyatt had ridden out to the ranch every subsequent Saturday afternoon. They would play checkers, stroll around the ranch, or as Meri healed, venture farther afield on horseback. On Sundays Wyatt would meet them at the church door, and he’d become an expected fixture in the McIsaac pew.

Meri smiled, admiring the lace-patterned shade the parasol cast over her skirt as the buggy rolled toward town and Sunday services. It was all frills and femininity, and she loved it. Because every time she went for a stroll with Wyatt, he insisted on carrying it. Which meant she had to walk very close to him.

The days stretched long during the week after seeing Wyatt on Saturday and Sunday, and she quickly found that absence truly did make her heart grow fonder. Occasionally Wyatt would make it out for supper during the week, but as she had resumed riding Sandy, her path somehow always wound up heading into Little Creek and the marshal’s office.

Meri fingered the fabric of her dress. The mercantile and dressmaker had certainly benefited from her frequent trips to town, and she had the new dresses to show for it. Her feminine vanity had come to life with a belated vengeance.

Wyatt was waiting to assist her from the buggy, and he escorted her inside the church building. The service flew by with Meri endeavoring to pay attention to the music and sermon instead of Wyatt’s nearness. Closing her eyes, she focused her wandering attention on the verses the pastor had read instead of the arm laid casually along the back of the pew, just brushing her shoulders.

Thank You, Lord, that You defend us and that Your joy is our strength. Thank You for defending me against the evil intentions of Mr. Samuels, for showing me that I am not strong when I try to stand on my own, but I am strong when You are my strength. Help me to remember joy isn’t found in my circumstances, it’s found only in You.
Wyatt shifted, turning her attention back to him.
Father, I’m in love with this man, and I think he loves me. Would You give us wisdom, and if he does love me, would You remind him that he hasn’t told me?

“Amen.”

Meri’s eyes flew open in surprise as Wyatt’s voice uttered the single word. Had she spoken aloud? No. The congregation was standing, gathering their belongings and chatting with one another. Service was over.

Wyatt grabbed her hand and hustled her toward the back door. After greeting the pastor, he hurried her outside to the buggy. Hands spanning her waist, he lifted her onto the seat.

“Where’s the fire?” Meri asked, amused as he loosed the horses from the hitching rail before climbing into the buggy. “Wait, this isn’t Faither’s buggy.”

“Nope.” Reaching behind him, he pulled out Meri’s parasol, opened it and handed it to her.

She took it and glanced curiously at the uncommunicative man beside her, but he ignored her silent question. She’d left the parasol under the seat of her father’s buggy before services started and hadn’t seen him or Faither move it.

Wyatt guided the horses around the other conveyances parked about the churchyard, clucking to them as they turned onto the road. Meri looked back at the church building as the horses broke into a quick-stepping trot. They’d departed the building so quickly no one else had exited the doors yet; everyone was still inside visiting.

“This could be considered kidnapping, you know,” she said seriously, hoping to get an explanation out of him.

“It would be, if your father didn’t know my plans.”

“Aha. So you had a conspirator in your nefarious schemes.” She twisted on the seat to see him better, her back brushing the armrest.

“Yup.”

The man made Mr. Van Deusen look like a blabbermouth. “May I know what your plans are?”

“Nope.”

“I must warn you, I get very hungry when I’m kidnapped. I hope you brought food.” She twirled her parasol and watched it spin over her head.

“Been kidnapped often?”

“Dozens of times, but they always brought me back and told Faither I ate too much.”

Wyatt had kept both hands on the reins, looking steadily down the road and keeping a straight face at her foolishness, but now he shifted the reins to one hand. His free hand snaked around her waist and pulled her up against him on the bouncing buggy seat.

“That’s better. Can’t have you so far away you think you can escape.”

Meri loved riding Sandy alongside Wyatt and Charger, racing each other or merely exploring together the past few weeks, but a buggy ride had its own distinct charm. Especially when a handsome lawman had his arm wrapped around you.

Silence surrounded them as the scenery rolled by, but she was more absorbed in the delightful sensations caused by her traveling companion than the passing landscape. They headed in the direction of the ranch, but before they reached the rise that allowed them to see the ranch buildings, Wyatt turned the horses off onto a trail that climbed gradually to a high meadow. The sun was shining brightly and butterflies were busily flitting around the wildflowers dotting the large expanse of open ground.

Wyatt pulled the team to a stop under the trees that fringed the edge alongside a cool, clear stream. Hopping down, he turned and reached for Meri, swinging her to the ground easily. “Would you care to have a picnic with me?” He reached into the back of the buggy and held up a large picnic basket.