The Marshal Meets His Match (6 page)

Dr. Kilburn interrupted then. “Actually it might be a good idea for Miss McIsaac to go with you. She needs to get away for a little while. This would give her a chance to check on the ranch.” Turning to Miss McIsaac, he continued, “Your father is stable, and it could be a while before he wakes up. Even when he does, it will be some time before he’s ready to travel. This will give you a chance pick up anything you’ll need for an extended stay.”

She looked indecisive. “What if something happens while I’m gone?”

“You can make it to the ranch and back in just a few hours. I don’t expect any changes with your father, good or bad, in that amount of time, and a change of scenery will do you good. If anything does happen, I’ll send someone to bring you back.”

Miss McIsaac looked at Wyatt. The glare was gone, replaced by a steely determination to accompany him. He doubted he’d seen the last of her temper, but the change of scene was already doing
him
some good.

His irritation cooled. “All right, you can ride along. I’ll go get a buggy from Franks and be back to pick you up in about half an hour.”

Grabbing his hat from the back of the chair where he’d hung it when he’d entered, he thanked Mrs. Kilburn for the coffee and headed to the front door.

* * *

Meri leaned against the edge of the livery stable doorway and worked to control her rapid breathing. She’d overheard the marshal tell Dr. Kilburn that he would ask the gunsmith to keep an eye on the town before getting a buggy from Franks. After a quick check on her father and a hurried explanation to the Kilburns, Meri had taken advantage of the marshal’s plan and slipped out the back door.

Cutting through alleys at a run and keeping an eye out for a certain lawman, she’d made it to the livery unseen where Franks had helped her saddle two horses. She had no intention of riding with the man in a buggy all the way to the ranch. Horseback would be quicker, and it would allow her to keep her distance.

The intense fear and uncertainty of the past few days lifted enough to allow her to feel a tiny amount of smug satisfaction. She’d managed to regain some control of her life. Even if that control were only that she’d ride to the ranch
on
a horse instead of
behind
a horse.

The thought of sitting shoulder to shoulder with the marshal sent a funny shiver along her spine. That would be too much like courting, not that she knew anything about it. She wasn’t girly enough to attract that kind of attention. When you could outride, outshoot and out rope the boys, they tended to treat you like one of the boys. And when it came time to go courtin’, they went after the sweet-smelling, dainty town ladies.

Movement caught her eye, and she stepped back into the shadows of the barn as the long-legged figure of the marshal strode into view. “He’s here, Franks.” Meri gathered the reins of the two horses and mounted Abe in one fluid motion. “Thanks for the use of Abe. I’ll have him back this afternoon. I’ll also bring Sandy in with me if you can spare the room.”

“I always got room for that puppy you call a hoss, honey. You be careful now, and I’ll be a prayin’ for yo daddy.” Franks patted her knee and turned back to his forge as she rode out to meet the marshal, leading a second horse.

His eyes narrowed as Meri rode up to him and handed him a set of reins. He ignored them and shoved his hat back as he looked up at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the Kilburns’ waiting for me to return with a buggy?”

Chapter Four

“W
e can get to the ranch quicker this way. That is, if you’ll quit standing there asking pointless questions and get on the horse.” Meri tossed the ignored reins at him.

He snatched them neatly out of the air, his hazel eyes never wavering from her face. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I know a shortcut. Can we go now? Daylight’s wasting.” She was growing a little nervous under his scrutiny.

“Is it that you naturally don’t like to follow orders…”

“You didn’t issue an order. You only said you’d be back with the buggy. I decided this would be quicker.” Meri’s lips twitched in a nervous half grin.

“…or that you didn’t want to ride in the buggy with me?” He continued as if the interruption hadn’t happened.

Meri felt heat stain her cheeks at the accuracy of his guess, and a crooked grin began to spread across his face. “Standing around talking won’t get us to the ranch,” she blurted, and touched Abe. The horse jumped away from the grinning man into a ground-eating trot.

Glancing back, she saw him leap into his saddle without benefit of the stirrup and spring after her. Controlling the urge to race home, Meri kept the big black gelding at a respectful trot as she rode along the pasture fence to the outskirts of town and Little Creek Bridge. Maybe she
should
have stayed put and waited on the marshal and the buggy. It would have spared her the embarrassment of his accurate guess. Then again, this way she could get away from him for a minute, even if it didn’t last long. She peered over her shoulder again. He was staying back, though he’d probably catch up to her once they were on the trail out of town, but it would be enough time for her cheeks to cool.

Abe’s hooves thudded across the planks of the bridge spanning Little Creek, the clear-running stream that lent the town its name and marked its western boundary. Meri drew a deep breath. Dr. Kilburn was right. She
had
needed to get away and clear her head, and a horseback ride to her beloved home was the perfect way to do that even if she did have to put up with the meddlesome marshal.

“I thought I had a squirrel in that hole.” Apparently he wasn’t going to let her ignore the fact he’d guessed her real reason for riding horseback.

She felt her cheeks heat again at his satisfied tone. So much for having time for her blush to fade. If this kept up, she’d just have to get used to the sensation of her face being on fire.

Or…she could…

Meri flexed her heels against Abe’s ribs, and the gelding switched to the rocking-chair lope that temporarily carried her away from her tormentor. The escape didn’t last long. Franks had provided the marshal with a horse every bit Abe’s equal, and in minutes the horses were side by side. The road wasn’t in good enough shape from the recent deep mud to indulge in a full-out gallop, so Meri contented herself with the current pace and the wind in her face, thankful when the marshal remained silent.

The fresh pine-and-cedar-scented breeze began to weave calming fingers through Meri’s hair as the beautiful scenery slipped past. Some of the tension melted from her shoulders, and the silence grew less uncomfortable in spite of feeling his eyes on her from time to time.

When he spoke, his comment caught her off guard. “I was sorry to hear about your mother.”

Meri looked at him, but for a change, he wasn’t looking at her. Somehow that made it easier to answer him. “How did you know?”

“Some of the men on the posse mentioned it—said it hadn’t quite been a year since her death?”

Meri felt the weight of guilt and grief crash back down as she nodded. Her father had teased her on the way to Little Creek that her mother would have scolded her for wearing riding attire instead of a dress since she was going into town in a buggy. The words had reminded Meri of their loss, and she’d snapped that her mother wasn’t around anymore.

She’d immediately regretted it. Instead of apologizing, however, she’d sulked, not understanding how less than a year after her mother’s death, her father could tease about her mother’s memory and seem to be handling her death so much better than Meri was. How she wished she’d guarded her tongue that day. She’d not apologized, and now it might be too late.

“What was her name?”

Meri welcomed his interruption of her depressing thoughts. “Catriona.”

“So, both of your parents were from Scotland?” He was watching the passing landscape as if memorizing every detail.

“Why did you say Scotland? Most people guess Ireland.”

He looked at her then. “My name
is
Cameron. My grandparents came from Scotland. I recognize the brogue.”

“I don’t have a brogue.”

“You do when you say
faither,
and I’d be willing to guess you used the Gaelic
mither
instead of
mother
.”

Meri nodded. “They came to America before I was born so their accent had softened, but when I was little they used a lot of Gaelic.” A memory surfaced. “I did have a brogue by the time there was an actual school to attend. I remember the kids teasing me because they thought I was hard to understand. I worked hard to sound more like them, but I never quit using
mither
and
faither
to address my parents.” She cocked her head. “I had forgotten about that.”

Their horses topped a rise, and below them lay the McIsaac ranch nestled among the foothills of the Rockies. Marshal Cameron pulled his mount up, and Meri followed suit as they gave their horses a breather from the hour-long, gradually climbing ride and surveyed the property below them.

A large log ranch house was surrounded by orderly, well-kept outbuildings that included a couple of barns, a bunkhouse, a summer kitchen, a smokehouse and sundry smaller buildings. White fencing encircled a pretty garden already showing the effects of early springtime planting, and corrals housed horses and a few cattle. Empty pastures and hay fields radiated out from the ranch buildings and disappeared into trees and over foothills.

“So, this is home.”

Meri nodded. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.” Silence reigned a few moments as both riders drank in the scene below them. “I do have a question, though.” A puzzled look sat on his face.

Meri was becoming wary of his questions but was curious about the cause of the expression. “What?”

Marshal Cameron pointed toward the barn corrals. “What in the world is that…critter?”

A spontaneous laugh burst from Meri’s lips when she looked in the direction he indicated. “Those are Highland cattle from Scotland. Faither imported them several years ago. They come from the mountainous region, and their thick wooly coats make them quite hardy in our cold snowy winters. Several ranches around Colorado raise them. There’s even talk about starting a breed association. They’re very self-sufficient cattle and thrive on the grazing that we have here. They’re also easy to work with because they’re so friendly.”

“Well, it certainly is the hairiest beast I’ve ever seen, outside of a buffalo.” He was watching Meri closely, a peculiar, distracted look on his face.

“And what have you ever seen
inside
a buffalo?” Meri kept a straight face but couldn’t resist the question.

“What?”

A chuckle escaped her. “Never mind.”

The dreaded smirk reappeared, and his searching gaze never left her face. “Oh, I got it. You…just surprised me. I didn’t realize you were—”

He broke off abruptly. Meri wondered what he’d intended to say, but a distant shout prevented her from asking. Meri waved at a figure standing in front of the biggest barn.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you to our foreman. He can answer any questions you have about the men and our horses.”

* * *

Wyatt followed Miss McIsaac the rest of the way down to the ranch yard, enjoying his view of the spunky lady. So, this was the woman Mrs. Van Deusen wanted to introduce him to at the church picnic. Her full rich laugh and the way her face had lit up as she’d explained the cattle had nearly made him blurt the realization aloud. He had managed to catch himself, thankful for the distraction of the ranch hand’s shout that had prevented Miss McIsaac from asking the question he’d seen on her face.

When he’d arrived in town, his bachelor status instantly made him the most popular person for invitations to a meal to meet someone’s daughter, or niece, or sister or granddaughter. He’d quickly started turning a politely deaf ear when the conversation changed to, “Oh, I have someone you just have to meet…”

Mrs. Van Deusen had been somewhat more subtle but just as persistent. She never mentioned names or invited him to a meal to meet some female, but she’d mentioned her dear departed friend’s lovely daughter every time Wyatt happened to cross her path. He’d let the hints go in one ear and out the other, but as he’d looked down at the ranch a moment ago, Mrs. Van Deusen’s voice had echoed through his memory.

“If they can get in from their ranch,” Mrs. Van Deusen had said, “they raise those strange cattle from Ireland or Scotland or someplace foreign like that, you know—I’ll finally be able to introduce you to her at the church picnic.”

That tidbit had snagged his attention since his own family tree originated in Scotland, but that was the extent of the notice he’d taken of it at the time. With the disturbance of the holdup, he’d not had time to realize Mrs. Van Deusen’s hints added up to the spirited, rides-like-the-wind Meri McIsaac. After the onslaught of gushing, flirting females breathing down his neck the past few weeks, Miss McIsaac’s prickly reaction had been a fresh change and had actually snagged his attention. Not that he planned to do anything about it; he still had a dangerous job and no home to offer a woman.

Wyatt mentally scoffed at himself. Even if
he
were willing to think about going along with Mrs. Van Deusen’s schemes, he was quite sure her quarry had no intention of being caught. Besides, he had enough trouble on his hands trying to catch a bank robber and find the missing money.

“Howdy, miss, how’s the Boss man?” A familiar voice cut through Wyatt’s musings.

“Still unconscious. I came to pick up a few things and get an update on the ranch. Faither will want to know when he wakes up. Where’s Barnaby?” Miss McIsaac kept her voice brisk and businesslike, but Wyatt heard the underlying fear.

“He’s riding range with a couple of the boys, said he might be back for lunch.”

“This is the new marshal. He needs to ask Barnaby some questions. He seems to think the horse the bank robber rode was one of ours.” Miss McIsaac and Wyatt dismounted simultaneously. “Marshal Cameron, our top hand, Jonah Chacksfield.”