Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) by Jacquie Rogers

He’d throwed money around like it was dirt until ol’ Bess had bounced him out on his pockets. Empty pockets, more than likely.
    Well, hell, he might as well just ask. “What’s yer name?”
    “Adler,” the man said as he stopped and peered into the window of the bank. “Sidney Adler.”
    Bosco opened his mouth and started to tell him he was full of shit, but decided not to. Cole wasn’t Sidney Adler, but neither was this man. Yup, the faster they got to the marshal’s office, the quicker Cole could get rid of this no-good drifter.
    The stranger still had his nose plastered on the bank window.
    Bosco gave him a nudge. “There ain’t one damned thing interesting in there, Adler . Let’s go.”
    When they got to the boarding house, Bosco found Mrs. Howard in the kitchen, up to her elbows in bread dough. “Have you got a room?”
    “Sure. Upstairs. First door to the right.” She cocked her head toward a board with keys hanging on it. “Take number three. I’ll get him registered after I’m done here.”
    He grabbed the key and let the stranger in the room. As the imposter turned around, Bosco landed a good right hook on his jaw. The man went down like a hot rock, landing on the bed.
    Bosco brushed his hands together. “That’s what you get for being a dirty liar.”
    He checked the stranger’s breathing which was fine, and shut the door. At least he’d bought a little time to figure out the buzzard’s game. This man was bad for Oreana and every lady in it. Bosco felt like popping him another one for good measure, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to kill the feller.
    Cole would think of a way to get rid of him.
    * * * * *
    Cole leaned back in his chair and rubbed the stubble on his chin while a middle-aged woman dragged a screaming boy by his ear into the marshal’s office.
    “I didn’t do it!” he squeaked.
    “Shut up, young man.” She spun the boy around, held him by his shoulders and shoved him toward Cole. “T his little scamp stole my… my unmentionables! Right off the clothesline, he did, and I want them back. I demand you put him in jail!”
    Studying the boy’s taut, worried face, Cole suppressed a smile, remembering that he’d stolen a cherry pie from the town’s busybody at about the boy’s same age.
    The woman puffed up in righteous indignation. “Well?”
    Cole leaned back in the chair. “Let’s get all the facts straight first. When did this heinous crime happen?”
    “I wouldn’t call it heinous, but most certainly malicious and disrespectful.”
     
     
    He nodded. “Now that, I agree with.” He looked back at the boy. “Come over here by my chair, son.”
    The boy shuffled forward, gaze glued to his bare toes.
    Cole tipped the boy’s chin up until they made eye contact with each other. “What’s your name?”
    The kid opened his mouth but nothing came out. He licked his lips. “Forrest.”
    “What’s your last name?”
    Hanging his head again and wringing his hands, he muttered a noise.
    “I didn’t hear you, Forrest.” Cole kept his voice calm. This boy seemed nervous enough for both of them.
    The lady stepped forward. “It’s Gardner ,” she snapped.
    Cole looked up at her and frowned. “Your name’s Gardner ?” he asked, knowing full well she answered for the boy, and that irritated him.
    “Of course not.” She pointed at Forrest. “His last name’s Gardner . My name is Mrs. Proctor. Mrs. Coriander Proctor, and I live three houses away from this little rapscallion.”
    Cole would never get any information from the boy with the pious Mrs. Proctor hovering threateningly over him. “I see what you mean. You go on home now, Mrs. Proctor. I’ll take care of the boy and get your, uh, clothing back to you.”
    “Absolutely not! I’ll stay—”
    The door crashed open and two men tumbled through, one burly man with a blacksmith’s apron grasping a bedraggled dandy by a chokehold to his collar.
    “Marshal, I want you to arrest this