Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) by Jacquie Rogers Page A
Authors: Jacquie Rogers
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man!”
Cole glanced at Mrs. Proctor, who stood in the corner with her mouth gaping open. The boy dove under the desk.
Cole nodded toward the jail cell and said to the blacksmith, “Take your prisoner back to the cell and wait for me. I have other business to deal with.”
The blacksmith ushered the other poor fellow to the cell , while Mrs. Proctor sniffed. “Riff-raff in our community. It’s a travesty.”
Cole took the keys out of his desk and stood. “Excuse me, ma’am.” He walked to the jail cell where the fellow with the top hat looked a little peaked, no doubt to the lack of air. Cole shut the door and locked them both in.
The blacksmith ran to the bars and grabbed them with both hands, poking his face in between. “Hey, let me out of here!”
“Not until I get this other matter taken care of.”
Woof!
Cole jumped nearly a foot. He whirled around to find an ugly yellow mongrel the size of a small horse. A cloth—suspiciously resembling Mrs. Proctor’s unmentionables—tied into a bag hung from the dog’s mouth. And the bag wiggled. Something alive wasn’t all that happy about being held captive.
Forrest jumped from his haven under the desk. “Winky, I told you to hide!”
“I said get me out of here!” the blacksmith yelled.
“Remove this monster from my person!” the dandy shouted.
But Cole’s attention riveted on those wiggling drawers. Lordy, he hoped a snake wasn’t in there.
“Just how did he come to be unconscious? Daisy asked.
Deputy Kunkle shook his head. “Funniest thing I ever seen. He ran right into that door. Guess he was in a hurry. Anyways, I put him on the bed and then got you because Mrs. Howard was busy making bread, and I didn’t know where Miss Sarah went.”
“You did the right thing, deputy.” She didn’t point out that he’d passed Sarah on the way to the mercantile. Daisy was just glad that the man was out of commission until she could find his true identity. The last thing she needed was a man posing as the marshal, especially since the real marshal hadn’t fully recovered from his wound yet.
Armed with a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth, Sarah stood beside the bed while the deputy removed the stranger’s boots. She glanced at Daisy only briefly, acknowledging her presence; otherwise, her attention rested solely on the battered man on the bed.
“He certainly is handsome,” Sarah observed. “I wonder if he’s married.”
“Not likely, miss.” Deputy Kunkle stowed the stranger’s boots under the bed. “And I wouldn’t be making no eyes at him, neither.” He tipped his hat at her, then turned to Daisy. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I best be getting back to Cole—er, the marshal.”
“No, thank you. We can take care of it from here.” Or Sarah could. She seemed to be quite smitten with this man whom they knew nothing about. But Daisy knew not to trust him. He was not the marshal. And if he tried to pose as the marshal, that meant he had dishonorable intentions.
Or he needed a job. After all, he looked innocent enough. She agreed with Sarah’s observations—he was quite handsome. Not nearly as handsome as the marshal, though. Her heart fluttered a bit and she calmed herself before Sarah asked her any inopportune questions.
Sarah moistened the rag and dabbed at the man’s face.
“Do you need some help?”
“No. You should get back to the store—no one’s there, right?”
“Oh, darn!” Daisy snapped her fingers, having forgotten all about the store. “You’re right, I’d better get back.”
She ran down the stairs, burst out of the boarding house, but slowed to a ladylike pace once she hit the boardwalk. As she rounded the corner and passed the confectionery, a man ran from the mercantile with a pair of boots. She waved her arms and ran after him. “Stop!”
Instead, he scurried down the road. She recognized him as one of the two men Bosco was following when she’d made an untimely dive into the
Cole glanced at Mrs. Proctor, who stood in the corner with her mouth gaping open. The boy dove under the desk.
Cole nodded toward the jail cell and said to the blacksmith, “Take your prisoner back to the cell and wait for me. I have other business to deal with.”
The blacksmith ushered the other poor fellow to the cell , while Mrs. Proctor sniffed. “Riff-raff in our community. It’s a travesty.”
Cole took the keys out of his desk and stood. “Excuse me, ma’am.” He walked to the jail cell where the fellow with the top hat looked a little peaked, no doubt to the lack of air. Cole shut the door and locked them both in.
The blacksmith ran to the bars and grabbed them with both hands, poking his face in between. “Hey, let me out of here!”
“Not until I get this other matter taken care of.”
Woof!
Cole jumped nearly a foot. He whirled around to find an ugly yellow mongrel the size of a small horse. A cloth—suspiciously resembling Mrs. Proctor’s unmentionables—tied into a bag hung from the dog’s mouth. And the bag wiggled. Something alive wasn’t all that happy about being held captive.
Forrest jumped from his haven under the desk. “Winky, I told you to hide!”
“I said get me out of here!” the blacksmith yelled.
“Remove this monster from my person!” the dandy shouted.
But Cole’s attention riveted on those wiggling drawers. Lordy, he hoped a snake wasn’t in there.
“Just how did he come to be unconscious? Daisy asked.
Deputy Kunkle shook his head. “Funniest thing I ever seen. He ran right into that door. Guess he was in a hurry. Anyways, I put him on the bed and then got you because Mrs. Howard was busy making bread, and I didn’t know where Miss Sarah went.”
“You did the right thing, deputy.” She didn’t point out that he’d passed Sarah on the way to the mercantile. Daisy was just glad that the man was out of commission until she could find his true identity. The last thing she needed was a man posing as the marshal, especially since the real marshal hadn’t fully recovered from his wound yet.
Armed with a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth, Sarah stood beside the bed while the deputy removed the stranger’s boots. She glanced at Daisy only briefly, acknowledging her presence; otherwise, her attention rested solely on the battered man on the bed.
“He certainly is handsome,” Sarah observed. “I wonder if he’s married.”
“Not likely, miss.” Deputy Kunkle stowed the stranger’s boots under the bed. “And I wouldn’t be making no eyes at him, neither.” He tipped his hat at her, then turned to Daisy. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I best be getting back to Cole—er, the marshal.”
“No, thank you. We can take care of it from here.” Or Sarah could. She seemed to be quite smitten with this man whom they knew nothing about. But Daisy knew not to trust him. He was not the marshal. And if he tried to pose as the marshal, that meant he had dishonorable intentions.
Or he needed a job. After all, he looked innocent enough. She agreed with Sarah’s observations—he was quite handsome. Not nearly as handsome as the marshal, though. Her heart fluttered a bit and she calmed herself before Sarah asked her any inopportune questions.
Sarah moistened the rag and dabbed at the man’s face.
“Do you need some help?”
“No. You should get back to the store—no one’s there, right?”
“Oh, darn!” Daisy snapped her fingers, having forgotten all about the store. “You’re right, I’d better get back.”
She ran down the stairs, burst out of the boarding house, but slowed to a ladylike pace once she hit the boardwalk. As she rounded the corner and passed the confectionery, a man ran from the mercantile with a pair of boots. She waved her arms and ran after him. “Stop!”
Instead, he scurried down the road. She recognized him as one of the two men Bosco was following when she’d made an untimely dive into the
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