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

horse trough. Still, she didn’t know whether he’d stolen the boots or not. Her mother could have come back to the store, or he could have written his purchase in the account book. But this day had been off-kilter from the start, and she doubted it.
     
    “How could you lock me up with this—this beast !”
    Cole held his gaze on the wiggling bag hanging from the dog’s mouth. “I’ll take care of you in a minute,” he shouted toward the cell. “Forrest, put your dog in the other cell and shut the door.”
    The little boy’s lip trembled. He blinked his eyes, looking determined not to cry.
    Cole lowered his voice so only Forrest could hear. “Just put him in there until Mrs. Proctor takes her leave.” He winked.
    Forrest perked right up. “Yes, marshal!” He grabbed the mongrel by the scruff of his neck. “C’mon, Winky.”
    Cole turned his attention to Mrs. Proctor. “Ma’am, you best be getting on home.”
    She sniffed, as she seemed to do nearly every time he addressed her. “Now that you’ve seen fit to jail the culprit, I’ll go.”
    As she stepped out Cole called after her, “Do you want me to deliver your drawers, or send the boy over with them?”
    “What insolence!” She turned on her heel and disappeared.
    Cole tossed the keys in his hand and strolled to the cell housing the blacksmith and the dandy. “I’m letting you out of the cell, but you have to promise to stay in the office until we have your grievances worked out.”
    They both nodded, and Cole unlocked the door.
    He addressed the blacksmith first. “What’s your name?”
    “Jonas Howard. I run the livery and do a little blacksmithing.” He pointed at the dandy. “This here fellow stabled his horse with me for a week, and I caught him sneaking out without settling his bill. I’d have taken care of it myself, but now that we got law in town, I brung him to you.”
    “Good idea, Mr. Howard.” He turned to the dandy, who righted his vest. “Is what he’s saying true?”
    “Of course not. I was merely going for a ride.”
    “With your bedroll and supplies?” the blacksmith asked, clenching his fists.
    Cole looked at the dandy and waited for an answer. The dandy seemed to squirm inside his own skin with no answer forthcoming, leading Cole to the conclusion that the blacksmith was in the right.
    “How much do you charge?” Cole asked Mr. Howard.
    “Two bits a day. This fellow owes me a buck-seventy-five, by my count.”
    After thinking a moment, Cole looked at his pocket watch. “It’s five o’clock. I’m thinking this man’s horse will need some oats for the trip he’s about to take, so Mr. Howard, give him one night’s ration.”
    “Now wait … ”
    Cole held up his hand to silence the blacksmith and addressed the dandy. “You pay Mr. Howard two bucks, and you’re fined another two bits.”
    “That’s highway robbery!”
    “Yup,” Cole answered. “And you started it. Now pay up. I’m sure Mr. Howard will hold up his end of the deal.”
    The dandy pulled some coins from his vest pocket, handed two dollars to the blacksmith, and tossed a quarter onto the marshal’s desk. “I hope you’re satisfied.” He jutted out his chin. “I’ll never come to this god-forsaken town again.”
    “That’s the idea.”
    Mr. Howard grinned and shook Cole’s hand. “Well, I best be getting back to work.” He paused at the door and said, “Oh, and call me ‘Jonas.’ Everybody does.”
    With three of his four—five, rather—problems gone, Cole walked back to the cell housing the boy and the dog, both standing at the bars with forlorn expressions. The bag lay in the corner, forgotten by all but the wr ithing creature inside it.  A nd Cole.
    He pointed to the bag. “What do you have there, son?”
    “A horny toad. It’s a present for my sister.”
    Cole, downright thankful it wasn’t a snake, felt the tenseness drained from his shoulders. “Your sister likes horny toads?”
    “‘Course she does. Everyone