The Marshal's Mission

“Good. What else?”

He planted fists on his hips. “Her eyes have a look about ’em. I could almost tell what she’s thinking.” He stepped closer to rub her soft nose. “And she’s good-natured. Not like Chuck and Midge’s horse. She was always mean.”

“Who’re Chuck and Midge?”

“Our hired help. Well, not anymore. One day, they just up and left.” The youngster ran his hand over the mare’s shoulder. “I love her dark mane and tail.”

Cole grinned at the boy’s horse sense. Reminded him of his brother, for some reason.

“Sheba,” Toby repeated, smoothing his hand across her. He threw a glance over his shoulder. “So what’s your name, mister?”

“You can call me Cole.”

“Thanks, Mr. Cole.”

“Nah, just Cole. Been that ever since I was your age.” He tilted his head and studied the boy. Something seemed to be weighing him down. Cole knew he didn’t have to pry. Folks volunteered all sorts of information if he remained quiet.

He didn’t have long to wait.

“Thanks for helping Blister. He means the world to me.”

“Glad to.” He paused, yielding to his curiosity about the dog. “You give him that name?”

“Yep.” The boy grinned. “A man in town didn’t want him no more. ’Bout three years ago. Pa said I could have him, if I wanted. I had a blister on my hand that looked the same color as his fur. Seemed only natural to call him that.”

“It’s a good name.” Cole leaned against the stall’s column and crossed his arms. “Tell me, do you know how he ended up with a rope around his neck?”

Had someone tried to hang the dog? Somehow Blister had escaped, only to get tangled up in scrub pine.

Toby’s mouth compressed. “Nope.”

“Y’sure? I can’t abide cruelty to animals.”

The boy wouldn’t meet his gaze as he stroked Sheba. Because his mother had schooled him about what to say? He managed a tight shrug. “Blister’s always roaming. Ma thinks he wandered too far.” He turned. “She would’ve cut the rope off him if you hadn’t come along.”

Should Cole ask about the boy’s father?

When he had first arrived and banged on the door to the house, no one answered. After seeing only the woman and Toby in the barn, he concluded the boy’s father was drunk, dead or absent. Which was it?

Given the woman’s overreaction earlier, he settled on her being a widow. One way to find out for certain.

As Cole spread his bedroll, he chose his words with care. “Wouldn’t your pa have helped?”

The youngster’s expression grew stony, fingers tangling in Sheba’s long mane. “I reckon.”

So, he and his mother are alone.

No sense pushing the boy for the truth. Besides, it was none of Cole’s business. By morning he would be on his way. He wanted to reach Silver Peaks before noon. After he found a place to stable his horses, he would check into a hotel and call it home for a spell. Should he reveal he was a US marshal to the town’s sheriff? Cole again weighed his options. Best to get to town first and check out the lay of the land.

“Are your geldings Morgans too?” Toby climbed a stall’s lower rung to rest his arms and chin on the stall’s top board. “I couldn’t tell for sure in the dark.”

“Nope. They’re not.”

“They’re pretty gentle too. Except one tried to bite me.”

Cole chuckled as he settled against his saddle. “That would be Nips. Sorry I didn’t warn you about him. I haven’t been able to break that bad habit.”

“And the other?”

“The sorrel’s Rowdy. He can get his dander up pretty quick, but overall he’s steady.”

“Toby.” The woman’s voice called over the gentle patter of rain. “Toby, where are you?”

He ran to the door. “Coming, Ma.” The youngster swiveled. “So are you coming up for supper, Cole? Ma saved over some stew from dinner.”

“Nah, I’m more tired than hungry.” Besides, he didn’t like being beholden to them any more than he already was. A worry pebble had lodged in his gut. What about them troubled him?

Toby grinned, his expression betraying wisdom that exceeded his age. “Too bad. Ma’s the best cook in Laramie County. And she makes a fearsome pie.” He took off across the sodden yard.

When Cole’s stomach growled in protest, he looked down at his concave abdomen. “Oh, hush.” Jerky and hardtack would suit him just fine.

Before first light, he would hit the road and distance himself from this place. Nothing and no one would distract him from his mission.

* * *

“What?” Aghast, Lenora’s grip tightened around the large serving spoon. “You invited him for supper?”

“I thought that’s what you said.”

“I told you to ask if he was hungry.” If so, she would have sent Toby to the barn with a bowl of stew. She wasn’t quite ready to have a stranger come into her house, no matter how friendly he had been.

“Don’t matter.” Her son rested an elbow on the table. “He said he was tired.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She finished serving leftovers into his bowl. “Please don’t use slang. You know I can’t abide it.”

“Yes’m.” He leaned his head against his fist as he slumped in the chair. “Cole sure has some nice horses. Especially Sheba.”

“Mr. Cole.” She finished laying out the remainder of the meal.

“He said to call him Cole. Without the mister.”

Lenora frowned.

“I’m sure, Ma.”

“Very well. Since he insisted.” She slid into the seat next to him. “Please don’t slouch.”

As her son straightened, he grimaced—displaying his thinking face. “Do you like Cole, Ma?”

The direct question took her aback. How much could she say to her ten-year-old? Though he sometimes acted grown up, she couldn’t forget he was still a child.

“I like him just fine. But we can’t forget he’s a stranger.” She stared at her hands, clenched in her lap. “And now that your pa’s gone, we have to be cautious. That’s all. Remember what we talked about?”

Toby fingered the spoon beside the bowl. “I s’pose.”

The nearest town was located several hours away. No doubt her son was lonely. But she didn’t want him to latch on to the first stranger who had ridden onto their ranch since Amos’s death. Though something about Cole tugged at her to trust him, she resisted.

“Let’s pray.” After they clasped hands, Lenora bowed her head. “Thank You, Lord, for Your provision. May we truly be grateful.” She paused, suppressing a barrage of anxiety-riddled requests. “Thank You for returning Blister. In Your Son’s name. Amen.”

“Amen.” Toby scooped a large spoonful of food into his mouth.

Before she took three bites, he finished one bowlful. She served him more while he wolfed down a hunk of bread.

“I declare, you eat more than your pa...ever did.” She smoothed his dark, damp hair, hoping he didn’t notice her slip of the tongue.

Grinning, Toby ate two bites in quick succession. “After I’m done, can I go check on Blister?”

“I’d rather you didn’t disturb our guest. He’s probably sleeping by now.”

Scraping the spoon across the bottom of the bowl, Toby frowned. “Think he’ll stay, Ma?”

“Cole?”

“Yeah.” Eyes hopeful, her son looked up.

Her cheeks warmed as she considered that possibility. “I expect he’s on his way somewhere important. Probably be gone first light.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Oregon Territory. Or California. People are still crazy with gold fever.”

“Couldn’t you ask him to stay? Maybe hire him? Seein’ as how Chuck and Midge are gone.”

She took care answering, not wanting to raise his hopes. “I’d have to think on that some.”

Should she confide to her son that she planned to sell the ranch? Frank Hopper, their nearest neighbor, had not yet responded to her proposition.

Toby scratched the top of his head with his knuckles. “Why do you think Chuck and Midge left? They didn’t even say goodbye.”

Debating how much to speculate about their sudden and secretive departure, Lenora chewed her lip. “I’m sure they had a good reason.”

Last fall, Amos had begun building a small place for the couple. The frame of a building stood across the corral that was in the center of the yard. He’d even carved Midge one of his rocking chairs for which he was famous. Had Jeb Hackett bribed or threatened them? With them gone, she and Toby couldn’t manage the ranch by themselves.

In silence, she and Toby finished their meal. The fire popped and crackled, the damp logs hissing. The sound reminded her she’d have to chop more wood soon. Their winter stacks were almost gone. As soon as Lenora entertained that worry, a dam broke of all their other needs. They not only had the garden to tend to, but the cow to milk, pig to slop and chickens to feed.

The weight of each concern grew heavier.

New seedlings were just poking their heads up through the rough soil. Had she planted too early? The freezing rain may have damaged them. Then their cow was drying up. Could they hold out until their other one calved? The pig was getting so big, he would have to be slaughtered soon. But which neighbor could she call on to help?

Staples were running low as well as their smoked pork and venison. She pushed aside the unpleasant thoughts of shooting, then gutting a deer. How could she process all the meat by herself? Toby, of course, would be a great help, but the two of them didn’t have time to do everything.

She wouldn’t even begin to consider the bigger needs of the ranch—the calves that had yet to be branded and castrated, the fences that needed mending and a host of other chores. After Chuck and Midge had disappeared, she reconciled herself to selling out while she could. Though she hated the thought of taking Toby away from his home, he would eventually adjust to city life. At least he would no longer be lonely.

Appetite gone, Lenora rose and scraped the remainder of her stew into the slop bowl. Her shoulders hunched as she sighed. “You can take this to Blister in the morning. And don’t forget the pig.”

Toby slipped his arm about her waist and leaned his cheek against her shoulder. My, but he was getting tall!

“It’ll be okay, Ma. You’ll see.”

“I know.” Her chest heaved as she considered moving away.

“I been praying every night that God would send help. Do you think He sent Cole?”

Had He?

“That’d be nice.” When her voice cracked, she cleared her throat. “But let’s not make plans until we find out what Cole intends to do.”

Her son squeezed her waist before turning away to clear the table.

Later as she lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, she dared to whisper, “God...?” Her plea stuck in her throat.

How many times over the years had she begun a prayer, then stopped? Because she asked the same things over and over?

The nights Amos didn’t return home, she fervently prayed it wasn’t because he was thieving or gambling. When she smelled whiskey on his breath or cheap perfume on his clothes, she refused to let him kiss her. But no matter how hard she prayed, he never turned from his wicked path. He still rode with the outlaw gang.

As tears slipped down her temple, Lenora brushed them away. With a rueful heart, she thought of her husband buried in the backyard, a simple tombstone marking the spot. Under his coffin rested a satchel of stolen money.

That terrible and dark secret would remain entombed—not only with Amos, but in her heart.

As Lenora pulled the blanket higher, the same plaintive questions whispered in her mind. Why did he get shot robbing that bank? Why hadn’t Jeb Hackett been killed instead?

Chapter Three

In the early-morning hours, the tramping of horse hooves sent a shaft of fear down Lenora’s spine. She threw a towel over her biscuit dough and yanked open the door. A quick swipe of her fingers across her apron removed the dusting of flour. One hand fumbled for the barrel of her rifle, standing just inside the doorjamb.

Where was her son? She hoped he was still abed in the loft. When she saw who came up the road, she gulped. Please let Toby stay asleep.

No telling what her son would do when he saw Jeb Hackett.

He and two of his men thundered into the yard, their horses kicking clods of mud high into the air. Though the sun had not yet crested the horizon, rosy light painted the mountains to the west and the grassy plains in the south. Someone had let the chickens out already. Cole? The hens that had wandered to the rutted road scattered and squawked as the riders approached. Somewhere in the distance, Blister began to bark.

“Halloo.” Jeb reined his dappled gray beside the corral in the middle of the yard.

“Morning.” She wove a thread of politeness into her tone as she remained in the open doorway. No sense irritating him unnecessarily. Another reason she kept the rifle out of sight.

“Well, ain’t you a sight to behold.” Jeb smirked. “Your hair is done up real purdy. Like you was expecting me.”

Tightening her lips, she hoped it resembled a smile.

He pushed back his hat. “Looks to be a fine day, ’Nora. How about you come a’riding with me and the boys?”

Her jaw clenched. Over the last five years, he’d used that horrid nickname. Every time she’d bristled, Amos had told her it meant nothing. Jeb was merely teasing.

That only proved her husband had no backbone. Not only was he a thief and a liar, he fraternized with thieves and liars. Jeb Hackett was the biggest one of all.

No doubt many a woman had fallen for his handsome face, curly blond locks and icy blue eyes. His handlebar mustache might disguise the cruelty of his mouth, but nothing could hide the wickedness of his heart.

“You know I can’t, Jeb. I’ve work to do.”

“Well, now, we can solve that today.” After swinging one leg over his horse’s neck, he hooked his bent knee on the saddle horn. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on his leg. Like he had all the time in the world. “Since we’re neighbors an’ all. We could join our property and have a nice-sized ranch.”

His friends guffawed, one punching the other in the arm.

“Frank Hopper is thinking of buying me out.” She kept her tone level. “You paying more than him?”

“F’sure.” Jeb grinned as he twisted the end of his mustache. “What I’m offering is better than money.”

Her cheeks flamed. “Why you low-down—”

“Ma,” Toby’s voice called. “Ma!”

Lenora tensed as her son ran across the yard. How much of the conversation had he heard? From inside the barn, Blister continued to bark up a storm.

With clenched fists, Toby stationed himself in front of her. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him closer. If need be, she could yank her son into the house and slam the crossbar into place. There they would be safe.

For a little while at least.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the little man himself.” Jeb sneered. “I was wondering when the itty-bitty cockerel would show up. That your mangy dog I hear? Thought he’d be dead by now.”

Toby stiffened. Jeb’s buddies chortled.

Her mouth went dry. Was Jeb confirming that he’d lassoed Blister?

Her son spoke first. “What’d you want, Hackett?”

“Hain’t you learned to speak respectful to your elders, boy? If you were mine, I’d teach you to hobble your tongue.”

“Well, I ain’t yours.”

Jeb’s scowl deepened.

“That’s for certain,” snickered one of his men. The two laughed. The instant their leader glared at them, they quieted.

Lenora took an unsteady breath. “I appreciate you all coming by. I’m sure you have to be on your way now.”

Jeb squinted. “Not going to invite us in? Or feed us? We rode all this way to discuss some business.”

Business? A chill nipped her bones. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t have anything prepared.”

“We can wait, can’t we, boys? Y’see, I’m thinking you’ve been without a husband long enough, ’Nora. How ’bout you and me getting hitched?”

Marry Jeb? Her heart chugged to a stop as the sun burst over the horizon, spotlighting his handsome face.

“If I don’t suit ya—and I don’t see why not—you could always pick Charlie here. Or Dandyman. They’d do you right fine.”

Identical leers passed over the faces of all three men.

Dear Lord... Lenora didn’t know what to pray.

Instead of warming, the sunlight grew brittle, spearing the air with shards of yellow crystal. She could hear nothing but the whistling wind and the horses as they stamped and blew. Even the morning birds stopped their happy chirping. Her chest tightened until she feared she would faint.

The barn door slammed, drawing her attention.

Cole walked across the yard with studied nonchalance. Like he lived there.

Is he in with them? Lenora choked down the panic that rose in her throat as she shoved her son behind her.

Cole pulled up short as though surprised by the men on the other side of the corral. Thumbing back his hat’s brim, he glanced between them. “G’morning.”

Jeb’s eyes squeezed to slits. “Who’re you?”

He smiled as though oblivious to the man’s rudeness. “The name’s Cole.”

Jeb shot Lenora a glance. “You didn’t tell me about him.”

“I...” She coughed and tried again. “I didn’t have a chance.”

As Cole rested a boot on the fence’s lowest rung, the polished gun at his hip flashed in the morning light. “The lady’s been kind enough to let me rest up my horses.”

“Is that so?”

“My mare stepped in a hole yesterday. Hopin’ she won’t be lame long.”

Irritation erupted on Jeb’s face as though he had no idea how to respond to small talk.

Lenora piped up. “You can stay as long as you like, Mr. Cole.”

Jaw jutting, Jeb glared at the stranger. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll pack up the minute your horse recovers and move on.”

Grinning, Cole leaned his left elbow on the fence. He casually hooked a right thumb in his belt, directly above the butt of his revolver. “Actually, I’m thinking of settling down around here. Maybe you could recommend a good location. I plan to breed horses. Fine stock.”

Cole couldn’t be in with the Hackett gang. Not with Jeb’s open hostility.

Convulsively swallowing, Lenora glanced between the men. How would Cole fare if it came down to shooting? The sun at his back would be no advantage with one man against three. Besides, no one ever stood up to Jeb. His father, Eli Hackett, was rumored to own half of Laramie County. Time and again, his outlaw son had weaseled out of trouble. Regardless of how heinous his crimes, Jeb had not spent one night in jail.

He scowled at Cole. After swinging his leg back over his horse’s head, he thrust his boot through the stirrup. “I ain’t done with you yet, ’Nora.” He jerked the reins and kicked his horse into a gallop.

Not until the men were out of sight did she sigh in relief.

With narrowed eyes, Cole stared after them, mouth flattened into a grim slash. Only when he looked in Lenora’s direction did his expression relax. After a nod, he turned on his heel and headed back to the barn.

“I’ll send Toby when breakfast is ready,” she called.

Cole turned. “Sounds real good. I’ll clean up.” He squeezed the brim of his hat.

Still shaking, Lenora breathed a prayer of thanksgiving aloud. “Thank You, Lord.”

Perhaps God had sent him.

Toby came from behind her. “Jeb Hackett won’t come back, will he, Ma? Leastways not while Cole is here, right?”

“I hope not.” She passed the palm of one hand across her heated neck.

What if Cole stayed for more than a couple of days? Would Jeb take that as a personal insult? He would think nothing of having ten of his cronies thrash any man who dared challenge him.

Perhaps it would be best if Cole left as soon as his horse recovered.

But what would happen the next time Jeb dropped by when she and Toby were alone?

* * *

“Meal was excellent. Thanks.” Cole leaned back in his chair. When had he last eaten that well? He vowed to split a cord of wood in payment. The stack leaning against the house seemed low. It might last a mere week or two.

“Another biscuit? They’re best fresh.” The woman Hackett called Nora extended a plateful.

He declined with one hand as he patted his stomach with his other. “No, ma’am.”

After Toby wiped his mouth with a napkin, he grinned. “Told ya Ma is the best cook in the county.”

“Sorry I doubted it.” Cole regretted skipping supper.

Determined to be on his way, he had arisen long before sunup. However, his mare had limped just enough to warn him they shouldn’t travel another mile until she rested a spell. In the predawn, Toby had surprised him by showing up at the barn. Together they had led the three horses into the back pasture. Sheba had rolled in the grass, apparently happy to stay put. The geldings had bucked and played.

If Cole had left at first light as planned, he would have missed the arrival of the three visitors. When Toby had whispered Jeb Hackett’s name as they peered through the barn’s slats, Cole couldn’t believe his ears.

Hackett was the very man he sought.

And had Cole left, he would have forfeited this incredible meal. Fried potatoes, eggs, bacon, beans, fresh coffee and hot, flaky biscuits—what more could a man want?

Sighing again in pleasure, he contemplated a nap. Nah, he had wood splitting to do.

“Can I take this to Blister, Ma?” Toby scraped leftovers into the slop bowl.

“Certainly. But you keep feeding him like that, he’ll get fat and lazy.”

When Toby laughed, his adolescent voice cracked. She glanced at Cole, hand pressed to her chest as a soft smile graced her lips. Because her motherly heart swelled at the proof that her boy was growing into a man?

Grinning, Cole watched the youngster hasten out the door.

Once they were alone, he met Nora’s dark eyes. A slow blush crept up her cheeks. Light coming from the window glanced off her honey-brown hair, braided and pinned up. She smoothed a stray strand into place.

Realizing he’d been staring, he cleared his throat. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

“Minneapolis. My aunt ran...well, used to run a restaurant. Before she moved back east. After my parents died. But that was a long time ago.”

He considered the obvious discomfort in her tone. “She’s one...incredible teacher.” He took care to mind his words. It had been a long while since he had spent time in the presence of a lady. This woman’s gentle ways and modulated speech left no doubts about that.

How had she ended up in the wilds of Wyoming Territory without a husband? And why hadn’t she yet remarried? Any man would count himself blessed to have a wife who was not only talented, but beautiful.

Truly modest, Nora inclined her head. Another mark of one gentle born.

He glanced around as he sipped his coffee. Nice house—not the usual soddy other homesteaders lived in. They sat in a large open room with two windows that faced north and west—so she could see who was coming up the road? Pegs lined a space by the door where he had hung his hat and coat. A pump poised above a large basin—another extravagance in a frontier home. Two chairs clustered by a fireplace. A built-in ladder lined the back wall, leading to a loft. Where Toby slept? The only other door likely led to a bedroom.

Dragging his gaze away, Cole focused on the blue and white dishes that lined the mantel. “My mother has bone china similar to yours. Where’d you get them?”

“My great-grandmother. She brought them from England.”

He finished his coffee. “Nice to see so many in one piece.” A few had chips, but most were intact.

“I used a scandalous amount of straw to pack them.” She nodded to his plate. “Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?”

“Yes, thanks again.” When she rose, he jumped to his feet and grabbed some dishes. “If you don’t mind, Nora, I’d like to repay your kindness by doing some chores.”

White petticoats flashed as she spun to face him. He didn’t understand the sudden hostility that flared across her face. Before he could react, she grabbed her rifle and shoved it in his chest.