The Marshal Meets His Match. Clari Dees

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.”

      “There’s no need to introduce us, miss. I’ve known Captain Cameron since he was a lowly shavetail lieutenant fresh from the East.” Jonah snapped a sharp salute.

      “At ease, Sergeant.” Wyatt put out his hand and grabbed the man’s burly paw in a hearty handshake. “It’s good to see you. What are you doing out of the army? You were one of the best sergeants I ever served with, figured you’d be in uniform until you got too old to climb into a saddle.”

      The stocky barrel-chested ranch hand looked away momentarily. When he looked back, Wyatt thought he saw a sheen of wetness in the man’s eyes. “I just didn’t have the heart to reenlist after my Sally passed.”

      Wyatt gripped the sergeant’s shoulder and cleared his throat against a sudden hoarseness. “I wondered why I quit getting letters from her. I assumed you’d been transferred, and they were getting lost.” He stopped and swallowed hard. “She was a quite a lady. I’ll miss her.”

      Jonah was the first to break the silence that shrouded the little group, saying gruffly, “Now, sir, what’s this about one of our horses being used in the bank job?”

      “Drop that ‘sir’ stuff, and call me Wyatt. When I questioned the banker this morning, he said the horse the thief used wore the McIsaac brand. None of the other witnesses I talked to mentioned that. Maybe they assumed Mr. McIsaac had ridden in on that horse and the thief stole it. However, since that wasn’t the case, I need to know if you’ve noticed any horses missing and where all the ranch hands were that day.”

      “I told you before, none of our hands would be involved in anything criminal.” Miss McIsaac flared up again.

      Jonah wrapped a beefy arm around Miss McIsaac’s shoulders and gently squeezed. “He’s just doing his job, Miss Meri. No need to get upset about it. You’ve got enough on your plate. Let me and Barnaby handle the captain and his questions. You go in and chat with Ms. Maggie. That housekeeper’s been frettin’ around here for days like a hen that’s lost her chicks.”

      Wyatt waited for the inevitable argument, but her shoulders drooped as she exhaled noisily. “You’ll let me know if anything’s wrong, and send Barnaby to see me when he comes in.” It wasn’t a question.

      “I will. Now go let Ms. Maggie fuss over you for a bit.” Jonah gently turned Miss McIsaac toward the house and gave her a gentle push. “Scat.”

      Wyatt watched in amazement