The Marshal Meets His Match. Clari Dees

face Wyatt.

      “Who?” Curiosity filled Wyatt’s voice.

      “Him.” Jonah glanced up briefly before bowing his head, and Wyatt felt peace descend and frustration melt away as he listened to the former master sergeant bend his knee before the Master of Heaven, asking for God’s wisdom and guidance in the task before the marshal.

      He echoed the prayer in his heart and uttered a hearty Amen when Jonah finished. “Thank you for realigning my perspective, Sergeant. You were always good at that, if I recall.”

      “I did straighten out a few smart-mouthed lieutenants in my time. Although I must say, I had less polishing to do on you then some I ran across. Your mother’d done a pretty good job already.” Both men chuckled as they headed back.

      Riding into the ranch yard, Wyatt cast a glance at the lowering sun. “Miss McIsaac is going to be champing at the bit to get back into town.”

      “If she hasn’t already left.” Jonah grinned.

      “I told her to wait—that I’d ride back with her. I don’t want her, any woman, out on these roads alone, at least until we catch this fella.”

      Jonah snorted. “I’ll be much surprised if she waited around more than a few minutes after you threw that order at her.”

      “Why didn’t you say something earlier? Stop her from going in alone?”

      “Figured it was about time you learned you can’t bark orders at a woman as if she’s a soldier. It just don’t work. Besides, Boss man has a standing order. When someone sees her ride out, which is frequently, they are to let the bunkhouse cook or Ms. Maggie know and then follow Meri to make sure no one bothers her. Boss man couldn’t cure her of riding alone, something he loves to do himself, so he makes sure someone is always keeping an eye on her. I think she figured out his little scheme a long time ago, but as long as they stay out of her way, she tolerates it.”

      The men stopped their horses in front of the main house and a sturdy, dusky-skinned woman, black braids wound in bands around her head, stepped onto the porch carrying a tray with a pitcher and several glasses. “Thirsty? I have fresh lemonade here,” she said in a lightly accented voice.

      “Yes’m, Ms. Maggie! Sounds great! Captain Cameron, meet the real ramrod of the McIsaac ranch, Maggie Running Deer, the McIsaac’s housekeeper.” Jonah took the tray and set it on a table between several comfortable-looking rocking chairs. “Ms. Maggie, the new marshal of Little Creek.”

      Wyatt doffed his hat and bowed slightly to the woman. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. Is Miss McIsaac ready to head back to town?” He took the glass of lemonade Jonah handed him and swallowed half of it in a single swallow, choking when he heard the woman’s answer.

      “She left a couple of hours after you rode out. Barnaby rode in, and after talking with him, she tossed a bag on Abe and took him and Sandy back to town.”

      A sly grin appeared on Jonah’s face, but he refrained from saying I told you so.

      Wyatt hastily swallowed the last of the tangy drink before setting the glass down. “Thank you, Ms. Maggie. That hit the spot.”

      “Sit down, Captain, and take a load off.” Jonah disposed of his own glass. “I’ve got to put a few things in my saddlebags before we head to town.” Thanking Ms. Maggie, he headed for the barn leading the two horses.

      Wyatt quelled the urge to rush back to town and slowly sat down. Miss McIsaac had, by now, probably already arrived back in town, but his hands itched to give her a good shaking—the little scamp. Instead he controlled his impatience and accepted the refilled glass Ms. Maggie handed him before heading back to her baking.

      One of the cowhands he had met earlier ambled up leading the horse he’d ridden from town, along with another saddled horse, and tied them to the rail in front of the house. “Jonah’ll be ’long direc’ly.” The man sauntered away.

      The minutes dragged by as he gazed unseeingly at the tidy ranch yard, fingers drumming on the arm of the rocker. Flower beds sported a few early delicate blooms, a kitchen garden boasted rows of emerging greenery, and neat fences spread out and away, delineating pasturage. All lent a well-cared-for air to the place, yet they failed to register beyond a vague awareness as Wyatt turned the day over in his mind. He needed to separate the few pieces he’d found and examine them thoroughly; see if, and where, each piece fit into the puzzle of the bank robbery.

      “You gonna sit staring into space all day, or do you want to ride in with me?” Jonah laughed at his blink of surprise when he looked up to see the sergeant already mounted.

      Wyatt hurried off the porch and swung into the saddle. “Don’t get uppity, Sergeant, or I’ll put you on report!”

      Jonah’s laugh rang as they turned their horses toward town.

      * * *

      Meri imagined the look on the marshal’s face when he realized she was gone, and grinned. She’d eaten lunch while Ms. Maggie fussed about the holdup and Boss man’s injury and had just finished packing a bag when she’d seen the marshal and Jonah riding out. Planning to ride with them and speak to Barnaby herself, she’d instead been ordered to stay put. She’d tried to argue they could get back to town quicker if they combined their tasks but had been completely ignored as the overbearing man had ridden away at a lope. She’d nearly gone back to town then and there but had curtailed the impulse. The job she’d left her wounded father’s side to do wouldn’t be completed to her satisfaction until she’d spoken with Barnaby.

      Time had crawled as she’d prowled the barns and grounds, repeatedly answering the question, “How’s Boss man?” from worried ranch hands who wanted the information straight from her. Impatience had finally gotten the best of her, and she’d been saddling Sandy to go find the foreman herself when he’d ridden in. Having already heard the latest update on McIsaac from Jonah and the marshal, Barnaby had quickly filled her in on ranch happenings. He had things well in hand and had promised to send a rider in frequently with news of the ranch and to check on Boss man. Faither would be pleased, but not surprised, at Barnaby’s capable management in their absence.

      Thanking him for his diligent care of the ranch, she’d tied her bag to Abe’s saddle, shoved her .44-40 Winchester carbine into the rifle boot, mounted Sandy and left the annoying marshal to fend for himself. The nerve-rattling tension was absent on this leg of the journey, and Meri smugly congratulated herself on getting back to town on her own terms. She shoved away the ridiculous notion that the trip seemed rather dull in comparison to the ride to the ranch.

      Heavenly Father, please heal Faither so we can return home and life can get back to normal...without that bossy marshal.

      The silent prayer evaporated before she finished, and the peace she’d tasted earlier was nowhere to be found. All the joy she normally experienced when riding her lovely palomino failed to materialize, and even the satisfaction at having outsmarted a certain lawman tasted stale.

      The unexpectedly disappointing ride finally neared the end, and Meri breathed a sigh of relief as she approached the edge of town. Pausing, she heard echoing hoofbeats behind her. Spying a suitable hiding place in the brush alongside the road, she situated herself and Sandy, tied Abe’s lead rope around his neck and tapped his hip to send him on down the road. She was rewarded shortly when the cowboy who’d been surreptitiously following her rode into view. He pulled his horse up short when he saw Abe grazing along the roadside alone. He glanced around suspiciously.

      “You can head home now, Shorty. Tell Barnaby and Ms. Maggie I made it to town in one piece,” she said dryly, nudging Sandy out of hiding.

      Shorty touched the brim of his hat and turned his horse, a sheepish smile at being caught on his face.

      Meri grinned at him. It had become a game to see if she could spot the rider tailing her. Some were better at staying hidden then others, but she knew someone was always within earshot on her “solitary” rides.

      There had been Indian trouble in several areas