The Marshal Meets His Match. Clari Dees

It lay over the edge of a stall, a five-pointed star glinting dully in the shadowy structure. “And might I add, you don’t seem too witless to me, ma’am.” He had a few prickles of his own. He also had years of military strategy and Apache fighting up his sleeve. Keeping the enemy on the run prevented them from launching a successful attack, even if the enemy was only a single diminutive female. Because a female on the run couldn’t chase him.

      “Witless? What...? What are you talking about?”

      “You said I scared you out of your wits, but I think you’re just mannerless not witless.”

      “Mannerless...?”

      If the confusion on her face was any indication, his military strategy was working. But never before had he had the desire to laugh when trading fire with hostile natives. “When a gentleman introduces himself, a lady is expected to reciprocate the gesture.”

      * * *

      There it was again! The tone that made it sound as if he was talking to a simpleton!

      Meri straightened to her full height, glaring at the man towering over her. She wasn’t short at five foot seven, but this man, his shoulders nearly as broad as Franks’s and standing several inches taller, made her feel unusually small. Now that he’d removed his hat, she could finally see his features.

      She sized up the irritating stranger. Thick wavy brown hair glinted with cinnamon highlights and framed a nicely put together face. Smiling hazel eyes were set under arched brows of the same brown hue as his hair. Sun-bronzed skin stretched over high, sculptured cheekbones and directed her eyes to a nose that looked to have been broken once. Firm lips tucked up at one corner in a lopsided grin set off a very determined chin.

      Glancing down, she noted a red neckerchief, faded blue shirt belted into dusty brown canvas duck-cloth trousers and well-broken-in boots. All of which clothed a broad shouldered, lean muscled form. Hearing a chuckle, her eyes snapped upward to find a full-blown smile showcasing pearly white teeth. Feeling a blush burning its way up her cheeks, she frantically tried to recall what had been said. Now was not the time to be distracted by a handsome face.

      “I said, when a gentleman introduces himself, a lady is supposed to reciprocate.” The dimple winked at her again, highlighting his smirk.

      Meri was growing tired of that smirk. “Well, there’s your problem—you’re not a gentleman!” Spinning around, she faced Franks who hastily straightened grinning features. “I thought you said he was ‘helpin’ out’ around here?”

      Franks hearty laugh boomed out. “He’s helpin’ out cuz his horse is here, but he is de new marshal shore ’nuff.”

      The marshal stepped into her field of vision. “And don’t let me catch you trying out that stunt you pulled with Abe on my horse, or I really will run you in for horse theft. That is, after I get done pickin’ you up off the ground when he tosses you on your head.”

      Her back stiffened at the insult. “I’ve never met a horse that could toss me on my head!”

      He cocked his head, frowning slightly as if searching his memory. “I seem to recall you being tossed not more than a few minutes ago and by a horse, too, if my memory serves me correctly.” A twinkle lit the hazel eyes, and Franks chuckled.

      “Abe didn’t toss me! You startled us!” Meri fought the urge to stamp her foot. She had no idea why they thought this was so funny. Gritting her teeth, she looked at Franks and scraped together the ragged remnants of her dignity. “Thank you for the use of Abe. I can see you’re busy, so I’ll run along.”

      “No need to go runnin’ off in such a all-fired hurry. I was hopin’ to sit an’ chat a spell.” Franks’s eyes glinted with suppressed laughter as he glanced between Meri and the new marshal.

      “I’m supposed to meet Faither at the mercantile. He’s probably waiting on me.” Meri planted a quick kiss on Franks’s cheek and beat a hasty retreat down the aisle to the livery entrance.

      “Bye, Miss Meri,” said Franks.

      “Good day, Miss Meri,” echoed the marshal.

      Meri froze momentarily before turning slowly. “A gentleman does not call a lady by her first name unless given express permission. The name is Miss McIsaac to you!”

      Wyatt grinned. “See, that wasn’t so hard was it?”

      Meri huffed disgustedly and dropped the haughty tone. “What wasn’t so hard?”

      “Acting like a lady and introducing yourself.”

      The man was as annoying as a splinter in a wool sock. “Don’t you have work to do, Marshal? Or is harassing people your only job?”

      Hooking his thumbs behind his belt, he rocked back on his heels. “I’ve already apprehended a dangerous horse thief this mornin’. All in all I’d say not a bad day’s work, Miss McIsaac.”

      Meri shot a quick glance at Franks. “I said you didn’t know enough about him. When the town council learns how delusional he is, they’ll fire him on the spot. He’ll have so much time on his hands you can put him to work mucking out all the stalls. He should be good at it, judging by what he’s shoveled out since I arrived!”

      Taking advantage of the instantaneous silence, she spun on her heel and marched out of the barn, biting back a victorious smirk of her own. Finally! The last word!

      But as she cleared the doorway, she heard Franks speak. “Hoo whee, Marshal, you dun riled her up sumpin’ fierce! Her mamma would’a warshed her mouth out with soap for dat!”

      Color flew high in her cheeks as she continued her march away from the livery stable, followed by the irritating sound of the marshal’s laugh. Franks was right. Her mother wouldn’t have been happy about the last comment she’d let fly. Catriona McIsaac had always admonished that just because ranch life could be crude and dirty, one’s speech didn’t have to be crude and dirty. Meri let out a deep breath as her shoulders slumped. She should not have lost her temper, but—honestly! The man had called her a horse thief! Between that, her lately volatile emotions and...and those unnerving eyes, it had been like waving a red flag at a bull, and she’d attacked.

      Something Mrs. Van Deusen had said earlier flitted across her memory, stopping Meri in her tracks.

      “...the new marshal has arrived, and you have to meet him. I’ve told him all about you.”

      No! Oh, no, no, no!

      Mortified consternation swamped the last dregs of temper. She should have never left the ranch this morning. Faither had better be done with his business, because she wanted to slink out of this town as fast as possible. Mrs. Van Deusen could find some other unsuspecting female to throw at the new marshal. Meri wanted absolutely no part of him! Not that he’d want anything to do with her after this morning. It was going to be hard enough to come back in for church services, to say nothing of the picnic.

      Dread slithered down her spine, and she groaned. Just the thought of sitting in the same church building with that man made her feel queasy enough maybe she’d just stay home from church for a while. She definitely wouldn’t have to feign not feeling well! And who needed a picnic, anyway? Staying away from town was sounding better all the time.

      Crack!

      The sound of a gunshot slammed into her ears. Meri’s heart stopped as the direction of the gunfire dawned on her.

      She broke into a dead run.

      Chapter Two

      Wyatt examined the repaired holster before strapping it around his waist and holstering his pistol. “Looks good, Franks. I figured I’d have to replace the whole thing, but I can hardly see where you fixed it. Thanks.”

      Crack! The gunshot interrupted Franks’s reply.

      Wyatt pivoted toward the barn door, wishing for his rifle from his office.

      “Wait!