The Marshal Meets His Match. Clari Dees

of the blow he took when he fell. It’s become a waiting game, unfortunately.”

      “May I see him?”

      “You can peek in the door, but be quiet about it. Miss Meri had just dozed off when I checked on them a few minutes ago. She hasn’t slept much since it happened, and I’d like her to get some rest.”

      Wyatt nodded, and Dr. Kilburn led him down a short hall and quietly opened a door. A lamp glowed softly, throwing its feeble beam on the two figures occupying the room.

      Mr. McIsaac, his head swathed in white bandages, was lying motionless and silent on the small bed. His face looked unnaturally pale even in the dim light of the lamp’s lowered flame. Wyatt threw up a quick prayer for God’s healing and turned his gaze toward the room’s other occupant.

      Miss McIsaac—he liked Franks’s “Miss Mary” better—the woman who’d hopped on a bareback, bridleless horse to go flying across the field, snagging his attention like no gussied up, eyelash-batting, flirting female had ever done. He’d found himself distracted and thinking about her at the oddest times while tracking with the posse, remembering her reaction when she’d fallen off the horse at his feet. He’d expected tears and pouting but she’d come up fighting, and he’d kept at it just to watch her spine stiffen, her chin come up and her brown eyes spark and sizzle.

      Tonight, though, the fiery spirit and ramrod-straight spine were missing. The slender young woman drooped sideways in the large rocking chair, weary distress creasing her sleeping features. Her head leaned awkwardly against her shoulder and the back of the rocker in a way that was sure to leave a crick in her neck by morning. Someone had draped a blanket over her, but her slender hands gripped the arms of the rocker. Even in sleep there was a tension about the fragile-looking figure and an obvious lack of peace that made his heart ache.

      Wyatt forced his gaze back to Mr. McIsaac. He was not in Little Creek to be distracted by a female. He was here to do a job and continue to squirrel money away toward his goal. He’d seen the stress the families of army soldiers and lawmen had undergone. Long ago he’d decided not to put someone he loved through that and to avoid female entanglements until he was no longer in a dangerous profession. When he found a place to settle down and pursue his dream of raising prime horseflesh, then he would think about a family. Until that happened, however, he was riding alone. And enjoying it.

      A hand on Wyatt’s shoulder reminded him Doc was waiting. Stepping back, he allowed the man to softly pull the door closed and followed him to the front room.

      “Now, young man, you go find yourself a meal and a bed. There’s nothing you can do here tonight, and I’d like to catch some sleep myself before anyone else decides they need me.”

      Taking his advice, Wyatt bid the doctor good-night and left the house, praying as he walked through the dark, quiet town for God to heal Mr. McIsaac, to give Miss McIsaac strength and to help him bring the thief to justice. He reached his office and decided a meal and a bath could wait; sleep was more important. Retreating to the small rear room that held his few belongings, Wyatt wearily shed hat, boots and pistol holster. Placing his pistol and rifle within easy reach, he flopped across his bed and let out a gusty sigh. Like the doctor, he wanted rest before anyone else needed him. Dumping the questions and worry swirling through his mind at the feet of his Heavenly Father, he was sound asleep within minutes.

      * * *

      Please, God, don’t take him, too! Please don’t take him, too!

      Time slowed, and the ticktock of the bank clock grew louder and slower until it was all Meri could hear as she desperately pressed the blood-soaked cloth against the bleeding wound and struggled to pray. She jerked when a second pair of hands covered hers, and she glanced up wildly.

      “You can let go now.” Dr. Kilburn’s kind, bearded face peered into hers as he lifted her hands away. “I need to take a look.”

      Meri sank onto her heels, clenching bloody hands together while he examined her father. After a cursory look at the wounds, he pulled a thick cloth from his bag, folded it into a square pad and pressed it over the gunshot wound. Looking up, he motioned to two men who hurried over with a litter, and Meri scrambled to get out of their way.

      “Take him to my office. Tell my wife to prepare for surgery. I’ll be right behind you as soon as I examine the banker.” Turning to Meri he added, “You walk alongside and keep pressure on that pad to slow the bleeding.”

      Unseen hands lifted Meri to her feet as she struggled to make her limbs obey her brain. Moving to her father’s side, she frantically tried to keep up with the litter bearers as blood spurted over her hands. The harder she pressed, the faster the blood poured.

      “Stop. Please stop!” But there was no one around to hear. She was kneeling over her father in the middle of a deserted street.

      “Please, God, don’t take him, too. I can’t lose him. Don’t take him, too!”

      A rooster crowed as Meri searched for something else to staunch the bleeding. The rooster crowed again, and Meri jerked awake, a cold sweat covering her skin from the vivid dream. Aching from the rocking chair and the unaccustomed inactivity of the past few days, she slowly pushed herself to her feet and gingerly stretched protesting muscles and joints before straightening the nightgown and wrapper Mrs. Kilburn had loaned her. A tap on the door warned her, and she turned as Dr. Kilburn and his wife entered.

      “Good morning, dear. I have breakfast almost ready. You have a few minutes to wash and freshen up if you like. I also washed and pressed your clothes for you. They’re hanging in the spare room.” Mrs. Kilburn smiled softly at Meri as she issued the invitation before hurrying back to her kitchen.

      Meri delayed leaving the room, hovering over the doctor as he examined her father. “Still no change,” he muttered.

      “Is there anything we can do?” Meri asked in frustration as she looked at the pale, quiet figure of her father.

      “Yes. We can pray for God’s healing and wait for it to occur. Your father had a pretty big shock to his system, but so far he’s holding his own.” The doctor moved away from the bed and patted Meri’s shoulder reassuringly. “Go freshen up and get some food in you. I’ll leave the door open. We’ll be close enough to hear if he stirs.”

      Meri allowed herself to be ushered from the room to the spare room across the hall. By the time she’d finished her morning ablutions, dressed in the neatly pressed skirt and blouse and headed for the kitchen, another voice had joined those of Dr. Kilburn and his wife.

      Pastor James Willis was sitting at the table drinking coffee but stood when she entered the room. “I’m sorry for disturbing you so early, I wanted to check on Ian and see if there’s any way I can be of assistance.”

      “Doc says all we can do now is pray and wait.” The words felt like shards of glass in her throat.

      “They’ve been keeping me apprised of Ian’s condition—” he waved his hand toward Dr. and Mrs. Kilburn “—and the church family has been lifting him up in daily prayer, but what can we do to help you?” Pastor Willis gently asked.

      “I don’t know...” Meri choked as the pressure of the past three days suddenly clawed its way up her throat and overwhelmed her. The need to get away before she screamed and made a complete fool of herself robbed her of any semblance of social skills.

      “I’m sorry, I... Excuse me!” Meri rushed out the door of the kitchen into the backyard.

      “What about your breakfast, dear?” Meri heard Mrs. Kilburn ask as she cleared the door.

      “Let her go. Food’s the last thing on her mind right now.”

      Dr. Kilburn’s voice faded as Meri left the yard, running blindly. She didn’t know where she was going; she just followed her feet as they carried her away from the place where her father lay unconscious.

      Adrenaline had carried her through the past couple of days, but the uncertainty of her father’s health could not be ignored any longer. The