“Have you figured out what the hell they’re doing in Oreana?”
“Nope. They got here before we did.” He took off his hat and scratched his head. “I did see that they glommed on to a new feller in town. Big ol’ strapping feller, too—purt neart big as you. Seen him somewheres before—maybe at Big Boned Bess’s down in Winnemucca.”
Cole slowly stood and mulled over what Bosco had told him while he dressed. His leg still hurt like hell, but he managed to get his pants up and fastened. None too soon, either, because he saw Daisy scurrying toward the marshal’s office carrying something. He hoped she’d brought him dinner. He hadn’t had breakfast, and a man needed food to regain his strength.
“I hear tell that feller’s looking for Miss Daisy Gardner. Said she’s the one what hired him.”
“Hired him?” The muscles in Cole’s neck tensed. The last thing he needed was someone who could identify him as an imposter.
Bosco shrugged. “Dunno. That’s just what he said. I told him he sure wouldn’t find no respectable lady like her at the dang faro table.”
“You talked to him?”
“Yup, but don’t worry. They ain’t see’d me before, so I told him that I was deputy ‘till the new marshal come to town.”
Cole nodded, wondering how things could get much worse. He drew back the curtain to see Daisy crossing the street. “Miss Daisy’s coming—I’m not about to explain myself to her, too.” He hurried back to the bed, not wanting another confrontation about the state of his health, and threw the covers over himself. “Besides, I kind of like her bringing my dinner.”
Chuckling, Bosco stood. “I guess I’ll be on my way, then. I ain’t about to get twixt you two.” He opened the door for her, tipping his hat as she entered, and left.
Her smile warmed Cole’s heart.
“Good afternoon, marshal.”
He nodded. “Miss.”
She placed the box on the tray, took off the towel, and removed the lid. “I brought you some dinner.”
“Thanks.” He tried not to look at her, but couldn’t stop himself. And, he justified, there was no reason to be rude. “Smells good.”
“Do you need help sitting up?” She fidgeted with the towel, then stuck her hand in her apron pocket.
“Nope, I can do it.”
“Maybe I should help.”
And maybe he’d like to feel her soft hands on his shoulders. “All right.”
She bent over him, slipped one hand behind his neck and the other behind his back. He cursed himself for what he’d been thinking, because even her touch aroused him, and she’d surely notice. He threw the covers to one side and sat up by himself.
“You have your clothes on!”
“Would you rather I not?”
She jumped back and tucked a stray auburn lock behind her ear. “N…no.”
He tried to look contrite, but he wanted to think he was the only man who flustered her that way.
She pushed the table toward him. “Eat your dinner.”
Hungry in more ways than one, he obliged.
Miss Daisy gazed nervously at him, still fidgeting—first with her hair, then with her apron pocket.
“Is there something wrong?” Cole asked.
“Just finish eating. I have something to discuss.”
His appetite faded in a hurry, but determined not to show it, he took another bite of roast beef. Had she discovered his true identity? “Discuss away.”
“Uh…” She fumbled with something in her apron pocket again. “There have been rumblings amongst the townspeople that we shouldn’t be paying full wages to you while you’re laid up.”
Relieved, he let out a deep breath. “And?”
“And I have something that will solve all our problems.”
“Our problems?”
“Well, I am the one who hired you, you know. My pride’s as much at stake as your job.”
“I see.” But he didn’t. “So what do you want to do?” He took a sip of coffee, remembering not to slurp in front of her.
She pulled a brown bottle out of her pocket. “I want you to take this. It’s Dr. Liebig’s Lost Manhood Restorer.”
He snorted coffee out his nose.
She started talking faster. “It cures a lot of things.” Holding up the bottle, she began reading, “Nervous debility, impotency, seminal losses—”
Incensed that she thought his manhood was impaired, he jumped up, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his thigh. “I do not need that.”
“Oh, but you do. And you shouldn’t be standing. Doc said—”
“I don’t give a damn what Doc said, my manhood’s working just fine. Do you want a demonstration?” He embraced her and gazed into her innocent eyes. “And yes, I am standing. All of me. I’m a might stiff, too, in a couple of places.”
Miss Daisy Gardner infuriated him more than any female he’d ever met in all his born days. She didn’t pull back. In fact, she leaned into him. Her breasts pressing against his chest pushed him beyond what any man could possibly bear.
He wasn’t enough of a gentleman to refuse what she offered, he lowered his lips to hers.
She gave him a prim little kiss like she would her younger brother, and distanced herself, wide-eyed. He drew her to him again. “Relax, and open your mouth a little bit,” he whispered against her lips.
He kissed her again. Her tiny shiver forced his heartbeat to race and his muscles to tense. She tasted delicious—more so than he’d imagined. He ran his tongue over her lips, then tasted the inside of her mouth. Her body sagged against his, and he knew he could have her. The very thought primed him to near pain, but he didn’t want to stop kissing her. Not yet. Not for a long time.
Her tongue probed against his, and he wanted more. He held the small of her back with one hand and slid the other up her side, her breast, then touched the skin on her neck. Her breath caught, so he kissed her again. Deeper.
Caught in a whirlwind of wanting, he forced himself to yield to the pressure of her hands pushing him away.
“I—I have to go.” She touched her mouth as she backed away, but she didn’t wipe off his kiss. She whirled and ran out the door.
Cole picked up the bottle of manhood restorer. Nope, he really didn’t think he needed it. Not with the ache she’d left him with. He tossed the ugly brown bottle into the dinner box.
Damn! He had to get away from Oreana. Away from her. But first, he needed to stick around long enough so he could find out what the miners were up to.
Daisy dashed out of the marshal’s office and raced for the stable. Her heart pounded, and the ache in her belly intensified with every beat. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t even see straight. But she wanted more. More kisses. More touching.
She cursed her naïve reaction to his kiss. Why, she’d never land a husband by being such a ninny. Honey Beaulieu certainly wouldn’t have chickened out. She’d have…
Daisy crashed square into Mrs. Courtney.
“Watch where you’re going, young lady!” Mrs. Courtney shot her a stern look.
Could the old bat see the kiss lingering on Daisy’s lips? She turned her face away and muttered, “Sorry, ma’am.”
She ducked around the corner and hastened her already brisk pace, wondering just what the heck she should have done when the marshal had kissed her. Or for that matter, what was there to do? He certainly seemed to know. A whole new surge of tingles tied her abdomen in knots. Oh, he knew.
Stumbling on a raised plank in the boardwalk, she caught herself before she fell. She concentrated on the only thing she could—escaping to the cave where she could read. Honey Beaulieu would never have gotten herself in such a dither.
As she fought back the tears that threatened, Daisy sped past the confectionery and on toward the livery. Her corset was entirely too tight! She only hoped she could get to the livery, and to Gal’s stall, before anyone saw her.
The next terrifying moment, she was flying through the air landed face down in a horse tr
ough. Cold water flooded her nose and ears, and she blew the fetid water out of her mouth. Strong hands lifted her out of the trough by her shoulders, water cascading from her hair.
Blurry-eyed, she gasped for breath and blew a drooping bonnet feather from her nose in a most unladylike fashion, but she was too soggy to care.
“Oh, shit. Oh, dear,” she heard Deputy Kunkle curse. He stood her upright. “Here, use this,” the deputy said, holding out a filthy handkerchief.
“No. No, thanks.” She picked her purse off the ground and extracted a clean hanky. He must think her a clumsy oaf.
“Sorry ‘bout cussing, miss.”
She nodded, then blew the water out of her nose.
“What’s got you in such an all-fired hurry?”
“Uh.” Daisy tucked her wet hair under her bonnet and studied her toes—at least they were dry, and hoped her face didn’t show any incriminating evidence. Could he tell that she’d had, well, improper relations with a man—that she’d let him kiss her in a most intimate way? That she let him touch her lady’s chest? She tried to relax her face and forced a smile. “I forgot something.” Feeble, but the only thing she could think of.
“Well, I got to get back on my tail. Cole says I got to track every move them Rankin boys make.”
“Cole? Who’s Cole?” she asked, mopping her face with the hopelessly dinky hanky.
“Uh, the marshal. It’s his second name, er, remember? Sidney Cole Adler. When we was kids, we called him by his second name, Cole.”
She did recollect him telling her something like that before—the last time they had a collision.
But no collision they’d had could even compare to the devastation of just one of the marshal’s kisses. She was going to like being married to him!
Bosco skulked down the street, hiding from the two men in question. At least, that’s what she thought he was trying to do. Everyone in Oreana could see him peering around posts and darting behind horses, then peeking again. She sighed, glad the marshal seemed to be doing better, for she certainly didn’t think the town could bear too much of Deputy Kunkle’s brand of peacekeeping.
And Honey Beaulieu would have to wait, because right then Daisy needed to put on some dry clothes and wash the horse slobbers off her face.
She slogged down the street. As she passed the confectionary, Sarah came out.
“Oh, my stars! Look at you!”
Daisy dabbed at her bonnet and smoothed her sodden dress, thankful for the accident. Otherwise, she had no doubt that Sarah would guess she’d been kissing the marshal. “I had a little accident.”
“I guess you did!” She giggled, putting her gloved hand to her mouth. “The Lost Manhood Restorer must have worked better than we thought.”
“Very funny.” Daisy shot her a scowl. “If you must know, I tripped over Deputy Kunkle’s big feet and fell into a water trough.” She started walking again. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get into some clean clothes.”
Sarah tagged along. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not getting rid of me until you tell me every detail. Heavens, I haven’t even seen the marshal yet. Maybe I should visit him myself.”
Gritting her teeth, Daisy suppressed a reminder that the marshal was hers. “Come along if you must.”
“I must.” Sarah grinned, showing her perfect white teeth. “I wouldn’t miss the look on your mother’s face for the world.”
Daisy hadn’t even given her mother a thought. Maybe she should go to Aunt Grace’s house instead. But no, she didn’t have any spare clothes there. She had to go home—to sneak into the house to dry off and change before she faced her mother’s wrath. “All right, you can be my decoy.”
With a little skip, Sarah caught up with Daisy. “Tell me your plan!”
To avoid being seen, they took the back way to the Gardners’ house. When they got there, Sarah went to the front door and knocked, and when Daisy saw her mother answer the door, she slipped in the back door and ran upstairs to change.
She charged into her bedroom and shed her clothes—shawl, dress, and undies flying everywhere. With a firm tug, she cinched up her spare corset, yanked on clean clothes, and jabbed her soggy hair back into a bun. Then she raced down the stairs, taking the last three at a commendable ladylike pace.
Her mother and Sarah still chatted. Hallelujah, she’d made it undetected!
“What have you been up to, young lady?” her mother called without even turning around.
Rats. She’d been detected. “Just errands.”
* * * * *
A week passed and the marshal looked better, meaning “healthy,” of course, every day. “Mama, Sarah and I are going to the confectionery.” And walk by the marshal’s office to get there, which put a hop in her step, for certain.
“Not so fast. Your father needs you to spell him at the store. He’s been looking for you.”
“I’ll get right over.” Daisy rushed to the front door and grabbed Sarah’s arm. “C’mon, we’d better hurry.”
Sarah giggled and hurried to keep up. “I have this feeling that your marshal’s feeling just fine. He certainly has you in a fuss.”
“I am not. He’s been up and dressed every time I visit, and he did seem in better health today.”
Sarah still giggled while they crossed the street to Gardner’s Mercantile. “You’ve found yourself a beau, haven’t you? It’s so romantic.”
“It’s not romantic, it’s practical planning. And don’t hex it,” Daisy answered as she opened the door.
“About time you got here, little lady!” Her father peeled off his apron and threw it on the counter, then shrugged on his jacket. “I have to go get a load of supplies from the Murphy Station. Be back in three hours. Until then, it’s all yours. The shelves need dusting and there are a few things in the backroom that need to be put out. Before that, though, there’s an order I want you to write up.”
“All right.”
He nodded at Sarah and left.
“Oh, good. I can order the material for my wedding dress.”
Sarah squealed and clapped her hands together. “When did he propose?”
“He didn’t. But he will.” Daisy glanced at the paperwork, then held one small sheet up. “Hey, Sarah, see this. Doc wants to order a microscope!”
“So?”
“Honey Beaulieu uses a microscope to detect evidence.” Daisy put the paper back on the counter.
Sarah raised one eyebrow. “Honey Beaulieu is a fictional character. They don’t really use microscopes. Why on earth would you need such a thing?”
“I heard about this new thing—they’ve done it in England, and New Mexico, too. It’s called fingerprinting. Everything you touch has the marking of your finger on it, whether you can see it or not. And each person’s print is unique.”
“I don’t believe it.” She pressed her index finger onto the countertop. “And just what use is such a thing?” She stared intently at the spot she touched, then pressed her finger on another spot.
“Believe it.” Daisy picked up a pen and an order form. “Oreana is going to have a modern law enforcement agency. Fingerprinting can be used to identify criminals like the robber who held up Iris’s bank. For instance, if I can lift a print off this counter, and match it to your finger, I’d know you’re the one who robbed the store.”
“But I didn’t rob the store!” Sarah snatched her hand back, as if the counter had suddenly become fiery hot. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. People touch things every day. That certainly doesn’t mean they’re criminals. Why, the next thing you know, they’ll be wanting to fingerprint every man, woman, and child in the territory.” She took a deep breath. “If it worked, of course, which I highly doubt. At any rate, it’s sure no way to capture a husband.”
‘Ah, but I have the silver coin that Iris’s robber dropped. If they find who did it, the fingerprint on it will convict him. Surely the marshal will be so impressed that he’ll propose. And I’ll have my dress made and waiting.�
�
“It is if he’s—”
Sarah tugged on Daisy’s dress sleeve and pointed out the window. “Look at that man!” She sighed. “My stars, he’s handsome. I wonder if he’s married.”
“You don’t even know—”
The bell on the door tinkled and Daisy sealed her lips.
The man took a couple of steps into the store and stopped. A big man, he stood about the same height as the marshal, but not nearly as honed by hard work. He smiled at her, and she took a step back, even though the counter separated them.
“What can I get for you today?” she asked.
“I’m here to see Miss Daisy Gardner.”
She tilted her head to the side, trying to think why a stranger would have business with her. “That would be me, but you need to talk to my father about ordering things.”
“Nope, the telegram said Miss Daisy Gardner.” He offered his hand for her to shake, but she didn’t take it.
“I’m Miss Gardner.”
“I’m Sidney Adler.”
Chapter 4
Daisy stared, slack-jawed, as the man claiming to be Sidney Adler dug a ragged piece of paper from his vest pocket and gave it to her.
She glanced at it, but didn’t need to read past the first line. It was her telegram to the Sidney Adler, hiring him as Oreana’s marshal.
Criminey! Two men who claimed to be marshal.
“Uh, I have to go home,” Sarah said as she hurried out the store.
Deserter, Daisy muttered under her breath. Schooling her features, she tried to think of a response to the man who stood before her. He looked pleasant enough, but she did not want to marry him—not after seeing the marshal, or whoever he was. No, the man standing before her could not be the lawman she’d hired. But how could she be sure?
Trouble looked her right square in the face and smiled. A pleasant smile, sure enough, but forced, and a handsome enough face, too. Still, she didn’t like the way he wore his gunbelt. Or something.
“How’d you get this?”
His smile faltered. “At the telegraph station.”
Not likely. She realized that Sidney Adler probably lost the telegram when he was shot. Yes, that had to be it. Honey Beaulieu would look past the obvious, to the underlying logic. This man had stolen the telegram from the marshal’s pocket while he lay unconscious. Then she caught her breath. In fact, the man who had the telegram most likely had shot the marshal!
Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) Page 4
