“You are, but traditions have to start sometime, and I’m starting this one right now.” He turned to the rest of the men. “You boys go around and tell everyone about the race. The marshal here will take the entry fee.”
“So I’m the bookie, too?” Cole asked as the men dispersed.
“Who else is more trustworthy than the town marshal?”
Just about anyone in this town. “All right, but I wouldn’t mind having a stab at that prize money myself. Gonna have a wife to support, you know.”
“Yes, and probably a baby in eight and a half months. You don’t need to be breaking your blamed fool neck before the ceremony. I’d be mighty unhappy about that.”
Cole wouldn’t be too happy about it, either. Breaking his neck, that is. The baby didn’t sound so bad, although with his luck, they’d have a rambunctious little boy with his mother’s penchant for orneriness. Having Daisy for his wife would be the best thing that ever happened to him, although he had to admit being a bit embarrassed over her father’s frankness about it all.
An hour later, they’d determined the course. More than a dozen men on horses lined up, waiting for Cole to drop the makeshift flag.
“Hey,” one of the men shouted. “I thought this here was a horse race.” He pointed down the line. “That there little feller’s sitting a mule.”
They all turned to Cole, waiting for a ruling. He glanced at Sam, who patted his mule’s neck. Cole touched the brim of his hat and Sam smiled. “He paid the money, so he races. Now tell me, whose horse can’t beat a mule?”
They all laughed and settled down.
“All right, boys. You have to go down to the cut-off, circle the big greasewood down there, then come back. That’s a little more than two miles. No cheating, now. Mr. Roth will be down there watching. If he says you didn’t circle the greasewood, you’re disqualified. Understand?”
Cole looked at each one, who nodded. “Are you ready?”
They nodded again. One man’s horse got excited so he had to ride out of the line and join back up again. Cole dropped the flag. The horses took off, stirring up the dust so thick, he had to pull his bandanna over his nose.
“Looks like you’re quite comfortable with a bandanna over your nose.”
He spun to face the woman behind him. Iris. “I’ve been a cowpuncher for years, ma’am.”
She frowned and said, “I thought you were an experienced lawman.”
Cole looked around and saw that no one stood within hearing distance. “You know who I am, Miss Iris. I’m the one you shot.”
“I know, and I also know my sister loves you, so I’m not saying a word. But if you hurt her, so help me God—”
“I’m gonna tell her, Iris. I can’t base our marriage on a lie. She doesn’t even know my name.”
“What is it?”
“Cole Richards.”
“Hmmm. I remember, you had a loan out on a cattle ranch at Sinker Creek. You always made your payments on time.”
“Yeah, that’s my ranch. I’m taking Daisy there after we’re married.”
“Are you telling her before, or after you’re married?”
“Before. In the morning. I’m afraid I’ll lose her, but I can’t have her miserable for the next fifty years. We have to start out honest.”
“I’m afraid it’s a little late for that.” And she walked away.
The ground vibrated with the thundering horses’ hooves. All of them were fairly close together except for the leader, who had a five-length lead. And it was the mule. The other riders switched and kicked their horses. Sam just hunkered down and rode, his mule lengthening the lead with every stride. He crossed the finish line and circled back to Cole.
“Helluva race, Sam, but I think we ought to wait until the others get here before I give you the purse.” They laughed together, and then the rest of the riders finished.
Bosco wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “Whoo-wee, Sam! That’s some kind of mule you got there.”
The others muttered their begrudging agreement.
Cole dug in his pocket for the coins. “Here’s three dollars and fifty cents for your win. Congratulations, Sam—good mule and a helluva ride.”
Sam pocketed the money, then touched the brim of his derby. “Thanks.” He rode over to Sarah’s beanbag booth, where he’d already spent the better part of the day.
Cole bet that the beanbag booth made the most money of them all this Fourth.
Chapter 19
Daisy watched the children’s sack races for a moment, then she and Iris went toward Sarah’s booth. “Sam’s there again.”
“Sam’s there, still,” Iris said. “He’s been there all day. Other than to fetch and carry for Sarah, the only time he ever left was during the horse race.”
“A penny for five tosses?” Sarah called as they walked to the booth.
“Sure,” Daisy answered. “I’ll give it a try. Then I need to go back to town to get my wedding gown ready.” Sarah shoved five beanbags to her. Daisy hit the target hole three tosses out of five.
“Good! You win a piece of candy.”
“Keep it. I’m stuffed. Can someone watch the booth for you? I’d like you to help me get things ready for the wedding.”
Sarah frowned slightly. “No, uh…”
“I have my mare here. We can all three get on her, although one of us will have to ride astride.”
“Oh, no,” Sarah declared, drawing back, “I couldn’t do that!”
“Sarah,” Sam said, “you can ride on Katie.”
“Oh, my, well, I’ve never ridden on a mule.”
“I’ll be walking right along side you, don’t worry. And I’ll be within earshot when you want me to bring you back.”
Sarah chewed her lower lip for a moment. The way Sam looked at her, Daisy wouldn’t have been surprised if he proposed to her soon, even though they’d only known each other a few days. And the way she looked back, Daisy wouldn’t be surprised if Sarah said ‘yes.’
“It’s about time to close anyway,” Sarah said, still gazing at Sam. “Most of the booths are already closed, and Mama said I could close anytime after five.”
Daisy decided that Gal had seen too much excitement because the mare wouldn’t stand still no matter what.
“Let me give you a hand,” she heard the marshal say.
She turned and smiled at him. Just the sound of his voice made her happy. Tomorrow would be the best day in her entire life. “Thanks.”
“Iris, you steady the mare while I lift Daisy up, then I’ll put you behind her.”
“Oh, my heavens,” Iris exclaimed.
Daisy looked in the direction Iris looked. Sam and Sarah were both on the mule—with Sarah on Sam’s lap!
The marshal shrugged and said, “Maybe the mule acted up a little and Sarah was scared.”
“Maybe,” Daisy muttered, but she didn’t believe it for a minute. That mule would do anything Sam wanted her to—it was the talk of the town. Iris cast them another glance, then let the marshal lift her onto the mare’s rump.
“We’re getting ready for the wedding, marshal. But I have to tell you, my folks are getting a bit anxious about our living arrangements. There’s an empty place at the edge of town—we could see about renting it.”
The marshal’s lips thinned and he rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “I’ll ask about it this evening.”
“All right. Jonas loaned us a wagon, so Iris and I’ll load it up tonight. Then tomorrow, all we have to do is hitch up the team and go.”
The marshal nodded. “I’ll be there to escort you back here—figure nine o’clock.”
As they rode off, Daisy said to Iris, “I wonder what that was all about. Every time I talk to him about our living arrangements, he closes up tight as a tick.”
It took the girls a couple of hours to get all her things packed and the trunks pushed in the hallway. The marshal could carry them downstairs and load them in the wagon. She wasn’t sure exactly if that was pro
per, but she was so tired, she really didn’t care.
She flopped on the bed and admired her wedding gown. “Sarah sure did an excellent job.”
“Yes, she did,” Iris said, “but I don’t know why you bothered to make a new dress when you could have used mine—it’s never been used and never will be.”
“Iris, you’re talking like a banker, not a woman. I want my own dress. Besides, you’ll need yours someday. Some man will sweep you off your feet, and the next thing you know, you’ll be begging him to marry you, even if he has a wart on his nose.”
Iris flinched. “I certainly hope not.”
Nearly all the townspeople of Oreana had cast their picnic blankets on the banks of Pickett Creek, waiting for the volunteer fire department to light off the fireworks. Cole sat on Daisy’s blanket with his arm around her, the last rays of the setting sun glimmering in her auburn locks.
He felt almost normal for the first time since coming to this town. A baby cried, a little girl squealed when an ornery boy chased her, and a group of young men, not yet used to liquor, made fools of themselves in front of the young ladies. He’d have to keep an eye on them lest they become a problem.
Cole’s mouth watered as he waited for his plate of slow-roasted beef, baked potato, and fresh-shelled peas. Daisy had packed a helluva meal for the two of them and his growling stomach was plenty ready for it. She shivered and snuggled under his arm. She made him a happy man.
But an uneasy man. Not a single soul was in town. He tried to ignore a pang of guilt for letting the town go unprotected. After all, what could happen? But Oreana didn’t pay him to make the judgement of whether or not to protect the property and people, but to be on the alert so the townspeople wouldn’t have to be.
He nudged her. “I’m going into town.”
“But you’ll miss the fireworks!”
“We’ll make our own tomorrow night.” They would, too. He caressed her arm. “The town’s deserted—and unprotected. I’m getting Bosco and we’ll make the rounds, then come back.”
Daisy nestled close again. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.” He kissed her cheek. “Jonas and your dad put a lot of time and money into the fireworks show, and there’s no reason you should miss it on the off-chance that some drunk might get a little rowdy.” He stood and adjusted his suspenders. “Besides, that’s nothing a lady should see.”
Daisy’s eyes flashed defiantly and her jaw stiffened. Cole wondered if he’d irritated her. Women were a puzzlement.
After a little searching, he found Bosco sharing a blanket with Sam and Sarah.
“Ah, C—er, marshal, ain’t nothing gonna happen in that there sleepy town. Let the drunks shoot each other—it’ll save us some work later.”
“Bosco,” he said, exasperated.
“I’ll go with you,” Sam volunteered. He turned to Sarah. “I’ll see you at the boarding house.” He stood. “You coming, deputy?”
Bosco pulled himself to his feet. “Ah, hell. I s’pose so.”
Cole nodded at Sam. “Thanks, but I don’t think anything’s happening—I just don’t get paid for leaving the town deserted.”
“All the same,” Sam said, “I’m going anyway.”
The three of them rode into town and took their animals to the livery.
“I expect we ought to walk the rounds, just to make sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Cole told Bosco. “I’ll start at the saloon end and you start at the other end, and we’ll meet at the jailhouse.”
Bosco shook his head. “I ain’t taking no chances of walking by either one of them widders’ houses. It ain’t safe.”
“All right,” Cole said, chuckling. “We’ll do it the other way.”
Sam dug a brush from his saddlebag. “I’ll be here in the livery taking care of my Katie.”
“Fine mule, Sam.” Cole patted the mule on the butt. “When you’re done, come over to the jailhouse. I’ll have a pot of coffee on to boil.”
“I’ll do that.”
Cole took a few steps, then stopped and turned back to Sam. “You’re a helluva nice fellow, and Sarah’s a beautiful girl. Just be careful. Women can rip your heart out and burn it without a second thought.”
Sam sighed, then tipped his hat. Cole had seen Sarah flirting with Sam the whole day, and hoped she didn’t dump him like water out of a bucket when a new man, maybe even a handsome one, or a rich one, rode into town. Maybe even the real marshal. Sam didn’t deserve the heartache a woman could cause. Cole knew all about that.
“That’s a fact,” Bosco said. “Women ain’t worth the trouble most of the time but they sure can cook—and other things.”
“Let’s get on with it, Bosco. We better pick up lanterns from the office—it’s getting mighty dark out there.”
A few minutes later, lanterns in hand, they went their separate ways. Bosco took off for the saloon, whistling as well as his missing front tooth would allow. Cole walked toward the commerce end of town, picking his way down the middle of the street. The boardwalk, he decided, had too many obstacles.
The mercantile and confectionery were as dark and quiet as the night itself. He heard an explosion from a firecracker. Most nights, he amended. As he passed the bank, flash of light caught his eye. He stared at it a moment, then chided himself about getting jumpy at the reflection of his own lantern. He held the lantern behind his back just to make sure. Within moments, he saw another glint of light.
Mr. Roth must be working, he mused. But he was sure the banker had asked Mrs. Nafsinger, the pianist, to sit with him at the fireworks. Cole blew out his lantern and left it on the boardwalk in front of the confectionery.
The bank sat in the middle of the block—the confectionery on one side and the doc’s office on the other. He picked his way to the back corner of the candy store and flattened himself against the wall, then peeked around the corner. Three horses stood, saddled and tied to the hitching rail behind the bank.
Cole’s heart beat faster and every sense was on the alert. Someone planned to rob the damned bank! A closer look at the horses, and he recognized them as the Rankins’ and Flynn’s. He would’ve bet money that Mike Flynn was the ringleader. The bastard. Staying low, he sneaked to the horses and untied them. Two of the horses trotted off, but Flynn’s stayed. He waved his arms, but the animal wouldn’t leave. Cole didn’t want to make any noise, so he gave up on shooing the horse and studied the situation.
He couldn’t see much—the bank’s back door was closed, a sliver of light shining under it, boots scuffling inside. He had no idea how to deal with this sort of thing, and didn’t know whether to charge in and get himself shot, or let them rob the bank and pick them off as they left.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. He jerked around and drew his weapon, then breathed out when he saw Sam squatted beside him, gun drawn.
Sam put his hand out, palm down, then lowered it. Cole understood—stay low. Then after a series of gesticulations, he understood that Sam would squat on one side of the door, he, on the other.
Sam cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered in Cole’s ear. “Stand tall. I’ll open the door and duck. At the same time, in a firm voice tell them not to move. Then, duck down low as you can go so you’re under the line of fire. Whatever you do, don’t stand in the doorway, or you’ll be dead.”
Cole nodded and they both got into position. Slowly, Sam reached for the doorknob. Cole’s pulse raced. One mistake and they’d both be coyote food. It seemed to take the little fellow ten damned minutes to finally wrap his fingers around the knob. He nodded at Cole, and Cole nodded back. He was as ready as he’d ever be.
Sam flung the door open.
“Hold it right there!” Cole yelled, then sank to a squat. Bullets pierced the wood over his head.
Sam stuck his gun through the doorway and fired three rounds blind. The robbers stopped firing for a moment.
Cole stood and yelled, “Throw your guns out the door,” then ducked.
&n
bsp; Another spray of lead split through the wall, a splinter gouging his shoulder. Shit-criminy! Cole blind-fired into the bank. Two rounds—a man’s shriek followed the second one. Three rounds left, and, with a little luck, only two robbers.
“Give it up, Flynn.” He loaded his pistol full—no need for an empty chamber. So did Sam. Then it struck Cole that they’d probably bust their way out the front door. He gestured for Sam to stay and fire occasionally. Cole ran around the confectionery and ducked behind the horse trough—nothing to stop a bullet, but at least they couldn’t see him.
His shoulder had bled a little, and his shirt stuck to his skin. He slapped some water on it, then he heard Sam fire—at least he hoped it was Sam firing. More firing back. Then, a chair flew through the window, shattering glass spraying. A shard caught Cole on the cheek.
Flynn held Porker in front of him as he charged out the door, firing this way and that. More gunshots sounded within the bank. Cole leveled his Colt and squeezed off a shot, knocking Flynn to his knees, and sending Porker’s face to the dirt. Porker lifted his head, spit, then belly-crawled as fast as he could, heading for a wagon parked in front of the doctor’s office. Flynn sent several rounds Cole’s direction, riddling the horse trough with holes. Water squirted out in three directions.
Flynn ran and ducked behind the wagon so Cole couldn’t get off a good shot, then whistled. A few seconds later, Cole heard the damnedest holler, and a couple of thumps coming from inside the bank.
Sam yelled, “This one’s down.”
A horse’s hooves pounded the road behind Cole. Flynn’s horse, he’d bet. He’d whistled for his horse. Sam whistled, too.
Flynn’s horse bounded onto the boardwalk and slid to a stop where Flynn hid behind the wagon. Cole still didn’t have a decent shot, and he didn’t want to wound the horse. He held up.
Sam raised his hand to Cole, telling him to stay put. Katie came running. “Knock him down, Katie.”
The mule kicked at Flynn’s gelding with both hind feet, then dodged when the horse reared, slashing with his hooves. Flynn scrambled under the wagon, as the two beasts fought. Cole still didn’t have a clear line of fire, so he had to wait..
Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) Page 26
