The Marshal's Mission

by Anna Zogg

“Please, Ma?” As though anticipating her response, her son added, “I’d tie him in the buckboard before we reached town. That way he wouldn’t get into any fights with the dogs there.”

  Lenora considered her son’s wistful expression. “Very well.”

  In no time, they sat in the wagon with Toby and his dog in the back. Lenora packed pickled and fresh eggs with which to barter, along with clarified butter. She counted her money and brought only what was needed. As was her custom, she slid her rifle in the scabbard next to the seat. Amos had always insisted they have it close whenever they traveled.

  Cole also toted his rifle, wrapped in buckskin and resting in the back along with his saddlebags. “I couldn’t leave them behind.” He spoke with a grin. When she made a face, he added, “I need to pick up some ammo while I’m in town.”

  He had hitched up his pinto, claiming he wanted Nips to spend more time in the harness. They rode in silence for a while, but Toby couldn’t abide that for long.

  Kneeling, her son leaned on the seatback and poked his head between them. “Where did you grow up, Cole?”

  “Here and there.” A smile tugged one corner of his mouth.

  Lenora hid her grin behind her bonnet, knowing his answer would tease Toby into pestering him more. Apparently Cole knew that too.

  “Like Texas? Back east? Or Europe?”

  “Spent some of my growing-up years in Missouri. Mostly in Kansas. Moved around a bit.”

  “Like where?”

  “Places in the west. I even went as far as California once.”

  Toby’s eyes grew round. “Wow. Did ya ever look for gold?”

  “Nah. Saw too many folks crazy for wealth. I couldn’t abide all that went with it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Lying, stealing, cheating...” Cole’s mouth tightened as he threw a glance over his shoulder. “All the fool things that ruin lives. And hurt their loved ones.”

  Lenora stared at him. Of his sincerity, she had no doubt. Had he a relative who’d gone crazy for gold? He’d once mentioned that he and his ma were alone, after his younger brother got shot. Had Cole’s father hunted for his fortune? She didn’t have the heart to ask.

  The desire for money, as she knew so well, could work a terrible evil in a person’s heart. She shivered as she recalled how cold the leather of the satchel felt when she had buried it with Amos.

  Toby’s brow wrinkled as he stared at Cole’s profile. A barrage of questions seemed poised on her son’s lips.

  “So what place did you like best?” She sought to redirect her son’s thoughts. “And why?”

  Cole’s shoulders relaxed as his grip on the reins loosened. Because he too was glad of the subject’s change?

  “I always liked where I ended up the best.” He threw her a sidelong glance. “And right now, it’s your ranch.”

  Her face warmed and not merely because the sun sent out waves of heat that caressed her back.

  “This is amazing country.” He nodded in a couple directions. “Wide open spaces. Good grazing. Water a plenty. A man need look no further to find all he yearns for here.”

  Keeping her eyes on the dirt road ahead, Lenora sucked in a slow breath. Was he hinting he wanted to settle? Possibly nearby, on his own ranch? Her heart beat faster at the prospect.

  “Pa used to say this territory would soon be part of the union.” Toby’s head bumped her arm as the wagon hit a dip.

  “Likely that’ll happen a’fore too long.” Cole grinned. “Then everyone’ll want land around here.”

  “Then you’d better get yours soon,” Lenora stated. Aghast at her boldness, she turned away, using her bonnet to hide her expression. Though she didn’t look at Cole, she was certain he studied her. The bloom of heat on her cheeks spread across her face and down her neck.

  Why had she spoken like that? As though she were inviting him to remain. Had she already settled on Frank Hopper’s not buying the ranch? If so, she was prepared to pursue her other plan—of hanging on until fall.

  What if Cole stayed on for a longer spell? The idea had worked on her mind since she first thought it. Not only would her ranch’s value increase, but she might have time to find another buyer. Or would Cole be interested?

  Or—the thought crystalized—perhaps he would take a share of her ranch in exchange for working it. He could raise his horses and she her cattle.

  She tamped down her excitement, determining to speak to him when they were again alone. Perhaps after supper tonight?

  After a brief stop, they reached town in a little over two hours. Silver Peaks boasted of a couple stores, bank, hotel and saloon, livery, telegraph station, church and other assorted buildings. Seemed like every year, more folks pulled up their roots and headed farther west. Very few horses were hitched to the posts that lined the street.

  “Toby, don’t go far,” Lenora instructed. “We need to get home before dark. And I don’t want to have to come looking for you.”

  “Yes’m.” Leaving his dog tied in the buckboard bed, he leaped off the back and ran to a group of boys across the street.

  Cole climbed down, but before Lenora could, he came around the other side to grip her hand. Her foot caught on her long skirts. If he hadn’t grabbed her waist, she might have fallen into his arms. Or onto the street.

  “You’re in a mighty big rush,” he chided after he’d set her down safely.

  She lifted her chin. “I have a lot to accomplish in a short time.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “Merely carry my purchases when I’m finished at the mercantile. But that’ll be my last stop.” She pointed to the one down the street.

  “That I can do.” He squeezed his hat brim before she hurried to the nearest store.

  A glance back showed he absently patted Blister. Still tied, the dog strained the length of the rope to get closer. This was better than their dog barking after Toby who had disappeared around the corner of a house.

  Lenora noticed the way Cole looked up and down the dusty streets. Wasn’t much to see. He seemed to take great interest in the town. Almost as if he was making up his mind about something.

  After getting her list from her pocket, she went into the nearest store to buy material and more thread. She needed to sew new pants for Toby, whose legs were growing so fast his clothing seemed to shrink while he wore them. Though the establishment offered store-bought items, she preferred to make her own. Besides, it was less expensive.

  On a whim, she bought a fair-sized piece of soft, red cotton, smiling as she imagined what she could fashion from it. A scarf for herself, perhaps? Her face warmed as she considered making Cole a bandanna. The one he owned was beginning to show a little wear. It would be the perfect thank-you for all he’d done on the ranch.

  She lingered over the calicos, longing for a new dress. However, she’d not brought enough money. Before midsummer, she would have to butcher the pig. Once the meat was smoked or dried, she could use it to barter.

  The material she purchased put a bigger dent in her coin purse than she’d planned. With that task done, she considered the next place she needed to stop.

  As she reached for the door, it swung open. The minister and his wife stood in the doorway.

  Lenora greeted them, unable to keep her gaze from straying to the woman’s thickened middle. “Congratulations on your little one.”

  “Thank you.” For once, the woman’s smile displayed honest pleasure. “The baby’s due any day now.”

  “How exciting.” This child would be their first.

  More chatty than usual, the woman went on. “A great benefit is Jeremiah gets a rest from his circuit. He will stay home until the baby’s born.”

  “How wonderful for you both. I hope you enjoy your time together as a family.”

 
“Thank you.” Again the flash of a cordial smile. “Now if you’ll excuse us...”

  “Of course.” Lenora moved out of their way so they could enter the shop.

  Once again, she couldn’t help but think they were kinder to her than ever before. Perhaps the taint of being Amos Pritchard’s wife was wearing off? The double standard grated on her. They could secretly admire Amos’s daring escapades while condemning his actions.

  Excuse the man but blame the wife?

  Pushing the unkind thoughts from her mind, Lenora headed to another store that carried a wide assortment of staples. She chose sacks of flour, sugar and coffee, along with some spices and assorted foodstuffs. A bale of wire and some feed completed her list.

  When the bell on the door jangled, the proprietor looked up. “May I help you, sir?”

  Cole drew closer. “Just helping Mrs. Pritchard with her supplies.”

  The man’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

  Though Mr. Richards strove to keep his expression blank, Lenora detected something insulting in the way his glance darted between the two of them.

  “Mr. Cole is...” What should she call him?

  “Her hired help.” Cole threw her a grin as he reached for the heavy flour sack.

  “Hired help?” Eyes wide, the proprietor straightened. He glanced at a loafer who sat on a barrel, picking his teeth.

  Not only did Mr. Richards seem surprised by her announcement, but several others who lingered in the large store did, as well. Conversation ground to a halt as people outright stared. Most folks she knew, but some were strangers.

  “I’ll put these in the wagon, Mrs. Pritchard.” Cole slung the sacks of flour and sugar over his shoulder.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cole. And please bring in the supplies we brought for bartering.”

  The proprietor bent over his pencil, brow pinched. “How long is your hired help planning to stay at your ranch?”

  “We haven’t yet settled that.” Tamping down her irritation, Lenora spoke slowly. “Once I find out, I’ll be sure to tell you next time I’m in town.”

  She hoped her frank stare and tone of voice conveyed her irritation. When had he become the self-appointed morality officer in this town? Or was he inquiring for another reason?

  He leaned forward. “I merely ask because some folks around here don’t favor strangers in the area.”

  Aghast, Lenora clamped her lips together. “Mr. Richards, I’ve lived here for over eleven years now. I would think I could hire whom I please.”

  His beefy cheeks expanded as he held his breath, then released it. Placing his hands on the counter, he leaned forward. “I’m just warning you for your own good. Some folks won’t like it.”

  A chill ran down her back. Did he mean Jeb? Or his father, Eli?

  Mr. Richards’s next words confirmed her suspicion.

  “Just saying it might be a good idea to get permission from Mr. Hackett.”

  “Permission?” She stared at him. Did Mr. Richards ask them every time he wanted to do something?

  The proprietor used to be jovial and full of banter. Now, he seemed almost afraid to step out of line. As a matter of fact, Lenora noticed how people in Silver Peaks seemed subdued. Perhaps the reason so many left had less to do with the unexplored west and more to do with fear.

  She reevaluated her assumption that Mr. Richards was rude. Perhaps he was warning her?

  Jeb Hackett wasn’t the only reason. His father, Eli, had grown in power and wealth over the years. Were the townsfolk frightened of him, as well? The cattle baron had hired a number of people to work his ranch—including gunfighters.

  She managed a tight smile. “Thank you for your information, Mr. Richards.”

  “Anything else I can get you?”

  “Perhaps. Give me another moment to look.” She scanned all the delectable items she did without. Like the rose-scented toilet water in the slim, beautifully shaped vial. The delicate ivory lace on a spool. The hair pomade that boasted of thick, luxurious tresses after one use.

  “Oh, how lovely.” She caressed some delicate kid gloves.

  “I recently acquired them.” Mr. Richards laid them out so she could examine the stitching and fine grain. “Reasonably priced.”

  “They wouldn’t be practical. Thanks all the same.” Sighing, she stroked the soft leather. Some days the coarse gloves she used hurt almost as much as the rough items she handled. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Taking into consideration the items you brought...” The man bent over his numbers. His pencil scratched across a scrap of paper.

  After he added the amounts and gave her the total, Lenora pulled out her coin purse and counted out the bills and coins. She hadn’t enough? Again, she added up her money but was shy two dollars and seventy-five cents.

  “I apparently didn’t bring enough with me.” She cleared her throat. “Could you put the remainder on my tab?”

  Mr. Richard’s expression grew stony. “I’m sorry. We had to close Amos’s account.”

  Lenora’s face flamed. “Well, then...can you put it on mine? You know I’m good for it, of course. This fall, when I sell—”

  “I’m more’n sorry, Mrs. Lenora. That isn’t possible. We no longer extend credit.” He stared over her head, as though unable to look her in the eye.

  “But Mr. Richards, I...” She pressed her lips together, aware of other customers in the store. Their whispers only kindled the fire that scorched her face.

  In the time she’d been choosing supplies, three other customers had come and gone. Two of them had put items on their account. In all the time she’d lived in Wyoming Territory, he’d always extended the Pritchard family credit. What had changed?

  Though she felt like abandoning the items she wanted to purchase, she had no doubt the other mercantile in town would refuse her credit, as well. Because the Hacketts controlled them?

  Her mind raced to the items she needed. What could they do without?

  “’Scuse me, Mrs. Pritchard.” Cole’s voice sounded beside her. “I was loading the items in the wagon and found this.” He held out a five-dollar bill. “I’m sure it’s yours.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” Her hands shook as she took the money, then passed it to Mr. Richards. Was it hers? When Cole had joined her on the buckboard seat, she recalled dropping a couple coins when she had scooted over. Had a bill escaped at the same time?

  Later, she would be sure to thank him for his honesty in returning the money. It couldn’t have come at a better time.

  The proprietor took the bill and gave her change.

  “Did you get all the items you needed, Mr. Cole?” Anxiety pressed on Lenora. She wanted to get away from town as soon as possible.

  “Yes.”

  “Then shall we go?”

  “In a moment.”

  As she put away her coin purse, he grabbed some licorice from a bin and set five pieces on the counter.

  Mr. Richards crossed his arms. “Sorry. They’re not for sale.”

  What? Lenora turned back to the two men.

  His jaw stuck out as he briefly met her gaze, then flicked to Cole. In fear or defiance?

  “You saying they’re free today?” Cole spoke in a pleasant tone.

  The big man swallowed. “I’m saying I’m not selling.”

  To you. No need to finish the sentence.

  Mouth agape, Lenora stared. A glance at the other patrons told her they should leave. Now.

  But what could she say to Cole? Since he volunteered his help on the ranch, she couldn’t order him around.

  Her mouth worked, but no words came out. Besides, she got the distinct impression she should not interfere.

  Mr. Richards had treated her with unfairness and now refused to serve a patron. Because he had
chosen to kowtow to the Hacketts? Her earlier compassion melted into indignation.

  Cole casually rested one hand on the counter. “You don’t want to disappoint a boy by refusing to sell me licorice, do you?”

  The proprietor’s face colored a deep red. He began to sputter, then fell silent. Though Lenora couldn’t see Cole’s face, his body remained in a relaxed, friendly stance. No one could accuse him of threatening Mr. Richards.

  The minutes dragged. A couple flies buzzed against the window while a clock on the wall clacked with growing intensity. One patron shifted her package, the brown paper crackling as loudly as Fourth of July fireworks. Lenora’s heart pounded in her ears.

  Who would back down first?

  Mr. Richards grabbed the licorice and shoved them into a small paper bag. “On the house today.”

  “Much obliged.” Cole touched his hat brim before grabbing the bag and sauntering toward her. “I’m ready now, ma’am.”

  She hurried from the store.

  After they were outside, Cole’s piercing whistle made her jump. It took her a moment before she realized he was getting Toby’s attention.

  Her son looked up, said something to his friends, then sprinted down the street. “Time to go?”

  “Yup. Your ma’s ready to get outta Dodge.”

  Toby made a face. “What?”

  Cole grinned. “Just a phrase I picked up back home in Dodge City. Let’s go.” He helped Lenora up into the seat, got everyone settled and they were on their way.

  Never was she more mindful of the ogling townsfolk they passed, the hands that hid mouths and the outright pointing.

  Cole appeared oblivious, whistling some aimless tune under his breath as he kept his pinto to a steady, unhurried walk. Taking her cue from him, she adjusted her bonnet and pretended the stares didn’t bother her. Toby waved to the group of boys he’d spent over an hour with, unaware of the subtle attitude changes in town. Which was just as well.

  As before, they stopped in a wide spot in the road to give Nips a rest while they ate the simple lunch Lenora had packed.

  “By the way, I got you something.” Cole tossed the bag of licorice to Toby. “To thank you for all your help.”