by Clari Dees
“Marshal?” Mrs. Van Deusen turned to reenter the house and nearly ran him over. “Oh, there you are. You aren’t going to let her traipse all the way back to Doc’s by herself, are you?”
“No, ma’am. Thanks for the meal.” He sidestepped her and hurried down the steps to follow the other fleeing victim of the matchmaker’s ambush.
He tried to keep his retreat dignified but quickly realized he would have to hustle to catch Miss McIsaac. She might be shorter by almost half a foot, but she could sure cover some distance when she wanted. She had passed the mercantile, the newspaper office and the hotel, and was nearing the barbershop when Jonah exited it and called out to her.
She stopped, giving Jonah and Wyatt a chance to catch her. “What are you doing in town?” Wyatt noticed she wasn’t even breathing hard.
“I rode in yesterday evening with the captain. Barnaby sent me in to check on you and Boss man and be available when you needed me. I caught Doc this morning as he headed out to check on patients. He said Boss man was doing better, and you were finally getting some sleep. I was just headin’ back there to check on you both.”
Several townsfolk had wandered over while Jonah was speaking and now voiced their desire to hear how Mr. McIsaac was faring. When Miss McIsaac repeated Doc’s assessment from this morning, there were replies of surprise and amazement peppered with an occasional Praise the Lord here and there. The gathering crowd then turned its focus on Wyatt.
He willingly answered the pointed, sometimes accusing questions concerning the still-at-large thief and their missing savings. However, after a few minutes he subtly turned the inquisition into an opportunity to interrogate the crowd about what they had seen that day or whether they had noticed anyone matching the description of the holdup man since. The crowd began volunteering to contact friends or family in neighboring towns as to whether or not they knew anything that might lead to the discovery of the bank robber’s identity.
As the impromptu meeting began to discuss the ramifications of the theft, Wyatt noticed Miss McIsaac surreptitiously edging to the side of the crowd and slipping down a side street. Catching Jonah’s attention, he motioned with his head to indicate he was following her and made his own way through the dispersing crowd.
She had her head down when his longer strides overtook her and didn’t notice him at first. Remembering the spark that had shocked his hand when he’d touched her arm earlier, Wyatt kept his hands firmly at his sides, denying the itch to find out whether it had just been a chance occurrence. He cleared his throat to get her attention.
She visibly flinched as her head flew up and swiveled toward him. “I do wish you’d quit sneaking up on me, Marshal!”
“I wouldn’t have to sneak up on you if you stayed still once in a while.” He lengthened his stride to keep up with her quickening pace. “Speaking of which, I seem to recall telling a certain young lady to stay put yesterday, but she flagrantly disobeyed that order. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
She avoided his eyes. “I seem to recall a slightly out-of-his-jurisdiction marshal hollering something over his shoulder as he rode away from the ranch yesterday, but as he couldn’t be bothered to wait for me, I came back.”
“I can see how a would-be horse thief might have trouble following orders from a marshal and worrying about where his ‘jurisdiction’ is or isn’t.”
They reached the doctor’s house, and she paused, turning to face him. She tilted her head slightly. “Now that’s just a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think, Marshal?”
The innocent confusion on her face tempted Wyatt like a mouse to cheese, but her sugary-sweet tone warned him of the trap. “How so?”
Opening the front door, she stepped across the threshold and turned to face him, saying quietly, “I seem to recall you riding out of my ranch yard yesterday…on a horse that did not belong to you!” She firmly shut the door in his face.
Wyatt grinned in spite of himself at Miss McIsaac’s verbal riposte.
“I’m beginning to think you provoke that woman on purpose just to watch her reaction.” Jonah had caught up with them and now made his presence known.
Wyatt shot a grin at him, but didn’t reply as he reached for the door that had so recently been shut in his face. He did enjoy getting a reaction out of her and liked the fact she didn’t back down from him even when rattled or frustrated. If he were in a safer occupation, had a place of his own… Wyatt broke off the thought. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. He might enjoy sparring with the pretty female, but that’s all there was to it.
He ignored the little voice that whispered, for now.
There was no one in the front office when they walked in, but the far door stood ajar, and Wyatt heard Miss McIsaac speaking. She sounded pleased, but he couldn’t make out what she said before a second unknown voice responded.
“That’s Boss man. He’s awake!” Jonah exclaimed.
Chapter Seven
They hurried to Mr. McIsaac’s room, and coming to a standstill in the doorway, watched as Miss McIsaac gingerly hugged the man sitting propped up in the bed. Dr. Kilburn leaned against the opposite wall, hands tucked into his vest pockets, a beaming smile lighting his usually earnest expression.
The little tableau brought a sting of moisture to Wyatt’s eyes, and he quietly thanked God for sparing this woman more grief by restoring her father to her. Only the soft crooning of Mr. McIsaac broke the silence, and Wyatt recognized the quiet words as Gaelic. As a child he’d heard his grandfather use the language of the Old Country when his emotions got the better of him. Jonah’s noisy sniff brought Mr. McIsaac’s attention to them, and Meri quickly pulled away, busily straightening the coverlet.
Mr. McIsaac batted away her hands. “Quit fussin’, darlin’ girl. Ye’ll make these gentlemen think yer faither’s a feeble auld man.”
Miss McIsaac gave a very unladylike snort. “You are feeble, and while you may not be old, you’ve definitely aged me the past several days, so I can fuss if I feel like it.”
Mr. McIsaac gave her a glare that Wyatt recognized. He’d earned that same look from the man’s daughter. He grinned. It was rather fun to see her on the receiving end of it for a change.
“Watch your sass, lassie! Ye’re not too big to turn over me knee.” Laugh lines radiated away from dark eyes twinkling in response to Miss McIsaac’s growl.
“Faither…”
“Excuse me, darlin’,” he interrupted her, “Jonah, don’t just stand there. Come in and introduce the fellow with ye.”
As the two men moved farther into the room, Dr. Kilburn left with the admonishment that he’d let them talk for a few minutes, but when he returned, they’d need to leave and allow Mr. McIsaac to rest.
Jonah introduced Wyatt and was summarily ordered by Mr. McIsaac to bring a couple more chairs so he wouldn’t have to break his neck looking up at them.
“It’s nice to finally talk with you, Mr. McIsaac. It’s a privilege to meet the answer to so many prayers.” Wyatt shook hands with the man as Jonah left the room in search of chairs.
“I’m pleased to meet ye, Marshal Cameron, but call me Ian. Now, I want to know what happened after I was shot. Did ye get the man?”
“No, sir, and call me Wyatt. We were unable to catch him that day, and I haven’t tracked him down yet. I’ve got a few questions I’d like to ask you if you feel up to it.”
“I think you should wait, Marshal, ‘til Faither’s a little stronger before you bother him with your questions,” Miss McIsaac interjected.
“America Catriona McIsaac! A measly scratch does not make me senile. I can certainly handle a few questions. Now stop interrupting, and let’s hear what the man has to ask.”
Mr. McIsaac gave a stern glance at his daughter, and Wyatt cleared his throat to hide his chuckle at her look of chagrin. He’d certainly learned the source of her fiery spirit. From his vantage point it looked like she’d inherited her mother’s features and her father’s te
mperament.
Ian McIsaac had an unruly thatch of white hair above snapping dark eyes and thick, white brows. Meri’s eyes held the same snap but were a light brown with delicately arched brows, and her head was crowned with thick wavy light brown hair that reminded Wyatt of honey when it was held up to the sun. McIsaac had broad, weathered features that were in contrast to Meri’s refined features of high cheekbones and straight delicate nose, full,
rosy lips and a neatly rounded, but decidedly determined chin.
The pale yellow shirtwaist she was wearing made her lightly bronzed skin glow, and the way it skimmed her figure down to the waist of her full blue skirt highlighted the curves of her slender frame. She was beautiful. And her name was America, Meri for short. The two words sounded alike, but he’d assumed Franks was saying “Miss Mary” when he addressed her.
“Marshal?”
His thoughts snapped back to attention. “Yes?”
“Ye had some questions for me?” Mr. McIsaac’s eyes bounced between his daughter and Wyatt with a speculating gleam that disappeared so quickly Wyatt almost missed it.
Wyatt sat in the chair Jonah shoved toward him and cleared his throat. Pulling the little notebook from his pocket, he prepared to take notes and asked Mr. McIsaac to recount the events on the day of the robbery.
“I left Meri at the mercantile and stopped in to the bank to discuss some business with Mr. Samuels. I was just finishing up with him when someone entered the bank. Mr. Samuels left me in the office to see who it was. After a minute or two he walked back in at the point of a gun.”
“Do you remember what the man was wearing?” Wyatt asked.
“I do. He’d changed clothes since he’d drifted through the ranch a week or so before, but I remember what he was wearing both times.”
“What?” Wyatt voiced the startled question in chorus with Miss McIsaac.
“He came through our ranch?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes. Ye were out riding at the time. He drifted in about lunchtime. I didn’t like his looks or his attitude. He seemed to be up to no good. I caught him prowling about the barn. When I confronted him, he gave me a hard-up story. Our policy is to feed strangers, so I had Cookie, our bunkhouse cook, fix him a plate, but the man kept trying to get information about the ranch, the surrounding neighbors and the town. Most drifters are more interested in who might be hiring, not how many head I run, how big the spread is or how big me neighbors’ spreads are. When he’d finished his meal, I suggested he keep riding.”
“How long ago was this?” Wyatt questioned.
“What day is it?”
“It’s Saturday. The holdup happened on Tuesday, and you’ve been unconscious ever since.” Miss McIsaac reached to touch her father’s hand from her place on the other side of his bed as if to reassure herself he was truly awake.
“Then it was two weeks last Wednesday that he rode through the ranch,” McIsaac said after a quick calculation.
Wyatt made a note of that. “You said he was wearing something different at the bank. Are you sure it was the same man?”
“Aye. He was wearing a black hat, a blue shirt, brown pants and a yellow bandanna when I first met him. He was still wearing the black hat when he robbed the bank, but this time he had a leather coat covering a brown shirt and pants and had a blue bandanna pulled up over his face. Most of his face was covered by the hat and cloth, but I recognized his voice and the way he carried himself.”
“Did you learn his name when he was at your ranch?”
“No. That was another thing that made me suspicious of him at the time. Every time I asked his name, he’d pretend not to hear me and ask another question or change the subject.”
“What happened after he came into the office with Mr. Samuels?”
“He waved the gun at Mr. Samuels and ordered him to open the safe there. Mr. Samuels refused, but the man grabbed him and shoved him toward it, put the gun to Mr. Samuels head and again ordered him to open it or he’d shoot him. Mr. Samuels obeyed him, and then the scoundrel shoved him out of the way, pulled a cloth bag out of his pocket and started filling it. I had been sitting by the desk, but when they came in, I stood up. He ordered me not to move, but didn’t search me and didn’t realize I was carrying a gun under me coat. I was slipping it out when Mr. Samuels looked me way and shouted…something. I can’t remember exactly what. At his shout the man turned and fired. I remember falling, and I think I heard both men yell something again before I passed out.”
Wyatt finished writing and flipped back a couple of pages to read some earlier notes. “Samuels said you tried to stop it by pulling your gun, but he didn’t mention shouting. He said the man turned, saw you pulling your gun and fired.”
McIsaac thought for a moment. “No. I definitely remember he didn’t turn until Samuels shouted.”
Wyatt scratched a few more words in his notebook.
“What did Samuels say happened after I was shot?” Ian McIsaac leaned forward intently, winced a little and sank back against his pillows.
“Mr. Samuels said the bandit hit him over the head after shooting you and left after grabbing the rest of the money out of the safe. He doesn’t remember much after that because of the blow to his head.”
“I definitely remember voices right after I fell.” McIsaac muttered. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “By the way, what happened to me gun?”
“I didn’t see it when we got there. Do you have it, Miss McIsaac?”
“No. I didn’t even think to look for it although I know he usually carries one. I haven’t even thought about it since.”
“That was me favorite pistol,” McIsaac grumbled. “I sure would like it back.”
“I’ll ask around,” Wyatt said. “Maybe someone else picked it up that day and forgot to mention it.”
“You said the thief cleaned out the safe?” McIsaac asked.
“Yes. Mr. Samuels said he got everything.”
“That must have been a lot of money to carry if he took everything.”
“How much do you think he got away with?” Wyatt looked from his notes.
“I have no idea, but Samuels had just been bragging how well the bank was doing. I assumed there was quite a bit of money in that safe.”
Dr. Kilburn walked in and cleared his throat. “It’s time to let Mr. McIsaac get some rest. I don’t want him to overdo things on his first day awake, even if he has made a remarkable recovery from yesterday.”
“Now, Doc, I haven’t had a chance to speak to Jonah about the ranch,” McIsaac protested.
“Jonah can drop back by after you’ve had some rest. Your ranch will still be there.” Doc’s stern tone brooked no argument.
Getting up from his chair where he’d been quietly listening, Jonah hastily assured McIsaac that the ranch was fine and not to worry his head about it as Barnaby had things well in hand.
Wyatt asked Mr. McIsaac to describe the physical characteristics of the man who’d visited his ranch, and after writing down the information, he closed his little book and slipped it and the pencil back into his pocket. “If you think of anything else, let me know. Until then you have my word that I’ll do whatever it takes to track down the culprit.”
Doc shooed them out, ordering Miss McIsaac along with them. “I want to examine your father, and then he needs to rest. You go get some fresh air or take a nap, but run along.”
Wyatt was mulling over what he’d learned from Meri’s father as he and Jonah walked to the front door, aware that Miss McIsaac had followed them. Stepping aside to allow her to precede him, he watched her blindly walk through the door Jonah held open. She looked a little lost and unsure what to do with herself. He followed her into the brightly lit outdoors, admiring the glints of gold that danced to life in the honey-colored thick braid as sunlight touched her uncovered head.
“What are you going to do, Miss Meri?” Jonah asked.
Meri glanced around, seeming to search for an answer before replying with forced chee
rfulness, “I think I’ll enjoy Mrs. Kilburn’s garden for a bit, and then I might take that nap Doc suggested.”
Jonah patted her on the shoulder. “You do that, miss. I’ll come back by later this afternoon, and if your pa’s feeling up to it, I’ll give him the details he wants about the ranch.” Turning, he walked down the street.
Her gaze followed him for a moment before she looked at Wyatt. “Good day, Marshal.” She walked toward the corner of the house where Mrs. Kilburn’s well-nurtured flower garden began.
“My name is Wyatt. Do you think you could use it instead of Marshal?”
As soon as he uttered the words, he wondered why it even mattered and half wished he’d left well enough alone. When she continued to walk away without responding, though, the silent challenge was too strong to ignore. “I could order you to use my name.”
She paused and glanced over her shoulder at him. Was she trying not to smile?
“You could try—” she started walking away again “—but it wouldn’t work.”
“Hmm… Then I’ll have to come up with something else. But…Miss McIsaac?”
This time when she stopped, she turned to face him squarely. “Yes, Marshal?” She threw the gauntlet with a bland inquisitiveness that failed to mask completely the glint in her darkened eyes.
Wyatt accepted the challenge, throwing down his own gauntlet. “I won’t order you to use my name, but make no doubt about it…you will use my name!”
* * *
Meri never made it back to her room for a nap after Jonah and the marshal departed. All vestiges of weariness had vanished as swiftly as the lawman after his self-confident pronouncement. She prowled the garden oblivious to the beauty of new green leaves and tender buds, arguing with the man in her thoughts.
Of all the egotistical… If he thinks he can make me call him by his first name, he’s got a disappointment coming. I refuse to give the gossips of this town one more reason to discuss me. I will not give them the satisfaction!
