The Marshal Meets His Match

by Clari Dees

  “Oh.” She really did need to pay more attention to this conversation, but she was a little busy avoiding those all-seeing eyes. She focused on the rag in her hands.

  “Then again, maybe you ran into me intentionally.”

  “What!” Meri’s eyes widened; her gaze slammed into his.

  “I thought that’d get your attention.” The satisfied smirk was back. “Now, the reason I came in was to see if you wanted to walk with me. I’m headed to see your father.”

  “No! I mean…” She glanced around hastily before remembering the dust cloth in her clenched fists. She lifted it triumphantly. “I’m not finished here. You go on.” Meri stepped around the well-built form blocking her path and industriously attacked a shelf she’d dusted earlier.

  “I’m in no rush. Take your time. I’ll be outside taking advantage of that new bench.”

  Meri watched him walk away out of the corner of her eye and heard the bell chime over the door as he exited. How had she missed that when he’d entered? Peering over her shoulder, she was in time to see him glance at her on his way to the bench located just past the big window. He smiled again, and she whipped back around to scrub at an invisible spot. She was not walking back to Doc’s with that man. She’d lose what little sense she still possessed at this rate. She’d already proved she had the conversational ability of a goose today. She needed some space to get her head, and her heart, working intelligently and normal again.

  Mr. Van Deusen came out of the storeroom from straightening stock. “You’ve got things looking spick-and-span. Run along and enjoy the rest of the morning.”

  “I think I will. I’ll wash up before I head out.”

  Meri tossed a quick glance toward the window. No one was visible. Heading into the storeroom, she rinsed out the dust rag, washed her hands, hung up her apron and slipped out the back door.

  * * *

  Wyatt chuckled under his breath, stretching out his long legs and leaning back against the bench. He had smiled and laughed more since meeting Miss America McIsaac than he had since his parents had died and maybe even longer.

  He had excelled in army life, but losing friends in battle and taking the life of another human being tended to sober a man very quickly. Killing was occasionally a necessary part of protecting people’s lives and property, but

  only a callous, heartless individual was unaffected by it. Wyatt was neither callous nor heartless, but his naturally sunny, cheerful disposition had grown graver, and he laughed much less easily. The deaths of his parents had further dampened his ability to smile or laugh easily.

  Until a shapely spitfire of a lass had landed at his feet.

  Wyatt didn’t try to contain a grin. Had she been just a tad reluctant to pull away after she’d run into him? And that poor dust cloth. It had been wrung within an inch of its life before she’d remembered its presence. Her spitfire attitude reminded him of a scared, hissing kitten, yet the confused shyness blanketing her brown eyes had belied the indignant tone.

  Winning her trust and…friendship would outweigh the risk of a few scratches along the way. Her relationship with her father and Franks showed a character that was deeply loyal and loving. Her spunky independence might clash with Wyatt’s desire to protect her, but beneath the pretty exterior and prickly attitude, there was a heart worth winning.

  Wyatt snapped his reckless thoughts back to attention. He should have continued on his way after catching a glimpse of Meri fetchingly framed in the mercantile window instead of stopping to see if she wanted to accompany him back to Doc’s. He wasn’t in a position to win anyone’s heart. Asking someone else to bear the burden and hardship of his job wasn’t fair. He couldn’t even come close to providing the kind of place and life Miss McIsaac was used to, so it was no use daydreaming about it. She deserved someone who could give her a safe, comfortable life.

  Wyatt surged to his feet. The thought of another man winning her heart was as abhorrent as facing an angry skunk.

  “Somethin’ I can help you with, Marshal?” Thomas Van Deusen interrupted Wyatt’s thoughts.

  “No, just stopped to see if Miss McIsaac was ready to head back to Doc’s.”

  The storekeeper leaned against the door frame. Sly amusement on his face. “Might be a while.”

  Wyatt’s brow furrowed. “Oh? I thought she was close to finishing. Hasn’t she been here awhile?”

  “Yep.”

  The man certainly was the opposite of his voluble wife. If two words were needed, Thomas made do with one. Suspicion bloomed in Wyatt’s mind. “She went out the back door, didn’t she?”

  “Yep.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Couple minutes, maybe.”

  A little more information would have been helpful, Wyatt thought ruefully. “Did you happen to see which way she went?”

  “Nope.”

  The man’s eyes twinkled in a bland face, and he slowly, deliberately looked up the street. Wyatt followed his gaze in time to see a familiar yellow blouse and tan skirt step nimbly around a passing wagon and disappear between the buildings on the other side of the street a couple of blocks away.

  “Thanks!” Wyatt tossed the word over his shoulder, his feet already moving in her direction.

  “If you ever catch that girl, you’ll have your hands full.” A chortle punctuated the storekeeper’s words.

  Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. Oh, he fully intended to catch this particular handful! She’d find it wasn’t so easy to escape from a soldier-turned-marshal.

  Concerned citizens stopping to inquire about his progress in catching the thief impeded his chase, however. Swallowing his frustration, Wyatt kindly put them off, saying he was waiting for reports to come back from area towns, which he was. He didn’t tell them that at the moment he was on the trail of more important quarry!

  He was passing the small community park, thinking she might have succeeded in eluding him after all, when he heard a shout that sounded like the woman he was pursuing. Taking off at a run, he raced toward the sounds of a fight issuing from behind a house at the edge of the park.

  Rounding the corner, he skidded to a halt. A relieved puff of air left his lips. Meri was unhurt.

  Two half-grown boys rolled around the ground, throwing punches and kicks that were mostly ineffectual. Meri was unsuccessfully trying to grab the closest combatant, and Wyatt threw up a prayer thanking the Lord she wasn’t injured.

  As the prayer crossed his heart, a booted foot found a target in the shape of Meri’s shin, and she stumbled. Her gasp moved Wyatt forward to put a stop to the fight, but the sound of a fierce growl brought him to standstill after only two steps.

  “That’s it!” Meri grumbled as she limped toward the well and hauled up a dripping bucket. “If you want to play dirty, then you’re going to get a bath!”

  Wyatt leaned against the side of the house curious to see what would happen. Neither Meri nor the continuing-to-tussle boys had caught sight of him, as yet.

  Meri emptied the bucket of water into a washtub that had been propped up against the well. Dropping the bucket back down to the water with a splash, she refilled it and poured a second bucketful of water into the tub. She repeated the procedure a third time then leaned down, hefted the full washtub to her hip and limped slowly toward the boys who were still rolling around the ground. Wyatt was impressed. That tub of water had to be as heavy as it was bulky, but she toted it with seeming ease. She neared the boys and paused, waiting.

  A grin cocked the corner of his mouth; this was going to be downright entertaining.

  The boys rolled toward Meri, fists and feet still flying. Calmly upending the tub of water on the unsuspecting victims when they came within range, Meri drowned the boys in the resulting waterfall.

  The fight came to an abrupt end when the boys found they were unable to fight or breathe underwater. Gasping coughs replaced furious grunts, and they struggled to untangle themselves. Wyatt smothered a groaning laugh at the boys’ howls when Meri reached dow
n, grabbed each waterlogged boy by an ear and dragged them over to a low woodpile.

  “Sit!”

  They wilted onto the stacked wood, staring wide-eyed at the woman towering over them, muddy rivulets running down their faces.

  “I would like to know why two boys, who claim to be best friends, are suddenly trying to kill each other?” The disarmingly quiet question was met with silence as the two boys glanced nervously toward one another before dropping their gazes to the ground. The silence stretched thin as Meri waited, arms crossed.

  Wyatt wondered who would break first and saw the toe of Meri’s shoe begin to tap the ground. Both boys glanced nervously at it. Wyatt almost felt sorry for them.

  The shorter of the two boys broke the silence with a rush. “Sue Ann said Danny told her he was taking her to the picnic Saturday, and that I couldn’t go with them!”

  The second boy shot to his feet. “That’s a lie! I never did no such thing!”

  The first boy shot up, too, and faced him. “Quit calling me a liar!”

  “Danny! Billy! Sit down!” The snapped order cowed the boys back to sitting positions.

  “Danny, did you ask Sue Ann to the picnic?”

  Danny’s “No!” was vehement.

  Billy scowled at his friend. “Then why would Sue Ann say you did?”

  Meri interrupted before Danny could reply. “Hmm…sounds like a Proverbs problem.”

  “Huh?” Both boys glanced at her curiously. Wyatt was just as curious to hear her explanation.

  “Proverbs says, ‘A forward man,’ or in this case girl, ‘soweth strife: and a whisperer separateth chief friends.’”

  “What do you mean?” Billy frowned.

  “It sounds like someone is trying to break up your friendship by ‘whispering’ things that aren’t quite true, and you fell into the trap of suspecting your best friend instead of her.”

  “Why would she do that?” asked Danny.

  “Proverbs says, ‘a lying tongue hateth those that are afflicted by it…’”

  “Sue Ann hates us?” Billy asked.

  “Well, I think she might be jealous of your friendship and saw this as a way to break it up.”

  “Why?” This came from Danny.

  “Maybe because she likes you and wanted to get your attention.”

  “But lying is wrong!”

  “Yes, and you should pray for her, but I’m more concerned with your friendship at the moment. Proverbs also says, ‘Thine own friend…forsake not…’ and ‘It is an honor…to cease from strife.’ Do you want to be honorable friends?”

  Both boys nodded, squaring their shoulders.

  “Then there’s one more piece of advice from Proverbs. Shake hands and apologize.”

  “Where does it say that in Proverbs?” Danny’s brow furrowed skeptically.

  “Proverbs 6:3. ‘Make sure thy friend.’ I want to make sure you’re friends again, so shake hands.”

  A bubble of laughter swelled Wyatt’s throat at the sight of the bedraggled, dripping boys solemnly shaking hands and giving shamefaced apologies. Both were developing shiners, but their sheepish grins showed the incident was well on its way to being forgiven and forgotten.

  “I know another way to make sure you’re friends,” Meri added.

  “What?”

  “I hear there’s a three-legged race at the church picnic. Since you’re both already dirty, this would be a good time to find a piece of rope and practice working with each other. By the end of the week, you should be able to beat all the competition.” Wyatt could hear the grin in Meri’s voice and wished he could see her face.

  Excitedly discussing where a suitable length of rope could be found, the boys wrapped their arms around each other’s shoulders and began to practice, hopping away from Meri.

  When they disappeared from view, Meri turned and caught sight of Wyatt, a grin lingering on her face.

  Wyatt shook his head and shivered theatrically. “I’m glad you’re not my mother.”

  Her grin faded. “Why?”

  “I’ve never heard so many Proverbs thrown into a tongue-lashing in all my life!”

  Reluctant amusement crept back over her face. “My mother used Proverbs on me all the time. She said they were more effective than anything she could come up with since God promised His word wouldn’t return void, but He never promised the same thing about her words!” A short laugh punctuated her statement.

  “You were pretty thorough, but I think you missed a couple that apply.”

  “Oh?” It was amazing how quickly her suspicion returned.

  “Proverbs 27:6 and 17.” He waited.

  Her eyes narrowed as she sifted through her memory. Shaking her head, she said ruefully, “I don’t recall what those verses say.”

  “‘Faithful are the wounds of a friend…’ and ‘Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend.’ Danny and Billy certainly had the wounds to show for their sharpening session today!”

  Meri snickered, and Wyatt grinned, pleased with himself.

  “You are terrible, Marshal!” Laughter wove itself through her voice.

  He grinned, pleased with the sound. “Just following your example, Mac.”

  Lingering humor ruined the effect of her scowl. “My name is not Mac.”

  “And mine’s not Marshal. It’s Wyatt, or Cameron, if you prefer.”

  Meri edged around him. “On that note, I think I’ll say good day.”

  “Not so fast.” Wyatt touched her arm to stop her, unsuccessfully ignoring the spark that jumped between them. “I’ve not forgotten that you snuck out on me.”

  The way she looked at her arm made him wonder if she had felt that spark, too. “I never said I was going with you.”

  Was there a hint, just a hint, of coyness in her reply?

  He assumed a serious expression. “I’ve always tried to be an ‘honorable’ man, so I’m going to ‘cease from strife’ and not argue the point—”

  Meri rolled her eyes.

  “—but since my job is protecting the citizens of Little Creek and danger seems to be just around the corner lately, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I allowed you to walk the streets alone and unarmed.” Reaching for her hand, he tucked it around his arm and guided her steps toward Dr. Kilburn’s house.

  Meri was remarkably quiet, and surprisingly, she left her hand on his arm. After several moments she spoke. “I’m not exactly unarmed, you know.”

  Wyatt heard a trace of amusement. “Are you carrying a hideout gun?”

  “I’m talking about a different kind of weapon,” she hedged. He noticed she didn’t say no. “It’s called the ‘…sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God…’”

  “Ah. In that case, I’ll escort you to protect the town from you!”

  A snicker escaped her, and Wyatt laughed. She cast furtive glances in his direction as they continued to walk along in silence until they reached the doctor’s house. Stopping, he nudged her around until she was facing him. “If the town council hears about this, I may lose my job.”

  There was a slightly dazed look in Meri’s eyes as she wrinkled her brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “If they hear how you keep charging in and facing down danger on your own, they’ll decide they don’t need me and hire you because you’re cheaper.”

  She waited, eyes narrowed expectantly.

  “The town has to buy the ammunition for my gun, but the last time I checked, swords don’t need bullets!”

  Warm brown eyes rolled again, and he saw her bite the inside of her lip to hide a smile. “Don’t worry, Marshal. Your job is safe from me. I do not want to deal with the nuisances of town life.”

  Wyatt nodded sadly in agreement. “There are some nuisances, like people who don’t listen to the marshal—” he looked pointedly at her before continuing “—but I must admit that there is some compensation.”

  “Like what?”

  “Some nuisances are prettier than others…Ma
c.”

  Her eyes sparked, and he removed his hat with a flourish, sweeping her a low, courtly bow. Then he turned and walked swiftly back toward his office, whistling retreat as he went.

  Chapter Eleven

  The initial replies to the telegrams Wyatt sent out had been disappointing; there were no reports of anyone matching the description of the suspect. Tuesday morning, however, Wyatt received some much-needed information. A marshal in an adjoining county wired that the bank teller was living and working there, and a man matching the thief’s description had been seen.

  Leaving his new deputy in charge, Wyatt saddled his stallion, Charger, and rode out to gather further information on the identity or whereabouts of the bank bandit. He spent part of the long ride in prayer over the case, asking the Lord to guide his steps and open his eyes to the truth about the theft. When he wasn’t praying, his thoughts ranged between mulling over the case and picturing Meri’s smile the previous day.

  It felt good to be astride his own horse again. Charger had developed a troublesome limp on the last of their journey from Texas to Little Creek, and Wyatt had given him ample time to recover. Now fresh and raring to go, Charger eagerly covered the long distance as fast as Wyatt would allow him and listened willingly whenever Wyatt shared his thoughts aloud.

  Midafternoon, they arrived at the office of the marshal who’d sent him the telegram. After a discussion of all the particulars of the bank robbery, the two men walked over to the saloon. However, upon talking with the bartender and several of the regulars, Wyatt learned little he didn’t already know.

  The man in question had come in for a meal and a drink, but hadn’t spoken beyond giving his order. His clothing matched what the thief had worn, but the description of his physical appearance was vague enough to have been anybody. And the horse he’d ridden was sorrel, not gray. A quick stop at the livery stable confirmed there was a gray horse in town, but as she had just presented her proud owner with a lovely filly a couple of days previous, she couldn’t have been the horse Meri had seen Saturday. The livery stable owner didn’t know of any other gray horses in the area.