Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) Read online

  MUCH ADO ABOUT MARSHALS

  By Jacquie Rogers

  Copyright 2011 Jacquie Rogers

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Mélange Publishing

  Praise for Jacquie Rogers

  Much Ado About Marshals

  “Unforgettable! I cannot recommend this title highly enough.”

  ~Detra Fitch, Huntress Reviews

  “Full of belly laughs, sexy scenes, and rollicking adventures, this book is a lively romp through the Old West. You’re in for a treat. Hold on to your hat!”

  ~Ann Charles, national award-winning author of the Deadwood Mystery Series.

  “Western romance has never been funnier. Get your copy now!”

  ~ Meg Mims, award-winning author,

  DOUBLE CROSSING, Astraea Press, August 2011

  “A spunky would-be lady detective and an accidental bank robber keep the mayhem and the laughter coming in this sparkling Western romance.”

  ~ Judith Laik, author of THE LADY IS MINE, a Traditional Regency

  “Laugh out loud funny plus plotting so clever and seamless makes Much Ado About Marshals my favorite new recommended read.”

  ~Amber Scott, author of FIERCE DAWN

  “Award-winning novelist Jacquie Rogers brings her unique humor to create comedic relief in Much Ado About Marshals…”

  ~Norman W. Wilson, PhD, author of THE SHAMAN’S QUEST.

  “Turn off the iphone, kick off yer boots (or Jimmy Choos) and let Jacquie Rogers provide that mini-vacation you KNOW you need!”

  ~Laron Glover, owner of Ninth Moon

  http://www.ninthmoon.com

  “Nancy Drew meets William Shakespeare – A comedic romp through 1885 Western Idaho.”

  ~Taylor Lee, author of The Grandmasters Legacy series

  “Ms. Rogers is a gifted author. Her subplots are superb, and her cast of characters are spot on character studies. In fact, she creates characters so fully formed you believe they are real people…do yourself a favor and read this book!

  ~Caroline Clemmons

  author of THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND

  “Like romance? Love stories about the old west? Want a dreamy cowboy to cuddle up and read about? Then this is the book for you.”

  ~My Eclectic Bookshelf

  http://myeclecticbookshelf.blogspot.com

  Much Ado About Marshals

  By Jacquie Rogers

  To Idaho Readers

  You’d better read the Author’s Note in the back of the book before you read the story. I did move a few towns and creeks around. It’s the spirit that counts.

  Chapter 1

  1885, Southwest Idaho desert, Owyhee County

  “Sorry you got shot, Cole. Damn, this is gonna mess up all our plans.”

  Cole Richards grasped for consciousness as he pressed the dirty handkerchief to his inner thigh in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding. Bosco’s jabbering irritated the hell out of him, but at least it stirred his awareness enough to keep his seat on his horse.

  “How in the ever-lovin’ hell was I supposed to know that a sweet looking banker like her could shoot the inside eyelash off a grasshopper?” Bosco protested. “Whoo-wee! She batted them baby blues at me and I was a goner.”

  Bosco was sincere, but not the brightest lantern in the saloon. Cole figured his wound could very well be The Last Roundup, and he didn’t want to go to his Maker bearing hard feelings toward anyone.

  “Are you listening to me, Cole?” Bosco asked. “Hey, did you hear me? I’m sorry you got shot—really I am. But I just thought if I took the money, the bank couldn’t give any to the miners, and then they wouldn’t dig up Sinker Creek.”

  Cole blew out a deep breath. “That’s just it. You didn’t think.” And now they were wanted by the law. Rightfully so. Bosco had tried to rob the bank, and Cole had stumbled in. He’d put a halt to Bosco’s nonsense, but the lady banker was quick on the trigger. Now Cole had a hole in his thigh.

  He hooked his attention to his partner’s incessant chattering to keep from blacking out, but Bosco sounded like he was talking from the next valley. Cole could do without the repetitive apologies, too. The throbbing pain in his leg kept pace with every word out of Bosco’s mouth.

  “I think we’d better stop.” Bosco’s voice echoed faintly.

  Cole worked his jaw to answer. Instead, the reins slid out of his grip, the bright sun turned gray, and he slipped from the saddle.

  Oreana, Idaho Territory

  “Yes, he’s definitely the one.” Her sweet tone belied her accusation. Most robbery victims wouldn’t be so cheerful. Was he in jail? The aroma of sagebrush and alkali had been replaced by tincture of iodine, so he could be in the doctor’s office.

  “Fits the description exactly.”

  Cole’s hopes sank at the lady’s certainty. While he’d never had a doubt he and Bosco would be caught, he’d hoped to make it back to the ranch to set things right. And the lady didn’t have to sound so damned happy about it.

  “You’re sure about that?” a man’s voice asked.

  “Well, Doc, he’s tall, so he matches the six-foot-two height, he has dark brown hair, brown eyes, and he’s wounded on the right leg just like the wire said.”

  Cole hoped that at least Bosco had made it to the ranch. He was goodhearted, a loyal friend, but not all that quick on the draw.

  “Yes,” the lady continued. “Our new marshal’s finally here, all right.”

  New marshal? Hell, he was wanted for bank robbery! This didn’t seem exactly the right time to mention it, though.

  “Good,” the man named Doc responded, “then I’ll bill the city for his care. The wife will be happy to hear I finally have a cash customer.”

  “You don’t have a wife.”

  The doctor chuckled. “No, Miss Daisy, but I’d sure like you to change that.”

  “Not a chance,” she teased.

  They both laughed, but Cole knew how the doctor really felt. Some men were born to be alone.

  A cool cloth smelling of borax mopped his forehead. He forced his eyes to open. He blinked a couple of times and focused on a beautiful woman, her brow wrinkled with concern.

  “Come here, Doc,” she said with quiet enthusiasm. “He’s awake.”

  Cole heard water pouring as he stared at the lady who belonged to the sunny voice. Her green-eyed gaze bathed him with compassion and reminded him of sunset on Sinker Creek, where the rays glanced off the rapids, and the rippling of the water made a man’s heart feel pure.

  He wondered what she’d look like if he loosened her auburn hair that was pulled tightly into a bun. She was a beauty, all right.

  A slight man dressed appropriately for a doctor, or an undertaker, rubbed his brown handlebar mustache while he mulled over Cole’s condition. “His color’s much better, Daisy, don’t you think?”

  “I’ll go tell Dad that he won’t have to rush over here for the marshal’s last prayers.” She pulled on her gloves and tossed a cloak over her shoulders.

  Damn, a preacher’s daughter. What a waste of womanly flesh.

  “Look for him at your Aunt Grace’s house,” the doctor advised. “When I picked up the wire telling us the new marshal was riding in, Rayburn told me that your sister had just come home. Seems like some yahoos tried to hold up her bank—put quite a scare into her, too.”

  Daisy clapped her gloved hands to her cheeks. “Oh, no! Is Iris all right?”

  “She’s fine,” replied the doctor, “but I hear one of the would-be robbers is somewhat worse for the wear. She claims she shot one.”

  “Oh, my!” Daisy picked up her parasol and reticule. “I’ll get over there r
ight away. She may need me!”

  Cole’s throat tightened as Daisy hurried to the door. She’d put two and two together as soon as she talked to her sister.

  “God works in wonderful ways,” she exclaimed triumphantly as she unlatched the door. “It’s a miracle that our new marshal showed up when he did.” She swept out of the room like a queen.

  Stay calm and think. So Daisy’s sister was the woman who’d shot him. What lousy luck. He had to get the hell out of here.

  Especially since Miss Daisy thought he was the town’s new marshal.

  He didn’t even know what town.

  * * * * *

  “Oh, Iris, are you all right?” Daisy slid to a stop on the polished wood floor of her Aunt Grace’s living room. From the clatter of pans and the enticing aroma of roast beef, she knew she was too late to help and that meant her mother would not be in a good mood.

  On cue, her mother peeked out from the kitchen and cast a reproving frown. “Will you at least pretend you’re civilized?” She ducked back into the kitchen. “I don’t know if that girl will ever settle down.”

  Her aunt’s boisterous laughter at her mother’s frustration echoed off the kitchen walls—Aunt Grace had never been known for her subtlety.

  Iris hopped off the couch and grabbed Daisy in a hug as they danced in a little circle.

  “This is so exciting! Oh, Iris! Tell me everything.”

  Iris giggled. “I guess those robbers will think twice before messing with Herman and Company Banking again.” Iris took a coin from her pocket. “Look, I brought you a souvenir. The robber dropped this silver dollar when he escaped.”

  “Thanks!” She took the coin by the edges and studied at it. “Um, I wonder if I can get fingerprints from this…Honey Beaulieu would use it for something clever.”

  “Oh, you and your dime novel heroines.”

  Daisy ignored her sister’s jibe. “I bet you were scared out of your mind!” She smirked, irritated that exciting things like foiling robberies never happened to her. “What kind of guns did they have?”

  “Guns?”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “Yes. Gun. The thing you point that goes ‘bang’ and a bullet comes out the end?”

  Her sister raised an eyebrow, then studied the ceiling like she always did when she concentrated. She lowered her voice. “I, uh, can’t remember a gun…”

  “Oh, I’m sure you were simply too unnerved to notice.”

  “No,” Iris replied, dropping her gaze from the ceiling to peruse the floor, “I think—I’m positive neither one of them had a gun.” Her eyes widened and she caught her breath. “Oh, Daisy, I must have shot an unarmed bandit!”

  Daisy clasped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my stars!” she whispered. Their gazes met, confirming that the conversation would never venture out of that room. “The new marshal’s here—just in time, by the sound of it, what with bank robbers running loose.”

  “Thank heavens. Is he husband material?”

  “Oh, definitely.” His rich, brown eyes could tempt an angel. Luckily, she’d managed not to be enticed. All right, some, but not so much that she couldn’t keep her mind on her goal.

  “Now that you’ve seen him, are you still planning to marry him?”

  Daisy smiled. “He’ll do.”

  “Good. I was a bit worried about your harebrained plan. When are you swearing him in?”

  “This afternoon, if he’s able. He hasn’t spoken a word, yet. But as soon as he’s sworn in, he can appoint a deputy to take care of business until he’s healed.”

  Her mother stepped into the living room. She held a large bowl of batter in one hand and stirred up a storm with the other. “Noon’s only a half hour away, girls. I want you washed up and the table set for dinner.”

  Daisy inched toward the door. “Mama, I have to get back to Doc’s and see to the new marshal.”

  “Since when did you decide to become a nurse?”

  “But, Mama—”

  “Don’t ‘but, Mama’ me,” she chided without missing a single stir. “The new marshal needs food, so you can take him some dinner after we eat. Tell Doc I’ll fix supper for him and his patient around six or so.” She turned back toward the kitchen where her sister still worked. “Grace, do you have the cake pan greased?”

  Daisy tossed up her hands in defeat. “Come on, Iris, or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

  * * * * *

  An hour later, Daisy thought dinner would last all day. Her feet wanted to move and she tried her best not to fidget. She picked at her food.

  “…paid off, didn’t it?”

  She realized Aunt Grace had spoken to her. “Pardon?”

  “I said, all your hard work trying to get Oreana to hire a marshal paid off.”

  “It seemed ridiculous,” Daisy glanced at her sister, who smiled back. “I mean, to build a jailhouse and not hire a marshal. Besides, it’s too far from Silver City for the county sheriff to come for anything except major crimes, which I hope we never have.” Daisy knew she’d lapsed into her campaign talk, but her mind kept wandering to the man on Doc’s table.

  “Well, then,” her mother said, “you can get back to finding a husband. I heard the Stanton boys over in Henderson are looking for wives. Maybe you could snag one of them.”

  Daisy’s stomach roiled, but she stifled any outward reaction. Not only did the Stantons live thirty miles from civilization, they were both short. She wanted to be a detective and solve crimes and to do that, she had to live in town. So she needed to be married to the marshal. The tall marshal.

  “Now, Betsy.” Aunt Grace patted her sister’s hand. “There’s no hurry for Daisy to marry.”

  “It certainly is time. We were both married and had babies by the time we were her age.”

  “I’ll get the cake,” Daisy mumbled, her napkin falling on the floor as she stood.

  After dinner, her mother packed the dinner box while Daisy washed the dishes. By the time she finished cleaning the kitchen, Daisy grabbed the box by the string and kissed her mother and aunt. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Aunt Grace.” She hurried toward the door.

  “Young lady!”

  Daisy stopped in her tracks at her mother’s stern reproach. “Yes, Mama?”

  “Get back in here and put on your bonnet and gloves so you don’t look like some sort of trollop.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mama.”

  The dog bounded in and knocked her aside.

  “And get that mutt out of here. Periwinkle doesn’t belong in your aunt’s house!”

  “Yes, Mama.” Her little brother, Forrest, should be the one chasing the stupid dog. But she had no time to quibble, so she fetched her gloves and rounded up Winky, who, as usual, jumped up and slobbered on her face.

  Finally out the door, and dressed to suit her mother, she breathed in the crisp noon air filled with the fragrance of wild flowers and sagebrush. She hurried toward Doc’s office, managing her cumbersome skirts with one hand while balancing the dinner box on the other.

  She picked her way across the street. Surely the townspeople of Oreana would be pleased with her choice of lawmen. One look at him…she smiled, despite her efforts to keep the box upright…and she felt satisfied he’d be an honest peacekeeper, unlike so many lawmen who straddled both sides of the law.

  She passed Mueller’s Confectionery and the bank, then stopped in front of the Doc’s office. The shingle with “Doctor Mabry” painted in yellow wafted in the breeze as she rehearsed what she’d say to her husband-to-be. Would he be awake? Somehow, it seemed quite inappropriate for a twenty-two-year-old spinster to visit a man while he was in bed—she, however, had plans to implement.

  She took a deep breath and entered. The new marshal lay shirtless, flat on his back. One glance at his muscular arms and broad shoulders all but shattered her resolve, and she resisted the urge to turn tail and run. She chided herself for letting silly womanly emotions get the better of her.

  “Took you long enough, Doc,�
�� he said, still staring at the ceiling. “I’m starved.”

  “I’m not Doc,” she replied, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. “I’m Miss Daisy Gardner, the one who hired you.” She held up the box. “I brought some dinner for you, and I’ll be bringing your supper as well.”

  He turned his head toward her, his chocolate eyes hiding mystery—and oh, how she loved chocolate. She licked her too-dry lips and placed the box on the stand beside his bed. Her hands shook slightly as she removed the food and arranged it on the plate.

  “Your friend Bosco is worried about you. My father talked to him.”

  “Tell him I’m fine.”

  She opened the box. “Shall I feed you?”

  He grinned, and her heart fluttered at the sight of his well-formed lips and straight white teeth. She couldn’t have hired a more handsome marshal if she’d picked him out of a Montgomery Ward catalogue.

  “My leg’s gimped, Miss Daisy, but my arms work just fine.”

  Her cheeks burned, but she fought to maintain her aplomb. “Of course. Can you sit up?”

  “Some. Doc told me to keep my leg elevated.” He jammed his fists in the mattress and raised his torso. The blankets fell from his most extremely naked chest, the well-defined muscles covered by a generous sprinkling of dark hair.

  She stared at his bare flesh. She’d seen her dad’s chest, but the marshal’s chest… Gadfreys! Catching her breath, she adjusted her gloves and schooled her expression to appear as poised as possible. She absolutely must make a good first impression on him.

  He cleared his throat and nodded toward the floor beside his bed. “Grab those extra pillows. I’ll lean forward while you put them behind my back.”

  “Uh—” Daisy closed her mouth and concentrated on stopping the warm flush creeping up her cheeks again. She picked up the three pillows and started to place them between his back and the headboard—looking most efficient, she thought. Until she noticed his muscular back. Unnerved, she accidentally brushed her knuckles against his warm skin. A tingle shot up her arm and down to her abdomen, causing a low, unsettling ache. She jammed the pillows down.