Much Ado About Marshals (Hearts of Owyhee) (2011) by Jacquie Rogers Page A

boots on, stood, and put on his shirt. He’d gone to bed mostly dressed in case Gib has shown up.
    The town would wake up soon. Already he heard clanging at the smithy’s and someone chopping wood. A quick glance at his pocket watch showed the time was five-thirty. He poured water in the coffee pot and stoked up the potbelly stove. Hot, black coffee and a shave would make him feel better and a whole lot more lively.
    Meantime, he sat on the bed and pulled the covers around him while the stove warded off the morning chill. The day brought a whole new set of problems. He’d have to find some food for Porker. Mr. Gardner had never mentioned how the town provided meals for prisoners.
    Of course there were Miss Daisy’s biscuits. He chuckled. Porker deserved those biscuits. He could sop them in coffee. Might take him an hour or two to soften them up, but patience was a virtue Porker could use some work on.
    He heard something scratch on the door, then a noisy “Shhhhh!” He rolled off the bed onto all fours, drawing his Colt. Maybe Gib Rankin had some honor, after all, and had come to spring his brother. If so, he wasn’t very damned quiet about it all.
    Cole crept over to the door on his hands and knees, heart pounding and pistol cocked. Another brushing sound convinced him to hurry, despite the stiffness in his leg. Carefully, he raised himself to full height between the door and the window, flattening himself against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement outside.
    Barely breathing and ready to pounce, he flung open the door. “Hold it right there, Rankin!”
    Daisy’s little brother stared wide-eyed while the scruffy yellow mutt wagged his tail and nuzzled Cole’s pocket.
    He uncocked and holstered his pistol. “Shit-crimeny, boy! You ought not sneak up on a fellow like that.”
    The boy’s lower lip trembled and his freckles faded, but he didn’t move a muscle. “Junior Deputy Forrest Gardner and partner reporting for duty, sir.” The drooling dog wagged his tail happily, and looked at Cole with the same expression as Forrest’s.
    Cole blew out his pent-up air and tried to relax, but every muscle was still at the ready. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for school or something?” His voice sounded more like a bark than he intended.
    “Nope. The schoolmarm ran off with some sleezy gambler man, Dad said. Third teacher we lost this year. Dad says Daisy ought to be a schoolmarm, then someone might marry her. She’s an old maid, you know.”
    Cole couldn’t think of one damned coherent thing to say, so he grabbed the broom and shoved it in Forrest’s hands. “Sweep the boardwalk.” He reached back inside and grabbed his hat, jamming it on his head as he stepped into the street. “I’ll be at the livery if someone needs me.”
    He hadn’t seen his horse in over two weeks, long enough for the old boy to forget who was boss. Long enough for a woman to worm her way under Cole’s hide. He needed to think. He needed to be alone. He had to take a good, long ride, even though Doc had warned him not to ride for six weeks. What hogwash. He’d turn into petrified wood if he waited that long.
    At the livery, he waved down Jonas Howard, who was throwing hay to the horses.
    “Morning.”
    Jonas nodded and pitched another forkful of hay into a stall. “Looking for your horse?”
    “Yup.”
    The blacksmith cocked his head toward the far end of the barn. “Last stall on the right. I rode him a few days ago, but he needs more exercise than that. If you’re not up to riding, you probably ought to hire someone to run the piss and vinegar out of him every day or so.”
    Cole thought Bosco had taken care of that. But he couldn’t say much, since Bosco had been doing most of the marshal’s duties since they’d happened on Oreana.
    He slung the bridle over his shoulder, then grabbed his saddle and blanket from the tack wall as he strode by. Doctor’s orders or not, he was ready for a ride.