The Marshal Meets His Match - Clari Dees

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of scenery will do you good. If anything does happen, I’ll send someone to bring you back.”

      Miss McIsaac looked at Wyatt. The glare was gone, replaced by a steely determination to accompany him. He doubted he’d seen the last of her temper, but the change of scene was already doing him some good.

      His irritation cooled. “All right, you can ride along. I’ll go get a buggy from Franks and be back to pick you up in about half an hour.”

      Grabbing his hat from the back of the chair where he’d hung it when he’d entered, he thanked Mrs. Kilburn for the coffee and headed to the front door.

      * * *

      Meri leaned against the edge of the livery stable doorway and worked to control her rapid breathing. She’d overheard the marshal tell Dr. Kilburn that he would ask the gunsmith to keep an eye on the town before getting a buggy from Franks. After a quick check on her father and a hurried explanation to the Kilburns, Meri had taken advantage of the marshal’s plan and slipped out the back door.

      Cutting through alleys at a run and keeping an eye out for a certain lawman, she’d made it to the livery unseen where Franks had helped her saddle two horses. She had no intention of riding with the man in a buggy all the way to the ranch. Horseback would be quicker, and it would allow her to keep her distance.

      The intense fear and uncertainty of the past few days lifted enough to allow her to feel a tiny amount of smug satisfaction. She’d managed to regain some control of her life. Even if that control were only that she’d ride to the ranch on a horse instead of behind a horse.

      The thought of sitting shoulder to shoulder with the marshal sent a funny shiver along her spine. That would be too much like courting, not that she knew anything about it. She wasn’t girly enough to attract that kind of attention. When you could outride, outshoot and out rope the boys, they tended to treat you like one of the boys. And when it came time to go courtin’, they went after the sweet-smelling, dainty town ladies.

      Movement caught her eye, and she stepped back into the shadows of the barn as the long-legged figure of the marshal strode into view. “He’s here, Franks.” Meri gathered the reins of the two horses and mounted Abe in one fluid motion. “Thanks for the use of Abe. I’ll have him back this afternoon. I’ll also bring Sandy in with me if you can spare the room.”

      “I always got room for that puppy you call a hoss, honey. You be careful now, and I’ll be a prayin’ for yo daddy.” Franks patted her knee and turned back to his forge as she rode out to meet the marshal, leading a second horse.

      His eyes narrowed as Meri rode up to him and handed him a set of reins. He ignored them and shoved his hat back as he looked up at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the Kilburns’ waiting for me to return with a buggy?”

      Chapter Four

      “We can get to the ranch quicker this way. That is, if you’ll quit standing there asking pointless questions and get on the horse.” Meri tossed the ignored reins at him.

      He snatched them neatly out of the air, his hazel eyes never wavering from her face. “How did you get here so fast?”

      “I know a shortcut. Can we go now? Daylight’s wasting.” She was growing a little nervous under his scrutiny.

      “Is it that you naturally don’t like to follow orders...”

      “You didn’t issue an order. You only said you’d be back with the buggy. I decided this would be quicker.” Meri’s lips twitched in a nervous half grin.

      “...or that you didn’t want to ride in the buggy with me?” He continued as if the interruption hadn’t happened.

      Meri felt heat stain her cheeks at the accuracy of his guess, and a crooked grin began to spread across his face. “Standing around talking won’t get us to the ranch,” she blurted, and touched Abe. The horse jumped away from the grinning man into a ground-eating trot.

      Glancing back, she saw him leap into his saddle without benefit of the stirrup and spring after her. Controlling the urge to race home, Meri kept the big black gelding at a respectful trot as she rode along the pasture fence to the outskirts of town and Little Creek Bridge. Maybe she should have stayed put and waited on the marshal and the buggy. It would have spared her the embarrassment of his accurate guess. Then again, this way she could get away from him for a minute, even if it didn’t last long. She peered over her shoulder again. He was staying back, though he’d probably catch up to her once they were on the trail out of town, but it would be enough time for her cheeks to cool.

      Abe’s hooves thudded across the planks of the bridge spanning Little Creek, the clear-running stream that lent the town its name and marked its western boundary. Meri drew a deep breath. Dr. Kilburn was right. She had needed to get away and clear her head, and a horseback ride to her beloved home was the perfect way to do that even if she did have to put up with the meddlesome marshal.

      “I thought I had a squirrel in that hole.” Apparently he wasn’t going to let her ignore the fact he’d guessed her real reason for riding horseback.

      She felt her cheeks heat again at his satisfied tone. So much for having time for her blush to fade. If this kept up, she’d just have to get used to the sensation of her face being on fire.

      Or...she could...

      Meri flexed her heels against Abe’s ribs, and the gelding switched to the rocking-chair lope that temporarily carried her away from her tormentor. The escape didn’t last long. Franks had provided the marshal with a horse every bit Abe’s equal, and in minutes the horses were side by side. The road wasn’t in good enough shape from the recent deep mud to indulge in a full-out gallop, so Meri contented herself with the current pace and the wind in her face, thankful when the marshal remained silent.

      The fresh pine-and-cedar-scented breeze began to weave calming fingers through Meri’s hair as the beautiful scenery slipped past. Some of the tension melted from her shoulders, and the silence grew less uncomfortable in spite of feeling his eyes on her from time to time.

      When he spoke, his comment caught her off guard. “I was sorry to hear about your mother.”

      Meri looked at him, but for a change, he wasn’t looking at her. Somehow that made it easier to answer him. “How did you know?”

      “Some of the men on the posse mentioned it—said it hadn’t quite been a year since her death?”

      Meri felt the weight of guilt and grief crash back down as she nodded. Her father had teased her on the way to Little Creek that her mother would have scolded her for wearing riding attire instead of a dress since she was going into town in a buggy. The words had reminded Meri of their loss, and she’d snapped that her mother wasn’t around anymore.

      She’d immediately regretted it. Instead of apologizing, however, she’d sulked, not understanding how less than a year after her mother’s death, her father could tease about her mother’s memory and seem to be handling her death so much better than Meri was. How she wished she’d guarded her tongue that day. She’d not apologized, and now it might be too late.

      “What was her name?”

      Meri welcomed his interruption of her depressing thoughts. “Catriona.”

      “So, both of your parents were from Scotland?” He was watching the passing landscape as if memorizing every detail.

      “Why did you say Scotland? Most people guess Ireland.”

      He looked at her then. “My name is Cameron. My grandparents came from Scotland. I recognize the brogue.”

      “I don’t have a brogue.”

      “You do when you say faither, and I’d be willing to guess you used the Gaelic mither instead of mother.”

      Meri nodded. “They came to America before I was born so their accent had softened, but when I was little they used a lot of Gaelic.” A memory surfaced. “I did

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