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

rhubarb pie. And the biscuits, well, they ought to be all right if she blew the dust off them—she’d done that out at the cave several times.
    But she dared not do it in front of the man she aimed to marry. At least not until the marriage license was duly signed and they were legally pronounced man and wife. With regret, she tossed her precious biscuits back into the hamper.
    She stood beside the desk and waited for the marshal to take his seat.
    “Won’t you have some, too?” he asked.
    “No, t hanks. We already ate. But— ” She fiddled with her gloves, wondering why she felt reticent about telling him that he’d have to eat at the house from now on. A day earlier, he had adamantly refused to stay with them while he recovered.
    But he was an independent man, just like the hero in one of Honey Beaulieu’s adventures, The Case of the Duplicitous Lawman , where the lady detective revealed the county sheriff as the ringleader of a gang of bank robbers.
    “But what?”
    She blinked, remembering her father’s orders. “Dad says you have to come to the house for your meals from now on. Dinner’s at noon and supper’s at six.” The words tumbled out with the hope that the faster she said them, the less he would protest. “How do you like the biscuits?”
     
    How did he like the biscuits ? He liked her biscuits just fine—round and firm, with the sweet taste of cherry on top. As for the ones she baked, well, he was baked every time she came by.
    Cole swallowed, calming himself. He definitely had to get out of this godforsaken town, and he sure as hell couldn’t stand the torture of eating with her and her family twice a day. “I’m sure they’re just fine, but you put them all back in the basket.”
    “Oh. Yes. They were dusty.”
    He’d be happy to blow them off for her, and maybe lick them just to make sure they were completely dust-free.
    “I’ll bake some more for you tomorrow.”
    The green beans coated with brown gravy didn’t look all that appetizing, but he sat down and took a bite, anyway, just to distract him from her. Little relief came, especially with her leaning over the desk, jutting her, uh, biscuits at him.
    “You’ll be eating at our house, so the biscuits won’t roll all over the boardwalk.” She seemed to be babbling about those damned things just to make talk, while he did his level best not to think about them—either way, they were nothing but trouble.
    The door crashed open, Bosco dragging one of the Rankin brothers behind him. “Cole, I got Porker!
    The thief twisted free and ran. Bosco ran after him, swooping down to pick up a rock. He threw a fastball, high and inside, conking the miner on the side of his head.
    Porker tumbled nose-first in the dirt. Just as he pulled himself to his knees, Bosco ran to him and jumped on his back, wrestling him back down. “Git me some rope, Cole!”
    Miss Daisy grabbed a coiled rope hanging from the wall. She uncoiled an arm’s length as she ran, slipping a noose over Porker’s wrist. She pulled it behind his back, grabbed the other hand, then yanked up one leg. Three wraps and a half-hitch later, Porker laid helpless in the street, hogtied.
    Bosco gawked at her. “Miss Daisy, that there was the handiest tying I ever seen!”
    She smiled and dusted off her hands. “Honey Beaulieu did that in The Case of the Grant’s Pass Rustlers . I practiced for days. You should try it sometime—it’s quite fun.”
    Cole stood beside them, cursing his inability to bring the bastard down himself, but damned glad Bosco did. “That was some rock-throwing you did, Bosco.”
    “Hell, that weren’t no rock. It was a biscuit.” He looked down the street. “Oh, Lordy,” he muttered.
    Trouble approached fast—the Widow Courtney in all her fury. But her face softened when she saw the prisoner. “Why, Deputy Kunkle, I see you’ve been busy with your lawman duties.” She glared at Cole, then charitably switched her gaze back to Bosco. “Unlike