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

I already gave Bosco that job.
    “Am I supposed to arrest bad men?”
    “No, you report your suspicions to me, fast as you can.”
    “Do I get a badge?”
    Cole let out a sigh. Somehow, somewhere, he’d get this boy a badge, even if he had let the prisoner walk right out of jail. A ten-year-old boy couldn’t be responsible, in fact, he’d probably done the right thing, or else he could’ve got hurt. “Yup. Might take a day or two, but you’re still my official junior deputy.
    The dog bounded outside, but the boy stopped in the doorway. “I’ll see you at my house at noon.”
    “No, you won’t.” The last place he wanted to be was in the middle of Miss Daisy’s family. Having Forrest hang around was even getting to him—Cole liked the kid, and that was one more tie he’d have to break.
    “Yup, Mom’s expecting you. She was up at six this morning fixing up a special spread, so you’d better be there.” He shook his head slowly. “She gets powerful fierce when we ain’t at the table on time.” He put both hands on his rear. “Course, I don’t ‘spect she’d whup you, but still… ”
    Cole got the message. Much as he thought better of it, one dinner couldn’t hurt, and then he’d let Mrs. Gardner know that he wouldn’t be taking his meals there anymore. A good excuse would surely come to him in the next four hours, although spending time with Miss Daisy was awfully inviting, and exactly why he shouldn’t go. “I’ll be there. You better start your patrol.”
    After the boy left, Cole’s first urge was to drag Bosco out of bed and ask him why the hell he’d let Gib walk out of the place with Porker. But it was only eight o’clock, and Bosco’d barely had four hours of sleep, since he’d hung around the Branded Horse until closing. Besides, it wouldn’t do a lick of good—Porker and Gib were long gone, and Bosco probably wouldn’t have been much good, anyway.
    Cole flopped into the desk chair. Hell, he couldn’t court a beautiful woman who struck his fancy, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.
    Sometimes, life was a lonesome existence.
     
    Daisy had hoped the freight wagon would arrive before noon, but it didn’t. Now she’d have to change into her Sunday dress for dinner with the blasted dirt farmer, then after she got rid of him, find some excuse to change back into her old dress. The fingerprinting kit came with carbon dust, and she sure didn’t need black blotches all over her best outfit.
    Nevertheless, she put on the green silk that matched her eyes so that she didn’t raise suspicions with her folks. She pulled back her hair and pinned the chignon, giggling when she realized it was slightly off-center. And that was exactly where it would remain. For good measure, she loosened a few strands by her temples.
    Downstairs, her mother handed her a vase of spring flowers.
    “Set this in the center of the table, dear. Oh, and Doc’s in town. He came into the store this morning,” she said as she disappeared into the kitchen. “No, Grace, I’ll check the pie!”
    “Is he coming for dinner?” Daisy had to raise her voice so her mother could hear in the other room.
    “No, he has things to do. Besides, this meal is for you and Patrick Dugan to get to know one another. Your father says he’s a nice boy, and industrious, too.”
    Daisy didn’t want to talk about the industrious Patrick Dugan. Or think about him. She had bigger, more important things on her mind—like solving crimes and convincing the marshal to propose to her before her folks married her off to some boring dirt farmer. “We better have Doc look at Mr. Flynn first thing.” She moved a pitcher of milk and placed the bowl beside it.
    Her mother stuck her head out of the doorway. “Oh, who’s that?” Then disappeared again.
    “The stranger who came to town and had the accident.”
    “Is he not doing well?” Her mom’s distant voice seemed more interested in the food she was preparing than in Mr. Flynn’s