Clari Dees - The Marshal Meets His Match

“Very well. Miss McIsaac, would you care to have a seat, and I’ll get straight to the point?” The woman still stood in the same spot, gripping the towel.

Slowly and deliberately, she turned and hung up the damp dishrag, smoothing it unnecessarily before turning back around, running her palms down her skirt and walking to the work-worn table. He saw her stiffen as he reached to hold a chair for her, sliding it in smoothly when she sat opposite of Mrs. Kilburn. Seating himself at the end, to the right of Miss McIsaac, he reached for the coffee the doctor placed in front of him. Taking a quick sip, he fired up another quick prayer that God would give him the right words. Swallowing the hot, bitter brew, he began.

“I just spoke with Mr. Samuels concerning the bank robbery, and another detail came to light that I really need to discuss with your father, Miss McIsaac. Since that’s not possible at the moment, I need you to tell me everything you know.” Pausing, he watched Miss McIsaac dart a look at him from the corner of her eyes before returning her gaze to the cup wrapped in her slender hands. Was she avoiding his gaze because she knew something, or because she found his presence as unsettling as he found hers?

Her long honey-colored hair was smoothed back into a braid that fell halfway down the back of the high-necked, wheat-colored blouse and dark green riding skirt she’d worn the day of the holdup. Distractedly he wondered how she managed to look so neat and fresh after several days in the same outfit. Forcing his thoughts back to the task at hand, he pulled the notebook out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Tell me what you saw after you left the livery stable that day.”

A hint of pink warmed her cheeks, and he felt a glimmer of satisfaction. So, he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t forgotten their first encounter.

She raised her cup slowly, took a sip and lowered it, gazing into its contents. “I heard a shot fired before I reached the street. When I rounded the corner, I saw something happening at the bank. I had just headed toward it when you and Franks passed me.”

“That reminds me. I told you to stay back, yet you still showed up at the bank. You don’t follow orders very well, do you?”

Miss McIsaac set her cup down into the saucer with a little more force than necessary, but still didn’t look directly at him. “My...” Her voice caught, and Wyatt saw her swallow hard. “My father was in that bank. Nothing would have stopped me from getting to him...” The words even you hung in the air unspoken.

“How did you know your father would be there?”

“I didn’t know for sure he was still there, but he’d told me he had business at the bank, and when he was through he’d meet me at the mercantile. When I heard the shots and saw the commotion at the bank, I was afraid he was involved.”

“What do you mean, ‘involved’?”

Miss McIsaac went very still then turned her head slowly and finally looked him full in the face. Wyatt felt the heat immediately.

“What exactly are you trying to imply?” Fire may have been in her eyes, but her words were encased in ice.

Wyatt softened his tone and replied calmly, “I’m not implying anything. I’m simply asking what you meant by ‘involved.’”

Miss McIsaac searched his face for several moments before looking down and releasing a heavy sigh. “I mean, I was afraid he was still there when the holdup occurred. Unfortunately I was right.” Her voice caught again, and he saw the muscles along her jaw clench.

“Did you see or notice anything as you ran to the bank?”

“I saw a man riding away from the bank, firing his gun.” She painstakingly aligned the bottom of the cup with the ring of flowers on the saucer.

“Did you notice anything familiar about him?”

“No. Why should I?” Miss McIsaac glanced back up at him, her forehead creased in a frown.

“Did your father ride his horse to the bank?”

“No. We drove the buckboard in, parked it at the mercantile. Faither walked to the bank.”

“Did any of your ranch hands ride in with you?”

“No. Are you trying to get at something, Marshal? Why don’t you just ask what you want to know? Quit beating around the bush?”

Wyatt searched her eyes for a long second, ignoring the confused glare in them, and continued to watch her when he finally spoke. “When I questioned Mr. Samuels, he said the thief rode off on a horse that wore the McIsaac brand.” He heard the soft exclamations of surprise from the Kilburns’ lips as Miss McIsaac shoved her chair back and lunged to her feet.

“That’s a lie!” She gasped, shaking her head.

Dr. Kilburn stood and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, child. The marshal is just doing his job. He has to investigate what he’s been told. Let’s sit back down and hear the man out.”

She sat with a thud. “There is no way it was one of our ranch hands. I’d trust every one of them with my life.”

“The banker didn’t seem to recognize the man who robbed him, but he did say the horse was a McIsaac ranch horse. Did the horse look familiar to you at all?’

She shook her head.

Wyatt wondered if she truly hadn’t recognized the horse or if she merely refused to tell. He’d known this wasn’t going to go well. He’d been correct. He was beginning to feel like ducking when those eyes turned toward him firing sparks. Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t singed, yet. But the day was still young.

“I’m sorry to have to question you when your father is unconscious, but I need to gather as much information as I can to bring you father’s shooter to justice.”

“It’s not your questions that bother me. It’s the implication that our ranch was involved in the holdup. It’s not true!”

“Again, I’m not implying anything. I have to follow any and all leads I have and, unfortunately, that means asking you these questions. It also means I’m going to need directions to your ranch.”

“You are not going to harass our hands with baseless accusations.”

“I’m not going to accuse anyone, but you haven’t been home in three days, and if it was one of your ranch horses, your hands might know something about it. If you won’t give me directions to your place, I’ll get them from someone else because I will follow up on this.”

“Then I’m going with you. You are not questioning our hands without me there.” Miss McIsaac got to her feet again, and Wyatt could feel anger radiating from her.

He could sympathize; he was beginning to feel the emotion himself. He pushed back his own chair and stood. “This is my job. I can handle it without your interference. Besides, you can’t leave your father, can you?” Wyatt saw a retort die on Miss McIsaac’s lips, and her shoulders slumped. His shot had found its mark.

Dr. Kilburn interrupted then. “Actually it might be a good idea for Miss McIsaac to go with you. She needs to get away for a little while. This would give her a chance to check on the ranch.” Turning to Miss McIsaac, he continued, “Your father is stable, and it could be a while before he wakes up. Even when he does, it will be some time before he’s ready to travel. This will give you a chance pick up anything you’ll need for an extended stay.”

She looked indecisive. “What if something happens while I’m gone?”

“You can make it to the ranch and back in just a few hours. I don’t expect any changes with your father, good or bad, in that amount of time, and a change 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.