The Marshal's Mission

“You aren’t. Just cold beans and bread.”

Still, he appeared to vacillate.

Toby glanced between them. “I’ll go wash up, Ma.”

After her son went to the outside basin, Lenora spoke. “Cole, I—”

“You don’t need to—”

They both stopped.

He tilted his head. “Ladies first.”

After taking a deep breath, she again started. “I wanted to thank you.”

“I believe you already did that in the pasture.”

“Yes, but...” She paused, aware of the heat that singed her cheeks. “But I needed to repeat it. You didn’t owe us...me any favors. Not after the way I—”

“Say no more.” He held up a hand.

“Please, allow me to apologize.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Truly.”

Though she still didn’t know how the coop had been damaged, she hoped it wasn’t because of him. She didn’t want it to be.

Lord, please don’t let me be wrong about Cole.

She took a quick breath. “And my earlier offer still stands. Feel free to stay as long as you like.”

Head tilted, he seemed to contemplate her words. “I’d be pleased to accept, Lenora. As long as you don’t mind my doing some chores in exchange.” He turned, but stopped and again faced her. “I’ll be back after I wash up.”

He disappeared into the dusk. Heavy boots tromped across the porch and down the steps. She pressed cool hands against her cheeks. When Toby burst into the room once more, she swiveled so he wouldn’t see her face.

He began setting the table. For three.

“Come up with a name for the calf yet?” She strove to keep her tone light.

“I was thinking Coal. On account of her having no white markings at all.”

Pondering how to voice her concern, Lenora chewed her lip. “Shouldn’t you check with Cole first? He might not like having a calf named after him.”

“Already did.” Toby smiled up in her eyes. “He laughed, Ma. Told me it was a grand name.”

Lenora smoothed her son’s hair. “Then I guess it’s settled. Coal is perfect.”

Long after their guest continued on his way to his destination, they would have something by which to remember him.

Then the thought of Cole’s leaving struck her. It would be hard to see him go. And not just because he was useful around the ranch.

Then she shook herself. In a few short months she planned to leave Wyoming Territory. What about Cole? He seemed to be traveling west. Perhaps she needed to consider going that direction too.

Chapter Six (#ub1d802f6-17df-5076-a16b-f9eb95bfc2a7)

As he relaxed in his chair after the meal, Cole watched Lenora and Toby. With supper bedded down, he felt no hurry to follow suit.

“Okay, young man.” She smiled at her son. “You are done with arithmetic for the night.”

“Hurray.” Toby stood up to gather his slate.

“But not with your spelling.”

With a groan, he slumped.

Trying to squelch his amusement, Cole slouched in a chair, one foot extended in front of him. Lenora gave her son a list of words. Jamming the heel of his hand against his forehead, Toby sighed. He bent over his work, mouth puckered in frustration.

Just like me when I was his age.

“That is misspelled.” She pointed to his slate. “What is the rule about I and E?”

“I don’t know.” Her son’s tone betrayed his exasperation.

Lenora’s eyebrows rose as she waited.

“Is that the ‘I before E, except after C’ rule?” Cole volunteered.

She threw him a mock glare. “Shh. No helping.”

“You did. A couple times already.”

“That’s because I’m the teacher.” She turned back to Toby. “A few more words and we’ll have dessert.”

“Are we having p-e-i?” Cole inserted.

Lenora swiveled, jaw thrust in mock irritation. “Keep that up, mister, and you won’t get any.”

Grinning, Toby’s eyes met Cole’s.

“Good, because I’d rather have p-i-e.” He rose to pour himself another cup of coffee. That also gave him an excuse to look at the pastry, cooling on the sideboard. Though Lenora had fussed that the dessert was practically ruined, it still looked good enough to eat. What had Toby said about her pies? They were fearsome?

Cole would soon find out. Turning, he leaned against the sideboard as he watched mother and son. What a pair they made.

A memory—of his ma and Andrew—flashed through his mind. His brother had been working on spelling too. Because they had relocated so much, Ma always had them do their book learning at home. And she was a strict teacher. This one time, Andrew had squawked about how unfair it was that Cole didn’t have to do spelling anymore. Their mother explained that was because he was three years older. And soon enough he would be doing his own work.

Then Cole remembered. That was the night before Andrew died.

Lenora’s eyes met his. “Having second thoughts?”

“S’cuse me?” He straightened with a jerk. It wasn’t often he allowed himself the luxury of losing himself in memories.