The Marshal's Mission. Anna Zogg
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them. Then their cow was drying up. Could they hold out until their other one calved? The pig was getting so big, he would have to be slaughtered soon. But which neighbor could she call on to help?
Staples were running low as well as their smoked pork and venison. She pushed aside the unpleasant thoughts of shooting, then gutting a deer. How could she process all the meat by herself? Toby, of course, would be a great help, but the two of them didn’t have time to do everything.
She wouldn’t even begin to consider the bigger needs of the ranch—the calves that had yet to be branded and castrated, the fences that needed mending and a host of other chores. After Chuck and Midge had disappeared, she reconciled herself to selling out while she could. Though she hated the thought of taking Toby away from his home, he would eventually adjust to city life. At least he would no longer be lonely.
Appetite gone, Lenora rose and scraped the remainder of her stew into the slop bowl. Her shoulders hunched as she sighed. “You can take this to Blister in the morning. And don’t forget the pig.”
Toby slipped his arm about her waist and leaned his cheek against her shoulder. My, but he was getting tall!
“It’ll be okay, Ma. You’ll see.”
“I know.” Her chest heaved as she considered moving away.
“I been praying every night that God would send help. Do you think He sent Cole?”
Had He?
“That’d be nice.” When her voice cracked, she cleared her throat. “But let’s not make plans until we find out what Cole intends to do.”
Her son squeezed her waist before turning away to clear the table.
Later as she lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, she dared to whisper, “God...?” Her plea stuck in her throat.
How many times over the years had she begun a prayer, then stopped? Because she asked the same things over and over?
The nights Amos didn’t return home, she fervently prayed it wasn’t because he was thieving or gambling. When she smelled whiskey on his breath or cheap perfume on his clothes, she refused to let him kiss her. But no matter how hard she prayed, he never turned from his wicked path. He still rode with the outlaw gang.
As tears slipped down her temple, Lenora brushed them away. With a rueful heart, she thought of her husband buried in the backyard, a simple tombstone marking the spot. Under his coffin rested a satchel of stolen money.
That terrible and dark secret would remain entombed—not only with Amos, but in her heart.
As Lenora pulled the blanket higher, the same plaintive questions whispered in her mind. Why did he get shot robbing that bank? Why hadn’t Jeb Hackett been killed instead?
In the early-morning hours, the tramping of horse hooves sent a shaft of fear down Lenora’s spine. She threw a towel over her biscuit dough and yanked open the door. A quick swipe of her fingers across her apron removed the dusting of flour. One hand fumbled for the barrel of her rifle, standing just inside the doorjamb.
Where was her son? She hoped he was still abed in the loft. When she saw who came up the road, she gulped. Please let Toby stay asleep.
No telling what her son would do when he saw Jeb Hackett.
He and two of his men thundered into the yard, their horses kicking clods of mud high into the air. Though the sun had not yet crested the horizon, rosy light painted the mountains to the west and the grassy plains in the south. Someone had let the chickens out already. Cole? The hens that had wandered to the rutted road scattered and squawked as the riders approached. Somewhere in the distance, Blister began to bark.
“Halloo.” Jeb reined his dappled gray beside the corral in the middle of the yard.
“Morning.” She wove a thread of politeness into her tone as she remained in the open doorway. No sense irritating him unnecessarily. Another reason she kept the rifle out of sight.
“Well, ain’t you a sight to behold.” Jeb smirked. “Your hair is done up real purdy. Like you was expecting me.”
Tightening her lips, she hoped it resembled a smile.
He pushed back his hat. “Looks to be a fine day, ’Nora. How about you come a’riding with me and the boys?”
Her jaw clenched. Over the last five years, he’d used that horrid nickname. Every time she’d bristled, Amos had told her it meant nothing. Jeb was merely teasing.
That only proved her husband had no backbone. Not only was he a thief and a liar, he fraternized with thieves and liars. Jeb Hackett was the biggest one of all.
No doubt many a woman had fallen for his handsome face, curly blond locks and icy blue eyes. His handlebar mustache might disguise the cruelty of his mouth, but nothing could hide the wickedness of his heart.
“You know I can’t, Jeb. I’ve work to do.”
“Well, now, we can solve that today.” After swinging one leg over his horse’s neck, he hooked his bent knee on the saddle horn. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on his leg. Like he had all the time in the world. “Since we’re neighbors an’ all. We could join our property and have a nice-sized ranch.”
His friends guffawed, one punching the other in the arm.
“Frank Hopper is thinking of buying me out.” She kept her tone level. “You paying more than him?”
“F’sure.” Jeb grinned as he twisted the end of his mustache. “What I’m offering is better than money.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Why you low-down—”
“Ma,” Toby’s voice called. “Ma!”
Lenora tensed as her son ran across the yard. How much of the conversation had he heard? From inside the barn, Blister continued to bark up a storm.
With clenched fists, Toby stationed himself in front of her. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him closer. If need be, she could yank her son into the house and slam the crossbar into place. There they would be safe.
For a little while at least.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the little man himself.” Jeb sneered. “I was wondering when the itty-bitty cockerel would show up. That your mangy dog I hear? Thought he’d be dead by now.”
Toby stiffened. Jeb’s buddies chortled.
Her mouth went dry. Was Jeb confirming that he’d lassoed Blister?
Her son spoke first. “What’d you want, Hackett?”
“Hain’t you learned to speak respectful to your elders, boy? If you were mine, I’d teach you to hobble your tongue.”
“Well, I ain’t yours.”
Jeb’s scowl deepened.
“That’s for certain,” snickered one of his men. The two laughed. The instant their leader glared at them, they quieted.
Lenora took an unsteady breath. “I appreciate you all coming by. I’m sure you have to be on your way now.”
Jeb squinted. “Not going to invite us in? Or feed us? We rode all this way to discuss some business.”
Business? A chill nipped her bones. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t have anything prepared.”
“We can wait, can’t we, boys? Y’see, I’m thinking you’ve been without a husband long enough, ’Nora. How ’bout you and me getting hitched?”
Marry Jeb? Her heart chugged to a stop as the sun burst over the horizon, spotlighting his handsome face.
“If I don’t suit ya—and