The Marshal's Mission

For several minutes, Lenora paced, at a loss about what to do.

“Is she gonna die, Ma?” Toby’s young face screwed up with fright.

“I don’t know, son.” Another moment passed until she made up her mind.

Tamping down revulsion, she unbuttoned and pushed up her sleeves. She had witnessed a cat giving birth—this situation couldn’t be much different. And she herself had brought three babies into the world, although Toby was the only one who had lived. After getting to her knees, she felt inside the birth canal, trying to determine why the calf couldn’t arrive on its own.

Hands slick with birthing fluid, she touched a small foot and leg inside its mother. Calves were supposed to come hooves first, followed by the head. She should be able to feel the soft flesh of the muzzle. Why not?

No matter. Lenora grasped the hoof and pulled while Porky strained. The leg made it out a little farther but, as soon as the contraction passed, it disappeared back into its mother. For countless minutes, she pulled. Porky strained with each contraction but failed to deliver her calf. Confounded, Lenora rose. Shoulders cramping, she wiped her hands on her apron.

The nearest ranch was Jeb Hackett’s. No way would she ask him for help. Frank Hopper’s homestead was six miles distant, but the afternoon waned. Besides, by the time Toby rode there and back—assuming he could even find Mr. Hopper on his acreage—Porky could be dead. The next closest neighbor was too far away.

“Do you think Cole could help?” Toby’s lips pressed together, as though he feared how she would respond.

Would Cole even want to? After the way she’d treated him?

She had heard him chopping more wood, but after a couple hours he disappeared. How could she even ask him for a favor?

She stared again at Porky, the last shreds of pride fluttering away. This situation was beyond her. Again. But anything was better than Toby’s pet dying.

“Go see if you can find him. Ask him...” She paused to reword her request. “Tell him that I’m asking for his help. Please.”

Toby took off like a shot.

While she waited, she patted Porky’s neck. “It’ll be okay, girl.”

Head sinking lower, the animal appeared to have given up.

It seemed a week passed before Lenora saw two forms appear around the side of the barn. Cole broke into a trot with Toby hard on his heels.

“Thank you for coming.” She sounded out of breath though she had done nothing but wait. While Cole watched the heifer succumb to another contraction, she explained what she knew. When she heard herself babbling about how important Porky was to them, she bit her lip. Cole appeared to pay no attention.

Would he deride her for caring so much for an animal? Or tell them this was their problem and walk away?

Without a word, he knelt to slide his palm across Porky’s bulging belly. His frown deepened as he muttered, “This isn’t good.”

Like Lenora, he rolled up one sleeve and reached inside the birth canal.

Less than a minute later, he rose. “Calf’s the wrong direction.”

“A breech?” A wave of terror washed over her. She pressed a hand against her throat as she fought the sudden faintness that gripped her. Almost three years before, she had lost a baby because he was breech. And nearly her own life.

The memory of her tiny boy, skin ashen, still brought tears to her eyes. He had looked like a miniature of Toby with fine, dark hair. After Amos had put the baby in her arms, she had wept uncontrollably. Lenora remembered little of the passing days while she had mourned the loss of Baby Amos. A tiny marker in the backyard stood as a silent sentinel for the infant who never had a chance to live.

Cole’s gaze met hers steadily—the first time since he had joined her in the pasture. With the late-afternoon sun beating down on them, the blue of his eyes appeared all the more intense.

“I could try to shift the calf.” He glanced up into the fading light. “But we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Couldn’t we take her to the barn?” Toby asked.

“She’s pretty weak.” Cole shook his head. “Doubt we could get her to her feet at this point. But out here, she’d be helpless with the...” He broke off when Lenora began to twist the apron between her hands.

Because of coyotes? Or a mountain lion?

Please, please, do something.

As though she had pleaded aloud, he stripped off his vest and shirt. He tossed them aside. At first he was kneeling, then lying flat on the ground, toes digging into the grass for leverage. Was he trying to swivel the calf? Porky didn’t help as she labored against him.

After several minutes, Cole was panting hard. “Just a little...” He grunted as his hold apparently slipped. Finally, he sat back on his heels. Chest heaving, he seemed to consider the options. He peered at Lenora. “Are you up for helping?”

“Anything. Just tell me what to do.”

He turned to her son. “Go fetch rope, the finest you have. Several lengths. Check my gear for some if you don’t have any.”

“Yessir.” Toby again raced across the pasture.

Cole ran his knuckles under his chin. “I’m going to try to slip a rope around the front hoof. Both, if possible. Then I’ll push against the calf while you pull the rope. Can you do that?”

She nodded.

“I gotta warn ya—this may not work. Could tear up her insides. Or break the calf’s neck.”

“We have to do something. I can’t just...” She waved toward Porky.

“Worst case, we’ll lose ’em both.” His cheek muscle flexed as he rose. “But there is another option.”

She waited.

“I could cut her open. Save the calf. Maybe.”

Lenora squeezed her eyes shut at the thought.

“That’d be the last resort. I’d wait until you were up at the house. Toby and I’d handle everything.”

“Mr. Cole. Cole,” she amended, injecting firmness into her voice. “I trust you’ll do what you can. And I thank you for your help. No matter what happens.”

He seemed to size up her words. After a single nod, he squatted by Porky. “She’s looking mighty tired. I hope...” He rested a hand on the animal’s rump.

Her son soon returned with a length of rope.

“Toby, you’re up front. Lenora, stand behind me.”

The youngster grabbed Porky’s halter while she positioned herself. She wrapped one end of the rope around her wrist while Cole reached inside the birth canal with the other, a small loop tied in place. After some maneuvering, he panted for Lenora to gently pull.

“I got one hoof.” He felt around inside the heifer. “Pull a little harder. Head feels like it’s coming around. Gently. Yes, that’s it.”

After a few moments, he reached in the birth canal with the other end of the rope. This one gave him more trouble, but finally he grunted in relief. “Got it.” As he lay flat on his stomach, Cole twisted his head to look back at her. “Keep steady pressure on both lines. Don’t pull too hard. Don’t jerk.”

“I’m ready.” Positioned inside the circle of rope, Lenora kept it taut.

“Toby, you’re doing great.”

Her son took a firmer grip on the halter.

“Lenora, lean your weight on those lines a little more. Perfect.” Digging his boots into the soil, he rasped as Porky strained against him. “More pressure.”

With the rope around her waist, she was nearly leaning backward. Cole seemed to be pushing as hard as he could to shift the calf. Porky strained while Toby stood spread-eagled at her head.

“That’s it, Lenora.” Cole grappled with the slick line. “Harder.”

Rope cutting into her, she groaned. One moment she was leaning back with nearly her full weight, the next toppling head over heels as Porky gave a huge bellow. With a gush of birthing fluid, a small form slid from its mother.

Lenora staggered to her feet as Cole untied the calf’s hooves.

“A heifer.” He met Lenora’s gaze, mouth tight. The little baby lay unmoving, a small heap of slick, black hair.

Before she could entreat him to do something, he was already on one knee, clearing the mouth and blowing into her nostrils. He thumped the calf’s rib cage and rolled her to her chest several times. After endless moments, the baby coughed and shook her head.

Cole grinned at Lenora. “Looks like she’s gonna make it.”

Throat tight, she merely nodded.

“What about Porky?” Toby piped up.

The new mama appeared exhausted, head hanging low, nose nearly touching the ground.

Without answering, Cole dragged the newborn under Porky’s nose. She seemed not to care. Struggling to hold up her wobbly head, the calf gave a sharp bawl. As though awakened in an instant, Porky snuffed at the twitching form. In minutes, she was making low sounds in her throat as she cleaned her baby with a long tongue.

Clutching her hands to her chest, Lenora released several pent-up breaths as she watched the miracle of a new mother with her calf. Embarrassed when she caught Cole staring at her, she brushed a tear off her cheek.

Dusk had begun to settle on the landscape, but enough daylight remained for her to see Cole’s mud-streaked chest. She knew she, too, must look a fright, but she didn’t care. When their gazes met, she smiled.

“You did good. Real good.” The warmth of his approval beamed from his nod and crooked grin.

“Thank you.” She could barely get the words out.

When the calf fought to stand on unsteady legs, Porky staggered upward. As she licked the stiff black hair, she knocked the calf over several times. Lenora made a sympathetic sound when the newborn toppled yet again.

“Glad we got her out in time.” Cole pointed to the darkening horizon. “Daylight’ll be gone sooner than we think.”

Purple streaked the sky. The deep color reminded her of...

“My pie,” she blurted. Had she left it in the oven? She couldn’t recall. By now it would be burned to a crisp.

“Go on to the house.” Cole indicated the direction with his head. “Toby and I’ll make sure these two get settled in the barn.”

Lenora bolted. When she reached the porch, she tossed aside her filthy apron before going inside.

All her cooking was as she had left it. She blew out a breath of relief. Now she recalled taking the pie out and the pans off the stove. After washing her hands, she stoked the fire. A glance in her bedroom’s mirror confirmed she looked a sight. Dirt smeared her face while her hair streamed across her shoulders.

Before Cole and Toby arrived, she changed out of her dress and washed herself with cold water. She didn’t bother trying to fix her hair beyond raking fingers through the tangles and tying it with a loose ribbon.

Was her partially baked pie still edible? Back in the kitchen, she assessed the gooey crust, soaked with the juices of the wild berries. Perhaps if she heated the oven hotter than usual and rebaked it, the pie could be rescued.

Two sets of footsteps on the porch alerted her the men had arrived. Toby entered first, grinning while Cole remained by the door.

“Porky and calf are safe in the barn. I’ll keep an eye on them tonight.” Cole stood just inside, fingers gripping the handle. His shirt and vest were back on, but she could see a streak of filth across his neck that disappeared under one button. “Thought I’d let you know before I bed down for the night.”

“You’re staying for supper, aren’t you?” She bit her lip at how eager she sounded.

He hesitated a moment. “Don’t want to be any trouble.”

“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

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.

“About the pie.” She nodded at the pastry. “I know it looks terrible, but I’m hoping it tastes better than it appears.”

He shoved away his recollections. “So far, I haven’t been disappointed by anything you’ve made. See no reason to start now.”

Smiling, she turned to study her son’s spelling.

“That one is right.” She pointed to Toby’s slate. “What about that one?”

Her son growled before erasing his work and trying again. “Can this be the last word, Ma? Please?”

“Of course.” She kissed the top of his head before approaching the sideboard.

As she pulled the pie closer to cut it, Cole scooted out of the way.

“No, I meant can this be my last spelling word forever?” Toby glanced at Cole, then his mother. “I don’t need any more spelling or arithmetic. I’m almost eleven.”

“Age has nothing to do with learning,” she answered in a serene voice as she dished up generous portions.

When Toby still didn’t appear convinced, Cole added his two bits. “Almost eleven? When does this happen?”

“Next month.”

“I mean how many days?”

“It’ll be in...” The youngster’s forehead wrinkled, and his lips moved as he calculated.

Cole again took his seat as Lenora set a hunk of pie in front of him. Glancing up, he caught her grin before she smoothed it out of existence. Because she knew why he was asking Toby the date?

Her son finally resorted to counting on his fingers. “Seventeen—no, eighteen days.”

“See there.” Cole grabbed his fork. “Your arithmetic skills just came in handy.”

The youngster glanced their way with narrowed eyes. Like he knew his mother and Cole were ganging up on him?

“Okay, put your homework away and let’s have pie.” She set his piece down.

It didn’t take long for Toby to do as he was told. They both dived into the tart dessert. After the first bite, Cole gave Lenora a thumbs-up as it simultaneously melted in his mouth and made it pucker. She smiled and took a delicate forkful. Mindful of his manners, he forced himself to eat slowly. Somehow, he got the feeling that she preferred good deportment.

Again, just like his ma. Once upon a time, he recalled her threatening the three men in her family with no dinner if they acted like pigs diving into their slop.

He considered. Why so many memories of Andrew lately? For sixteen years Cole had been successful in suppressing them. With the remembrances came the uncomfortable feeling that he was shirking his duty—the whole reason he had come to Wyoming Territory. Because he hadn’t been more aggressive about pursuing the Jeb Hackett gang?

Truth was, Cole liked it there. It would be easy to set down the burden of his life’s mission for a spell.

“Hey, Cole.” In the warm glow of the lantern light, Toby’s mouth was stained red from the pie’s berries. “I was thinking about Sheba.”

“Oh?” He smacked his lips.

“If she has a filly, you should name her Queen.” The youngster grinned at him. “You know, the Queen of Sheba?”

Lenora and Cole both chuckled.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The youngster certainly had a knack for naming critters.

In no time, Toby finished his pie. More than once, he rubbed his eyes, his dark, tousled hair falling over his forehead. Cole noticed that the boy had failed to get all the grime from behind his ears.

Had Andrew once been like that? In Toby, Cole felt like he was seeing a portion of his little brother’s life that he had missed. An odd longing to see the boy grow up echoed through him.

But Lenora...

The comely brunette reminded him of a path that he had chosen not to pursue so that he could become a lawman. When she laid a gentle hand on her son’s shoulder, Cole couldn’t help his thoughts. What would it feel like to have her caress his shoulder? Or impulsively hug him? When she looked at Cole, her soft smile did something funny to his heart.

He abruptly rose. “Thanks for the pie.”

Two sets of round eyes gazed at him.

Before Lenora asked, he volunteered, “Been a long day. I want to get an early start tomorrow.”

She blinked as though she’d not heard him correctly.

I need to leave.

Forget the ten days he’d promised himself to stay. He should pack up and move on. Regardless of his reasoning though, that would be wrong. Especially since Lenora needed help. But what about the investigation? The accusation pounded him. He should find another spot—less entangling—from which to investigate the Hackett gang.

How could staying and going both be the right thing to do?

“We usually finish the evening off with Bible reading and prayer.” Lenora’s lovely voice soothed his rising tension. “You’re welcome to stay. If you like.”

“Some other time perhaps.” He edged to the door.

“Oh. Cole?”

He was already halfway out when her words stopped him.

“Thank you again for saving Porky.” She smiled as she added, “And Coal.”

He gripped the door so hard his fingers stung. “You’re welcome.” He dragged his gaze away from the endearing scene.

“Good night, Cole,” Toby called. “See ya in the morning.”

With more force than he intended, he shut the door.

As he strode toward the barn, his mission kept pounding in his head. He was there to solve the mystery of the Cheyenne bank robbery, prove Jeb Hackett’s guilt and arrest not only him, but his gang. They had absconded with nearly twenty-one thousand dollars. Not one bill had been recovered.

What would Lenora’s reaction be when she found out who he was and why he was there? Cole slumped down on his bedroll and pulled off his boots. No doubt she would be pleased to see Hackett behind bars. But how would she feel about Cole not telling her he was a US marshal?

She’d think I was a liar. Just like her lying, thieving husband.

Cole pressed his forearm to his eyes as though to blot out his thoughts. Later, he could explain why he didn’t come right out and tell her. The hurt on her face materialized in his imagination.

But why should he care how Lenora felt?

As he flopped to his side, he yanked a blanket over his body. He shouldn’t be worried about her emotions.

Even so, he admitted that he did care. Perhaps a little too much.

* * *

He came back.

After Lenora had risen early, she saw from the open barn door that Cole had left. Yet a couple hours later, he rode back into the yard, a duck carcass in hand. He’d gone hunting? Or had that merely been an excuse for his return?

As she sat on the porch doing some mending, she watched him smack barbed wire with the side of the pliers. Cole moved to the next spot in the fence that needed repairing and repeated the procedure with quick ease.

Like he’d been doing it his whole life. Well, perhaps he had.

Many times she was tempted to ask him if he had been skulking around the barn several days back. He couldn’t have been the one who broke the chicken coop. But what did she really know about him? He could be an outlaw, hiding out on her ranch.

But better him than Jeb Hackett.

Since Cole had ensconced himself there, Jeb hadn’t returned. And she wanted to keep it that way. Every day, she expected the outlaw to show up and do some unspeakable evil. Or force her to marry him or one of his buddies.

She recalled the last time Amos had invited Jeb for dinner, her protests unheeded. The way he had addressed her with that despicable nickname in a sneering, condescending way made her stomach clench even now. When she had caught him openly staring, he had not bothered to avert his gaze. Like he owned her. She shivered as her imagination summoned a man-sized reptile, paralyzing her with a chilling stare.