The Marshal Meets His Match (21 page)

“Since I’m new to this, I’m going to study how this all works for a minute.”

Bidding started on a plump canned-peach pie with Mr. Hubert reminding bidders that the money raised would go toward a new church piano. The pie sold for fifty cents to the husband of the proud baker. The next items up were a cherry pie, an apple pie and a dried-berry cobbler. Wyatt commented on each item but didn’t bid, laughing when a bidding war started over the cobbler.

“Mrs. Van Deusen makes the best cobbler in town. Sometimes Mr. Van Deusen wins it, sometimes he doesn’t,” Meri informed him.

The bidding went to two dollars before Mr. Van Deusen triumphantly carried away the cobbler, magnanimously offering to share with the loser but only after he’d had the first piece. An angel food cake, another pie and delicate cookies were the following items, but still Wyatt sat and watched.

Nerves were nearly strangling her. Why hadn’t she escaped when Wyatt had gone to change his shirt or persisted in leaving after her fall in the creek? Then she wouldn’t be sitting here agonizing over which girl would claim Wyatt with her dessert. At least she’d found another reason to be glad she’d chosen this particular outfit. The leather skirt hadn’t absorbed the creek water, and she was drying faster than a regular dress would have allowed.

“I thought you wanted dessert.”

“I do, but my mouth’s all set for something specific, and I haven’t seen it yet.”

Meri looked at the girls standing close to the dessert table. She’d seen a couple of them talking to Wyatt earlier; maybe he was waiting on one of their confections.

Another cobbler passed without a bid from Wyatt.

“You’re going to run out of choices.” Maybe biting her tongue would silence it.

“Nope, they’re just saving the best for last.” He smiled, unconcerned.

They were down to the last three desserts, and Meri’s heart thudded painfully as tension built inside her. She smothered a groan as a thought occurred to her.

You could have at least brought some cream to garnish the top of your gingerbread, but you can’t even get that right! You are your own worst enemy!

Wyatt stood abruptly and walked toward the dessert table. This was it. This must have been what he was waiting on. Which girl would walk away on his arm?

“Dig deep, fellas. This one will make your mouth water.” Mr. Hubert carefully reached into a ribbon-frilled hamper and pulled out a tall, beautifully frosted chocolate cake.

A murmur of excitement rippled across the assembled crowd. Mr. Hubert started the bidding at fifty cents, and bids flew fast and loud. A pretty blonde stood by the dessert table beaming proudly. Finally Mr. Hubert closed the bidding at four dollars.

Meri strained upward to see who’d won.

It…
wasn’t
Wyatt.

She sat back with a squishy thud. One of her father’s ranch hands smugly accepted the basket of cake and escorted the attractive girl to a picnic blanket.

“Next up, folks…” Mr. Hubert reached into a basket and pulled out a small square pan.

Meri’s heart stopped. It looked even plainer than she’d remembered.

He sniffed the pan. “Gingerbread, and it smells wonderful. I don’t know who the baker is, but if it tastes as good as it smells, it’ll be a real treat. Who’ll start the bidding?” The words had hardly left Mr. Hubert’s mouth before a firm, ringing voice spoke.

“Five dollars.”

Meri’s heart started again with a painful bound.

“Did you say…
five…dollars?
” Mr. Hubert stuttered.

She strained to hear the answer through the roaring silence.

“Yes. I bid five dollars.”

Meri’s heart and lungs had functioned automatically for nearly thirty years, but they seemed to have forgotten how to perform their most basic functions. Her eyes and ears, on the other hand, were capturing every detail in agonizing clarity.

“Our new marshal must like gingerbread, folks. Anyone want to give him a run for his money?” The crowd laughed, but no one bid. “Come on, folks, who’ll give the marshal some competition?”

“Five twenty-five.” Franks walked toward Wyatt, a big grin showcasing pearly teeth.

“Five fifty,” Wyatt countered.

“Five seventy-five,” Franks shouted.

The bidding war continued, and Mr. Hubert’s gaze bounced between the two men. When the bidding neared eight dollars, Wyatt leaned over to Franks and whispered something. Turning back to Mr. Hubert, he bid again. “Eight dollars!”

Mr. Hubert looked at Franks, but that gentleman only shook his head, grinning.

Mr. Hubert slammed his hand down on the table. “Sold!”

Wyatt walked to the table and handed some bills to the auctioneer.

“Now that the marshal’s won his dessert, will the baker step forward to claim her dessert partner?”

Meri was frozen to the blanket. She couldn’t even stand up, much less walk up there.

Mr. Hubert called again for the lady to come claim her dessert partner, and the assembled picnickers glanced around curiously. Wyatt leaned over the table and said something. Mr. Hubert smiled, nodded, then carefully picked up the next dessert and called for bids, recalling everyone’s attention to the last item of the auction.

Meri’s eyes were glued to Wyatt as he returned and carefully set down his burden before seating himself.

“Ahh, good things come to those who wait.” He winked at her and reached into the basket, pulling out the pan of gingerbread and inhaling deeply. “Smells delicious.”

Meri watched in a daze as he carefully cut two large pieces of thick, dark gingerbread and slid them onto plates. Opening a small crock that he’d pulled out of the basket along with the plates, he spooned something over the top of the fragrant cake.

Whipped cream!

“Just the thing to top it off,” Wyatt said satisfactorily, handing her one of the plates

Thank you, Ms. Maggie.
She must have brought it along with the rest of the food the ranch had supplied today and tucked it in the basket when Meri wasn’t watching.

He forked a generous piece into his mouth and chewed. “Umm…good.” A second bite quickly followed the first.

Meri found a voice that sounded nothing like her own. “This is what you had your mouth set for?”

“Yep!”

His smirk wasn’t nearly so intimidating or irritating when surrounded by smudges of frothy whipped cream.

“You
knew
there’d be gingerbread?’ He nodded, his mouth full. “How?”

He stuck another piece into his mouth and pointed at her untouched plate with his fork. “I have my sources, and you’re not eating your gingerbread.”

Meri took a small bite, too distracted to enjoy it. “What did you say to the auctioneer?”

“I just told him I knew who the lady was and to go on with the auction.” His eyes twinkled merrily.

“How did you know there would be gingerbread here?”

He slowly chewed and swallowed before speaking. “I have to protect the identity of my sources, or I’d have people afraid to bring me information.”

Meri’s eyes narrowed. “You knew I brought gingerbread—” she pointed to her plate “—all this time?”

Wyatt popped another forkful into his mouth and nodded, grinning roguishly. “It was kind of fun watching you squirm.”

“Why would you wait around for my gingerbread when you could have had your pick of much fancier desserts…”

…
and fancier girls?

Wyatt cut another serving for himself and slathered it with cream. “First off, I haven’t had gingerbread since my mom made it for me as a boy, and I really like it.” Wyatt carefully forked a cream-covered piece into his mouth, chewed slowly and swallowed before continuing. “Second, I really didn’t want to sit with any of those man-eating females!” He shivered theatrically.

Meri looked down at her forgotten piece of expensive dessert. Putting a piece into her own mouth, she chewed without tasting. He didn’t see her as a threat? Was that good or bad? Finally she could resist no longer. “You’re not afraid
I’m
a ‘man-eating female’?”

Hazel eyes twinkled. “Nope.”

Meri took another bite to give her mouth something to do besides ask foolish questions. The last one had left her confused as to whether she was relieved or offended. If she kept opening her mouth, she was going to drown in these dangerous waters.

She hurriedly finished her dessert as Wyatt set his plate down and leaned back with a full groan. “That was delicious. My compliments to the cook.”

She gathered up the used plates and utensils and restored them to the basket.

“What’s your hurry?”

“I’m uncomfortably damp, and it’s time I headed home.” She reached to set the pan of gingerbread in the basket.

“You’re not taking all that gingerbread, are you?”

Meri had to smile at the pitiful puppy-dog expression Wyatt assumed. “No. I’ll send it home with you.”

Wyatt immediately resumed a cheerful smile. “Good. I told Franks I’d share it with him if he’d stop driving up the price. I wouldn’t want him to come after me when I don’t bring him any of it. He said it’d be delicious, and he was right.” Wyatt rubbed his stomach in appreciation.

“Did everyone know what you were up to?” she whispered in a mortified tone.

Wyatt chuckled ruefully. “No. Franks knew the gingerbread was yours and wanted to make me work for it.”

Meri ducked her head in bewilderment and shooed Wyatt off the blanket so she could pick it up, avoiding his eyes as he helped her fold it neatly. Taking the blanket and basket from her, he walked her toward the ranch wagon.

Nearing the accumulated variety of wheeled vehicles, she saw the banker climbing into his buggy. “Hello, Mr. Samuels.”

He nodded shortly. “Miss McIsaac. Marshal.”

“I’m glad you were able to make it to the picnic. I saw you were busy with someone at the bank earlier.”

Mr. Samuels picked up the reins and slapped the back of the horse, and the buggy moved away at a quick clip.

Meri turned to watch him go. “That was abrupt. I wonder what his problem is.”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Wyatt said.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t try to run off with
his
horse or something, did you?” There was a teasing glint in his eye.

“Very funny. No, I didn’t take his horse or something. I haven’t done anything to him except be polite.”

Wyatt chuckled at her sarcasm. “Then why worry about it?”

“I don’t know. He’s never been overly friendly, but he’s never been outright rude, either. First he ignores me at the cemetery, and today he acts like he can’t get away from me fast enough.”

“He’s probably just distracted by the bank robbery.”

“I guess.” Meri shrugged her shoulders, dismissing the subject.

Setting the basket and blanket in the bed of the wagon, Meri transferred the dirty plates and utensils to another container and handed the basket containing the gingerbread to Wyatt.

“We can pick up the basket and pan next time someone comes into town.” She ducked her head. What did one say at the close of an occasion like this? “Thank you for bringing me and for buying my dessert.” Spinning away from him, she set off in a brisk walk for the livery stable. She hadn’t taken two steps when she felt him beside her.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy. This day’s not over until I’ve escorted you home.”

Meri sighed resignedly as she continued walking, but didn’t argue. At least she told herself it was a resigned sigh. She ignored the fact it had sounded happy.

* * *

The ride back to the ranch was slower and less competitive than the ride in, and Meri was very quiet, responding to Wyatt’s attempts at conversation with monosyllabic replies. When he failed to get a rise out of her by teasing her about her dip in the creek, he allowed silence to accompany them the rest of the journey, contenting himself with stolen glances at his fellow traveler.

After they reached the ranch house, Mr. McIsaac invited Wyatt into his study, and Meri disappeared after shyly thanking him again. Mr. McIsaac quizzed him about the picnic, laughing heartily at the account of the games and creek incidents. “Did ye snag her gingerbread?”

“I did. It was as good as you said it’d be.” He nodded his appreciation to the older man.

McIsaac rocked back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “Most folks think the fancier the package, the better the dessert will be, but there’s a wealth of flavor waiting to be discovered in that unassuming little cake. And like that gingerbread, the boys in town never looked past the fancier-dressed females to see the treasure underneath her intimidating independence. Until now I thought that was unfortunate, but ye might hold a different opinion.”

Wyatt did. But he wasn’t ready to admit it out loud. “Did you ever figure out what was bothering you about the bank robbery?”

Ian McIsaac’s eyes measured him for a moment before nodding. “I finally remembered this afternoon, but I don’t think it means anything.”

Wyatt sat down, pulling the little notebook from his pocket. “Tell me anyway.”

“After I hit the floor, something was said before I passed out. That brigand shouted, ‘Where’s the rest of it?’”

Wyatt looked up from his notes when McIsaac didn’t continue. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s it. ‘Where’s the rest of it?’ I was hoping I’d heard something important. Maybe that’s why it took this long to remember. It wasn’t anything big.” Ian McIsaac’s voice was regretful.

“I’m beginning to think the pieces that don’t look relevant to the case are the ones that are going to solve it,” Wyatt said thoughtfully as he tucked away the little notebook. “I need to get back to town and give Jonah a break. Tell your daughter I enjoyed her company today.”

McIsaac followed him to the front door, bidding him good afternoon.

Wyatt shelved thoughts of Meri and her reaction to the dessert auction and pulled out his little notebook as he rode toward town. Splitting his attention between his surroundings and his notes, he mulled over the pieces of the frustrating case. The only conclusion he’d come to by the time he reached town was that he needed to talk to the banker.