Trace scraped his chair back so suddenly, Deb jumped. She stared at him as he nearly knocked it over and almost fell.
He stood and gave her an overly bright smile. “I’m finished.”
The way he said it sounded a little like the crack of doom. He had to mean with his meal, but something about his extremely, almost madly happy expression made her wonder if the words meant something else.
Like perhaps he was finished delaying the inevitable.
She cleared her throat and wiped her mouth. “Yes,” she said and stood.
Trace offered her his hand.
Grimly determined to do her wifely duty, she let him lead her out of the dining room. She didn’t know why he was in such an all-fired hurry.
Deb slowly roused from what seemed like the deepest, most restful sleep of her life. Before she opened her eyes, she was aware that something seemed wrong. When she opened her eyes she knew it was the room.
Had Trace and his men built yet another house?
Then she realized she wasn’t in bed alone.
She looked down and saw a strong arm draped over her belly and felt the solid form of someone lying beside her.
And it all came back in a rush.
Married.
She had gotten married yesterday to Trace. She was now, good heavens, Deb Riley. She’d changed her name.
Snuggled close against Trace, she knew she’d changed a lot of things.
“You awake, wife?” Trace asked, his voice raspy from sleep and warm with affection. She couldn’t believe she could feel so close to another human being.
“I am, husband.” She heard a quiet chuckle.
“We’ve got a lot of stops to make today, people to talk to, many miles to travel, and a mighty big announcement to make to your sister.”
“You’re right.” They rose to get on with the day.
Deb went to the window to see if the deep snow had finally come.
“Trace”—all her cheerful calm vanished—“get over here.” Instantly at her side, Deb said to him, “Look at that pair of oxen.”
The big Holsteins disappeared down a trail into the forest.
Trace was gone, dragging on his clothes. Deb did the same, then pulled on her boots and laced them up quick as chain lightning. She left the room only a few steps behind him.
He didn’t tell her to stay behind and it was just as well, because she wasn’t letting him go after those oxen alone.
Sprinting out the front door of the hotel, she charged after Trace, dashing as only he could toward the livery. A man stepped out of the stable as Trace ran in, and they crashed into each other hard enough they both ended up on the ground. By the time Deb got there, Trace was on his feet again, the other man standing before him, gun drawn.
Had he run into a man quick to draw and shoot? Deb got to Trace’s side, but before she could say a word, she saw the silver star on the man’s vest. A lawman. Heaving a sigh of relief, she opened her mouth to talk, but Trace beat her to it.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m running because I just saw a man driving a pair of oxen I know are stolen. Those cattle came from the wagon train my wife rode west on. The men who attacked them left a lot of folks dead. If we can catch him, we—”
“Hold up there.” The snap in the lawman’s voice brought complete silence. He still had his gun out too, though it was pointed at the ground now. “Are you talkin’ about those black-and-white oxen that just left town?”
“You saw them? Good. Do you know—?”
“Quiet!” The lawman had black eyes and looked to be in a mood to match them. “I know the man who just left town. I passed him as I rode in. Name of Paddy Candle. I’ve known him for years. He just bought those oxen. They’re an unusual team, huge critters and a matching pair. I asked him about ’em and have no reason to believe Paddy would lie to me. I’d put his word above a stranger’s any day.”
“Well, we don’t mean to accuse an old friend of yours of nuthin’, Sheriff,” Trace said.
“I’m a US Marshal. Marshal Bates.”
“Trace Riley. And this is my wife, Deb. If he lives around here and has for years, then finding him will be easy. If you trust him, that’s good enough for me. But he had to buy that team somewhere, and like you said, they’re an unusual pair. We need to talk to him. We need to—”
This time Marshal Bates cut Trace off with a single hand gesture and a cold glare.
Trace glanced at Deb, and she could see he wasn’t going to just quit talking.
“I know Candle well. He’s an honest man, but he’s not a man who suffers fools. I agree that team is odd enough we need to find out where he bought ’em. He’ll talk to me alone, but he’s a man who won’t be pushed and is spoiling for a fight. If you show up, all upset, he’ll never tell you nuthin’ and enjoy watching you work yourselves up. You tell me what’s going on. I’ll handle Paddy alone. Then I’ll bring back any information I get from him.”
Trace pulled in a slow deep breath. Deb saw him fight his need to hurry. He said, “We ran out of our boardinghouse without breakfast when we saw that team. Come on back with us and share a meal, and we’ll tell you everything. We’ve got a story of a massacre, robbery, and it looks like there are plans for more of it. We’d appreciate your help, Marshal.”
Bates nodded in terse agreement.
Trace gestured for Deb to go ahead back to the boardinghouse. They weren’t really being slowed down much. They’d left what supplies they had in the room, and they normally would have eaten anyway. Those oxen had just sped their morning up. But now Marshal Bates would handle that, and they’d have a
