The Marshal's Mission. Anna Zogg

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СКАЧАТЬ told you to ask if he was hungry.” If so, she would have sent Toby to the barn with a bowl of stew. She wasn’t quite ready to have a stranger come into her house, no matter how friendly he had been.

      “Don’t matter.” Her son rested an elbow on the table. “He said he was tired.”

      “Doesn’t matter.” She finished serving leftovers into his bowl. “Please don’t use slang. You know I can’t abide it.”

      “Yes’m.” He leaned his head against his fist as he slumped in the chair. “Cole sure has some nice horses. Especially Sheba.”

      “Mr. Cole.” She finished laying out the remainder of the meal.

      “He said to call him Cole. Without the mister.”

      Lenora frowned.

      “I’m sure, Ma.”

      “Very well. Since he insisted.” She slid into the seat next to him. “Please don’t slouch.”

      As her son straightened, he grimaced—displaying his thinking face. “Do you like Cole, Ma?”

      The direct question took her aback. How much could she say to her ten-year-old? Though he sometimes acted grown up, she couldn’t forget he was still a child.

      “I like him just fine. But we can’t forget he’s a stranger.” She stared at her hands, clenched in her lap. “And now that your pa’s gone, we have to be cautious. That’s all. Remember what we talked about?”

      Toby fingered the spoon beside the bowl. “I s’pose.”

      The nearest town was located several hours away. No doubt her son was lonely. But she didn’t want him to latch on to the first stranger who had ridden onto their ranch since Amos’s death. Though something about Cole tugged at her to trust him, she resisted.

      “Let’s pray.” After they clasped hands, Lenora bowed her head. “Thank You, Lord, for Your provision. May we truly be grateful.” She paused, suppressing a barrage of anxiety-riddled requests. “Thank You for returning Blister. In Your Son’s name. Amen.”

      “Amen.” Toby scooped a large spoonful of food into his mouth.

      Before she took three bites, he finished one bowlful. She served him more while he wolfed down a hunk of bread.

      “I declare, you eat more than your pa...ever did.” She smoothed his dark, damp hair, hoping he didn’t notice her slip of the tongue.

      Grinning, Toby ate two bites in quick succession. “After I’m done, can I go check on Blister?”

      “I’d rather you didn’t disturb our guest. He’s probably sleeping by now.”

      Scraping the spoon across the bottom of the bowl, Toby frowned. “Think he’ll stay, Ma?”

      “Cole?”

      “Yeah.” Eyes hopeful, her son looked up.

      Her cheeks warmed as she considered that possibility. “I expect he’s on his way somewhere important. Probably be gone first light.”

      “Where?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe Oregon Territory. Or California. People are still crazy with gold fever.”

      “Couldn’t you ask him to stay? Maybe hire him? Seein’ as how Chuck and Midge are gone.”

      She took care answering, not wanting to raise his hopes. “I’d have to think on that some.”

      Should she confide to her son that she planned to sell the ranch? Frank Hopper, their nearest neighbor, had not yet responded to her proposition.

      Toby scratched the top of his head with his knuckles. “Why do you think Chuck and Midge left? They didn’t even say goodbye.”

      Debating how much to speculate about their sudden and secretive departure, Lenora chewed her lip. “I’m sure they had a good reason.”

      Last fall, Amos had begun building a small place for the couple. The frame of a building stood across the corral that was in the center of the yard. He’d even carved Midge one of his rocking chairs for which he was famous. Had Jeb Hackett bribed or threatened them? With them gone, she and Toby couldn’t manage the ranch by themselves.

      In silence, she and Toby finished their meal. The fire popped and crackled, the damp logs hissing. The sound reminded her she’d have to chop more wood soon. Their winter stacks were almost gone. As soon as Lenora entertained that worry, a dam broke of all their other needs. They not only had the garden to tend to, but the cow to milk, pig to slop and chickens to feed.

      The weight of each concern grew heavier.

      New seedlings were just poking their heads up through the rough soil. Had she planted too early? The freezing rain may have damaged 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 СКАЧАТЬ