Marian’s fingers dug into her arms. What had he wanted to say to her? She drew in a breath of freezing air as he disappeared into the darkness, and her face went hot at the memory of his fingers across her forehead.
And the wild thoughts she’d had about him kissing her.
Perhaps it was best he didn’t get to say what had been on his mind. Even if she were dying to know.
Chapter Ten
Bentley Simonson, hotelclerk. Carl Burger, mortician. Beau Landry, postman and telegraph operator.
Cole recited the names to himself as he made rounds in town the following morning. He could chase down any number of thieves and wanted men, but the only way he’d continue to earn the town’s trust was by getting to know each business owner and as many people as possible. And folks liked it when a fellow remembered their names.
Colt Masterson and . . .What was his brother’s name? Cole stopped in front of the wainwright shop, pausing to recall the other fellow’s name before he went inside. Colt was easy to remember, being so close to Cole’s own given name. But the other . . . He had the same name as someone of importance back East who had some connection to the Dakotas. . .
Teddy!Teddy Masterson, like Teddy Roosevelt. Pleased with his success at remembering, Cole paused to let a wagon pull up alongside the shop. Two men descended, both dressed for outdoor work. The one with the darker hair was closer to Cole’s age, while the older, taller man cast an imposing presence.
Having not met either one, Cole continued toward them. Oddly, both moved with a limp, with the older fellow’s only evident to one who took careful notice.
“Good afternoon.” Cole held out a hand in greeting. “Cole Robertson, deputy sheriff,” he said as he drew closer.
The older man took his outstretched hand in a firm shake. “Arlen Thomas. Pleased to meet you.”
“Titus Moore,” the younger man said as he shook Cole’s hand. “Glad to hear Granger’s hired on someone else. We’ve had all sorts of trouble around here, especially out at our ranches and farms.”
Cole nodded, wondering if the man’s limp was indicative of that trouble.
“I don’t suppose you’re the one responsible for catching that outlaw who attacked the schoolteacher yesterday?” Thomas asked.
Cole raised his eyebrows, surprised that news had made it outside town. “I am, although Sheriff Granger arrived first.”
“My daughters were with her when it happened. I owe you a debt of gratitude for keeping them safe. My younger one has been singing your praises ever since she arrived home yesterday.”
Cole couldn’t help but smile as he thought of the little girl’s chatter and insistence upon holding his hand as they walked to the post and telegraph office. “I’m glad I could help.”
“I’ll leave you two to talk business while I get this repair sorted out. It was good to meet you, Deputy.” Moore nodded at him before disappearing into the wainwright shop.
Talk business. Cole turned his attention back to Thomas, who stood with the effortless effect of ensuring anyone around him knew of his presence. As his eyes flicked across the road in a practiced way, Cole realized what Moore had meant.
