took off his badge, looked about for someone to hand it to, then pressed it into the fist of Doc Brown. “I ask your forgiveness before I leave town.”
With a backward glare at Pendragon, he went down the steps. Mrs. Sizeloff caught his sleeve as he passed.
“Go with God, Mr. Deeds,” she said.
“Well.” Doc Brown spoke to the murmuring crowd. “It appears we need a new lawman.”
“Billy Suede would be a fine choice,” Woody Vance called out.
Sarah beamed up from the foot of the steps. “Billy! Oh yes, now there’s a man who can be trusted.”
Murmers of Billy’s name went from the front of the group to the back.
“I cast my little bitty vote for Billy Suede,” Lulu Frolic sang out, with feathers and satin bouncing.
Six pairs of red-tipped hands shot into the air. “Oooh, so do we!”
Giggles twittered. The ladies swept sideways together, their colors a moving rainbow. They circled Bart, who had been creeping toward the edge of the crowd.
“You vote for Billy, don’t you, Bart?” Lulu asked.
“Sure, honey, whatever you say.” He looked as nervous as a bug cornered by a flock of hens.
“What I say,” Lulu announced, “and we all do, is thanks for the vote and you might as well leave town with Mr. Deeds because there won’t be a drop of anything for you at the Long Branch or anywhere else!”
He backed slowly away while they shooed their skirts at him.
“I meant to leave here, anyway,” he grumbled. When Lulu took a step forward and clapped her hands in his face, he turned and ran, kicking up mud clods until he was out of sight.
“So, who else votes for Billy?” Doc Brown raised the badge in the air.
Every hand shot up except Lawrence Pendragon’s.
“Well, Billy, do you accept the position?”
Billy took the badge from the doc and pinned it on his shirt. When he rubbed it to a shine with his sleeve, a cheer went up.
“Marshal Suede.” Matt beamed at his cousin. “Is my wife free to take me home?”
Another cheer. Life’s road stretched before him with love and laughter at every mile.
“Not until later,” the doctor warned, looking at Emma and ignoring his protests altogether. “He’s healing well, but wait until sundown just to make sure there’s no fever.”
“We’ll stay.” Emma tucked her strong little body beneath his good shoulder and turned Matt toward the door.
“Marshal Suede.” Pendragon, now free of his captors, blocked the doorway.
If the land baron had been looking at Emma instead of scowling at the new marshal, he’d have seen her solid little boot toe coming for his shin. Instead he doubled over and grabbed his leg.
Laughter twittered through the crowd until the man opened his mouth again.
“I demand that you lock up Matthew Suede for bank robbery. He’s The Ghost and everyone here knows it!”
“Father!” Lenore Pendragon rushed up the porch steps. A good-size crowd had now gathered on the small veranda. If anyone else had something to say, they would have to do it from below.
Young Lenore placed her hands on her hips and raised her brows at her father. “Perhaps you would like to take a walk with Preacher Sizeloff, as well.”
“Lenore Emily Pendragon, I order you to go home without another word.” He faced his offspring, teeth gritted and short of breath. A nerve in his eye jumped in time with a tic in his cheek.
“Well, then, if you won’t come clean, I’ll have to do it for you.”
Lenore arched her eyebrows, fluffed her expensive skirt and told every eager ear the sorry tale of Lucy’s father’s death and how her own father had neglected the child’s welfare.
“And so,” she finished, “I had no choice but to become The Ghost.”
Even the bird chirruping on the roof fell silent.
“Someone had to take responsibility for the child,” Lenore said. When her father looked stunned enough to be pushed over with an accusing word, she added, “Marshal, do your duty.”
She held out her hands, dainty wrists pressed together.
“There’s no call to do that.” Woody Vance puffed his chest, nodded at Matt and winked at Emma. “I’m The Ghost.”
“No, I’m The Ghost,” confessed Jesse, while his girl beamed her pleasure.
“So am I,” insisted Mr. Sizeloff.
“We are, too!” a trio of farm wives called, each hoisting a bottle of Orange Lilly into the air.
Within a space of four minutes, no less than forty people had confessed to the crime. Only babes in arms had not.
Lawrence Pendragon’s backside had sunk to the top step some moments past. He looked pale and