she planned to alert Marshal Dawson to be on the lookout for them. She didn’t want them to break Marsh out of his jail cell, before he could swing from the tallest tree in Texas.
The moment Natalie emerged from the hotel lobby, she surveyed the dark street. Music from a piano and harmonica drifted from Rattlesnake Saloon, along with a customary cloud of smoke. Her stomach growled, reminding her that the dried pemmican she’d had for lunch on the trail had worn off. She was tempted to detour into a café, but decided to head directly to the marshal’s office. She wasn’t going to risk leaving any loose ends that pertained to Marsh.
If there was one thing she had learned about her heartless, conniving stepfather it was never to underestimate him. Then again, he had underestimated her ability of self-defense this morning and look where it got him.
Natalie swept down the boardwalk, ignoring the wolfish whistles of drunken cowboys that were wandering back and forth between the Rattlesnake and Lookout saloons. She entered the marshal’s office but Bart and Crow were nowhere to be seen.
Well, so much for softening up her hard-edged husband by wearing the bright yellow dress.
“Marshal Dawson?” she called out.
“Back here,” he answered from the other side of the door leading to the cells.
Natalie strode through the doorway, pleased to note how good Marsh and his goons looked in a cage framed with metal bars. The only vulnerable place was the barred window that overlooked the alley. But there would be no escape attempt through the alley, not if she could help it.
She walked up to glare at Marsh who sat on a rickety stool, staring at the brick floor. “Where are the men I saw you conspiring with after you left Rattlesnake Saloon yesterday?” she asked without preamble.
“Go to hell,” Marsh growled without looking up.
“You first,” she countered caustically.
Marshal Dawson’s thick brows furrowed over his eyes as he tugged up his sagging trousers. “What’s this about other men?”
“I saw Marsh, Kimball, Green and Jenson exit the saloon yesterday with three scraggly haired, burly-looking men,” she reported then stared deliberately at Marsh. “I wanted to make certain they didn’t attempt to break Marsh out of jail.”
“Three, you say? Not two?” Dawson questioned with sudden interest. “As I told Crow, there are two stagecoach robbers lurking in the area and a report of three stolen horses from a nearby ranch. I sent word to the Rangers a few days back, but they haven’t arrived yet.”
“There were definitely three men, but I only saw them from a distance. They were dressed like cowboys in tattered shirts and breeches. They wore red bandanas around their necks. I couldn’t see their faces clearly.”
Dawson frowned pensively. “I better check this out. I have a description of the thieves and their stolen horses. Their mounts might be tethered to hitching posts or stabled at the livery.”
Natalie cast one last glance at Marsh who looked nothing like the cocky man who had married her mother five years earlier. She liked the looks of Marsh behind bars so much better and she chose to remember him as such…if she decided to think about him at all in the future.
“Doctor Purcell will be back around later to check your wounds,” Dawson told his injured prisoners as he walked Natalie out.
Natalie waited while the marshal locked the outside door. “No deputy?” she asked uneasily.
Dawson shook his dark head then hiked up his breeches. “My deputy was shot last week while trying to arrest a drunken cowboy fresh off a cattle drive. No one offered to take his place. This is a rough town, you know.”
She nodded in agreement, then veered left while the marshal veered right to check the horses lining the street.
“Do you know where Collier and Crow are?” she called after him.
He turned back to her and shrugged. “Not for sure. Maybe they stopped at one of the saloons for a drink,” he said, then continued on his way to check on the three men and their horses.
Natalie pulled a face. If she never had another swallow of whiskey, it would be fine with her. She still remembered feeling ill, befuddled and miserable after she’d had too many drinks during her business negotiations with Crow.
Lifting the hem of her skirt to hike quickly down the boardwalk, Natalie contemplated her choices of eating establishments. She had tried the Caprock Café the previous afternoon and wasn’t impressed. She decided to sample the fare at Canyon Café.
As she