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fear of falling, but mindful of the close proximity of her hand to Caradon’s backside.
    He slowed the mare’s pace.
    “Can’t blame me for trying,” he spoke over his shoulder, grinning.
    “Marshaling must be lonelier work than I thought, Marshal Caradon.” She heard his soft laugh and was reminded again of who he was. Best to keep some distance between them, and not only in proximity. She spotted the mercantile ahead, where she’d asked for him to take her. “We need to go two streets from here, and then to the left.”
    He did as she bade.
    The majority of businesses were closed, but people still milled about on the boardwalk. Mostly men, congregated in small groups, their lit cigarettes standing out against the dark. When they rode past a crowded gaming hall near the edge of town, she couldn’t help but wonder if Robert had slowed the wagon when he came to this place. If only he could learn from his mistakes . . .
    A man stumbled through the hall’s open doors, near legless with liquor, and proceeded to relieve himself in the middle of the street. McKenna turned away, grateful again for Caradon’s offer to provide escort.
    In general, the vulgarities of men rarely surprised her anymore. Being raised around a livery had seen to that. The stranger called out to her, but Caradon rode on. And even though the circumstance warranted an “I told you so” from him, he kept silent, and her estimation of him rose by the tiniest bit.
    Something occurred to her. “What happened to your prisoner’s horse?”
    Caradon glanced to one side. “It threw a shoe. Slater had whipped him hard, and not just today. I left the gelding with a livery here in town.” Having taken the left on the road she’d directed, he reined in.
    The lights of Copper Creek were a good distance behind them now, and the road ahead rose at an incline. “Where to now?” he said.
    “We go about a quarter mile on this road, then there should be a turnoff, to the left, that leads to my cousin’s house.”
    “Your cousin?”
    “Yes. My cousin and her husband live here. My brother and I will be staying with them for a while.”
    As they rode on and took the turnoff, the lack of food and rest caught up with her, and McKenna fought to keep her eyes open. Caradon’s chestnut mare was well-tempered and had a smooth, even gait. Especially for being so large. The animal was well trained, too. Obeyed Caradon’s commands with hardly a nudge from him. Almost as if it read his mind.
    Up ahead, the lights from a cabin shone through the night, and anticipation of seeing Janie caused McKenna to sit up a little straighter. She’d been close to other girls when she was younger, but in recent years friends had been scarce. Decisions she’d made—and those God had made for her—had seen to that. There’d always been Janie though. They’d been close since they were little, and when Janie left seven years ago to go West with her husband, it felt as if half of who McKenna was had been ripped from her.
    And now . . . after all these years and so many letters exchanged, the two parts were about to be made whole again.
    Caradon helped her down from the horse, and she glanced at the darkened porch. Proper manners dictated she invite him inside, at the very least to meet her relatives. But she knew what Robert’s reaction would be at meeting a U.S. Marshal, and she didn’t want Vince and Janie to be biased against her brother at the outset. She’d written to Janie about Robert having become “more of a challenge” recently and had shared some mild examples, while withholding the greater details.
    “Marshal Caradon, I appreciate you escorting me out here, and—”
    The door to the cabin opened, and Robert stepped out. A man followed him. Even in the dim light from the cabin, she could tell it wasn’t Vince. Vince stood a good foot taller than this man and was a good deal younger.
    Robert took the porch steps in twos and brushed past her. “I told you moving