Disobeying the Marshal Read Online Free Page A

breath to calm the way his heart jolted inside his chest, he turned. Sunlight from the parlor windows flowed through the doorway, forming a golden haze all around her.
    It was a moment before he could speak, and when he did say, “Good morning, Florie,” it was accompanied by a gush of air.
    The light clung to her outline as she moved forward. Sleep-tousled and rumpled she looked angelic, and made a whirlwind swirl inside him. Their eyes locked and a tightening happened in his chest, like an invisible lasso had looped over his heart and pulled it across the room.
    “Good morning,” she greeted softly.
    He wanted to go to her, wrap her in his arms and hold her. Just hold her. And tell her how beautiful she was. How he thought of little else but her.
    She blinked and he spun around, forcing the thoughts aside.
    “How’d you sleep?” he asked, filling a cup from the steaming pot.
    “Fine, thank you.”
    Cord turned and held out the cup. “Coffee?”
    She eased forward, her skirt swaying around her ankles. Suddenly all color drained from her face and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Eyes wide, she bolted for the door.
    Momentarily stunned, Cord could do nothing but stare. Then he threw the cup in the sink and followed in her wake. The privy door slammed shut as he slid to a stop next to it.
    He stepped back.
    Waited.
    Walked around a bit.
    Waited.
    Had she eaten something that didn’t agree with her? Or had she caught something during her journey? Smallpox had been fierce last winter. Had she contracted it? His heart started to pound. Should he get the doctor? He hurried to the door and knocked on the wood. “Florie?”
    A low grown permeated the wood.
    He pounded again. “Florie!”
    “Cord, you go on, I’ll see to her.”
    Cord spun. Della, his neighbor, gave him a gentle push.
    He shook his head. “I don’t know if she’s all right or not.”
    “Who is she?” Della asked.
    “Her name’s Florie.” Cord stared at the outhouse, willing the door to open. “She walked here, all the way from Greenfield. She must have caught something.” It felt as if a thousand crickets hopped around inside him and he didn’t know how to stop them. It was ridiculous, he was a lawman. Always knew how to react. But she’d looked so ill-stricken. He spun back to Della. “Could she have caught pneumonia?”
    “Greenfield?” Della asked.
    He nodded.
    “Is this the gal that saved your life last winter?”
    He nodded again, never taking his eyes off the privy door.
    “The girls will be taking breakfast down to the jail in a few minutes. Why don’t you go on down there? I’ll see to Florie.”
    “No, I should—”
    “Cord,” Della said sternly. “I saw her run across the yard. She’s going to be fine. I know what to do. I’ll send the girls if I need something. You go on now.” Della pushed him toward the house. “You can come back in an hour or so, she’ll be ready to see you then.”
    His heels dug in the dirt. “I—”
    “I promise she’ll be fine.”
    He’d felt this way once before when told to leave Florie. He’d had to, then, known it was the best, but now—
    Della waved both hands, shooing him toward the house. “Trust me, Cord. You need to leave. Go see to your prisoners.”
    Cord ran a hand through his hair. It was hell, this thing tearing inside him.
    His spine stiffened. He didn’t know much about women, but he did know outlaws, and right now he did have a few questions to ask the Winter brothers. If they were the cause of her bruised cheek, those boys had better pray the escort to take them back to Missouri arrived today.
     
    The muffled voices faded, no longer mingled with the ringing of her ears, and thankfully her trembles had quelled. Florie took a deep breath, fueling the courage to face Cord, and opened the privy door.
    A woman stood before her. “Good morning, Florie. I’m Della. My daughters and I live next door.”
    An eerie sensation gripped Florie’s spine. Cord was nowhere in