Disobeying the Marshal Read Online Free Page B

sight. Just the woman. She was quite pretty. Her fair hair had streaks of crimson and brown and was pinned fashionably high on her head, and her bright green eyes shimmered happily.
    “Hello,” Florie answered hesitantly.
    “Cord had to head down to the jail.”
    “Oh?” Florie stammered, measuring the distance to the back door of Cord’s house. Her legs felt frail, but she thought she could make it.
    “Yes,” Della said, glancing at Florie’s very old and very rumpled skirt. “Having those Winter boys behind bars has kept both him and Spencer busy.”
    The howling inside Florie’s head caught her off guard. She reached for the side of the privy. “Winter boys,” she slurred. “Behind bars?”
    “Yes.” Della sounded miles away. “They’ve been there a couple days now.”
    The sunshine above, the green grass below and the fuzzy outline of Della all merged together and then disappeared.
    When Florie opened her eyes, she was lying on a long settee, surrounded by screened walls. The poignant scent of vinegar filled her nose and stung her eyes like boiling lye. She cringed and turned away from the smell, gasping for fresh air.
    “Sorry,” Della said, “I know it’s strong, but you’ve been out so long.”
    “Out?” Florie rubbed at the dull ache in her temples.
    “Yes, you passed out. The girls helped me carry you into the sitting porch.”
    Two young girls, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, peered through an open doorway that led into the house. They grinned. Florie attempted to respond, but her mind kicked in. Junior’s brothers were in Cord’s jail.
    Florie pushed up, but stopped as her head spun.
    “Wow, slow down there, girl.” Della took an arm, easing her upright. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”
    “I don’t know.” Florie recalled the apple she’d taken from Cord’s table last night, but couldn’t remember eating it. “Day before yesterday, maybe.”
    “Well, here, nibble on this toast.” Della set a small table within reach. “There’s tea to go with it.”
    “Water’s ready for her bath, Ma,” one of the girls said.
    “Thank you, honey.”
    “I have the Marshal’s meals ready,” the other girl announced.
    “Go ahead and wrap them up. You can drop them off on your way to school,” Della answered, handing Florie a china cup.
    Trying to think beyond the chatter, Florie took a sip, but instantly wished she’d declined the tea. The warm liquid flowed into her empty stomach like a morning milking hitting the bottom of the bucket. She bit into the toast, hoping to calm the sloshing.
    It didn’t help.
    She swallowed quickly, attempting to force everything back down.
    “Oh, goodness,” Della exclaimed, shoving an empty pot in front of Florie just in time.
    There wasn’t much to expel, but her stomach convulsed several times, and when it ended, tears dripped from her eyes.
    As if it couldn’t get any worse, the look on Della’s face made Florie’s heart stop.

 

    Chapter Four
     
    Cord rushed out of the jailhouse door as soon as footsteps sounded on the boardwalk. “How’s—” He paused, not sure how to question Anna and Elsie about Florie’s condition.
    “Mama says to tell you Miss Florie’s doing just fine, Marshal,” Elsie said, handing him a basket.
    “Yep, just fine,” Anna repeated, handing her basket through the open doorway to Spencer Monroe. “She’s eating breakfast and getting ready to have a bath.”
    “Thanks, girls,” Spencer said, taking the basket from Cord’s hand. Cord watched Della’s daughters skip off the stoop, wondering if what they said was true. Florie had been too pale for a quick recovery. Maybe he should send the doc over just to make sure.
    “Florie?” Spencer questioned, staring at him.
    Not ready to discuss Florie with anyone, Cord pushed his way into the office. The prisoners were awake, arguing amongst themselves. He hadn’t spoken to them yet, wanted to wait until the girls had dropped off breakfast in