My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2) by Lori Copeland Read Free Book Online Page B

off.”
    “Thank you, ma’am, but if it’s all the same to you, I’ll be goingnow.” Giving Anne-Marie a cursory nod, he strode quickly out the door, latching it behind him.
    The occupants of the shanty settled down for the night. Eulalie provided a skirt and worn feed-sack blouse, and Anne-Marie gratefully shed the disguise before she made herself a pallet beside the bed. Eulalie moved to the fire and lowered herself into her rocker with a mug of homemade tea.
    Stretching out on the pallet, Anne-Marie closed her eyes and put her toes to the fire, absorbing the warmth. She was conscious of hunger pangs, but she was too tired to do anything about them.
    Fatigue swiftly claimed her, and she drifted off to the faint smell of wood smoke in the air.

Five
    T he sound of a rooster’s crow shattered the cabin’s sleepy silence. The boisterous Cock-a-doodle-do! was accompanied by a weak ray of sunlight struggling to penetrate the dirty windowpane.
    Rolling to her side, Anne-Marie came awake slowly. Creed was sleeping now, having tossed and turned the better part of the night.
    Eulalie was standing at the stove dishing out portions of cornmeal mush for the cats. She stirred the bubbling mixture with a heavy wooden ladle.
    “You must be hungrier than a polecat,” she called when Anne-Marie stirred.
    “I am. Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful.”
    “Nothin’ fancy—just plain old mush, but it’ll keep starvation off your doorstep.”
    Getting up, Anne-Marie tried to step over and around several cats and the raccoon as she crossed the room. The animals were scattered around, their heads buried in various bowls of scraps.
    A tap sounded at the front door and Anne-Marie called out, “Come in, Quincy!”
    Quincy appeared in the doorway, his coat dusted with light snow. “Morning, ladies.”
    “Mornin’,” Anne-Marie and Eulalie called back.
    “Snow about over?” Anne-Marie asked.
    “Yes, ma’am, seems to be tapering off.” His dark eyes moved to the cot in the corner. “How’s he doing this morning?”
    “He’s quieter now.” Eulalie motioned for Quincy to have a seat at the table, now clean and set with bowls and cups. “Hope you like mush.”
    “Yes, ma’am, I do.” Quincy sat down, and shortly thereafter Anne-Marie set a steaming cup of chicory in front of him.
    “I hope you were warm enough in the lean-to.”
    “I slept just fine, ma’am.”
    Eulalie and Anne-Marie sat down and the three bowed their heads as Eulalie prayed. “Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Bless the poor and the sick and the hurting. Amen.”
    Anne-Marie picked up a knife and spread butter on her bread, hesitantly broaching the subject that worried her most. “What do you think we should do about those strongboxes, Quincy?” She wasn’t sure if she should call him by his given name, but at the moment the small liberty felt proper.
    Keeping his eyes on his plate, Quincy said quietly, “We have to keep them, ma’am.”
    “You don’t have to be so formal; you can call me Anne-Marie.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.”
    “You really think we should keep the strongboxes?” Anne-Marie took a bite of bread, chewing thoughtfully. It was a high risk. Those strongboxes belonged to Wells Fargo. The last thing she wanted or sought was more trouble. That gold wasn’t theirs and needed to be returned. “Wouldn’t that make us thieves, though we took the boxes by accident?”
    “I suppose it would, but I don’t see we have much choice but tokeep them. I wouldn’t advise turning them over to anyone we didn’t know for certain. That would create too much risk of them falling into the wrong hands.”
    “How so?”
    Quincy looked up, his dark eyes respectful. “Doesn’t it seem coincidental to you that those two strongboxes were in that wagon?”
    “No. The boxes could be the railroad payroll being delivered to the bank.”
    “Could be, but I don’t