Tempting the Marshal: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Series Book 2) by Julianne MacLean Read Free Book Online Page B

If she could make it up and over the other side, she would be fine. The rest of the way was as flat as a cornmeal griddle cake.
    She climbed the grassy rise and began to breathe harder. Oh, this wasn’t promising at all. Her nose was beginning to feel hot and sunburned, and when she reached the top of the rise, her vision grew blurry. Dizziness overtook her as the rolling, tawny hills began to fold into one another and take on a silvery hue. She stopped and touched her gloved fingers to her forehead. Oh no, not now…
    She hesitated and heard the muffled hoofbeats behind her come to a slow stop. The horse jingled its harness. Her stomach exploded with nausea and she knew that if she didn’t climb into the shaded leather seat in the next few seconds, she’d be on her back.
    She turned around, but a fresh wave of nausea crashed over her and she staggered to the side.
    Her gaze locked with the marshal’s and she took some comfort that he knew what was about to happen and was going to do something about it. He leaped down and ran toward her, but all she could do was stare blankly, dimly aware of her knees crumpling beneath her and the sight of his leather cowboy boots as she fainted at his feet.
    * * *
    Jo’s mind floated in a sea of blackness. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t open her eyes. She could only lie immobile in the stiff grass that was needling the back of her neck, while she listened to that slow, easy drawl.
    “Mrs. O’Malley, wake up. Wake up, ma’am. You fainted.”
    Her eyes fluttered open to see the inside of the marshal’s black hat, fanning in front of her face—back and forth, the cool breeze beating against her cheeks and eyes and lips. Jo tried to speak, but all she could do was let out an embarrassing guttural groan.
    The hat moved aside and she found herself blinking up at the marshal’s green eyes. Behind his head, a black hawk soared against the blue.
    The marshal donned his hat and pressed it down tightly. “You feeling okay?”
    She didn’t want to answer. She only wanted to lie there a little longer and look up at him. Then all at once she remembered who this man was.
    Angry with herself for letting down her guard, she jolted upright, but the sudden movement made her shoulder throb painfully.
    “Hold on, now,” the marshal warned, touching her good shoulder and laying her back down in the grass. “Not so fast. You need to rest.”
    Feeling a headache coming on, she tried to keep it at bay by rubbing her temple. “How long was I out?”
    “Only a minute or two. You were strolling along just fine, then all of a sudden, whoosh.” He knelt on one knee, his arm resting across his thigh. “You dropped like all your bones turned to the kind of oatmeal my mother used to make.”
    “What kind of oatmeal was that?” she asked warily.
    “It was runny, ma’am. But don’t get me wrong. It was tasty…in its way.”
    Jo sat up and allowed the marshal to help her to her feet.
    “You sure you’re feeling well enough to stand?” he asked. “You lost a lot of blood the other night. It’s no surprise you took a fancy to the ground.”
    She held on to his hand for support and had to work hard not to fall completely into his ready arms. “I’m fine, but I think I’d prefer to ride with you the rest of the way.”
    “I reckon that’s a wise decision.” He led her to the buggy and helped her up, then climbed in beside her and they started off again.
    Jo remembered how he had tried to convince her to stay in the buggy in the first place and wished she hadn’t proven him right. At least he wasn’t saying I told you so.
    “It’s not much farther,” she mentioned, swaying from side to side.
    He took his eyes off the road to study her for a moment and she felt vulnerable, as if her secrets were printed on her cheeks in bold red ink. “You’re worried I’m going to ask you more questions about the shooting.”
    Jo tried to appear unruffled. “I said all there was to say about