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

sheriff knows everything that goes on in his town, and a man responsible for a shipment that size should be vigilant every moment unless he knows the gold is safe.”
    “Maybe he isn’t a good sheriff.”
    “Right now it doesn’t matter if he’s good or bad.” The wagon hit another pothole and Quincy gave the team a sharp warning whistle. Creed winced. “The sheriff thinks we stole it.”
    “And if they were going to hang us for stealing cattle, then they’re bound to hang us for stealing gold, whether we meant to or not,” she murmured.
    Creed and Quincy’s eyes met again.
    She brightened. “Why don’t we just go back and explain what happened?”
    “And how do you propose we do that?”
    Quincy shook his head. “We can’t prance back into town and walk up to the sheriff and say, ‘Sorry, Mr. Sheriff, we’ve done taken your gold by mistake.’ ”
    “Don’t tempt her, Quince.”
    Anne-Marie narrowed her gaze on Creed. “Very amusing. My sisters and I have managed to pull off some pretty brilliant cons—”
    “I noticed how brilliant the three of you looked screaming your pretty little heads off in that jail wagon,” he noted.
    “There you go again, insinuating that if it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t be in this—”
    “I’m not insinuating, I’m telling you flat out, if it wasn’t for you—”
    “Look.” Quincy dropped the reins and threw up both hands. “Right now it doesn’t matter who had the gold. We’ve got it now.”
    “You mean we’re going to keep it?” she asked incredulously. She picked up the reins and put them in Quincy’s hand.
    “Yes, we’re going to keep it.”
    The cold finality of Creed’s tone concluded the conversation.
    Easing to the back of the wagon, he stretched out, giving a low moan.
    Anne-Marie turned to help. “Here, let me do that.”
    “Woman, leave me alone.”
    “You are so… so churlish!”
    “You make me churlish—whatever that means.”
    “I do not. That’s a horrible thing to say to a woman.”
    Quincy whipped the reins. “Both of you are giving me a headache.”

    Cortes and his three compadres topped the horizon. The disheveled horsemen focused on the smoldering ruins of what once had been Eulalie’s cabin.
    “Looks like there’s been a fire,” Butch observed.
    Turning slowly in his saddle, Cortes glared at him. “What is your clue? The smoke still curls from the ruins.”
    “Well, guess that settles it. The Injun, the nun, and the black ain’t down there,” Ollie said. “Guess we won’t be stirring up that scary old crone anytime soon.”
    Cortes’s gaze strayed to the mound of fresh dirt located near the stream. “We no know the indio hasn’t been here. We will see for ourselves.”
    Ollie, Rodrigo, and Butch passed a series of uneasy looks. Ollie bent and muttered out of the corner of his mouth to the other two men. “What do you think?”
    Rodrigo thought for a moment and then said, “Even being touched in the head, he’s still had the smarts to get us into and out of plenty of schemes, but lately he does seem odder than usual.”
    “Better do what he wants,” Butch advised. “That’s a lot of gold.”
    Ollie snorted. “ ’Pears to me that one of them there meteors must have hit ’em instead of a horse kicking him in the head.”
    Nodding, the three men slowly fell in behind Cortes and rode toward the old crone’s shack.
    When the outlaws reached the creek, Rodrigo reined his horse around a bucket sitting on the bank. “Must be the old lady’s water bucket.”
    “Maybe.” Cortes chewed the stub of the cigar absentmindedly. “Maybe, no.” He stood up in the stirrups, spotting the set of wagon tracks leading away from the shanty. “Someone has been here.” He kneed the horse forward.
    The riders approached the smoldering ruins with caution. Climbing off their horses, the men stood for a moment, assessing the situation. The place was deader than a cemetery.
    “Can’t we just leave?” said Butch.