Free Capturing The Marshal's Heart (Escape From Texas) by Linda Carroll-Bradd Page B

Whitfield or I turned over. I tell you my nerves are frayed this morning. How about you, Amanda?”
    Miss Torrance cleared her throat. “My bed squeaked, too.”
    Jazzy stilled. Had the bed in her room made the same noise? Had she and Slade announced their lovemaking with squeaks from her iron bed frame? She closed her eyes and her mind instantly filled with images of Slade’s tanned skin, muscles, and dark hair. Such a handsome man. All Jazzy remembered were the uneven breaths and exclamations of a healthy man and woman enjoying the ages-old rhythmic dance of lovers.
    “Miss Morgan? Did you hear my question?”
    Jazzy stiffened and shook her head to dispel the pictures. “I’m sorry, I…my mind wandered, Mrs. Harrington. What did you say?”
    Mrs. Harrington frowned and peered closer. “My, my, you do look tired. You must have spent a sleepless night, too.”
    Jazzy forced her immediate giggle into an exaggerated yawn, hoping the woman would quit talking. Rather than listening to Mrs. Harrington’s petty complaints, Jazzy had to make a plan. She needed to figure out what she could possibly say to Slade that would keep him from realizing what her behavior said about her past. No matter how much fun they’d had in that upstairs boardinghouse bedroom, those kind of games were part of her past and didn’t fit with her future.
    When she left Miss Veronica’s Pleasure Emporium, she’d vowed to hold her behavior to a higher moral standard. She wanted to learn to be a proper lady—one who would blend in with the working people of a friendly town. Last night had been a stumble backwards, but she was the one in control of her own life once again. Now that she knew Slade wouldn’t acknowledge her with the same courtesy he gave other women, he could wither up and die waiting for a repeat performance.
    Even if she still yearned for the rugged man who’d become so special in just one night.
    “Did you see the handbill Pete had?”
    Jazzy pinched her leg as punishment for letting her thoughts stray again. With a sigh, she turned her head toward the insistent woman and brought her attention to the present. “Handbill? I don’t believe I did.”
    Mrs. Harrington leaned forward, squirming with excitement. “Actually, it was a wanted poster.”
    The small boy on the bench next to the woman looked up, his blue eyes shining. “I seed it and told Mama. It was fer a lady wobber.”
    “Chester, Mother was speaking.” Mrs. Harrington drew the boy closer to her side and placed her hand over his mouth. “Little boys are to be seen and not heard.”
    The coach bumped into a rut and jostled the occupants against one another. Apologies murmured all around.
    “A lady robber?” Dread tightened her stomach and Jazzy glanced at the other passengers, who all nodded in agreement. “I didn’t know.”
    Mr. Denton cleared his throat and tapped his cane on the coach floor. “I’ve never heard of such impudence! What is the world coming to when women don’t know their proper place?”
    Sarah Whitfield settled her handbag more securely at her side. “I wonder if that’s why the sheriff stopped by. Maybe he’d intended to speak with us, but was distracted by whatever business Mr. Thomas needed to discuss.”
    Miss Torrance shifted and lifted the corner of the far window shade.
    These were the longest sentences Jazzy had heard Sarah speak. Obviously, this was big news. “Did he tell you why he was interested?”
    Sarah sniffed and shrugged. “Something about a resemblance to the robber’s description and drawing.”
    Annoyance shot through Jazzy. Not only did she not get to see and speak to Slade, but she’d obviously missed something mighty interesting. Maybe that explained why Slade had chosen to ride outside. He could be getting additional information from Pete. She leaned back and contemplated what this could all mean, bouncing against the coach wall with each bump in the road.
    “Folks,” Pete’s shout interrupted.