My Heart Stood Still (Sisters Of Mercy Flats 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

to Anne-Marie that his speech was as educated as the Indian’s.
    Why, those low-down, conniving—these men topped her when it came to deceit.
    “If we’re quick, the sheriff won’t notice a thing,” Quincy predicted. “With all that banging and sawing, we should be able to get out of here without causing a stir. Let’s go.”
    Creed stepped out of the cell and the two men headed for the door.
    Anne-Marie watched, dumbfounded. They were going to leave her.
    “Wait a minute! Aren’t you going to take me with you?”
    When they didn’t answer, she scrambled to her feet. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m not going to hang!”
    Racing out of the cell, she pressed against Creed’s back when he opened the front door a crack and peered out.
    “There’s a buckboard sitting in front of the bank.”
    Quincy rolled his eyes. “Too risky. Let’s separate and make a run for horses.”
    Creed studied the nearly deserted street. “Not a chance. We take the buckboard.”
    The three shoved through the door at once and raced toward the wagon. Anne-Marie shot a glance toward the men at the gallows. Thesheriff looked up and straightened. “Run faster!” she shouted, panic raising her voice an octave. “Run!”

    Dropping his hammer, Ferris shouted, “Hey! Where do you three think you’re going?”
    Anne-Marie held her skirts high and raced toward the wagon, fighting to keep her footing in the rutted street. She didn’t fool herself into thinking Creed would rescue her a second time if she fell.
    Scrambling aboard the buckboard, Creed reached out and grabbed Anne-Marie’s hand. With a mighty push, she heaved herself up beside him as Quincy scrambled for a position on the small board seat.
    “Hold on!” Creed shouted as he swung the horses into the street. Anne-Marie felt a hard jab in the ribs when Quincy reached for a shotgun lying on the wagon floor.
    “Hee-ya!” Creed shouted. The buckboard raced past the newly constructed platform, scattering lumber, nails, and men in its wake.
    A burst of gunfire rained over the careening wagon as it rolled out of town.
    Clinging to the wooden seat, Anne-Marie clamped her eyes tightly shut. The buckboard bumped and banged along the rutted road as Creed cracked a whip over the horses’ heads, urging them on to even greater speed.
    Quincy attempted to hang on to the shotgun as the wagon lurched crazily across the countryside.
    Glancing over her shoulder, Anne-Marie felt her heart pounding. There were riders in the distance, hot on their trail.
    “Faster, faster, they’re gaining on us!”
    Creed swung the whip harder, snapping it smartly over the ears of the team.
    The old buckboard wheeled along. A tarp covering two wooden boxes in the wagon bed came loose and began flapping in the wind.Before Quincy could secure the rope holding the tarp, the canvas ripped free.
    Anne-Marie’s eyes widened when she spotted the two strongboxes with Wells Fargo emblazoned on the sides.
    Quincy glanced over his shoulder and yelled, “Holy moly!”
    “What’s wrong?” Creed shouted.
    Quincy shook his head, his eyes frozen on the two strongboxes. The buckboard hit a deep rut and bounced awkwardly on its side. Quincy and Anne-Marie held on for dear life.
    The wagon struck another rut and the gun flew out of Quincy’s hand.
    Anne-Marie made a grab for the firearm and the gun discharged, the explosion propelling the shotgun to the floor of the buckboard.
    The Indian yelled, grabbing for his right thigh. The reins fell to the wagon floor. Anne-Marie scrambled to retrieve them as the stench of burning gunpowder filled her nostrils.
    Climbing back on the seat, she gasped when she saw the crimson patch of blood soaking above the knee of Creed’s breeches.
    “Now what’d you do?” Quincy yelled when he grabbed the leads from Anne-Marie’s hands.
    Before she could deny that she’d done anything, the buckboard sprang up again, pitching Creed off the seat and out of the wagon.
    When she whirled to look