Cord, as composed as possible, leaned against the wall, needing the support. “I know,” he lied.
“No, you don’t. Or didn’t,” Rosalie corrected. “I can tell by how you’re twitchin’.” She played with the bow of her tattered bonnet, pretending to tighten it. “It don’t have to look like you just let them walk out. We can set up an escape of sorts. Even tell that paper man it was the boys’ ma that broke them out.”
“Paper man?”
“Yeah. Down there on the edge of Main Street. I talked to him earlier today.” She grinned, showing her remaining front teeth. “Of course, I didn’t tell him I was their momma.”
“Of course,” Cord said, disgusted. His temples throbbed and his insides churned. It all made sense, everything Rosalie had told him. Right down to the fact the Winter clan, other than Orson—while he was alive—lived in Kansas, which explained why the Missouri law couldn’t catch them.
A train whistle sounded, so common in El Dorado Cord barely heard them anymore, but this time he did. The long blast announcing the four-sixteen filtered into the room, and with it came something else. Being a lawman and the son of a railroad baron had perks. Cord, disguising the array of promising possibilities circling his head, walked across the room. “A jailbreak, huh?” he said carefully.
Rosalie’s grin increased as she nodded.
Florie waited until Elsie had entered Della’s back porch before she turned and closed the back door of Cord’s house.
“Come sit down, girl, I won’t bite,” Marie said from the chair she’d taken at the table while Florie rinsed out the sink and washed her face.
Florie sat, wringing her hands, straightening her skirt and wringing her hands again.
Marie was just as she remembered. Tall, slender, dark hair piled high on her head with elegant puffiness. Beautiful. The dress she wore was blue and shiny, like water glistening in the sun. Florie found herself wondering what it would have been like if she’d never run away with Junior.
“So, you’re carrying Cord Donavon’s baby.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and caused Florie’s insides to flip. “How—”
“Rosalie Winter stopped to see me today,” Marie explained.
That didn’t surprise Florie. The entire Winter family must have left the farm shortly after her. On horseback, the brothers would have traveled faster, but Rosalie must have walked, just as she had. Florie lifted her eyes, meeting Marie’s benevolent, but knowing gaze. The lump that formed in her throat was twice as large as the apple chunk had been.
“Your father was a lawman, too.” Marie let out a forlorn sigh. “J. T. Bowman. We were to be married. But he died. A week before our wedding and seven months before you were born.”
Florie’s hands went to her stomach. The mere idea of Cord… She stopped, blocked the thought. She’d cried when Junior had died, had been sincerely sad, but more for Junior than herself. He’d been so unlike the other brothers. The kind one. Joining the family’s shenanigans had bothered him terribly. Yet, Junior’s death could never compare to how she’d feel if Cord…
“Excuse me?” Florie apologized for not hearing what Marie had said.
“When J.T. died. I lost my mind.” Marie leaned back in her chair. “The doctor told my mother, your grandmother, to take me to an asylum up Kansas City way. That’s where you were born. She came and got you, but I stayed. I couldn’t take care of myself, let alone a baby. After about a year, I figured out I hadn’t lost my mind. Just my heart.” Marie sat straighter in her chair and waved a hand. “But that’s all in the past, insignificant really, and not why I came to see you.”
Florie met her mother’s gaze, and a forlorn ache tugged at her heart for what Marie had experienced. She couldn’t imagine being separated from her child any more than—
“I have means, Florence,” Marie said, interrupting Florie’s thoughts. “I’ve made a lot of friends over the years. Important friends.” Marie’s pause was weighted, and her gaze intense. “There are over a dozen trains rolling through El Dorado any day of the week. I can have you on one. No one will know. Nor will anyone know where you go. New York. San Francisco. I hear tell Florida is nice, too. I’ve got friends all over. Friends that will take you in. Take care of you until you get settled in your own place.”
A chill worked its way up Florie’s spine.
Marie shook her head. “I don’t mean a business like mine, Florence. I mean a nice house, with plenty of food, heat in the winter, even a maid to look after you and the baby. I’ll set you up a bank account. You’ll never have to worry about anything.” Marie pulled a kerchief from her dress sleeve and dabbed at the corner of one eye. “I owe you that much. More really. I should have come for you when you were little. I should have taken better care of you when your uncle dropped you off here.”