The Lawman's Surrender: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 2 by Debra Mullins

morning.
    Jedidiah had turned the cattle rustlers over to Sheriff Jones and explained that Mr. Pruitt had died accidentally in the scuffle. The sheriff had cast Susannah a dubious glance, but accepted the marshal’s story. Molly Pruitt found herself a wealthy widow with a prospering business that would easily allow her to live comfortably and support her child. Jedidiah was considered a hero for capturing the gang.
    And Susannah had spent the night locked in jail, wondering what madness gripped her that she had actually gone and kissed Jedidiah.
    She had to be crazy. Yes, she was pleased that he finally believed her innocent of murder and that he would help her locate the witness who would clear her name. And yes, she found him more appealing than any man she had ever met. But he had made it perfectly clear that once his job was done, he would be moving on.
    How could she even consider giving in to her feelings for a man who would only leave her broken-hearted?
    She had simply been so touched by his gentleness with Molly that she had felt obliged to show it, that was all. There was nothing more to it. Absolutely nothing.
    “You’re out of your mind if you think this will keep Caldwell off our trail,” Susannah said to Jedidiah as he drove the wagon away from Placerville.
    “People only see what they want to see,” Jedidiah replied. “And as long as they don’t see that face of yours, at least we have a fighting chance.”
    “You’re not exactly easy to forget yourself,” she pointed out.
    “Me?” He deepened his Southern accent from a mere trace to nearly overdone. “Heck, ma’am, I’m just a farmer. And you’re my wife.”
    “Your pregnant wife.”
    He grinned as if he had indeed been the one to put her in such a state. “Yep.”
    Susannah snorted and tried to make herself more comfortable—or at least as comfortable as a pregnant woman could be on the hard wooden seat of the buckboard Jedidiah had managed to procure. She punched at the wadded up cloth stuffed beneath her gown that made her look as if she were ready to whelp at any moment, then shoved yet another stray curl beneath the deep-brimmed sunbonnet that covered her head. No matter which way she turned, she either dislodged her hat or found her way constricted by her false belly. If this was what it felt like to be expecting a child, perhaps she should rethink her dreams of motherhood.
    Jedidiah, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease in his tan britches and suspenders and a soft, white cotton shirt. He wore his own boots and wide-brimmed tan hat, but otherwise he looked just like any other homesteader as he drove the pair of horses with the ease of long practice. One of the animals pulling the wagon was Susannah’s mount, and the other was a plain brown farm horse that had seen better days. Jedidiah’s Palomino was tied to the back of the buckboard.
    Jedidiah’s rifle lay at his feet within easy reach. His Colts were tucked beneath the seat, hidden behind a coil of rope. He looked like a farmer and even sounded like one, but he was armed to the teeth and ready for anything.
    Which was a good thing for Susannah, considering she couldn’t be of much help with the way her disguise hindered her movements.
    Still, she had to give Jedidiah a lot of credit. They had passed two wagons and a few men on horseback, and no one had even looked twice at them. Maybe this crazy plan was actually going to work.
    “You never did tell me what you found out about Abigail Hawkins,” she said, breaking the silence.
    He frowned. “There wasn’t much to tell. Mrs. Hawkins did come visit with her friend, but she was only there a day before she picked up a stage to Colorado Springs.”
    “So she’s already gone.” Susannah sighed. “Does her friend know why Mrs. Hawkins is headed for Colorado Springs?”
    “She wanted to catch the train.”
    “Where to?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Susannah threw up her hands. “Lord Almighty, Marshal, if that woman gets