In five short days, Cora had stamped herself indelibly on the few rooms he occupied above the jailhouse. Before the little girl’s arrival, he’d thought the space more than adequate. Now there simply wasn’t enough room for all the fripperies that accompanied a little girl. As he dug a pink ribbon from beneath the cushions, a soft whimper caught his attention. Garrett cocked his head and realized the gentle noise was coming from Cora’s room. Worried, he heeled off his boots in a jack and crossed the distance in his stocking feet, then peered behind the partition. Cora rested on her side facing him, her rag doll clutched against her chest. Tears streamed down her face. A nauseating wave of sadness buckled Garrett’s knees. He knelt beside Cora’s bed and brushed the damp curls from her forehead. Her eyes remained closed, and Garrett realized she was crying in her sleep. Hesitant and uncertain, he murmured soothing nonsense words and gently rubbed her back until her sobs eased.
What do You think about The Marshal's Ready-Made Family?
