Leather and Lace

Chapter 14

Morgan couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t said the right things to Casey, and he wasn’t sure he could if he started all over. The wounds of his life weren’t healed. They still seeped with bitter memories. He craved a complete cleansing of his soul, but obviously God wanted him to learn something along the way. Every day he braved forward with one hand in God’s and the other grasping for peace. Forgiving Jenkins was the hardest thing he’d ever done. No longer did he burn with a passion to kill the outlaw, only that the man be stopped.

“God either takes away the ugliness in our lives or walks with us through it,” Mama had said on many occasions. For the first time, Morgan understood, and he firmly believed his spiritual journey included Casey.

What were the chances of the two of them ending up in the same place? He wasn’t a gambling man, but he understood the odds. God had purposed this for something, but what?

God, what do You want me to do? I beg You to stop Jenkins. I beg You to keep Casey safe. I beg You to guide me through this.

Casey would leave Kahlerville, and he’d never be able to find her again. His feelings for her made no sense, but they were there just the same. He craved the sound of her voice, to touch her red-brown hair and gaze into her wide blue eyes. A part of him longed for a life with Casey, no matter how crazy the thought.

The clock in the parlor chimed twice. He had to stop her, and that meant riding into town and keeping vigil over the parsonage. She’d leave before dawn—a remnant of her past.

Morgan swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. If she stayed, he could protect her from Jenkins and the law without folks finding out her identity.

“I want to clear my name, prove I didn’t do all those things slapped across those wanted posters.”

He had the resources to help, and it was about time he turned his profession into something good.

*****

Casey lit the lantern on the kitchen table. Soft shadows reached to the ceiling and cast a warm glow about the kitchen, as though welcoming her to the morning. She added kindling to the cookstove, then struck a match against the side. A small flame came to life, and she laid it atop the kindling. She blew on it gently, causing it to lick at the dry wood around it. The small task reminded her of the reverend’s Sunday evening sermon. He’d compared sin to a small fire that raged out of control.

Within minutes, the comforting scent of burning wood and the nutty aroma of coffee filled the room. She lifted the heavy iron skillet onto the stove to fry up bacon and eggs, and this morning she’d try her hand at biscuits. The reverend’s tasted wonderful, and he’d showed her how. This morning, she wanted to try mixing them herself. Besides, the sun hadn’t risen, and she needed to keep busy.

Midway through cooking sizzling bacon and kneading biscuit dough, she heard a knock at the kitchen door. Sensing the reverend might be needed, she dried her hands on her apron and opened the door. Morgan stood before her, hat in hand. She inwardly gasped.

“Good morning,” he said. “May I come in?”

Her gaze met his haunting stare. He would not see how her heart languished over the differences separating them. “Yes, of course. Is something wrong? Do I need to wake the reverend?”

He shifted from one foot to the other, clearly not the confident man she’d viewed in the past. “I came to see you.”

The logical side of her said to slam the door in his face.

“Please.” His clothes looked like he’d slept in them. “I have a few things to say.”

She moved from the door, and he stepped inside. “The coffee’s done, if you’d like a cup.” She determined to be pleasant.

“I could use something to get the cobwebs out of my head.”

Perhaps if you would answer my questions about Jenkins instead of leaving me to wonder.

He glanced about the kitchen while she poured the coffee. “Sure smells good. Would you like some help?”

“If that will make it easier for you to talk.”

“Remember the breakfast we had along the Green River?” he whispered.

She nodded, afraid to look at him. “You fished while I tried to figure out how I could get my guns back.” She picked up an extra apron.

He chuckled. “I had one eye on the fish and another one on you.”

How well she remembered that morning. “Would you like to break the eggs?” When he nodded, she tied the apron around his waist. Too close. She must not get this close. A longing to touch him crept through her, but she refused to give in. “The basket and bowl are sitting on the table.”

Morgan picked up an egg and tossed it in his palm. “I’m glad you’re still here. I was afraid you’d be gone before I got here.”

“I thought a lot about it, but for now I’m staying. What is it you want to say?” Her hand trembled.

“I make you nervous. You scare me to death, Cas—Shawne . . .” He hesitated and reached for her hand, but she drew it back. “I know my word is worthless. I can’t ask you to trust me when I haven’t given you any reason to. But I’m going to show you I’m a different man. Different from the one you met at your campsite in the mountains.”

Casey scrutinized every line on his face, afraid to believe him for fear of being hurt. “Trust you about what?”

“I’ve spent the night searching my soul for the right answers about you and me—and everything else. My mother frets over me when I should be taking care of her. I know what I am, and how I intimidate those I love. Grant is a fine man, but I can’t bring myself to tell him what an excellent job he’s doing with the ranch. Instead, I treat him like a schoolboy and criticize every one of his decisions.” He broke the egg into the bowl. “He runs the ranch better than I ever did. And poor Bonnie, I won’t let her grow up either. They need much more from me than they’re getting.”

He whirled around to face her. His jaw tightened. “I’m rambling on like a schoolboy. I’ve asked God to forgive me. Only He can mold me into a man of peace and integrity.” He picked up another egg. “Then there’s you and me.”

“I’m not a part of your life.” She cut perfectly rounded pieces of biscuit dough and placed them on a pan bathed in melted lard. If she dared to catch a glimpse of him, she’d relive the tears from the night before.

“But you are, whether you want to be or not. I want to help clear your name.”

The mere words caused her to shake. “How?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

She caught her breath. A hundred thoughts played through her mind. Why would a lawyer track down Jenkins? Best she keep that question to herself since her face was on so many wanted posters. “I never took you for a lawyer.” She shrugged. “Bounty hunter or lawman sounds reasonable. Besides, I don’t have the money to pay you.”

“I’m not asking for payment.”

“That’s the only way it can be.”

He peered into her face, then managed a laugh. “I think I’ve met my match. This bounty hunter, lawman, lawyer will name his price.”

His laughter caused a smile to tug at her lips. “And what will that be?”

“Time.”

“Time?”

“Yes. Accept my family’s invitation for Sunday, and let me . . .” He paused. “Let me ask the reverend’s permission to come courting.”

Casey could only stare, afraid to utter a word and afraid not to. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You know who I am, Morgan. You know my past. We can only speculate the future. I’d like to think I’m safe, but that’s craziness. But what you’re asking me is well, frightening.”

“For me, too.”

“I thought I recognized that voice,” the reverend said. “My, you’re here early, Morgan. Anything wrong?”

“No, sir. I’m visiting.”

“At five-thirty in the morning?”

Morgan took in a breath. “I had to talk to Shawne.”

Casey poured the reverend a cup of coffee. She added a dollop of cream and handed the reverend the steaming brew. Listening to Morgan sputter through why he was there nearly made her smile.

The reverend took a sip. “Are you trying to court my Shawne?”

Morgan’s eyes widened. “As a matter of fact . . .” He glanced at her. “I am.”

Hearing Morgan repeat his request made her shiver. Had they both turned into a pair of fools? Jenkins would kill them both, just like he had planned to do months ago.

The reverend cleared his throat, but she saw the merriment in his face. “Do you want this man to come courting, Shawne?”

She hadn’t formed an answer yet. All the confusion since she’d visited with Morgan the day before crowded around her. He’d help her in return for her spending time in his company. Like a real lady as if she weren’t an outlaw who knew more about living in the wilds than about keeping a home, more about horses and guns than about baking pies and cakes. As if a man might enjoy her company, might even think of her as pretty.

“I want to think about it.”

*****

The following Sunday morning, Casey fretted over her appearance and what to say. She even rehearsed conversations in front of the mirror. Jocelyn, Bonnie, Grant, and Morgan arrived at the parsonage shortly after the worship service. She glanced at Morgan, and he tossed her a smile. Good. She hadn’t spoken with him since Tuesday morning. She wanted him to come courting, but that invited feelings she didn’t know how to handle. My, but he looked handsome in a clean shirt and trousers. Even his boots shined like glass.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving?” she said to the reverend for the third time.

“Nonsense.” He peeked under a towel-covered dish from a church member. “I stated in our original agreement that you were to have every Sunday afternoon and evening free.” He pointed a finger at her. “Now off with you, and don’t you dare return before dusk or after evenin’ church.”

Before she could deliberate further upon the matter, the Andrewses whisked her off to the buckboard. Morgan had ridden his horse, and Bonnie rode in the back of the wagon. Stampede trotted along behind the wagon, although Casey was the only who could handle the stallion.

She stole a peek at Grant, who urged a pair of dapper mares down the road. He didn’t look twenty years old yet, and with slightly deeper coloring than his mother and sister, he had the makings of a fine man. He resembled Morgan, except taller, and his almond-shaped eyes were green, not turquoise. Yet Casey noted his youth—his eagerness to embrace manhood, something Tim had once possessed and lost.

Rolling countryside with a choir of singing locusts and grasshoppers slowly led them to the ranch. Casey loved this country, rich and green in the heart of summer. Tall pine trees sometimes darkened the dirt road and then faded in bright sunlight. At first the deep groves of trees troubled her, for they brought back reminders of rough men, lying in wait for an unsuspecting traveler. But her companions remained at ease, and she forced herself to relax.

Out of habit, she touched her dress pocket where her derringer used to hide. Her strength needed to be in God, not in a weapon. Guns had a place and a purpose, but not pressed against her body like a lady’s corset.

The wagon stopped on a knoll where the landscape gave way to a breathtaking view of a valley below. Like a dream. Casey noted a large stone-and-frame farmhouse, a barn, several sheds, and a bunkhouse, all neatly kept. Beyond the buildings, a creek glistened in the sunlight like a satin ribbon winding through the valley.

The farm Casey remembered from her childhood had been a mixture of dirt and sweat. Nothing for her to miss. Nothing for her ever to want again. She never had enough to eat in winter and worked from sunrise to sunset during the spring, summer, and harvest.

Casey craned her neck to see the magnificent show of land. In the distance, specks of grazing horses and cattle sprinkled the fields—so many she couldn’t count them. “Is this your ranch?”

“Yes, it is,” Jocelyn said. “We call it the Double H. My late husband’s name was Hayden, and when we first homesteaded the land, I referred to it as Hayden’s Heaven. He liked the name so well that he chose the Double H as our brand. Together with Morgan, we cleared it and built our first home.” Jocelyn pointed. “See the cabin far off in the western corner? That was our original home and where Bonnie and Grant were born. We have hundreds of acres for grazing and just as many in heavy timber. If you look to the east, you can see hills and forests, untouched except to hunt and fish. My husband left a legacy of the land he loved, many acres for his children to raise their own families.”

“You are truly blessed,” Casey said, using one of Sarah’s words.

“You wouldn’t say ‘blessed’ if you had to get up before sunrise and work until the sun went down,” Grant said, then shoved a grin her way.

“But it’s yours.” Casey watched a horse race across the valley. “You must be very proud of it.”

“Oh, I am.” Grant narrowed his eyes. “When I’m not dog-tired.”

Bonnie poked him in the ribs, and they both laughed. “Try cooking for all of you. Ranch hands eat like horses! It’s a good thing Sheriff Kahler couldn’t come today. There wouldn’t have been enough food.”

Sheriff Kahler. Casey clenched her fists. Was Bonnie sweet on the town’s sheriff? She knew keeping company with these people was a mistake, and this proved it. She must have heard God wrong. Staying now invited a noose around her neck.

Morgan rode up alongside them. “Grant does a better job running this ranch than most men twice his age.”

Shock registered on Grant’s face, but an even wider grin replaced it. “Thanks.”

Once they arrived at the two-story home, the three women busily prepared the midday meal. Casey marveled at the homey feeling. Jocelyn sliced thick pieces of fresh bread, and layered smoked turkey in between. A pot of beans laden with bacon and onions had simmered on the cookstove since before sunup. Newly made applesauce, spiced with sweet-smelling cinnamon, topped the meal. She needed to learn how to cook something besides beans and corn bread. Every time she stirred up a batch of either, memories of the past crowded out the present.

Bonnie rang the dinner bell. Its clang broke the silence like unexpected rifle fire. Casey shivered in its wake and shoved the old haunts to the furthermost part of her mind. She felt leery of the rough looks from the hands trailing in to eat, but the men were polite and undoubtedly hungry, proving Bonnie’s statement.

“I’m heading up to the old place,” Morgan said after lunch.

Casey wondered if he wanted her to go with him. She said nothing. Being alone with him brought on feelings she didn’t know how to handle.

“Soon as we clean up, if Mama doesn’t mind, I’m hoping Shawne and I can take a walk. We might go riding later on,” Bonnie said.

“Go ahead. I have some reading to do,” Jocelyn said. “You girls get acquainted.”

“Maybe I’ll join you for that ride later,” Morgan said, “unless Grant needs me.”

The younger man shook his head and waved his hand to the ranch hands. “We have a few things to tend to.”

Jocelyn frowned. “Son, the Sabbath is a day of rest.”

“It will be right after we take care of moving the herd to make room for your Caroliny bull.”

“That doesn’t have to happen today.”

He laughed. “Then when, Mama? In the middle of fence mending?”

Casey listened to the conversation, wishing that someday she might have a family of her own. These dear people had no idea of lawlessness, and she had no intention of informing them. At least not today.