Leather and Lace

Chapter 16

Morgan left Ben’s office and made his way down the dusty street to the telegraph office. Doc needed to know what was going on. His meeting with Ben had reinforced what Morgan feared: Casey wasn’t safe. Kahlerville had not been a good choice.

Or had it? His mind jumped from one alternative to the other. Ben had a reputation for being a tough lawman. He’d soon put aside any thoughts of Casey’s looks because it would be stupid for her to settle here. Also, Morgan and Casey were keeping company. No one would ever expect him to have connections with her. Or would Ben figure it out? Casey and Ben were clever as foxes, but who’d outsmart the other?

He sent Doc a telegram stating he had their problem under control. Who am I fooling?

Before he realized what he was doing, Morgan had walked to the parsonage. Maybe she’d have time to talk. The reverend sat on the front porch with his Bible and some paper, no doubt working on his next sermon.

“Is Miss Shawne free to speak to me for a few minutes?”

The reverend chuckled. “Did she agree for you to come courtin’?”

“No. I hoped to persuade her a bit.”

“She’s inside, Morgan. Go on in. Last I saw of her, she was working on a peach cobbler.”

He found her in the kitchen. “I smell peaches. Are you baking something for me?”

She startled and smiled. “You might be risking your life.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

She glanced away, then wiped her hands. “How’s Rafael?”

“Doing fine, thanks to you. The doctor patched him up, but he’ll be down for a while.”

“Are you here to see me?”

“I am. Got a matter to discuss with you.” He looked about. “Is it safe to talk?”

“I believe so.” Suddenly she paled. “There’s trouble. I can see it in your face.”

“Maybe. I’ve just come from the sheriff’s office.”

She stiffened. “And what did he say?”

“He’s determined to catch the Jenkins gang.”

“That could be good as long as he doesn’t recognize me. Or has he?”

“Not yet, and I don’t know if he will. He’d never suspect you as long as the town knows we’re friends.”

“That makes sense. I suppose they all know you were after Jenkins.” She sighed. “I think I need to leave town. By the time Sheriff Kahler realized I was gone, I’d be miles away.”

“Still running.”

“Suppose so.”

“Then let me help you clear your name. Forget about me courting. I’d like it, but saving you is more important.”

“I don’t know, Morgan. The more I think on it, the more I wonder if my choices are to either ride out of here or turn myself in.”

He stepped closer and took her hand. “Please stay. We can make things right with the law.”

She sighed and shook her hand free. “It’s not you that’s fixin’ to swing.”

*****

Sarah and the reverend introduced Casey to countless people over the days that followed. Occasionally ladies from the church stopped by to bring gifts of food or flowers and visit with Sarah. Unfamiliar faces soon became friends, and Casey learned to relax and make sure she had something to serve them. Slowly the woman she wanted to become emerged from the shell of doubt and despair. But the lingering shadows of Sheriff Kahler and Jenkins clung to every thought. She desperately wanted to leave Kahlerville, but each time she prayed, God impressed upon her to stay. She didn’t know why. One thing she knew for certain: She must find the strength to tell the reverend and Sarah the truth.

“I see the Subtle Matchmakers Society has arrived,” Reverend Rainer said to her one afternoon when several ladies visited with Sarah.

Casey felt her cheeks grow warm. “They didn’t bring anyone for me to meet today.” She glanced about for fear one of the well-meaning ladies might overhear.

He chuckled, and his gray eyes twinkled. “Now was it two or three young men who escorted them last week? I believe they were out-of-town guests of one of our church members.”

She grinned and stared at the stairway. “Just two, and they were very polite.”

“Ah, one of them looked like he’d been run over by a herd of stampeding buffalo.”

“Reverend!”

John Rainer roared. “Well, he was a bit homely.”

Cautiously, she peered up the stairs to the balcony. “Hush, his aunt will hear.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They both laughed.

He leaned in closer. “I don’t believe Morgan has a thing to worry about.”

He didn’t. They hadn’t talked since the day he told her about Sheriff Kahler’s ambitions, and that was over two weeks ago. But the thought lingered. Every time she saw him, her heart did a little flip.

*****

Morgan stood outside the parsonage. His boots were shined. His clothes were clean, and his insides rumbled like a thunderstorm. He’d rather face a courtroom of wolves. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Nearly three weeks had passed since he’d asked Casey about courting. She’d had long enough to think about it. Seeing her in church and when she came to visit the ranch drove him to the edge of taking a plunge over a cliff. Today he had to find out.

The reverend greeted him with a firm handshake. “Won’t you come in?”

“I can wait out here. Is Casey free to talk?”

“You two.” The reverend chuckled. “She’s with Sarah. Let me check with her. Sure you don’t want to wait inside?”

“No. This’ll be fine.”

Once the reverend disappeared, Morgan paced the front porch. He scared off a black cat and nearly knocked over a plant. His insides hadn’t been this shook up since he tried his first case. Casey O’Hare had no right to stir up his mind like this.

I’m being selfish here. Sarah may need her. But Sarah doesn’t know the danger her Shawne is in.

The door opened. Casey’s smile made him tongue-tied—Morgan Andrews, the lawyer who had all the confidence. She wore a light blue dress that matched her eyes. Her hair was swept up loosely in the back except for a few curls that framed her face. God could not have created a more beautiful woman. She stepped onto the porch and shut the door behind her.

“The reverend said you wanted to talk to me. Sarah’s sleeping, so I have a few minutes.”

“How is she?”

“About the same. Some days are good, and others are hard.” She kept her distance. Perhaps she’d already made up her mind.

He wet his lips. “Have you made a decision about us?”

“I have.” She paused. “I believe if you want to call on me, after all the things I’ve done and with the understanding that the law or Jenkins could ride up to the parsonage today, I’m willing.”

Morgan felt himself smiling from the inside out. “Could we start with a picnic after church?”

“That would be fine.”

“And I’d like to discuss the other item we spoke about.”

“All right.” Her slender shoulders lifted and fell. “I’ll have the food ready after church.”

“I was going to ask Bonnie.”

“No need. Consider the picnic a payment for our other discussion.”

*****

On Sunday morning, Casey woke before five to fry chicken, boil corn, roast potatoes, and bake a blackberry cobbler. She cooked plenty so the reverend and Sarah didn’t have to concern themselves with dinner. All during church, her mind wandered. She dreamed about spending the afternoon with Morgan. She’d mentally shake herself and give the reverend her attention. She’d heard him give the sermon yesterday for Sarah’s review, but that wasn’t an excuse to ignore him today.

When the service dismissed, Casey whirled around to find Morgan at her side. She laughed. He seemed as excited as a little boy finding a litter of puppies. Once they said their proper good-byes, he escorted her to the parsonage.

“I forgot to tell you one very important thing about picnics,” he said as he loaded the back of the wagon with the picnic basket.

“What’s that?” She started to add that she’d never been on a picnic before, but decided against it.

“You have to let me kiss you.”

“Morgan!” She glanced in every direction. “What if someone heard you?”

“I’m only being honest.” He chuckled and helped her onto the wagon seat. “I might have to apologize.”

So he wanted to tease? “No point in apologizing for something that won’t happen.” Her heart raced, but she willed it to calm. With a kiss, you’d steal a bit more of my heart.

“If you want to eat, it’ll cost you a kiss.”

“But I cooked the food.” They laughed together, which began talk of familiar matters from the weather to the latest rumors on the outlaw trail. Neither of them mentioned Jenkins or the sheriff. No point in ripping open old wounds. They headed out of town over a winding road that led over rolling hills.

“Did you like Arizona?” Nervousness had set in, causing her to search her frenzied mind for something to say.

“Naw, too dry and desolate for me and a lot of hard riding. But the desert does have a beauty all its own. The sunset reminds me of the color of your hair.”

Casey blushed crimson and couldn’t think of a single reply.

He laughed. “I don’t recall any wanted posters mentioning the many shades of red in your face.” He paused. “Do you miss any of the old life?”

Her skin chilled with irritation. “No, I don’t miss any of it except racing my horse across a flat stretch of land. Why?”

“No reason.” His eyes fixed on the road—unreadable.

Silence rode between them.

“I’m starved.” He avoided her gaze. “I know a good spot down to the right. It’s near a creek, lots of overhanging trees covered with moss.”

He suddenly sounded cold. What had happened since leaving the parsonage?

“I’m hungry, too.”

Morgan jumped to the ground and reached to help her from the wagon. The moment his hands grasped her firmly by the waist, a shiver raced from her head to her toes. Their gazes locked as he fairly swept her up into the air and down onto the soft earth. She remained motionless and dizzy beneath the cool shade, not wanting to break the spell or allow her feelings to rule the moment. He lifted a wisp of a curl from the side of her face and wound it around his finger while he searched her features. She questioned his thoughts, for his brow wrinkled in a curious manner.

With an inward sigh, she wondered if her eyes told what she could not say. His thumb traced the outline of her mouth, then lifted her chin. A slight curve played upon his lips as he descended upon hers, gently tasting, as if she were a fine porcelain doll ready to shatter into irreparable pieces. The touch, the unspoken feelings, everything she ever dared to believe in his kiss soared far beyond her deepest dreams. As his kiss deepened, her first real kiss, the reality of being alone with Morgan cautioned her, and she pulled herself away from him.

“I told you I might need to apologize.” He released her, yet his attention stayed focused on her.

“There’s no need.” She glanced away.

“I don’t understand why God put you in my life.” He took her clammy hands into his and inhaled deeply. “We are the two most unlikely people in the world to be together.”

“I think this has more to do with your past than what you’re telling me.” Was now the right time to ask about his deceased wife?

“Someday I might be able to talk about it.”

“Until then?”

“We’ll see what God brings.” Morgan touched her cheek. “I care about you, Casey. Don’t you know that by now? I’ve ridden miles looking for you. I’ve dreamed of you for weeks on end. And now . . . now you’re here in arm’s reach, and I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean? You’re talking in riddles. I agree for you to come courting. Then you tell me we’re an unlikely couple. Now you tell me you care.” When he reached for her, she shook her head. The tension between them blazed like a hot prairie fire.

He stepped closer, and again she stepped back.

“You tell me what you expect from me, and I’ll abide by it. I’ll even take you back to the parsonage, if that’s what you want.”

I should demand it this very minute. Casey peered up into the trees and listened to the rustle of the branches woven with the gurgling of the stream beside them. She refused to let him see what his nearness did to her. “Morgan, I don’t want this afternoon to end before it begins. I want today to be perfect, to spend it with you. Let’s not talk about unpleasant things, not now.”

She stopped herself before uttering another word. Too much had already been said, and she suspected Morgan already knew the love she held in her heart. Her vulnerability with him would get her into trouble. She’d heard the promises of men before and understood that their physical needs guided their words. Morgan seemed different from them, or maybe she just wanted to believe he was unlike any man she’d ever met.

“You’re right. We’re supposed to have a picnic.” He stared out over the creek where the sun cast diamond like patterns across the water. The light scent of wildflowers wafted in the still air.

“I want to understand.” Casey had long since realized he had a secret. She couldn’t ignore the pain in his eyes.

He shook his head. “Not today.” He waved his hand around them. “Look at this beautiful day.”

“When you’re ready, I’ll listen to every word.” She hesitated. “Is it my outlaw past?”

“Casey, you were never really an outlaw, just a naive young girl. How could you have known the price for following Tim?” His fingers brushed against her cheek, and his eyes softened. “You’re beautiful and wise—a rarity and a treasure. You deserve a good man who’ll treasure you with affection and tenderness.” He turned and ambled toward the creek, the brush crackling beneath his boots.

Whirling back around, he captured her gaze. “A few moments ago, I saw the passion in your eyes, but then it changed to fear. I realize you’re afraid to trust, and I’m afraid to love. We’re a peculiar pair.” He picked up a stone, then skipped it across the water. “I can’t explain why I trailed Jenkins, and I can’t ask you to wait until I’m able to tell it all. The hatred for him was with me for so long that sometimes I wonder if I’m no better than he.” Taking a labored breath, he continued. “But with God’s help I’ll see this through.” The circles spread across the creek, ever circling, ever widening.

“I’m to blame for my own actions, Morgan. That much I know. Maybe we’re not such a peculiar pair after all.”

“The wounds are deep, and the years haven’t healed them. They are a part of me, ugly and cruel. Ask my family. They’ve seen my worst.”

“But I’ve seen your best.”

Casey studied the creek, quiet and peaceful, all the while remembering the time in the shelter of the overhanging rock along the Green River. She and Morgan were still running.

He slammed his fist into his palm. “You’ll always be looking over your shoulder for Jenkins or the law.” He seized her shoulders and forced her to look straight into his eyes. “No woman should live this way.” Instantly he lifted his hands from her. “I’m sorry. I had no right to grab you.”

Casey massaged her shoulders. “I don’t want to read your epitaph on the side of a tombstone. If you help me, then you’re in as much trouble as I am.” She bent and picked up a yellow-petaled wildflower. She had enough experience in veering the thoughts of men, except this time it was to help Morgan, not herself. Talk of something else. Leave the past behind. “I’m still hungry.”

“And the lady shall eat.” He walked past her and on to the wagon, where he lifted out the basket. “There’s a spot over there.” He pointed to a huge oak with branches low enough for them to sit and enjoy the afternoon.

“Good choice.” She smiled.

The hours passed quickly and without further incident. Neither spoke of what brought them together or the future. Croaking frogs, noisy blue jays, and a picnic lunch spread out on a red-checkered tablecloth absorbed all of their attention.

Late in the afternoon, Casey reluctantly gathered up the remains of their picnic. The sun dipped low in the horizon, painting the sky in yellow and pinkish orange as if holding on to the last bit of day. They’d laughed and teased, yet she knew nothing more about Morgan, except that he was clinging to God for help.

Task completed, she grasped the basket’s handle as Morgan’s hand slipped over hers. Their fingers touched, then slowly entwined, and she felt the fervor between them again burst into flame.

“You are a precious angel,” he said. “Too bad you were thrown into a den of lions.”

Not quite sure if she wanted to lose herself in the depths of his eyes, she watched a fat squirrel scamper up a tree. “I learned how to live with those lions,” she said, “and I survived. Those days taught me how to read a man by his actions rather than his words.”

“Is that why we get along so well?”

“No. It’s why we don’t. We’re both trying to outthink the other.”

“I believe you’re wrong, Miss Casey Shawne. What are my actions telling you now?” He inched closer, and his dimple deepened.

She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure.”

He chuckled. “I’m trying to convince myself that I don’t need another kiss.”

“Keep trying, and you’ll believe it.” But inside she began to waver.

“I’m losing.” He gathered her up in his arms, and she suddenly knew what it was like to be a snowflake and melt with the first hint of spring.

“You’re a better man not to give in to temptation,” she said.

“Give me one good reason why I can’t have one kiss?” He bent closer.

“Because one won’t be enough.”

“Exactly.” As his lips tasted hers, her arm slipped around his neck, and she wove her fingers through his thick hair. He pulled her closer, tighter. They both abandoned the grip on the basket and let it fall to the soft earth. Her senses reeled. All that mattered was the soaring in her heart for a man she’d grown to love.

She lifted her fingers from his hair and stopped the kiss, not wanting the moment to end but understanding where the passion led. Visions of Jenkins . . . his dirty hands . . . his vile breath . . . “We need to get back before church.”

“You’re right.” Morgan took a deep breath and smiled. “What you do to me isn’t fair.”

He helped her onto the wagon seat and placed the basket on the wagon bed. They said little on the return trip. The birds and insects serenaded them and broke the tortuous silence.

“This has been a lovely picnic,” she said. “My first, and it will always be the best.”

He took her hand into his. “God willing, I want to make every day a picnic much finer than today.”

She heard the longing in his voice. “Morgan. That’s not real life. Ignoring the ugly things doesn’t make them go away. The things I’ve done can’t be washed down a muddy creek. Someday I must pay.”

“Did you ever rob anyone?”

“No.”

“Ever shoot anyone except for the man in Billings?”

“You and I shot at a few when Jenkins was after us.”

“That was self-defense.”

“Morgan, I’ve read the newspapers and seen the wanted posters. I rode with the Jenkins gang. No matter that he threatened to kill me or Tim if I left. No matter that he threatened to sell me to a brothel. No court of law will ever believe me. Then—”

“Then what?”

“I want to be free of all this. Some days, I don’t care if it’s Jenkins who finds me or the law.”