Leather and Lace (24 page)

She stepped into the kitchen and rearranged the mounds of food that appeared each time someone paid a call. Repeatedly she swallowed hard to keep from weeping.

“My sweet lady.” Morgan eased up beside her. “You can cry. There’s no reason to be brave.”

“But someone might need something.” Her voice quivered, and she took in a breath. “I’ve changed so much since I started my life over. I can remember moments of sadness from before, but never the grief I feel today.”

“You have God’s Spirit in you, honey.” He turned her to face him, and the tears slipped from her eyes and down her cheeks. Morgan pulled her to his chest. And as she gave in to the comfort of his arms, she heard his heartbeat, firm and strong.

“You loved her and have every right to grieve,” he whispered.

“She was like a mother to me. I miss her so.”

“Go ahead and cry. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

And she did until his shirt was soaked and not a single tear remained.

She’d learned the true meaning of humility and selfless love. She vowed never to forget Sarah’s wisdom and her striving always to put others first. Casey prayed for the same characteristics to show in her life, especially in her relationship with Morgan. She truly loved him. There had to be a way of ridding her mind of the fear.

I must distance myself until I know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t want to hurt Morgan. He’s endured so much already.

After the funeral, Morgan helped Casey pack up her belongings from the parsonage and move to the ranch. He understood she had to live somewhere, but he regretted not having her nearby. When he had arranged to live at the boardinghouse, the answers to the problems between them looked easier to solve. He could see her every day, court her properly—bring her flowers, tell her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. Now they were separated again. He struggled with how to talk to her about the way she distanced herself from him. Most days, he suspected he’d chased her off for good. If he could figure out what to do, he’d do it. But this way, he felt helpless. And frustrated.

Two days later, Morgan volunteered to help his mother, sister, and Casey assist the reverend in going through Sarah’s things. He sensed it was his last chance to rekindle what he and Casey once had. Casey didn’t look pleased to see him. She rarely did anymore.

“You’re an answer to prayer,” the reverend said at the sight of the group. He led them to the kitchen, where Casey made coffee. “If left to me, I’m afraid none of this would get done. Every time I think about it, I feel like I’m destroying her memory.”

“She lives inside you, Reverend. Nothing will ever destroy that,” Jocelyn said.

“It’s better this way. I remember what it feels like.” Morgan shrugged, then offered a smile. “Reverend, I’ll make sure these women get everything in order.”

Bonnie poked him in the ribs. “Who’s going to make you work?”

His mother and Bonnie pointed at Casey, but she took a step back. “I don’t own a whip. Besides, I have plants to move.”

“Morgan, I think you and I are at the mercy of these women.” The reverend laughed, but it sounded forced. “Do you mind if I take these pies and cakes to needy families? I’m afraid they’re going to spoil if something isn’t done with them soon.”

“By all means. I don’t think you’ll ever eat them all.” Jocelyn waved her hand over the table. “It’s a shame to let it go to waste.”

“I thought I might wait until you ladies are finished sorting through Sarah’s clothes, but you could be busy all day.” He obviously needed something to occupy his time.

“We’ll be done in about three hours if you want to deliver the extras now.”

The reverend agreed, and Morgan quickly loaded much of the food into the back of the wagon. Once he had the reverend headed down the road, he made his way up the stairs to find Casey. She bent over a plant and scooted it out of the bedroom.

“I think you need some help there.” Morgan slid into his teasing mode in the hope that she’d tear down that barbed-wire fence around her heart.

She stood and massaged her back. “Oh, kind gentleman, I accept your offer.”

He lifted the plant through the doorway, and the two carried it into the upper hallway.

“Do you need another pair of hands?” Bonnie said.

“I think we can manage.” Morgan turned his attention back to Casey. “What is this called?”

“I don’t know. It looks like a stalk of corn or a small tree to me. I meant to ask Sarah, but I kept forgetting.”

“Well, it’s fixin’ to grow right up through the ceiling.”

“That’s why it’s going outside. Hopefully, a heavy frost won’t damage it. Sarah said if it did, all I’d have to do is cut it back.” Casey tilted her head. “I may trim it a bit today.”

“Shawne, where are the other plants?” His mother stepped into the hallway with Sarah’s few dresses draped across her arms.

“The African violets are sitting on a kitchen windowsill. I’ve written the reverend a note explaining how to take care of them. The soil has to stay moist, and he shouldn’t let water touch the leaves. The ferns are in a shady area on the front porch along with the ivy.”

“I guess you have it all taken care of,” his mother said.

“Do you think the plants will sadden him? They’re a constant reminder of Sarah.” Bonnie stepped into the hallway. She, too, had her arms laden with clothes.

“Perhaps,” his mother said. “We’ll check in on him now and then. I’d think keeping them alive and healthy would be in fond memory of Sarah.”

Morgan felt as out of place as an armless man in a milking contest. What a bad idea to help the women. He should have gone with the reverend or worked in his office. “Is this the biggest plant to move?”

When Casey affirmed his question, he glanced about. “I’ll get this corn-looking plant outside, and then you can tell me what I need to do next.”

Casey sighed and smiled. He wanted to put that pleasure on her face for the rest of her life. “I think that’s a splendid idea. We should pull out Sarah’s mattress and replace it with the one I used.”

She walked with him to the front porch, where she pointed to the perfect spot for the plant. “Thank you. I thought my back would break in two.”

“You could ease the pain in my heart by agreeing to marry me.” He regretted the words the moment they left his lips.

“I can’t.” She fussed with a brown spot on one of the leaves. “I can’t even talk about it until all of this is over.”

Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? Casey wrestled with the nightmares that he wanted to destroy. “I’m sorry. Leave it to me to spoil a good morning.”

“Nonsense. You made it a wonderful morning.”

But he didn’t believe her. Casey was slipping through his fingers, and all he could do was watch.

*****

Casey watched Morgan walk toward the shed in back of the parsonage. Her heart ached for what she could not give. She wanted to say what he craved to hear, but she couldn’t. She tarried awhile, examining the rosebushes and pulling a weed here and there. Appreciative notes needed to be written to those who’d brought food. Housework awaited her attention. Sarah’s room had to be aired. She didn’t feel like accomplishing any of it, but it had to be done. Praise God, Jocelyn and Bonnie were there to help.

She blinked and allowed a tear to slip onto her cheek. She wished folks wouldn’t question her about setting a wedding date. No one really understood her reluctance to get married. No one sympathized with her but Sarah. Granted, Morgan was a changed man, and he never seemed to tire in proving his devotion to her. His efforts made her feel guilty of the doubts plaguing her mind, but she simply could not agree to marry him until her misgivings were gone. Not a day passed without a reflection upon Sarah’s last words of advice. God always answered prayer, and Casey simply needed to listen . . . and wait.

When all the plants had found new homes and Sarah’s clothes were sorted, Jocelyn and Bonnie chose to clean Sarah’s room while Casey cleaned the kitchen.

The sound of Morgan’s voice diverted her attention. He waved and made his way toward her. She stepped onto the front porch, and her pulse raced at the sight of him. Some things never changed. She didn’t understand her own emotions. How could she want something and be afraid of it at the same time?

“I’m ready for digging fence posts or whatever you need.” The late morning sun picked up the light in his eyes—filled with love for her. Yes, she did love him dearly.

“I know of a farmer who needs a new barn. Looks like a lovely day for a barn raising, doesn’t it?” she said.

“Yes, but I’m powerful hungry. I’ve worked hard this morning.”

She picked up her skirts and made her way to his side.

Morgan leaned against the front gate. “Do I smell coffee? Is there any of that apple cobbler left?”

“Morgan Andrews, you haven’t helped me carry out the old mattress yet. I think you’re trying to get out of a little work.”

Shock spread over his face. “I wouldn’t think of it. Why, when it comes to your coffee, I’d ride halfway around the world.”

“So what’s your price to finish up the work here?”

“A cup of coffee, a big bowl of apple cobbler with fresh cream, and a hug.” He reminded her of a schoolboy reciting his lessons.

“You certainly know how to try a woman’s patience.”

“That’s my price.” His grin looked permanent.

She tried to glare at him, but she laughed instead.

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.” He touched his hand to her cheek. “But you always look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“And I love you.”

How long had it been since she’d told him she loved him? She took a deep breath. “I love you, too.” But I’m not ready to get married.

“Thank you. Those are the words I needed to hear.” His hand lingered on her cheek. “So what do I get first?”

Casey sighed. “Coffee, cobbler, and then a hug.”

“Wonderful. Are you bringing it out here, or am I permitted to come inside?”

“Inside, Mr. Andrews. Let’s not give anyone a thing to gossip about, and let me remind you that your mother and sister are in the house.”

Once the back door closed behind them, Morgan reached into the bucket of water that she’d used to water plants and splashed her. She reached into a pan of water that she planned to use for cleaning and splashed him back. For the moment, she relished in their game and pushed aside Sarah’s death and all of her misgivings.

“Would you two please settle down?” Jocelyn called from the upstairs. “The neighbors will wonder what y’all are doing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Morgan said. “Your favorite Shawne won’t let me work.”

“Me?” Casey covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “Your son is pestering the life out of me.”

“You two are worse than a couple of kids,” his mother called.

“I agree,” Bonnie said. “Mama needs to take you to the woodshed.”

Morgan shook his finger at her. “See what you’ve caused.”

If only these wonderful times would last. “All right, I’ll give in this time.”

After she served the cobbler and a light kiss was given to sweeten his coffee, Morgan grasped her hand. “I want to make you laugh like this every day for the rest of our lives.”

And she knew he did, but a lump in her throat the size of the Double H refused to let her utter another word.

*****

Casey slept little over the next week. The meeting with the federal marshal consumed her. Her appetite vanished, and she fought hard not to tear into her friends like some wildcat. She needed logic rather than worries to rule her mind.

The federal marshal could decide that her information was no better than what they already had in their possession. Another outlaw could have offered the same deal. A hundred things jumped in and out of her musings, and none of them were good. The what-ifs curved and turned with every fleeting thought. Her accountings of events and people might not be enough to sway the President of the United States. The man in charge of the country had many critical matters before him. Her request might appear insignificant or troublesome. Casey had never believed in fairy tales or grandiose ideals, and she didn’t intend to start now. But she prayed for a miracle.

Casey faced the day of the meeting with the federal marshal with a mixture of dread and expectation. For months this meeting had been what she wanted most. But a twinge of fear twisted at her insides. She could walk away with the hope of the president pardoning her or be handcuffed and face a hanging. Fear wrapped its cloak about her, and she fought the urge to run.

Morgan arranged the meeting at an abandoned ranch house about five miles west of Kahlerville—away from those folks who knew her. There, questions and answers would determine her fate.

Casey took great pains in dressing. She didn’t want to appear like a member of the ladies’ aid society. Neither did she want to look like she’d just ridden in off the plains—or stepped out of a brothel. After much thought, she chose a simple brown street dress with a waist-to-foot inset of cream and brown print, which she had often worn to church. She tucked her unruly hair into a chignon at the back of her head and selected a dark brown hat trimmed in cream and green ribbon. The costume also gave the impression that she’d traveled some distance to Kahlerville to meet with the federal marshal.

She read through notes she’d carefully penned about various outlaws. Not knowing what might be asked of her, she fretted over the information. I could ride to the border and live out my days in Mexico.

A whisper of an ambush rode the wind, a trap set by the federal marshal to lure her into their jurisdiction. She wished she knew more about the law. She wished she knew more about far too many things. Was she properly prepared for the upcoming ordeal? Had she dressed so Morgan would be pleased?

Run, you fool. You’ll hang.

Just when she began to doubt, she realized the tiny voice shaking her resolve had not come from God. I can do this or I will die trying. Living a lie is no life at all.

Casey recalled all those times when life had challenged her to the fullest and she’d used a mastery of wit as her strength. A jury held in its hands the life of anyone charged with a crime. A judge had the authority to sentence her to a hanging or prison. But God had given her eternal life with Him. She trusted Him, not anything else. My thoughts sound courageous, Lord, but You see the panic that staggers me.

She took a ragged breath and descended the stairs to find Jocelyn, Bonnie, Grant, and Ben in the kitchen. Through the window, she saw Morgan waiting by the wagon.

“You look beautiful this morning,” Jocelyn said.

“Thank you.” She forced a shaky smile.

“We just prayed for you.” Jocelyn gave her a hug. “This is the day you’ve waited for. We’re on your side.”

Casey glanced at those she’d learned to love. If a bullet found her today, she had no regrets in her decision to leave Jenkins’s gang. “I appreciate you all. Promise me if something goes wrong today that you’ll not let Morgan suffer alone. He’ll need you.”

Jocelyn nodded. “We promise. But that won’t happen.”

Casey thought of all the ways the meeting could go wrong, but she refused to state them. Instead she bid them good-bye and again thanked them for all they’d done.

Outside, Morgan waved. “You look like you’re headed to the city. Very beautiful.”

“Then you approve?”

His attention on her held a gentle glow. “Oh yes.”

Their gazes met, and a host of memories passed between them. Some folks lived a lifetime without sharing what they’d been through. Words could not have defined the bond.

He helped her onto the wagon, and he climbed beside her. “Are we ready, pretty lady?”

“Not sure.” She trembled. “How is it that I can want something and not want it at the same time?”

He picked up the reins. “Sounds like how I felt when I first met you. Odd, I didn’t have a choice.”

“Neither do I.”

He urged Twister away from the ranch. Each creak sounded like a warning. Casey took Morgan’s hand and held on to it tightly, as though having his fingers entwined with hers symbolized God’s presence.

The last few days had brought in a very warm spell, so unlike the usual Texas February. The sun beat down mercilessly, reducing her to a puddle of liquid heat. She worried if the high temperatures might cloud her thinking. Her defense held no room for half-truths, and any wrong facial expression might threaten the attempt to prove her innocence. Neither the heat nor Morgan’s attempt at conversation stopped her heart and mind from racing. As the wagon inched toward the secluded site, she fretted about everything from the moment she’d joined a gang of outlaws.

Morgan had spent hours deliberating every twist of her case, and she didn’t dare shatter any of his expectations. Suddenly her thoughts turned to the sacrifice he’d made for her freedom. He’d committed to clear her name and had worked long and hard for this moment. She recalled the late hours, the times of prayer, and the heated debates when they disagreed on what should and should not be said. Now it all lay behind them. Every part of her must convey the truth and honor God with assured confidence. Only He knew the outcome of today, and she desperately needed His peace.

She reached for the canteen of water and allowed the liquid to dampen her lips and slowly trickle down her parched throat. Immediately her mind soared back to the past when long rides brought the taste of dirt, and she kept her eyes peeled for anyone who might be trailing her.

Morgan squinted at the sun directly overhead and took out a gold pocket watch to check the time. Reaching for a handkerchief from inside his suit jacket, he wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

“Having second thoughts about your Sunday suit?” Casey felt a deep desire to speak of anything except the obvious.

He tugged at his jacket, no doubt to send a breeze up his dampened back. “Perhaps,” Morgan said. “Can you believe this heat? Feels like August.” He flashed a smile her way. “But you still look beautiful.”

With a sigh, she wondered what kind of picture she painted on this hot afternoon. “Talk to me, Morgan. Anything to help me get through these miles.”

“I wish nothing more than to take your place. Today marks the day Casey O’Hare publicly announces her allegiance to the laws of this country. Few men have the courage I see in you, and certainly none are as pretty or as feisty. Sweetheart, we can turn this wagon around right now and head back to the ranch. You understand that once you’re finished with the federal marshal, every outlaw in the country will be after you.”

She nodded while perspiration trickled over her forehead and stung her eyes. “You’ve warned me of this before, but I have to tell what I know. Running is no life at all. If the President grants me this pardon, I can rely on the law’s protection from Jenkins.” She rubbed the top of his knuckles with her gloved hand. “I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit how much this scares me.”

“Let me pray for you,” he said, and she nodded. “Oh God, help us to say the right words today. I pray we find favor in Your eyes and our mission will be acceptable to You. I thank You for this courageous woman who is putting her life on the line to bring the truth to light. I am so unworthy of her, and I thank You every day for her. Whatever happens today, I know You will be beside us. I thank You for Your guidance and Your hand on our lives. Amen.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. With all of her other self-doubts, why did she still question marrying Morgan? Not now. I’ll have hours to consider this once today is over.

She drew a lace handkerchief from her handbag and patted beneath her eyes. Where had this heat come from? Had Satan set foot into the day? Sensing Morgan’s gaze upon her, she turned in his direction and silently reassured him of her composure. The remaining two miles were ridden in silence.

Up ahead at the abandoned ranch house, two horses stood tied to a hitching post, and two men waited on a decaying porch.

“Are there two marshals?” Casey whirled around to see if others were there. Had she been led into a trap? Had Morgan betrayed her?

He glanced about them. “I was told one, but this is good. Both men will hear your testimony.”

She refused to tremble. The marshals might see her fear. “Yes, you’re right.” If one didn’t believe her, the other one might.

The closer the wagon drew them to their destination, the more apprehensive she felt. The unknown tugged at her senses. She wanted the confrontation with the federal marshals to settle all the accusations against her. But it could all go wrong. Raging fear threatened to seize her.

“I feel your trembling,” Morgan said. “Remember who’s in control.

Once they stopped in front of the deserted cabin, Morgan assisted Casey down from the wagon and escorted her to the darkly tanned federal marshals who stood like statues against the rickety cabin. She eyed them evenly and tried to imagine what preconceived notions lay in their heads.

Morgan greeted the nearest man and shook his hand. “Morgan Andrews.”

Both marshals looked as though their faces had been carved in stone. Casey had seen the lean, hungry look before. She wondered if their ambitions were for justice or to seal their reputations.

“Zach Bennett, federal marshal,” the rail-thin man said. “And this is Joe Henderson.”

The other man nodded, and Morgan shook his hand. “This young woman is Miss Casey O’Hare.”

Casey stepped forward and lightly grasped each man’s hand. Pushing aside any visible signs of emotion, she forced pleasantries. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I trust you haven’t been waiting long in this heat.”

“No, ma’am. We were here but a few minutes before catching sight of the wagon.” Zach’s beady eyes reminded her of a hawk. Could he see her soul?

“Shall we get down to business?” Joe said. “It’s mighty hot, and we have a lot of work to do.”

“First I’d like to see your credentials,” Morgan said. Both men produced identification for him to examine. When he finished, he handed their papers to Casey.

Once convinced Zach Bennett and Joe Henderson were indeed federal marshals, she handed their documents back to Morgan, and he returned them to their owners. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said. “Your papers appear to be in order.”

Morgan gave Casey his full attention. Compassion emitted from his turquoise eyes. “Are you ready?”

“Yes. Let’s get this done.” And for the first time, she relaxed.

Inside the cabin, it took several minutes to wipe the dust and dirt from a roughly constructed table and find suitable seating. They opened doors and ripped frayed cloth from the windows to let in light and fresh air. The stuffy odor plus the stale scent of tobacco reminded Casey of days best forgotten. Still, the atmosphere would aid her in recollecting sights, sounds, and smells of another time.

She sat on the only chair directly across the table from Zach and Joe, who swung their legs over a rough-sawn pine bench. Morgan pulled up a wobbly stool next to Casey. Out of habit, she gauged how quickly she could get to the door. Some things from her former life never changed.

“We understand you’re willing to help us locate wanted men,” Joe said. “Is this true?”

“Yes, sir.” She observed paper and pen before Zach. His penetrating gaze nearly unnerved her. “Is Mr. Bennett writing down everything I say?”

“Yes, ma’am. The questions and answers will be recorded exactly as they are spoken,” Joe said.

Casey studied the man’s leather like face. No emotion. She well knew that stance. “May we see them when we’re finished?”

“I’ll take notes for us.” Morgan already had paper and pen in hand. “But I want to see what you’ve recorded at the close of our meeting.”

“We can do that.” Joe cleared his throat. “We understand you’ve received a pardon from Governor Ireland of the state of Texas for criminal activity, and you want to request the same from President Arthur.”

“That is correct.” Casey sat erect with the perfect posture she’d seen from the town’s ladies. Be with me, Lord. I can’t do this alone.

“Upon the completion of this meeting today, the governor has entrusted me with your official pardon, signed and sealed. He will then instruct his secretary to file the proper papers with the President. Let us begin with a few formalities. Would you kindly state your name?”

“Casey Shawne O’Hare.”

“And are you the same Casey O’Hare who rode with the Jenkins gang for seven years?”

“Yes, sir. I joined them when I was fourteen with my brother, Tim. At the time, Jenkins thought I was a boy. When he discovered otherwise, he forced me to continue riding with them.”

She detested the time it took to record the questions and answers. Her patience ran thin each time the two men painstakingly wrote each word. She hadn’t told Morgan about the two weeks that Jenkins didn’t know she was a girl. Everything changed when he caught her bathing . . . She shook her head to dispel the thought.

“How were you forced to ride with them? This is no longer a country of slaves.”

“Davis Jenkins threatened to kill my brother if I left the gang. He also threatened to sell me as a . . . . prostitute.”

“What’s your brother’s full name?”

“Timothy John O’Hare. He still rides with Jenkins.” She hesitated. “Although I heard he and Jenkins split.” Her voice sounded faraway as if it belonged to someone else.

“Didn’t you just state Davis Jenkins threatened to kill him if you left?” Joe’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ve witnessed what Tim has done.” She took a deep breath. “My brother chose his path a long time ago. If I thought he’d change, I wouldn’t be here today.” Why did her heart have to pound so hard? “It took me a long time to see that my brother had become just like the rest of them.”

Joe removed his bandanna and wiped the sweat from his brow. “So why did you finally leave the gang?”

“I hated how they lived and what they did. My life seemed headed nowhere except a hangman’s noose or a bullet. I chose to take my chances and run from Jenkins rather than stay. I realized I would someday have to face charges for the crimes held against me, but I had to take that gamble.” Was she rambling?

“It says here that although you held horses for the gang during holdups, you did not commit any of the crimes we’ve listed, except the shooting of a man in Billings, Montana.”

“The man recovered,” Morgan said.