In Want of a Wife

by Jo Goodman

  “Huh. Maybe I should have a talk with Mr. Webb.”

  “Maybe you should. And while you’re at it, keep an eye on Mrs. Stillwell and Mrs. Collins. I think they’ve seen the open safe. They didn’t have the time of day for you because they’re plotting.”

  “Are you done?”

  Morgan pretended to give the question full consideration. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

  “All right. Here it is: I’ve got no problem with you yanking my chain as long as that’s all it is. If this business with your rustlers turns out to be something more, then I expect you to get real serious, real fast.”

  “Sure, Marshal.”

  “I mean it, Longstreet. If you were here, say, because someone was putting you up to it, then I’d want to know.”

  Morgan turned to look at the marshal. “I suppose I should be grateful that you’re acquitting me of planning a robbery on my own.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Morgan glanced in Jane’s direction. She was beginning to gather her things at the cage. “Look, Bridger, if it’ll ease your mind some and keep you from following me around like a calf after his mama’s teat every time I come to town, then I promise that I’ll let you know if something’s happened that concerns you and Bitter Springs.”

  Cobb thought about that. “I have your word?”

  “You do.”

  “Good.” He put out his hand.

  Morgan hesitated, then he also extended his hand, and they shook.

  Cobb said, “Just so you know, I didn’t care much for the calf and his mama’s teat analogy.”

  Morgan grinned. “Puts a picture in your head, doesn’t it?”

  Jane came upon them. “Hello, Marshal.” Then to Morgan, “Do I want to know about this picture?”

  “Probably not.”

  She smiled and held up her savings book. “All done. Mr. Hollerman was very helpful.”

  Hollerman. Morgan held up his index finger as he made a mental note of the name. Not Hall. Not Hollis. “I never knew a bank teller who wasn’t happy to take your money. It’s when you try to get it out of the bank that they’re mean as snakes.”

  Cobb looked sideways at Morgan. “Your husband’s right, Mrs. Longstreet.” He tipped his hat. “I have some business with Mr. Webb. Good to see you both again.”

  Jane opened her reticule and put her savings book inside. “Is everything all right?”

  Morgan held out an elbow for her to take. “Everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”

  “I suppose because he’s the marshal, and you told me once that he was not your friend.”

  Morgan looked back over his shoulder as he held the door open for Jane. Cobb was walking into Webb’s office. Morgan did not envy the banker for the earful he was going to get. “He’s not so bad.”

  “He’s not so bad,” Jane repeated. “High praise indeed.”

  Morgan shrugged. “I figure it’s what he says to his wife about me.”

  • • •

  Ida Mae Sterling placed a plate of almond cookies in front of Jane and invited her to eat. “I’ve had two more than my fill,” she said, sitting down at the table. “And if you don’t mind my saying so, you could eat the cookies and the plate and none of it would show on your waistline. How tight are you pulling your corset?”

  Self-conscious, Jane pressed her palms against her midriff. Even though she was alone with Mrs. Sterling in the hotel’s dining room, she only whispered her response. “I am not wearing a corset. I haven’t for weeks and weeks.”

  Mrs. Sterling’s wiry salt-and-pepper eyebrows lifted toward her widow’s peak. “No corset? Well, then, that’s cause to think about this differently.” She poured another dollop of sweet cream into Jane’s tea. “You need to start eating more of what you’re feeding those men. Lord, Jane, but you can slip through cracks where a shadow couldn’t go. Morgan looks fit, and I’ve seen the Davis boys and Max Salter around and about. I can’t say they’re missing any meals. Are you?”

  “No. I’m fine. Really, I am.”

  Mrs. Sterling continued to regard her suspiciously. “I’ve known some women who lose weight at first . . . you’d tell me if you were going to have a baby, wouldn’t you?”

  The question startled Jane into silence. She simply stared at Mrs. Sterling.

  “Clearly, I’ve overstepped. I shouldn’t carry on as if I’ve known you all my life. It’s a fault of mine.” Mrs. Sterling picked up her teacup and raised it to her lips. Before she drank, she said, “It’s on account of Morgan that I take liberties with you.”

  Jane found her voice. “What accounts for it with everyone else?”

  Mrs. Sterling managed to swallow her tea but not without effort. Her small, choking sounds prompted Jane to pat her lightly on the back. She held up a hand and nodded to indicate that she was all right. After she set her cup back in the saucer, she dropped her spectacles to the tip of her nose and dabbed at her eyes with one corner of her apron. “Goodness, but that was unexpected, and dare I say, welcome?”

  “Welcome?”

  “I wouldn’t want you to make a habit of taking me to task, but I confess to worrying about how well you’d do out at Morning Star with Morgan and the boys. Now I’m thinking you don’t let them ride roughshod over you.”

  “Some days are more challenging than others.”

  “I’m sure. What’s this trouble you were having a while back?”

  “Trouble? What did you hear?”

  “Rustlers.”

  Jane felt a measure of relief that Mrs. Sterling was not asking about something more personal. “Yes, they showed up just after I arrived at Morning Star, but when the snow began to fly, they disappeared. Morgan does not have enough men to be everywhere at once.”

  “I don’t know a rancher who does, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon what with the price of beef falling like it’s been pushed over a cliff.”

  “I am learning to ride. Morgan gave me a beautiful mustang. I am hopeful that in time I will be able to help.”

  “Ride out, you mean?”

  “If that’s helping, yes.”

  Ida Mae Sterling bent her head and regarded Jane over the rim of her spectacles. “Have you mentioned this to Morgan?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll let me know how that turns out when you do.”

  “Morgan is teaching me to shoot.”

  “That so? I expect he has his reasons. Benton wouldn’t let me near a gun. Never did set well with me, but I really had no cause to learn to use one here in town.”

  “I’m glad you mentioned your husband. Morgan’s told me that he admired him but precious little beyond that. How did they know each other?”

  “Early on, my husband traveled some in the course of his work. I think it was on one of his visits to Lander—that’s up in Fremont County—that he and Morgan crossed paths. You would have to ask Morgan for the particulars. I don’t recollect what they were. I’m not sure I ever knew them.”

  “Was Morgan a young man when they met?”

  “Younger than he is now.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Tell me, what did your husband say about Morgan? I ask because it seems to me that you hold Morgan in affection. There’s no one else to tell me what he was like as a young man.”

  “I didn’t know him myself, you understand. Just what Benton told me about him.”

  “It must have made an impression.”

  “True. Benton never talked much about his work. Like his gun, he didn’t really like me near it. I suppose that’s why Morgan Longstreet stuck in my head. Benton just started rattling on one day about this boy he met. And ‘boy’ is what he called him. Said he was smart as a whip but hadn’t figured it out yet. Needed some mentoring. Benton would say that when someone needed a good kick in the—well, I reckon you know what part he thought needed kicking—and I think my husband figured he could do the kicking. He said Morgan could make something of a chance if he was given one.
Benton aimed to give him one.”

  Jane waited while Mrs. Sterling took another sip of tea, but when the older woman replaced her cup and offered nothing further, Jane was moved to prompt. “That’s all?”

  “That’s what stuck in my head. You didn’t know my husband, but that was a lot.”

  “Oh. I’d hoped—” Disappointed, she sighed. “I’d hoped for more.”

  “If there is more, that’d be for Morgan to tell you.” Mrs. Sterling tilted her head as she studied Jane. “He’s not exactly an open book, is he?”

  Jane smiled ruefully. “I don’t know anything about where he grew up, nothing about his parents, brothers, sisters, cousins.”

  “I couldn’t tell you about that.”

  Jane went on. “There are no stories. None. It’s as if he did not exist before Morning Star.”

  “Maybe he didn’t.” Mrs. Sterling waved a hand dismissively. “Just a fancy crossing my mind. You’ll have to press him some if there are things you want to know. You’re not afraid of him, are you?”

  “No. No, not at all.”

  “Well, then, you have to keep at him.” She pushed aside the plate of cookies and laid a hand over Jane’s. “But gentle. You said that he gave you a mustang.”

  “Yes.”

  “If he meant for you to ride it, he would have been particular about how it was trained.”

  “He was. I watched him.”

  “Then you know how it’s done.” She smiled encouragingly. “I just recollected something else Benton said about the boy: He has a fine hand and the patience to put it to proper use. I’d forgotten that ’til now. Maybe you want to think about that when you talk to him.” She patted Jane’s hand, sat back, and pointed to the plate. “Now have a cookie. I’m going to enjoy myself watching you eat until Morgan gets back from the hardware store.”

  • • •

  When Morgan arrived at the Pennyroyal, he found Mrs. Sterling in the kitchen but not with his wife. “Where is Jane?” he asked without preamble.

  “She walked over to Mrs. Garvin’s. I’m surprised you didn’t see her. She only left a few minutes ago.”

  “Mrs. Garvin.” Morgan frowned slightly, trying to place the name. “The milliner? Jane already has a fine hat.”

  Ida Mae made a tsking sound with her tongue as she regarded Morgan sorrowfully. “A woman can always use another hat, but she went there with the idea of finding a pattern and material for something she can wear when she’s riding. Mrs. Garvin has books and such that she can look through. Goodness, what has your dander up? Your wife intends to do the sewing; although it seems to me you could part with money enough to see that she doesn’t have to.”

  Morgan lifted his hat, plowed his fingers through his hair, and then slapped his hat against his leg instead of returning it to his head. “She didn’t say a word about it, didn’t ask me for money, and she’s not where she told me she’d be.”

  “And yet you’re glowering at me.”

  It did not happen immediately, but Morgan eventually got around to taking a calming breath. “Sorry.”

  “Humph.” Mrs. Sterling returned to peeling potatoes. She gestured with her chin to the plate of almond cookies. “Jane managed to choke down two of those. I think you’ll have an easier time.”

  Morgan picked one up and bit it in half. “What do you mean she managed to choke them down?”

  Mrs. Sterling shrugged. “She doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite.”

  “Maybe she was too polite to tell you she doesn’t like almond cookies.”

  “That’s probably it.”

  Morgan wasn’t fooled. “Out with it. You’re the one who’s going to choke on what you have stuck in your craw.”

  Firmly setting down her knife, Mrs. Sterling regarded Morgan with her most penetrating gaze. “Do you ever intend to tell that girl anything about you?”

  “Whoa. What’s this about?”

  “She has questions, Morgan. Any woman would, living with a man who doesn’t have two words to string together about himself. She’s looking to know you better, and she’s come to me for the blank parts. Apparently there are a lot of them.”

  Morgan pulled up a stool and sat down. He set his hat on the table away from the potato shavings. “What kind of questions?”

  “What kind of questions,” she repeated flatly. “Hmm. Can you think of any that you’ve answered about your family?”

  Morgan said nothing.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I don’t have family.”

  “You can say that all you want, but it doesn’t make it true.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Mostly nothing. I told her to ask you.”

  “Mostly nothing?”

  Mrs. Sterling removed her spectacles, cleaned them with her apron, and then carefully replaced them. “I told her some about you and Benton because she asked. Just a few of the kind things he said about you. I might have mentioned Lander. Frankly, I didn’t see the harm in it.”

  Morgan briefly closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t your place to say anything.”

  “You don’t think so? Benton was my husband. I guess I can talk about him if I have a mind to.”

  “Sorry.”

  “How’s that again?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, more loudly this time.

  “That’s better. Lord, Morgan, I know you have no one left you’re proud to claim as family, but I don’t see the sense in keeping them a secret. What do you think will happen if Jane hears about Jack and Gideon? And is it the worst thing in the world for her to know about that Jezebel who raised you?”

  A muscle jumped in Morgan’s jaw. “I don’t see myself ever talking to Jane about Zetta Lee. I don’t like saying their names in the same breath.”

  Mrs. Sterling’s slim smile was rueful, her eyes full of regret. “I understand.”

  Morgan’s nod was almost imperceptible. He picked up his hat. “I’ll be going. I have to find Jane.”

  Reaching across the table suddenly, Ida Mae Sterling caught the sleeve of Morgan’s coat. “What’s going on, Morgan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m getting the impression you don’t like her out of your sight.”

  “She was here with you the entire time I was picking up supplies and listening to Ted Rush talk about the time he almost got lost in the blizzard of ’86. That means she was out of my sight.”

  Mrs. Sterling released his coat and sat back. “I said it was an impression, didn’t I?” She looked him over as he put on his hat. “You’d tell me if there was something to worry about, wouldn’t you?”

  Morgan walked around the table, bent, and kissed her on the cheek. “Dear Ida Mae, you would be the very last person I would tell.”

  “Humph.”

  Smiling, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You’re my family, Ida Mae.” And then he left.

  • • •

  Jane emerged from Mrs. Garvin’s shop carrying a parcel containing material, thread, and a skirt pattern that Mrs. Garvin made especially for her. Her attention was drawn inward as her mind leaped ahead to laying out the material, pinning the pattern, and cutting the fabric. She was not looking where she was going.

  She walked right into the stranger.

  “Oh! I am so sorry.” Jane smiled apologetically as she bent to pick up her parcel.

  “No, ma’am. Allow me.” He stooped and slipped two fingers under the string that held the parcel together. He held it up as he straightened but did not precisely hand it over.

  “Thank you,” said Jane. “You are very kind. I’ll take it now.”

  “Let me carry it for you. Where are you going?”

  “I am on my way to meet my husband. I believe he has been delayed at the hardware store.” She held out her hand. “I’ll have it back, please.”

  “It’s no bother.”

  “I understand. I would still like to carry it myself.”

 
; Smiling, he gave it over. “You’re Mrs. Longstreet.” When Jane nodded, he lifted his hat, revealing a thick helmet of brown hair that was only a shade lighter than his heavy mustache. “I thought that was you with Morgan earlier. ’Course, who else would it be? You were coming out of the bank, I believe.”

  “Yes.” She frowned slightly, trying to place his face. He was thin, with sharp, angular features, and stood perhaps an inch taller than she. His eyes were brown. He had a narrow way of looking out on the world, a slight squint that had carved permanent lines at the corners of his eyes. “I am afraid I do not remember your name. Were we introduced at the reception? There were so many people there. It was overwhelming.”

  “That’s how I remember it, ma’am. And let me say again, congratulations. Morgan Longstreet is a good man. A lucky one also.”

  “Lucky?”

  “Morgan and I go back a ways. I wouldn’t be so bold as to say this if we didn’t. I meant that he was lucky for getting himself a wife as fine as you.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said modestly. She averted her eyes and gazed off in the direction of Ted Rush’s hardware store. “I have to go. Thank you again.”

  He turned when she started off, but he did not follow her. “You don’t want to go to the hardware, Mrs. Longstreet.”

  Jane’s steps slowed, then stopped. She looked back over her shoulder. “I don’t?”

  “No, ma’am. I saw Morgan going up the steps to the Pennyroyal not long before we met head-on. I said ‘howdy,’ but I don’t think he heard me. Seemed as if he was in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Thank you. I better go, then.” She picked up her pace, and when she reached the corner, she glanced back, this time with no prompting other than her own curiosity. The stranger was gone.

  • • •

  Morgan gave Jane a blanket to place over her lap after she was seated in the buckboard. He helped her tuck it in before he snapped a tarp over the supplies in the back of the wagon. Snowflakes dotted the tarp like random chalk marks on a slate. He did not try to brush them off. He climbed onto the buckboard and took up the reins. Before he snapped them, he raised his hand in a good-bye salute to Walt Mangold, who was loitering on the Pennyroyal’s front porch.