by DiAnn Mills
“Those circles could bury a man.” Now she knew what Doc meant.
She wanted to stroke Morgan’s cheek, to feel the coolness of his skin just once before he opened his eyes. Yet how would she explain her foolishness if he awoke? Doc praised him as a good man, but those words didn’t necessarily mean Morgan was good for her.
Casey turned and cautiously slipped her fingers through the side of the window shade to view the outside world. The sun’s announcement of morning cast an orange tint to the area around her—not quite real, as though she could relax for a moment. Perhaps the town looked more ordinary than sinister, without any signs of lawless men. Of course, all of them were sleeping away the previous night’s activities. She heard a stirring and glanced back to see Morgan watching her.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“Nothing. It’s quiet out there.” She stepped closer to his side.
“Too bad we’re hiding. We could lift the shades and let in some light.”
“I have a feeling most of Doc’s patients are lying low from somebody.”
“True, but this room is like a tomb.”
“A safe cave,” she said.
He attempted to move his arms and groaned.
“Lie still, or you’ll start bleeding.” Casey set her coffee on the dresser and adjusted the blanket around his neck.
When he tried to raise his arms again, she pinned them to his side. “Don’t try to move, or I’ll tie you to this bed.”
“I think you tried that before.”
“And I managed just fine, didn’t I?”
He glared up at her. “Tough lady, aren’t you?”
“Don’t rile me. This lady packs a gun.”
“And I’m in no shape to fight.” He took a labored breath. “Has Doc said how long I’ll be laid up?”
She crossed her arms. “You won’t like this. He told me yesterday that it’ll take at least a month.”
“A month. He’s crazy. I have things to do.” He started to lift himself up again, but his face registered a stab of pain.
Her temper flared like a spark took to kindling. “You nearly died, and the hole in your chest is going to take awhile to heal. Doc doesn’t need to stitch you up again, and I won’t be here to nurse you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have to leave before the morning’s out. It’s only a matter of time before Jenkins catches up with me. He’s already got men out looking. Don’t imagine he’d be real happy with Doc tending to you or hiding me. The longer I stay here, the more dangerous it is for both of you.” She turned her attention to the outside, fully suspecting Jenkins’s men to be armed and keeping a watchful eye on Doc’s house. I’m so tired of this.
“Use your head, girl. You can’t ride out alone. As soon as I’m able, we’ll go together.”
She shook her head and stubbornly kept her focus on the empty street. Tears threatened to spill over her cheeks, but she swallowed them instead. Tears were for weak females, not hardened women. “I’ve made up my mind.”
“What can I say to change it?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t want to lose you to Jenkins’s vengeance.” He coughed, and she spun around to see if there was blood. She saw nothing.
An awkward silence rose between them, and she turned back to the window. If only she could believe him. She must be more of a fool than she thought. “There’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to find Jenkins. Besides, looks like you slowed him down for quite a spell.”
“I did get him.”
She nodded. “One of his legs is broke and has a hole in it. You can catch him all by yourself. Don’t need me at all. Both of you will be getting around about the same time.”
“Jenkins isn’t what I’m afraid of losing.”
“You’re not making sense.” Her heart pounded.
“Of course I am, and you know it.”
“I won’t risk your life or anyone’s ever again,” she said. “The past is over. I left it in the mountains. Staying here with you and Doc is clearly selfish.”
“Look at me and not that blasted street.” For a weak man, Morgan had no problem spitting out his words. “Even if I asked you to stay with me?”
She didn’t dare turn around. “It’s impossible. It’s stupid.”
“Where are you heading? Jenkins might have the roads blocked.”
She paced the length of his bed. Only a fool would share such plans. “I don’t know.”
“Arizona, Mexico, California?”
Casey met his dour temperament with all the determination she could muster. “If I did know, I’d keep it to myself. It’s best we part and you not know my whereabouts.”
“That is the most illogical statement I’ve ever heard.” Morgan’s pale face reddened.
Their disagreement built a wall between them. At a loss for words, she stared emotionlessly above his head, a trait she’d practiced for years. Don’t feel. Soon you’ll forget.
“You’re being bullheaded about this. I’ll not let you leave without me! Do you understand?” Morgan attempted to pull up from the pillow, but instead he gasped for air.
She forced herself not to tend to him. “I’m leaving, and nothing you can say or do will stop me.” Although she meant the words to sound sharp, tenderness laced them like a fine lady’s handkerchief against rough, calloused skin.
“Your stubbornness is going to get you killed,” he managed through clenched teeth. “Or worse.”
“There’s nothing worse than being killed.” She stepped back. Touching him battled with her good sense.
“Yes, there is. As a woman, you know exactly what I mean.”
She chose not to answer him until she won control over her emotions. “Morgan, you can heal without me. I’d just get jumpy and irritable over every little noise.” She tapped her fingers on the iron bed frame.
The lines deepened across his brow. Any other man would have passed out with the arguing. “How many men can you trust before you get to where you’re going?”
“Probably none.”
“So who’s going to help you?”
“I don’t need anyone.”
Neither of them spoke for several long moments. “How will I know if you’re all right?” His tone softened as though he’d accepted her plans.
She took a deep breath. “I need to write Doc about some things. He’ll let you know I’m all right. Please rest, and I’ll wake you before I leave.”
“That’s real nice of you, Casey. Me and Doc will have a party.”
She shoved aside her fragile feelings and left him.
“I’m not done talking yet.”
She kept right on walking. If she stopped, she’d lose sight of what really mattered. Odds were she’d never see him again anyway. Earlier that morning she’d mentally pieced together a southern route to Robber’s Roost. From there, she’d decide which way to go.
Once she readied her gelding, Doc joined her. “Jenkins was mad and drunk last night. By the time I set his leg and dug out that bullet, he was madder and drunker. He upped the reward on you, then dared the rest of his gang to go after it. None of his men are going to waste any time getting here,” Doc said. “Your leaving is against my better judgment, but you face more danger by staying in Vernal. You be careful.” Doc yanked on the girth. “I’ll be praying for God to guide and protect you. Run on in and tell Morgan good-bye.”
Inside the house, she took one last glance at the tidy kitchen, the clean table, and the absence of a woman. She remembered Doc’s offer to marry her. He would, too. She didn’t doubt it for a minute, but the idea of a man putting up with her past was too much for her to think on. And what kind of a mother would she make?
At the sight of Morgan sleeping, she considered leaving without saying good-bye. She hesitated, then touched his shoulder. As he slowly opened his eyes, she smiled with years of regret tugging at her heart. Uncomfortable with their farewell, she stood with her hands behind her back, her revol
vers strapped to her hips.
“You’re much prettier when you smile.” Morgan managed a weak grin.
“I’m leaving now.”
“What about us?” he said. “Do you want to walk away from what started in the mountains?”
“I’m getting away from Jenkins. No need to worry about me.” She shifted from one foot to another.
“You’re escaping from him, but are you also running from me? Believe me, I know there’s something between us, Casey. And you can’t deny it, either.”
She swallowed hard. Something in the back of her mind shouted bounty hunter. It made sense, too. “Don’t do this. Don’t confuse me.” She took a step back toward the door. “I’m going to forget about you. My life is heading in a different direction, and I’m doing what I feel is right for everyone.”
“What is good and right is the two of us finding out what happened in the mountains.” His words were stronger, or perhaps his returning strength bolted behind them.
She shook her head. “You must be getting a fever, ’cause you’re talking out of your head. When you’re better, you’ll see I’ve made the right decision. I haven’t forgotten what you did for me or that you entered my camp to use me for bait. It won’t take long for you to remember those motives and what drove you into the mountains in the first place.” Her words ended abruptly, for Doc stepped in from the outside. “Good-bye, Morgan.”
“God be with you” echoed in her ears.
Chapter 7
At the sound of Casey’s voice, Stoney tossed his head and responded like an old friend. An extra leather pouch had been slung over her full saddlebags. Nothing else could be stuffed inside any of them.
“What did you put in my bags?” She patted the bulges.
“Provisions.” Doc looped his fingers inside his suspenders.
“I don’t have the money to pay for this. Doc, I can’t even pay for Morgan’s care, and now you give me more things?”
He offered a wry smile. “No need to worry. Tim took care of it.”
“Tim?” Casey’s eyes widened, and she took in the area around her.
“Yeah, he said he owed you. He told me a story about you not taking money from the jobs they did.” Doc stroked the gelding’s neck as though Tim’s words were common knowledge.
“True. And I can’t take this, either. He stole the money to buy these provisions.” She started to lift the bags from the saddle, but Doc stopped her.
“Best you have the provisions to survive than Tim to squander it on women and gambling. A good bit of the money is left, and I placed it in the saddlebag on the bottom, left side.”
“Keep the money for Morgan’s care.”
“And have Tim O’Hare after me? I’m smarter than that, sweet lady.” He touched her shoulder. “I also put a small gift in the top saddlebag.”
“From you?” Apprehension settled upon her. She despised being indebted to anyone.
“It’s an extra Bible. A rancher gave it to me for birthing a baby. I don’t need two.”
Overwhelmed, she hugged the big man. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of it. You have my word.” She swung up into the saddle. A part of her wanted to stay and face Jenkins. It would be over then. But she didn’t have the guts to shoot it out with him. She’d rather learn what the Bible said about such things.
Casey grasped Doc’s huge hand. “I’ll miss you.” She started to add that she’d also miss his cooking, his gruff mannerisms, and his long talks, but a lump formed in her throat. A sense of urgency surfaced. She’d probably never see Doc or Morgan again. She might not see noon.
*****
Morgan fought the sleep drawing him into a world where healing took place and reality seemed irrelevant. He was madder than a riled rattler with the realization that Casey had left. He’d known the infamous lady for only a few days, and when he hadn’t been unconscious, he’d despised her. How did one woman get under a man’s skin so quickly?
She had a rare beauty: red-brown hair that reminded him of a desert sunset and pale blue eyes veiled behind thick, dark lashes. When he walked into her campsite, she looked out of place, as though an angel had taken residence in a man’s world. An angel or a demon? He knew the rumors. A bounty hunter from Missouri said Jenkins had found her in a brothel. One report said Casey and Tim stumbled onto the gang by accident, and Jenkins had to have her. Whatever the truth, she ran from him now.
Morgan saw the grit in her eyes in the mountains of Utah when he shoved his Winchester under her chin. If she feared him, she didn’t show it. The calm speech and soft voice indicated a woman of confidence. He’d expected Casey O’Hare to use her beauty to wiggle out of his hold, but instead she challenged him with a sharp mind—repeatedly. How else could she have survived all those years with Jenkins? She’d lived among one of the most hardened gangs in American history. Casey might have noble intentions of ridding her life of Davis Jenkins, but without help, that animal would not stop until he caught her.
Forget her. She’s not worth it. Look at what she’s done over the years.
Yet she’d put her life on the line for him. Took care of him when anyone else would have left him to die. Risked her life with Jenkins hot on her trail. Morgan had learned just enough to drive him crazy, just enough to wonder if his best-laid plans were wrong. The God he acknowledged in good and needy times might be trying to tell him something . . . or warn him. If he’d have stuck to God’s ways these past four years, then maybe he could decipher the message.
*****
Six hours passed, and still the confusion of what began in the mountains of Utah and continued until this morning in Vernal tore at Casey’s heart. She lifted her tearstained face to the late morning sun and willed the bittersweet memories of Morgan to fade.
This is insane. I hardly know the man. How could I let him torment me so? He had no right to confuse me this way—saying things that most likely meant nothing to him.
She hated to think his reasons for asking her to stay were to trap Jenkins, to satisfy lust, or to earn a bounty. Certainly the past seven years had taught her to be a better judge of character.
She shoved her raging thoughts aside and attempted to dwell on the future. Living in the past invited an early grave, and the only way to clear distance between her and Jenkins was to take advantage of the present. She didn’t need Morgan . . . just like she hadn’t needed Franco. Now why did she think of him? He’d been dead over three years.
Casey shook her head in hopes of dispelling painful regrets. She patted the full saddlebags. Guilt possessed her in one breath for the way Tim got the money, and thankfulness claimed her in another because maybe he cared for her after all.
My poor wayward brother. How much more I want for you.
He’d never been able to save much, but then neither did most of the outlaws. Even Jenkins talked about the ranch he’d one day own in Mexico. They all talked big about buying ranches, cattle, and horses, then settling down, but few managed to hold on to anything except their horses and guns—and seldom their lives. Instead, they all spent their money on horses, fancy saddles, guns, liquor, poker games, brothels, and anything else that fed into their lives.
For Tim, it was always, “I’ll quit after the next job.” But that last job never happened. In the beginning, when she and Tim left home to escape Pa’s beatings, all Tim wanted was to earn a few dollars and take care of Casey.
“I’m joining up with the Jenkins gang,” he said one night while they camped near the border of Missouri and Kansas. “I talked to a few of his men in town, and they could use another gun.”
“That’s wrong, Tim. We’re doing fine by ourselves.”
“We need the money.”
“But you could get killed or sent to prison.”
He pressed in close to her as though someone other than the darkness could hear. “I promised Ma I’d take care of you. I’ll ride with ’em for a few jobs, just long enough to save a little money. Then we’ll head to California or Oregon and buy us
a pretty stretch of land.”
Casey stared into the face of her seventeen-year-old brother and searched for the right words to change his mind.
“Have I ever lied to you?” he said.
“No. But what would I do while you rode with them?”
He smiled, that boyish grin that always melted her heart. “They said you could cook for ’em. Nothing else.”
And she’d believed him.
When would it end? The blood and the victims of selfish greed haunted her. What did it do to him? The sound of a cocked rifle. The smell of gunfire. The taste of violence. The feeling of fear and despair that twisted her gut. She dug her heels into Stoney’s sides. Keep moving. Soon it will be over. Soon.
Casey remembered the Bible tucked into the saddlebag. Beginning tonight, she’d read by firelight, and the thought gave her something to look forward to. Surely the answers plaguing her miserable life were written within those pages. Sometimes she felt like a prairie twister, ready to tear up everything in her path. The anger frightened her as though she might end up like Tim.
“If you can’t handle this, then work for Rose,” Tim had said when she asked him last winter to leave the gang.
“Sell myself for the next meal?” Casey said. “Working in a brothel? At least here I’m only fighting off one man.”
“Then quit whining. I’m tired of hearing it. You want a better life? Stop fighting Jenkins, and he’ll take care of you.”
“I’d rather be dead.”
“Suit yourself.”
As twilight crept in around her, much like the old quilt she used to hide under during storms when she was a kid, Casey urged Stoney up through the aged formation of weathered rock. She recalled from past rides through the area how it changed magnificently in color from red and white to yellow and black: the beauty of a land totally suspended in time.
Tomorrow I’ll see the beauty on the other side of the cliffs. The realization brought a spark of hope, fueling all her secret dreams, like wearing a dress and not a gun belt. She knew large patches of deep green pine and waving blades of grass stretched for miles. Beautiful. Utterly breathtaking. Perhaps solitude was the best form of freedom.