by DiAnn Mills
“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.”
Chapter 17
“Let’s all go riding this afternoon,” Jocelyn suggested one Sunday aftern
oon. Casey sat outside with Jocelyn and Bonnie while Morgan and Grant discussed a problem with one of the ranch hands.
“Yes, I’d love to,” Bonnie said. “What do you think, Shawne?”
“I didn’t think it was proper for a lady to wear men’s clothing,” she said, all the while thinking how she missed riding her stallion.
“It’s not.” Jocelyn laughed. “We wear riding skirts. It’s so much easier and takes care of those ladies who fret about being proper.”
Casey had no idea what they were talking about. Women were either ladies and wore skirts and dresses, or they weren’t and wore trousers like a man. “I’m not so sure what you’re talking about.”
“I’ll show you mine.” Bonnie hurried into the house. Moments later she presented the skirt. “See, it’s split like a man’s trousers but very proper. You can swing up into the saddle easily without the nuisance of a dress or sidesaddle. I thought you rode here on that monster horse of yours.”
“I did, but I wore men’s clothes.” No point in lying about it. She’d not yet had an opportunity to ride Stampede, but Morgan had insisted the stallion pasture at the ranch.
Casey examined the article of clothing. “I think I could make one with the sewing lessons I’ve been taking.”
“Of course you could,” Jocelyn said. “But today you can wear one of mine. They’re so sensible for ranch work.”
The thought of riding again without regard to dress thrilled her.
Once they all changed clothes and prepared their horses, Casey climbed into the saddle of her stallion.
“Shawne, how do you control such a strong-willed horse?” Jocelyn said. Stampede reared and snorted.
“My brother taught me.” She sensed the old twist in the pit of her stomach.
“And you rode that animal to Kahlerville?” Jocelyn swung up onto her own mare. Casey caught her breath. Please, no more questions. “Yes, ma’am.”
“From where?” Bonnie said.
I will not lie. “West Texas.”
Bonnie’s eyes widened. “By yourself? Weren’t you afraid?”
Casey forced herself to look at her new friend. “It’s a long story, and one I’m not ready to talk about yet.” She took a ragged breath and saw Jocelyn stare at her intently. Did the woman know?
Jocelyn’s features shifted to concern. “When you’re ready, we’ll have a good old-fashioned lady’s talk over a cup of coffee. This afternoon we’re off to have a good time.”
How much longer can I keep the truth from this precious family and dear Reverend Rainer and Sarah? Every day brings more deceit. Every day puts them in danger. What kind of a woman am I?
Galloping across the countryside reminded Casey of days gone by. She relived the wild freedom of the wind blowing through her hair and the excitement of a powerful animal racing beneath her. When Stampede lunged forward, living up to his name, she felt at one with his strenuous pull. And when he lifted her over ditches and fences, she felt like a bird in flight.
Riding always brought back memories of Morgan and their race from Jenkins. As much as her feelings had grown for Morgan, she still wondered if he was a bounty hunter along with being a lawyer. No one had said, but why would he tell his family? His secrets cautioned her every move around him, and his comments about the past ofttimes frightened her. It made no sense at all. Why did he want to come courting when he had his choice of any woman around? Plenty of single women were interested in him. She’d seen the longing in their eyes. And he still hadn’t told her about his wife.
On she rode, as though racing against the demons plaguing her life. A childlike passion to keep one step ahead of the things she couldn’t change challenged her to ride faster.
“Shawne,” Bonnie called. “We’re having a hard time keeping up.”
Casey whipped a glance over her shoulder and saw her friends were struggling. Obviously her idea of riding was a little different from that of her friends.
“You are such a good horsewoman. I’m envious,” Bonnie said once she rode alongside her.
“Thank you,” Casey said. “Riding comes natural.”
“You’ve exhausted me.” Bonnie shook her head. “I’m heading back.”
“I’ll join you,” Jocelyn said. “But, Shawne, you go ahead.”
“Are you sure?” Casey hated to end her ride, but she didn’t want to appear selfish.
“Nonsense. If I see Morgan, I’ll send him your way.” Jocelyn smiled beneath a low-brimmed hat, revealing a few wrinkles and some tiny lines etched around her eyes. “I’m glad you two are getting along well.”
Casey returned the smile, but she wondered how Jocelyn would feel if she knew the truth. Earlier, she feared Jocelyn did know. How long until her ruse exploded in her face? “Will all of you be available before Morgan takes me back to town? I’d like to share the cup of coffee that you spoke of earlier, but I want to talk to all of you.”
“Grant, too?” Jocelyn said.
“Yes. I’d like to talk to everyone.”
Jocelyn shook her head. “Grant is heading out to the north pasture to mend fence with two of the hands. He may have already left. I’m sorry. Can’t seem to get that boy to take a day of rest. Maybe next Sunday?”
“Of course. Our talk can wait a little while longer.”
“We all care for you, Shawne. If this is urgent, I can send a rider after Grant.”
“No, ma’am. Next week is fine.”
Jocelyn and Bonnie turned their horses and left Casey praying for courage. Next week, she’d tell the truth. With a deep breath, she dug her heels into Stampede. Next week, she’d decide if Morgan could help her—ever. She had a little money saved but not enough. Morgan said he didn’t want payment, but Casey refused to be beholden to anyone. She fought her feelings for him every moment of the day.
She raced over the grazing land until her horse heaved and she was forced to bring the animal to a walk. In the distance, she saw a rider and shielded her eyes from the sun. Morgan. How can I love him from a distance and keep him and those I love from danger? I’m selfish, purely selfish.
As he rode nearer, she pondered one more time the idea of turning herself in.
“Someone after you?” he said.
She blinked and caught a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Yeah, I heard you were looking for me.”
“And you didn’t want to get caught?”
She wondered how much truth lay in those words. “Not today. You can walk with me if you like.” She swung down from the saddle and grabbed Stampede by the reins. “I’ll make my horse mind.”
He chuckled, the familiar deep-throated sound that tickled her toes. The September heat was sweltering, but she didn’t really care. Being safe took precedence over any kind of physical comfort.
They stopped to enjoy a view of the valley from a hilltop. “Are you remembering the last time we rode together?” Morgan said.
His glance sent her emotions into a whirl. Away from his family and the ranch hands, she saw him unmask his normally controlled exterior to reveal one of desire.
“How could I forget?” Casey said. “For sure we’re two different people now, thanks to the Lord.” She paused and drank in the beauty around them. “What was it like when you first arrived here with your parents?”
“Well, we cut down more trees than I cared to count. Worked from sunup to long past sundown, but it was all worth it when my father purchased the first spread of cattle and later on added good horse stock.” He gestured across the valley. “Just look at the winding streams and pastureland. You know, Mama worked right beside us and not once complained.”
“I can see her working as hard as a man.”
“I remember the day we finished the cabin, after spending the spring and summer with only the wagon as shelter. She wanted to celebrate by having my father bring out his fiddle, but we were all too tired.” He paused. “I don’t think I’d trade those early days for anything.” Morgan lifted his hat and brushed back the hair on his forehead.
“We had lean winters and fights over barbed wire, and I remember when Bonnie and Grant were born.” He paused, obviously deep in thought.
“Sounds like the memories that make a man.” She studied his face, and the realization of her growing feelings nearly staggered her.
“The other day, I gave Grant full rein of the ranch until he’s ready to head east for school.” He grinned. “My little brother wants to be a doctor.”
She recalled how he handled the young man gored by the bull—and compared the traits of Doc in Vernal. “He’ll be a fine doctor.”
“I agree, and I’m lucky he doesn’t despise me for the rough times I’ve given him.”
“He loves you, Morgan.” She craned her neck to see the outline of the log cabin in the distance. “And you plan to live in your parents’ first home? Seems fitting.”
“I don’t think so. Do you still carry a derringer?” Morgan said.
Startled, she glanced into his face, but his hat hid his features. “No, not since I came to Kahlerville and found the Lord. I don’t carry a knife, either. Why?”
He shrugged. “Just curious.” When he looked her way, a haunting, faraway look spilled into his turquoise eyes. “This life rests well with you.”
“Thank you. I feel like I belong here, even if the future is so uncertain.” She sighed. “I’m so glad you suggested Texas.”
“It’s God’s country. None like it in the country.”
“I’d probably be dead if I’d stayed in Arizona. A part of me will always long to be in the open spaces, but sleeping in a feather bed definitely has more advantages. My, I’m beginning to sound like a woman.” Embarrassed, she ceased speaking.
Morgan chuckled, and she felt her cheeks flush. “You’re happy, and I enjoy hearing you talk.”
They walked on in silence. Casey sensed something wrong with Morgan, but she couldn’t figure out what. So many things swept through her mind. “I read in the newspaper that Frank James walked into the governor of Missouri’s office and surrendered.” She paused. “Do you know what happened? I’m not sure the article gave an accurate accounting.”
“Ben said Frank got too nervous after Bob Ford shot Jesse. Of course, Governor Crittenden stood behind both deals.”