by DiAnn Mills
“Oh, I don’t know. The waiting to hear from President Arthur. Not having any money to give Jocelyn for living here. Tim . . . Jenkins.” She dared not say more.
“I want to hear the rest of it.” In the fading light, Morgan turned to face her. He didn’t appear angry, but she recalled the same tone from the time he questioned her in the mountains of Utah.
She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I want to get married.”
“Why? Have you decided you don’t love me?” His words were laced with hurt.
“You’re not being fair.”
“I’m not? You tell me you love me, but you don’t want to marry me? I want the truth.”
“I do love you, Morgan. I’m scared.”
“Of what? I thought we were going to see this pardon through together.”
I’m not afraid of not getting the pardon as much as I am of living the rest of my life with a man who might turn on me.
Silence echoed around them. The horse walked to the edge of the corral where they stood, and Morgan reached to stroke the animal’s head. Several long moments passed.
“You know, Casey,” he said without looking her way, “the ranch hands said this mare couldn’t be broken. They claimed she was too wild, even loco. Jesse told me the horse ought to be shot. He gave up on her. Then one day, Grant decided he’d break her. He worked long and hard, gentle-like, until the horse felt confident of his voice and touch. She’s now tame enough for children, but the ranch hands still won’t ride her. They’re afraid. Can’t see past the mare’s old ways.”
A chill snaked up her spine. Tears stung her eyes, and she touched Morgan’s shoulder. “Can I have a little more time until we hear from the president?”
He blew out a sigh. “All right. I’ll not mention another word of marriage till the pardon arrives. And I’ll not be coming out to the ranch, either. You can have all the time you need to think about us. I love you, Casey. Nothing will ever change that, but I’m a man, and my pride won’t let me beg.”
He turned and walked into the house. She felt numb and miserable. An emptiness settled in the pit of her stomach. A short while later he rode off toward town.
What have I done? I love him so much, and now I’ve hurt him. Maybe lost him.
No one pressed Casey and Morgan about the problems between them, but she saw the dejection and worry in the whole family. Her restlessness coupled with unhappiness caused her to stay to herself. Day after day she searched the Scriptures for God’s answer to her quandary. She hated herself. She was fickle. Whatever happened to the godly woman she craved to be? Sarah would be so disappointed.
*****
Morgan attempted to focus his attention on drawing up a land sale for a nearby rancher, but he couldn’t concentrate. Frustrated, all he could think about was Casey. Her words and actions made no sense to him. He wanted to understand. He really did.
Shaking his head, he tried reading the document before him again. The door opened, and his mother stepped into the office. He stood and embraced her.
“Afternoon, Mama. What brings you into town?”
“I stopped in to see the reverend and you.”
“Thanks. How’s everything at the ranch?”
She nodded. “Busy. Do you have a few minutes for me?”
“Sure. Sit down. Is something wrong?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
He raised a brow and waited for her to continue.
“I want to talk to you about Casey.”
“We’re not seeing each other right now.”
“I don’t need a lawyer to tell me that.” Her eyes narrowed.
“Mama.” Morgan startled at her sharp tone.
She moistened her lips and removed her bonnet. “I think I should explain something to you.”
“I wish somebody would. This is making me crazy.”
“I know, Son.” She hesitated as though searching for the right words. “What do you think her experience with men has been like?”
He shrugged. “Not good. Her brother mistreated her, and Jenkins is an animal.”
“Do you really understand what that means to her?”
He scratched his stubbly chin. “I suppose.”
“Her pa was a drunk, and he beat her. You know the situation with her brother and Jenkins.” Mama leaned in closer. “She’s never known anything but fear when it comes to men. Jenkins forced himself on her when she was nothing more than a girl. He hurt her, Son, more than once. What do you think that did to her?”
Realization flooded his entire body, and he swallowed hard. “She’s afraid I’ll be the same way. I—I hadn’t thought about it that way before. She’s afraid of me.”
“I believe she loves you, but fear is pretty powerful.”
“What can I do? I make her angry every time I come near her.”
“I’m not sure, but I think prayer is a good beginning. And don’t give up.”
He didn’t answer. Jenkins still had a hold on her. As much as forgiveness had been crucial in his relationship to God, most days he’d like to see the man dead. “I can’t give up, Mama. I love her too much.”
*****
One Sunday afternoon just after the midday meal, Casey borrowed the Andrewses’ wagon and drove toward town. She was so tired of the confusion about her feelings for Morgan, and she desperately needed direction. Prayers went unanswered. When nothing but silence came, Casey decided to turn the wagon around and head back to the ranch. Perhaps she needed to talk openly and honestly to Jocelyn and Bonnie about her doubts in marrying Morgan. She didn’t want to disappoint her friends any longer. Besides, she was consumed with guilt for the ugliness raging in her soul.
The longer Morgan’s kindness and devotion ruled his emotions, the more suspicious she became. She felt his caring covered for something else, and that something would be hidden until she spoke her wedding vows.
She tried to listen for God’s voice, but the only thing she heard was the clamor of her own doubts. Surely all of this wasn’t due to her impatience with the pardon or her fear of Jenkins. Or was it?
The reverend had spoken this morning on man’s insistence in judging others. “Judge not, lest ye be judged,” repeated in her mind like a newspaper headline. She pondered the sermon and wondered if God meant those words especially for her. Then she saw Morgan’s face and heard his voice. Oh, how she loved this man, but things weren’t right between them. Might never be. She felt awkward seeing him at church, as if he were a stranger. Grant stood beside him and nodded when they walked by, while Jocelyn and Bonnie looked on with sadness written in their eyes. None of them were unkind, simply distant like a patch of wildflowers on a mountain pass just beyond reach.
Glancing about, Casey stared up at the sky. It had turned a dismal shade of gray. She studied the sky for possible rain clouds. Suddenly the wagon hit a hole in the road and sent her bouncing on the rough wooden seat.
“Stupid horse!” she shouted to no one but the animal pulling the wagon. Closing her eyes, she heard the reverend’s words with sudden clarity. The wagon wheel rolling over the rut wasn’t the horse’s fault. It’s my fault for not paying attention to the road. I’m judging a horse for my shortcomings . . . I’m judging Morgan for my shortcomings . . . I’m judging Morgan because I’m afraid he’s like Jenkins.
The turmoil about Morgan suddenly made sense. His actions weren’t separating them. Her refusal to trust had caused the problem. All this time, Morgan had been trying to please her and show his love. And all of this time, she’d been running from what she wanted most. God had put Morgan in her life for a reason. They belonged to each other. She knew that now. Sarah’s words echoed across her mind. Morgan would always try. That’s what mattered. She had to tell him now. She must tell him how wrong she’d been.
Casey reined in the horse. Forgive me, Lord, for not listening and for being so stubborn. The immediate necessity to see Morgan overwhelmed her. She’d barely come two miles. Was this foolishness? Certainly not. Sh
e needed to talk to him right away and ask him to forgive her. He deserved to know she would marry him. That is, if he hadn’t changed his mind.
She turned the wagon around and headed to Kahlerville with a sense of urgency that chilled her to the bone. Once in town, the proprietor of the boardinghouse checked for Morgan, but he’d left earlier.
“Miss Flanagan, I believe I heard him say he was heading over to talk to Reverend Rainer.”
Should she visit the parsonage and interrupt them? Casey fought the urge to race down the street to the whitewashed parsonage beside the church. What if the two men had business matters to discuss? One more time, she’d look selfish.
“Did he say how long he’d be gone?”
“Most of the afternoon, I think. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, thank you.” Perhaps she’d wait until he returned. Still, she had the Andrewses’ wagon, and they’d need it to return to church tonight. “May I write him a note?”
The man pulled a pad of paper from under the counter and pointed toward the pen and ink beside the register. “You go right ahead, and I’ll shove it under his door.”
She smiled and hoped she disguised her disappointment. The proprietor walked away, giving her much appreciated privacy. She composed her thoughts and wrote:
Dear Morgan,
Today God spoke to me about my terrible actions toward you. I’m so sorry for the way I have treated you. I do love you, and I will marry you tonight if that is what you want. I know the future is uncertain, but I can’t imagine one more day without you.
She blinked back a tear and regained her self-control.
I hope to see you at church tonight. Morgan, you’ve done so much for me, and I do feel badly about the heartache I’ve caused. I love you.
Casey
Saddened by Morgan’s absence yet filled with the joy of her new understanding, Casey realized she must get back to the ranch and apologize to Jocelyn and Bonnie. They had put up with her brooding long enough. She’d confess her self-centered heart to everyone and ask them to forgive her.
She climbed back into the wagon and for the first time did not feel the immense burden that had been a part of her for weeks. The ride back to the ranch sped by quickly. She remembered all the precious times with Morgan—the many times he’d proven his love. How she longed to make up these weeks to him.
“I love you, Morgan Andrews,” she said, and the horse picked up its pace. Casey laughed. Nothing could dampen her spirits.
Jocelyn and Bonnie were seated on the front porch, reading, when she returned. Grant had seen her coming and stepped down from the step to take the horse and wagon from her.
“You were gone such a long time. I worry about you, dear. So many bad things can happen.” Jocelyn took a breath. “Bonnie and I were just talking about spending tomorrow planning our garden. We’d love for you to help us.”
“That sounds like fun. We can start tonight after church if you’d like. We can even bake bread while we’re talking about the spring planting.” She laughed at their questioning stares and proceeded to tell them about the early afternoon.
“So Morgan still doesn’t know?” Bonnie pressed her palms together as though she planned a prayer—which wasn’t a bad idea.
Casey shook her head. “I didn’t want to bother him at the parsonage, and I’ve been so self-centered. I’ve hurt him, and I want to make up for it all.”
“He will be so happy.” Jocelyn brushed back a strand of her amber colored hair. “We’ve been praying for you.”
“Do you think I’m too late? Maybe he has grown tired of waiting for me. Not that I blame him.”
“No, my dear. I know my Morgan, and he loves you. He would have waited for as long as it took,” Jocelyn said.
Casey climbed the steps and embraced the older woman. “I never intended to cause this much trouble.”
“When it comes to the heart, decisions are always difficult,” Jocelyn said. “The thought of sharing a lifetime with someone shouldn’t be taken lightly, and both of you have been through so much.”
“I realized a lot of things today. We’ve had some hard times, but together we can build a future.”
“Now isn’t this a bit of luck,” uttered a man from behind the left side of the porch.
Casey swung her attention in the direction of the voice. Terror swept over her, reminiscent of the cruelest of nightmares. “Jenkins,” she whispered.
“That’s right, Casey girl.” He pulled a revolver from his hip, and she heard the sharp click of the hammer. “Inside, all three of you. No one makes a sound, or you’re all dead.”
Chapter 32
Casey’s and Jocelyn’s glances met in clear recognition of the danger. Any pleading or display of emotion from the women invited a taste of Jenkins’s fury. Bonnie, her face pale, stood as if her small body were frozen to the porch. Do not open your mouth, Bonnie, or it’s all over for us.
Jocelyn gently took Bonnie’s arm and escorted her inside.
Jenkins smelled of whisky, and his right eye twitched. Killer mad. Someone always ended up dead when he was like this. God, please help us.
“Your quarrel is with me,” Casey said once the four of them were inside with the door closed. “Let these women go.”
“Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t.” His glare sent a flash of alarm up her spine. “Here, girl, let me take a look at you.” He ripped off her bonnet and yanked on her hair, sending hairpins flying. “My, you sure look fancy. This new life must be agreein’ with you.” He pointed the revolver at Jocelyn and Bonnie. Casey immediately planted herself in front of them. “It’s a pity I have to kill all of you.”
Horror for her dear friends penetrated her soul. She’d caused this. “Leave them alone, Jenkins. This is between you and me.”
He appeared to think over her request while Casey stared into his reddened eyes. He hadn’t bathed in days. Images from the past gripped her. He had no sense when he’d been drinking. They were as good as dead unless she thought of something fast. How many times had she seen him this way? How many folks had he killed in a drunken stupor?
Jocelyn. Bonnie. Poor Bonnie, who saw Kathleen’s bloody body after her murder.
“There’s rope by the wood box,” she said. “I’ll tie them up for you. Gag them, too, if you like.”
“Why?” He appeared to weigh her words.
“So they don’t cause trouble.”
“They’re Morgan Andrews’s family.” Jenkins wiped his dirty mouth and slapped his right leg. “I have him to thank for this. Seems only fair for me to kill his women.” He stepped toward Bonnie. “This pretty little thing needs a good man first.”
Bonnie stiffened and lifted her chin in an uncharacteristic display of strength.
“Morgan is on his way here. He’s right behind me,” Casey said.
“You’re lyin’.”
“Why should I? You could pick him off when he comes riding in.” Her eyes never left his face. “You’ve got both of us, Jenkins. We’re all trapped.” She gambled on Jenkins’s having to seize control of every situation. He’d planned her death for a long time. Any interruption would bother him.
Jenkins angrily knocked over the coffeepot resting on the stove. His right eye jerked. “Tie ’em up, and be quick about it before I change my mind. I’ve got my own way of handling this. I sure never thought him stupid enough to bring you here. What did you promise him?”
“Nothing.”
Jenkins waved his gun in her face. “I know what you are, Casey girl. Hurry up. We’re getting out of here.”
Casey captured Jocelyn’s gaze and mouthed the word pray. Bonnie saw the exchange and nodded slightly. She seemed to be in control of her emotions. Casey bound both women with loose knots and gagged them. She sent silent messages of hope to her precious friends. She needed time—time to think. The door flew open, and Grant walked in.
“What’s going on here?” Grant’s gaze swept to his mother and Bonnie, then rested on Case
y.
Jenkins whipped around and raised his revolver.
“No, please.” Casey’s words died in the blast of gunfire.
Grant fell back against the door. Blood spurted from his shoulder and dripped down his shirt. He grabbed his upper arm and stared dumfounded at the thick red liquid oozing between his fingers. Pain and shock spread over his face. He swayed toward the table.
The nightmare had begun.
“Let me take care of him.” Casey moved toward Grant.
Jenkins grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the door. “We’re getting out of here before that shot brings any more uninvited company.” The outlaw knocked her to the floor and delivered a savage kick to her side. “One more word, and I’ll kill ’em all.”
Grant grabbed his bleeding shoulder. “My brother will tear you apart with his bare hands.”
Casey looked up, her eyes glazed from the sharp bruise to her body. She sent a silent warning to Grant.
“Not likely, kid,” Jenkins said. “You’ve got guts, considering I’ve already shot you once.”
Casey forced herself to stand. “I’m ready.”
“Get outside and on my horse,” he said.
Once outside, she managed to pull herself up onto his saddle. The outlaw climbed up behind her and drew her to him. His touch brought back too many memories—the many nights she’d slept with her Colt beneath her blanket and her fingers wrapped around a knife. The nights he’d wrenched the weapons from her and used her until he was satisfied.
He cursed and threatened those inside who might venture out after them. He took a quick look around and spurred his horse into a dead run. Casey saw a couple of ranch hands emerge from the bunkhouse and shout at the two as they raced away. Jenkins whirled around with an explosion of lead. She couldn’t tell if any of them were hit, but she prayed for their safety.
At first she had no idea where they were headed, but it soon became clear just where Jenkins planned to take her. They were riding in the direction of Morgan’s cabin.