Whispering Pines

by Scarlett Dunn

  Exhausted from the pain, Rose chose to remain in the wagon during their break. Morgan offered to assist her from the buckboard, but she declined, saying, “I believe I will stay here, Mr. LeMasters.”

  “Call me Morgan. We are going to be here for a couple of hours to rest the animals. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather get out and change positions for a while?”

  “No, I’ll be fine right here.”

  “We’ll get some lunch together and make some coffee.” Morgan thought she looked completely exhausted. He didn’t think it was a good sign that she didn’t want to move. He’d noticed she seemed to have a fondness for coffee, and he wondered if she’d object if he laced it with some of George’s whiskey. It might help her to sleep so she wouldn’t feel every bump in the road.

  “If you need anything, just yell out.” He pointed to an area just a few feet from the wagon. “We’ll build a fire right over there, so I’ll hear you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “She’s not looking too good,” Murph said to Morgan as they were unharnessing the horses.

  “I’m thinking of giving her a dose of George’s whiskey to help her go to sleep.”

  “That might not be a bad idea. Do you think she will go for it?”

  Morgan had tried to think of a way to politely insist she drink some whiskey, but he didn’t know how he’d go about it. “Nope.”

  Murph chuckled at Morgan’s expression. He looked like he’d rather step into a den of vipers than offer Rose a drink of whiskey. “Ladies don’t usually partake of hard liquor.”

  Once the men prepared some lunch, Morgan filled a plate for Rose. He poured a half cup of coffee and asked George to top it off with whiskey.

  Morgan walked toward the wagon and saw Rose reading her Bible.

  When Morgan reached her, Rose placed her Bible in her lap, and took the plate from him.

  “How are you feeling?” Morgan asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  She didn’t look fine in his estimation. “You need to eat something.”

  She looked down at the food on the plate, and while she appreciated how he was looking out for her welfare, she had no appetite. “Thank you, Mr. LeMasters, but I’m really not very hungry.”

  “Call me Morgan,” he reminded her.

  “Of course.”

  He didn’t know if he should insist she eat, or if he should leave her alone. He decided it would be better for her to rest than eat, so he said, “I won’t badger you about eating if you drink this.” He handed her the cup of coffee. “Before you take a drink, I want you to know I put a bit of whiskey in there. I thought it might help you rest a mite easier.”

  She accepted the cup and gave him a wry smile. “Granny often put whiskey in tea if one of us had a bad cold.” She was at the point she would drink anything if it took the pain away. After swallowing a small sip of the laced coffee, she tried not to grimace at the taste. “It’s not so bad.”

  Morgan would have laughed if he hadn’t been so surprised. He’d expected a battle to get her to have a little drink of whiskey. “Hopefully, you can sleep the rest of the day.”

  She handed him the plate of food. “You can eat this.”

  Morgan grinned at her. “A deal is a deal. Since you’re drinking your coffee, I won’t argue. But I don’t know what the whiskey will do on an empty stomach. Maybe you should have some of the biscuit.” Morgan held the biscuit to her.

  His smile nearly made it impossible for her to form a thought. It reminded her of the day in the churchyard when she realized why all the women stopped to talk to him. His smile almost made her forget about the pain. She didn’t want to get sick, so she took a small bite of the biscuit.

  Morgan balanced the plate on the side of the buckboard as he started eating.

  “You don’t have to stay here and eat your lunch. I promise I will drink my coffee.”

  “Did you forget I’ve been sitting all morning? I prefer to stand for a while.”

  Rose sipped her coffee, and covertly studied his face. She’d never thought a man was as handsome as Morgan. It didn’t take long before she was feeling the effects of the alcohol. To her surprise, her pain seemed to be subsiding.

  “I guess you will be glad to get home,” Morgan said.

  “Yes, I’m anxious to see Granny. I’ve worried about her over the last few years. She always writes that everything at the farm is fine, but I won’t be happy until I see for myself.”

  Morgan didn’t want to add to her worries, but she’d been sorely misinformed if she thought the Langtry farm was going well. “She seems to be in good health.”

  “It’s hard to tell from letters how someone is really doing. I thought she sounded lonely.” Rose knew Granny would never trouble them with bad news, or want anyone to worry about her, but the tone of her letters over the last six months had been different. Her letters weren’t as long, and it seemed to Rose as if Granny had something on her mind that she chose not to share.

  “Granny keeps busy. She’s basically the town doctor now that Doc died.”

  “She wrote that Joseph Longbow often helps out with tending to the sick,” Rose said.

  “He’ll venture as far as your farm, but rarely goes to town,” Morgan said.

  “Were you telling me the truth that Joseph wasn’t badly injured?”

  “Yes, the bullet just grazed his hard head.”

  Even though he smiled when he said the words, Rose knew that if anything happened to Joseph, Morgan would be devastated. Joseph had been with Morgan a long time, and Granny always said he was very fond of him. “I knew Joseph rarely left your ranch when I was a child, but I never knew why.”

  Morgan didn’t respond to her subtle inquiry about Joseph. “Are your sisters coming back home?”

  She hadn’t really expected him to say more about Joseph. “Yes. Addie will be here in a few months when the school period ends. She is a teacher in an orphanage. My eldest sister, Emma, is accompanying a traveling troupe presently. You may have heard she is an opera singer.”

  Morgan seemed to remember Granny mentioning the opera singer at some point. “I believe Granny told me.”

  “Emma will be traveling to Denver to perform onstage before the year ends, and we will see her then.”

  Morgan had heard tales of traveling troupes and the women who chose that lifestyle, but he didn’t express an opinion. He looked into Rose’s eyes and could see the alcohol was already relaxing her. He thought he would keep her talking so she would finish her coffee. “What did you do back East?”

  Rose’s ambitions seemed to pale in comparison to her sisters’. All she’d ever wanted was a husband and children. “I was the governess to my great aunt and uncle’s two grandsons for three years.”

  “Do you plan on returning?”

  “No. I always planned to come home to Whispering Pines. I never wanted to live in the East permanently.”

  “I expect it was difficult to leave your charges after three years.”

  His statement surprised her. She couldn’t fathom a man like Morgan LeMasters loving anyone as much as she loved those two young boys. When the day came that she’d had to leave them behind, she knew she was leaving part of her heart with them.

  “It was a difficult decision as I am very fond of them, but Granny needs me more. The boys will be coming with their grandparents to visit next year.” She smiled thinking of how excited the boys were when their grandparents made plans to visit the farm. Granny would certainly be surprised. She hadn’t seen her brother in over thirty years, but they had always corresponded regularly.

  “How old are the boys?”

  “Seven and eight, and they are so very inquisitive.”

  Morgan grinned, remembering what he was like at that age. He wanted to see and do everything. “I imagine it will be quite a journey for them if they’ve never been west of the Mississippi.”

  There was that smile of his again. She looked at his mouth and blinked. What did he say? Oh, the boys
. She gave her head a slight shake. “Ah . . . no, they’ve never left Boston.” She could imagine how thrilled the boys would be to meet a man like Morgan for the first time. They’d been enamored with the stories she often told them about the cowboys of the West. Quite often she realized when she was describing cowboys, she was actually recalling Morgan’s physical attributes. They loved to hear the stories of men who slept out on the open range, wore six-guns and Stetsons. She’d told them stories of the Indians, and the tales of Whispering Pines. To boys who’d never known anything other than city life, it all sounded thrilling and quite dangerous. Naturally, their father wanted them to follow him in the study of law, but that profession didn’t seem to garner their interest. They dreamed of riding horses, roping cattle, and learning to shoot pistols.

  Seeing the smile on her face, Morgan couldn’t help but ask what she was thinking.

  “I was thinking how excited they would be to see a man like you,” Rose answered honestly.

  Morgan placed his plate on the floorboard, folded his arms on the rail and leaned closer to Rose. “What do you mean, a man like me?”

  Rose could feel a blush creeping up her neck. “Well, a larger-than-life cowboy who wears a pistol and rides a big horse. They’ve never even been on a horse.”

  Morgan couldn’t imagine boys that age who didn’t ride. “How could boys that age have never ridden a horse?”

  “Their parents have never been on a horse, and they considered it a dangerous activity. I’m afraid they wouldn’t allow me to teach them.” The one time she’d arranged to take the boys riding, their parents were quite upset with her. She’d tried to explain that all young men should be able to sit a horse, but they could not be persuaded. She had to respect their decision, but she’d promised the boys when they came for a visit, she would definitely teach them to ride. It was their secret, and she knew it was one the boys would never reveal.

  Morgan thought of her other comment. “What do you mean by a larger-than-life cowboy?”

  She didn’t want to insult him by saying dime novels were written about men like him. “I meant your size. You’re . . . you’re . . . larger-than-life. You can be quite frightening.”

  The whiskey was working on her. She was much more talkative, and Morgan liked her honesty. Murph always told him he was intimidating to most people. Right now, he didn’t want to scare the prettiest little rose he’d ever seen. “Does my size scare you, Rose?”

  Rose smiled at him. “When I was young you scared me to death.” She didn’t know why she’d admitted that to him so easily.

  Morgan stared into her eyes. “What about now?”

  “I’m not a small child anymore.”

  He couldn’t argue with the truth of that statement. She definitely was no longer a little girl, but a very beautiful woman. And Morgan didn’t know quite what to make of the fact that he was very attracted to her.

  They gazed into each other’s eyes, and didn’t hear Murph approach.

  Murph held a plateful of food toward Rose. “I saw Morgan eating your food, Rose, so I brought you another plate.”

  Morgan was caught off guard by Murph’s untimely appearance, and he was about half aggravated that he had interrupted them. He’d liked the way Rose was talking so freely. “She wasn’t hungry.”

  Morgan’s abrupt tone wasn’t lost on Murph. Nor was the blush covering Rose’s cheeks. He glanced from Rose to Morgan. “Did I interrupt something?”

  Morgan didn’t know why he was miffed. He should be thanking Murph. He reminded himself that Rose was Frank Langtry’s sister. No matter how beautiful he thought she was, or how much he was attracted to her, he couldn’t forget that fact. He picked up his empty plate and turned toward the fire. “Nope. You didn’t interrupt anything.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hobb, the stagecoach driver, slowed the horses when he saw a horse in the middle of the road. Coming closer, he saw the rider was slumped over in the saddle, his arms dangling down, and his hat was lying in the dirt beside his horse. “What do you make of that?” he asked his shotgun rider, Cal.

  Cal squinted against the sun shining in his eyes. “Looks like he’s hurt.”

  Pulling the team to a halt, Hobb yelled out, “Hello.” When no response came, he looked at Cal. They were on a schedule, and this was time they didn’t have to waste, yet he couldn’t pass a man by if he needed help. “You better check it out.” Hobb had been a stagecoach driver for a long time, and he was by nature a cautious man. He picked up his rifle to have it at the ready if needed.

  “Sure thing, Hobb.” Cal climbed down from his perch with his rifle in hand. He was just a few feet from the rider when he yelled out, “Mister, you okay?” Met with silence, he looked back at Hobb. “He might be dead, Hobb.”

  Hobb rolled his eyes. They’d traveled together many times, so they knew each other like brothers. And just like brothers, they got on each other’s nerves. Cal was one heck of a shot, and Hobb was always happy to have him along, but sometimes he could be dumber than a rock. “Well, check it out.” Hobb was already calculating the time it would take to bury a man. They’d made good time, so he figured he could spare thirty minutes if necessary.

  Cal turned around, took hold of the horse’s reins that were dangling on the ground, and picked up the man’s hat. The man’s face was covered by his long dark hair, so Cal gently poked his thigh with the butt of his rifle. “Mister?”

  The motionless man came to life. He easily snatched Cal’s rifle from him, jumped off his horse in a flash, and had his forearm wrapped around Cal’s throat before he knew what was happening. The man threw the rifle to the ground and pulled his pistol, jamming it against Cal’s temple. It all happened so fast that Cal didn’t have time to react.

  Even Hobb was slow to respond, but when it finally registered in his brain what had happened, he pulled his rifle to his shoulder and took aim.

  “Mister, what in blue blazes are you doing? I was trying to help you,” Cal managed to ask even though he thought his windpipe was being crushed.

  “And I appreciate that, Cal. Now tell Hobb to put his rifle aside and throw the strongbox down. And pass my hat over your shoulder.”

  Cal held the man’s hat over his shoulder. “You mean you ain’t hurt?” Cal was dumbfounded at the turn of events.

  The man placed his hat on his head and pulled the brim low. “No, Cal, but you and Hobb are gonna be hurt if he don’t toss that strongbox to the ground.”

  “We don’t have a strongbox,” Hobb said to the man he couldn’t see because he was shorter than Cal.

  A shot exploded next to Cal’s ear, causing him to clutch his head from the deafening sound. At the same moment Cal realized his ear was still attached, he saw Hobb’s hat flying through the air.

  “Now don’t lie to me, Hobb. I know you are carrying an express shipment to Denver. Throw it down, or Cal will be missing one ear the next time I ask.”

  “He don’t listen nohow,” Hobb replied.

  “What?” Cal yelled. He couldn’t hear what they were saying for the ringing in his ear.

  Hobb heard the man cock the pistol. “Now wait a minute, mister. Wouldn’t we have a lot more firepower if we was carrying money?” He figured most outlaws would know it would be unusual to carry such a shipment with so few gun hands.

  “Hobb, I take it you don’t think much of your friend. I’m going to start counting, and when I get to one, you’re gonna see the insides of Cal’s head. Three . . . two . . .”

  Hobb held up his hand. “Wait just a dang minute!” Hobb hated the thought of being robbed. He maintained a good reputation as a driver who always made his destinations on time with cargo intact. But he wasn’t going to risk Cal’s life over a little money. He placed his rifle aside. “It’s inside the coach.”

  “Get it. And leave that rifle on top.”

  “You know you will be hunted down for this,” Hobb said as he climbed from the top of the coach.

  “Don’t waste your worry on me
. Me and my men will take care of any posse that comes after us. Now drop your gun belt.”

  Hobb turned to face the man, but still couldn’t see anything but his pistol at Cal’s scalp. “Your men? I don’t see no one but you.”

  “Maybe you better look more carefully. Left and right.”

  Hobb looked left and saw a rifle balanced on a large boulder. From the right, another rifle was peeking out through the brush. With that pistol to Cal’s head, and two rifles pointed at him, Hobb had no choice. He unfastened his gun belt and let it drop to the ground before he walked to the door of the stagecoach. When he opened the door, he said, “I have to pull it out, unless you want to help me carry it.”

  “Get on with it. I’m getting impatient, Hobb.”

  Hobb turned his attention to the inside of the coach, and looked at the man crouched down on the floorboard with a rifle at the ready. He shook his head and whispered, “Boyd, he’s a crack shot and he’s got men with him, one on the right and one on the left. So lay low right now.” Hobb was thankful he had another shotgun rider with him on this trip. It had been a last-minute decision for Boyd to accompany them. It turned out to be a prophetic decision. Boyd was an even better shot than Cal, and the rifle was his weapon of choice. No doubt Boyd could probably handle the two men with the rifles. Now all he had to do was find a way to get Cal out of the man’s grip.

  Boyd nodded and said softly, “Leave the door cracked open. If I can get a shot, I’ll take him first. That’ll give you and Cal time to drop to the ground.” Boyd removed his hat and leaned across the seat, positioning himself to be able to see the robber unobserved.

  “You’ll be looking directly into the sun,” Hobb said as he pulled the strongbox out of the coach and let it drop to the ground.

  “Here it is,” he yelled to the outlaw, hoping he could get him to walk to the coach away from Cal. If he took the bait, they might have a chance of getting out of this alive.