“Spunk that may get her hurt, and not just a simple sore bottom,” he sighed.
“I know, son, but it will all work out. You’ll see. I can feel it in my bones. Isn’t it a beautiful day?’ she asked looking at the cloudless sky. “Now, if we can just get Matthew settled, I may live long enough to see some of my grandchildren.”
“Melissa and Cole sure skedaddled as soon as the service was over. I wonder why. She didn’t even stop to speak with anyone, just nodded at Callie Mae’s girls and went straight to their wagon,” Emma mused as they rode along.
“I was over there early this morning,” Morgan said. “Everything was fine as far as I could tell.”
“Yes, I heard you ride out.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I had an errand to take care of and I wanted to get an early start.”
“You didn’t wake me,” Emma laughed. “I was just being a lay a bed this morning. Matthew woke me stumbling up the stairs in the middle of the night.”
“Was he drunk?”
“Likely so. It seems to be becoming a habit. I know he works hard keeping the place running, and he’s entitled to raise a ruckus now and again, but I do wish he’d settle down a mite,” Emma sighed.
“He’s still young,” Morgan offered. “I’m sure…”
“Nonsense, he’s obstinate and pigheaded. I swear he’s having too much fun being single to take marriage seriously. Sometimes I think he does it just to spite me.”
“He sounds interested in the widow who runs the café. Maybe she’ll be the one.”
“Humph, maybe. Laurie has a hard row to hoe and that’s for certain. He could do a lot worse. Or maybe one of the girls Callie Mae brought in will suit his fancy if Laurie won’t have him. I’ll have to see after I’ve got to know them. I’ve even thought about sending back East for one of those mail order brides.”
Morgan couldn’t have been more surprised. Emma Whittaker had a lot more determination than he’d given her credit for. Looking at the stubborn angle of her chin, he was glad she wasn’t bride hunting for him. He imagined if she set her mind to it, she could have a young man standing before the altar quicker than she could whip up a batch of those buttermilk biscuits he loved so much.
“Ma, I think you should, um… let nature take its course.”
“Oh, I will. I’m just going to give it a little nudge,” she said smiling. “I’m not getting any younger, son. I imagine Lilly will have a child sooner or later, once she and Mead marry, but I don’t see her as being in any big hurry, and I doubt the child will be any less prissy than Lilly, especially if it’s a girl. I need to know that what your pa and I built here will be handed down and that it will be well taken care of before I pass on. That means grandbabies and lots of them. Speaking of which, when are you gonna make your intentions known with Callie Mae? Now there’s a sturdy young woman, perfect hips for childbearing. I’m sure she’ll give you fine sons and some little girls too.”
“Now, Ma…”
“Now Ma nothing,” she replied. “I used to think all your pa had to do was hang his trousers on the bed post and we’d be expecting a child. We raised four and buried three and that was a heartache. I want to see young’uns’ running around the yard, cousins growing strong and tight-knit the way a family ought to be. Turning to each other in time of sorrow and joy. When your pa and I came out here, we had nothing but each other. Over the years we made friends, good friends, and we were blessed to have good neighbors. It made us realize how important family is. At night we’d lie in bed and talk about the future when we’d have all our children settled round us, raising families of their own. We spent a lot of time dreaming about our family gathering for Christmas, christening, and birthdays. There’s plenty of land for all of you and you can do what you want with it. It’s good, fertile farm land, or you can raise stock if that’s more to your liking. Just because your pa died, that doesn’t mean my dreams died with him. And you better hurry up; Lord knows how much longer I have on this earth.”
“Ma, you’re healthy as a horse,” Morgan teased.
“Don’t be fresh,” she said sharply, giving him a jab with her elbow. “Gracious, in all my born days I never thought I’d have to be picking brides for my sons. I hope I don’t have to go in the bedroom with you all and supervise that,” she snorted.
“I’m pretty sure that won’t be necessary,” he said, blushing to the roots of his hair. Damn, he thought. The sweet little lady sitting beside him was strangely reminiscent of a high powered CEO in his time that was determined to get her way.
“If I do decide to marry Callie Mae, and I’m not saying that I have, I’ll do it with the intention of running my home as the head of my family,” Morgan assured her with a touch more confidence than he felt.
“If she’ll have you,” Emma said crisply. “If I was you, Morgan, I think I’d put more effort into courting her than spanking her.”
“Unfortunately, Ma, the two seem to be going hand in hand. I won’t marry another… I mean, I can’t marry a woman who doesn’t respect me. There’s no point if we are not compatible. We’d just make each other miserable.”
“I agree with what you say, son, in principle. Callie Mae is independent and stubborn, sometimes to the point of foolishness and you’ll have to take a firm role in your marriage. She’s also sweet, kind, and generous, and she has been in love with you for years.”
“Why did I never think of courting her before?” he asked.
“Morgan, you did,” Emma stated in surprise as she looked closely at her oldest son. “We talked about this. You said you’d had enough of war and fighting and Callie Mae had the makings of a ‘hellcat’. I believe that was the term you used. You said you wanted someone more malleable like Lilly and that you wanted peace in your life. Don’t you remember?”
“Lilly doesn’t seem so malleable,” he said, skirting the question.
“She’s not, anymore,” Emma laughed. “With you she was quite timid and I think a little frightened of making you angry. With Mead she’s much bossier, and I think our little Lilly is in for quite a surprise when she tries to run roughshod over your brother. Mead is slow to anger, but when he’s riled, I reckon she’ll know it, right quick. You’ve changed, Morgan. Sometimes it seems like you’re a different man since you went away to fight this last war.”
“How so?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
“Well, for one thing, there’s the attraction you have for Callie Mae. You felt she was too much trouble before and now you seem to relish her spirit and feisty nature. You were always tired, and I worried that you might be ill in some way I couldn’t put my finger on. Now you’re strong, much stronger than you were, and that doesn’t make sense. War often takes the stuffing out of a man, yet you come back with more stamina than you’ve ever had. I know you run every day, although I don’t understand the purpose. You use that beam in the barn and pull yourself up, growing stronger all the time. And you talk more.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes,” Emma said smiling. “Your appetite is three times what it was; in fact I’ve never seen a man enjoy his meals more. Don’t misunderstand, Morgan, you’ve always been a good son, a son to be proud of, but you are acting different.”
“Am I eating too much?” he asked. “I don’t want to make more work for you.”
“Land sakes, Morgan,” Emma cried in exasperation. “That’s just what I’m talking about. There is a kindness about you, a concern for others that is obvious. You seem to enjoy and appreciate the smallest things, even my cooking.”
“Ma, there’s nothing small about your cooking,” he laughed as he tried to lighten the mood. “Why, you’re the best cook there ever was. Just hearing you in the kitchen makes my mouth water and my stomach growl.”
“But it never did before, Morgan,” she insisted. “Yes, you said supper was good now and then, and you were never picky, but you didn’t get the enjoyment out of a good meal like you do now.”
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p; “Maybe months and months of Army rations have given me a new appreciation for good food,” he offered softly.
“Maybe,” she agreed, “but we both know it’s more than that son.”
There was no answer he could give her without revealing far more than was wise. Instinctively he wanted to be honest with her. She’d become very dear to him in a short time and he knew the longer he stayed, the more cemented their relationship would become. Emma Whittaker was a mother in every sense of the word, just not his, he thought sadly. He wondered if the real Morgan realized what a treasure he had in her. He was quiet the rest of the way home and pulled into the yard and up to the back door.
“War changes a man, Ma,” he said turning to her and taking her wrinkled, work-worn hand in his. “Death and destruction are part of his everyday existence. Some men become bitter, seeking the bottle or worse. Others withdraw, scarred by the violence and bloodshed, the loss of lives wasted in the name of victory. Still others relish the grisly deeds of butchering and maiming and call it duty.”
“I was all of those men at one time or another,” he continued. “Bitter as I watched men I’d come to admire cut down in their prime, leaving wives and children, mothers and fathers to grieve. Vengeful as I took the lives of the enemy, as though that could somehow even the score, and finally withdrawn as horrible visions of what I done, what I’d been ordered to do, haunted me.”
“After a time, I began to imagine a different kind of life. One of goodness and charity, love and security, and it was time to come here. I wasn’t sure if I could find what I was looking for, but I had to try. So far, it’s very satisfying. I like waking up to the sound of birds outside my window, the smell of newly turned earth, and bacon frying. Life is orderly. I work hard and sleep soundly, not troubled by nightmares any longer. People seem to understand what’s expected of them and do it. The stench of battle is a distant scent replaced by clothes and bedding that have been dried in the sunshine.”
“I love Missy’s spirit, Matthew’s humor, and Mead’s dogged determination to carry on despite his pain. I love your steadfast belief that things will work out for the best, and of course, every single thing that comes from your kitchen,” he grinned.
“Yes, I have changed. I am different. I hope I’m not disappointing to you. I can’t say for sure how long I’ll stay,” he said softly, not even wanting to consider being replaced by the real Morgan. “But I will tell you this. If I stay, I plan on claiming Callie Mae and giving you the grandchildren you’ve been waiting for. Does that answer your questions; set your mind at ease?”
“Oh, son,” Emma said, laying her other hand on his cheek. “You never had to explain yourself to me. I love you and always will, and I’m so grateful that you’ve come home. You take all the time you need to decide, but I’ll be praying you stay right here,” she whispered. “Now help me down from this wagon. We’ve got some chickens to kill and pluck if we’re having guests for supper.
Morgan got down from the wagon and lifted Emma carefully to the ground. Chopping the heads off chickens was not high on his list of priorities, but he didn’t need to make Emma any more suspicious than he already had. Cara’s answer couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Eight
Mead met Morgan outside The Duchess at five o’clock to ride along with them to the farm. The bed of the wagon was soft with new straw and covered with one of Emma’s thick quilts. Both men assisted the four young women into the back amid giggles and flying skirts as they got situated.
Morgan lifted Callie Mae onto the seat and climbed up, turning the team around in the middle of the street. He could see Lilly glowering from the upstairs window of her shop and waved a hand in acknowledgement. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Mead tip his hat in her direction before pulling his mount alongside of the wagon and settling into a comfortable pace.
Matthew was on hand to help the ladies down when they arrived at the homestead and he did so with obvious enjoyment, holding Jane just a touch longer than appropriate as she smiled coyly at him. Elbowing him out of the way, Mead lifted Marilee down gently and she thanked him sweetly. Fancy nearly threw herself into Matthew’s arms when it was her turn, her arms wrapped securely around his neck. Morgan helped Annalise, careful not to touch the shy young woman any longer than necessary and when he returned to Callie Mae she was climbing down on her own, an action that earned a scowl from Morgan.
Supper was a light-hearted affair. Lilly stayed home in protest of the other guests in the Whittaker home and would have been greatly disappointed to learn she wasn’t missed. Cole and Missy came by earlier in the day for Sunday dinner as usual, but declined staying for supper. Missy helped her mother bake three pies after dinner and then headed home with her husband. There were still evening chores to see to.
The fried chicken was crispy on the outside and tender beneath the skin. Mashed potatoes, with gravy, sweet corn, applesauce and biscuits rounded out the meal and no one left the table hungry. Pie and coffee were put off until a little later and in no time at all the kitchen was put in order by the women while the brothers stepped outside for a smoke.
They all converged on the parlor, Mead drawn to sit beside Marilee on the settee and Matthew pulling a chair from the kitchen and sitting between Jane and Fancy. Annalise chose a rocking chair next to a side table and sat quietly, her hands in her lap. Emma took her customary place in a big maple rocker by the hearth and Morgan and Callie Mae sat together on a small bench pulled from beneath the window.
“How are you young ladies settling in?” Emma asked, picking up her crocheting. Her nimble fingers flew as she glanced around the room.
“I think we’ll be fine,” Marilee answered. “Of course we haven’t seen The Duchess in full swing, but this seems like a nice town.”
“Yes,” Callie Mae added. “Last night was fairly quiet for a Saturday, and I’m glad they will have a few days to get settled in before the cattle drives begin arriving. We can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Whittaker, for inviting us tonight.”
“Oh, think nothing of it, I’m glad to do it, and I like to welcome any newcomers to town. Tell me, Marilee, where are your folks from, originally, I mean?”
“My father died in the War of Northern Aggression, and my mama passed of the influenza when I was ten. She was a school teacher in Atlanta and I was sent to live with my great aunt in New Orleans. She passed on when I was twelve and I ended up in an orphanage in St Louis. Thankfully, I was able to get an education, but there were no jobs. I don’t know what I would have done if not for Miss Callie Mae’s letter,” she drawled, nodding at Callie Mae.
Shooting Morgan a smug look, Callie Mae smiled gratefully at Marilee.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Emma said. “You have had a rough time of it, haven’t you. What about you Jane? How did you come to end up in St. Louis?”
“Mother, you may be bringing up things that are painful to talk about,” Mead said.
“Nonsense,” Emma replied. “This isn’t the inquisition. How else are we supposed to get to know one another other if we don’t ask questions? You girls don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“I was in a boarding school back East,” Jane offered. “My father was quite wealthy, or so I thought. When he died suddenly, my school was informed that there were no funds and they packed me off to the orphanage in St. Louis quick as you please,” she snapped angrily. “I was lucky to be able to take my things,” she whispered scandalously. “There was talk of selling them, but the headmaster took pity on me. He even said he may look me up after I turn eighteen,” she said, smiling brightly for a moment, “but I doubt he’ll find me here. At least I don’t think so,” she continued sadly.
“Were you in love with him, child?” Emma asked.
“Goodness no,” Jane giggled. “He was old enough to be my father, I think. He always paid special attention to me, though. It was flattering, but it made the other girls mad. I was only at the orphanage for about six months, but I couldn’t wait to ge
t out of there. Such a sad, dreary place,” she sighed. “I wonder if Mr. Hardwick will really come looking for me,” she said thoughtfully. “I must say I have no idea why he took such an interest in me.”
“I have a pretty good idea,” Morgan mumbled, shaking his head.
“Annalise, would you like to tell us a little something about yourself?” Emma asked kindly.
“There’s not much to tell, ma’am,” Annalise said softly, twisting her hands. “I’ve been in the orphanage for as long as I can remember. They say my pa headed west in search of gold and my ma followed. I’ve never heard from either of them. I guess they just didn’t want me,” she whispered, looking at her lap.
“Now, child, you don’t know that,” Emma scolded gently. “Something unforeseen may have happened to them. I’m sure they had every intention of returning for you, dear,” Emma said, leaning forward to pat Annalise’s hand.
“I used to tell myself that all the time, ma’am… when I was little. Now I know the truth. If they had wanted me, they would have found some way or at least let me know where they were or what happened. No, I faced the truth about myself a long time ago.”
Fancy flew out of her chair and got on her knees in front of the young girl. “You must not say such things, Annalise,” she insisted. “You’re lovely and sweet and kind. No one would leave you like that unless they had no other choice. Something dreadful must have happened to keep them from you and as soon as I make my fortune, we’re going to find out, even if we have to go all the way to California,” she promised.
Annalise lifted her head and wiped away the tears that were streaking down her cheeks. “You don’t have to do that, Fancy. It doesn’t matter anymore. I have a job and a roof over my head and friends,” she said, looking around the room. “Someday you will be a grand actress, and I will come and watch you on the stage and clap louder than anyone, but I won’t let you waste your money looking for people who never wanted me in the first place,” she said firmly.
Callie Mae and the Marine Page 7