The headache she had earlier was back with a vengeance. Laying down her brush, she mixed a packet of headache powder in a glass of tepid water and drank it down quickly. Crawling under the sheet in her chemise and petticoat she fell asleep listening to Fancy sing of lost love.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun was but a glow on the horizon when Morgan rode toward the secluded area alone. Twice during the week he’d made the same trip, hoping for word from Cara and wasting his time. He should have known she wouldn’t veer from their agreed upon schedule. She was nothing if not regimented and in truth she would have made a fine officer in her own right. Cara followed the rules and protocol, never straying from her plans. The one time she’d ventured from her life blueprint was marrying him, and they both knew how well that turned out.
It was becoming more and more difficult to think of her as his wife. He was a different man here in Kansas. As a husband, he’d been faithful, but in hindsight that may have been because his manner discouraged any sort of familiarity. He knew he often came off as cold or unfeeling to members of the opposite sex and once he’d overheard two of Cara’s friends discussing him. Oh, they thought he was ‘nice to look at’ but they also referred to him as ‘a machine’ and ‘too stern and rigid’ to be much fun. He realized they were somewhat justified in their opinion of him. He had been rigid. The military and the significant losses he’d suffered had frozen his emotions until he could only put one foot in front of the other and complete his assignments. In the end, he could no longer even do that.
Coming to Kansas changed everything. He was alive again in the most basic of ways. The cloudless blue sky as he worked the farm drew his eyes to the heavens. He appreciated the warmth of the sun on his tanned face. When he groomed the horses, the feel of their strong muscles under his hands relaxed the ever-present tension in his chest. He delighted in Emma’s cooking and ate like a damn pig, he thought with a smile. It was a good thing he ran every morning and worked hard or he’d hate to think what his waistline would look like.
Morgan rode by the area and doubled back. Although it was unlikely anyone would catch on to his frequent visits, he didn’t want to take any chances. Quietly, he maneuvered his way between the trees until he entered the small clearing and dismounted. The package was right where it should be and he learned against a tree and scanned Cara’s missive before looking further into the pouch.
Morgan,
I hope this finds you well and that you are managing. I’m sorry I can’t send you any sneakers or running gear; it would be too conspicuous and possibly dangerous to the present economy given the fact that these items have not yet been invented in your time.
I have enclosed a jar of analgesic cream along with the formula for making more. It’s actually an old Indian recipe and the ingredients should be readily available in the area. Not knowing the nature of the injury, I’m afraid I’m limited to what I can do.
The information you requested re: Callie Mae Walker was difficult to locate. It was quite by chance that I discovered a small article in the Wichita Herald that mentioned her by name. It seems that she came to a distressing and untimely end and I fervently hope that you are not planning to intervene. We discussed, at length, the dangers of interfering in the natural course of events and we here at the institute are counting on you to adhere to your promise. We have no way of knowing what chaos a single act… well, you know what I mean. While you are there you must do everything in your power not to damage the fragile fabric of the future.
I realize that you may, in the end, decide not to return. We have weighed the pros and cons of such a decision, but the fact that you are assuming the identity of another has some sway. The first Morgan Whittaker, from what we have been able to gather, never returned from his military duties with General Sheridan. It was assumed by all that he was killed in action and his body was not recovered, so you should be safe as long as you don’t reveal your true identity. Please be careful, Morgan. There is much more at stake than you having a good time in 1880.
I have enclosed a copy of the original newspaper article regarding Ms. Walker. As you will see, there were several other young women involved, although none met with Ms. Walker’s fate. If you are bound to somehow rescue the others, feel free to proceed, but under no circumstances are you to go beyond that.
Cara
Morgan pulled the jar of medication from the pouch and transferred it to his saddle bag before carefully unfolding the two remaining papers in the pouch. Quickly his eyes scanned them and he shoved the recipe into his bag before his attention locked on the article.
October 2nd, 1880, Marion County, Kansas
Miss Callie Mae Walker was killed Friday night, September 29th, 1880 in a saloon brawl that turned deadly. According to witnesses, shortly after 10 p.m. several drovers from the Triple C ranch, out of Missouri got into an argument. Pistols were drawn and shots flew, injuring several patrons as well as two of The Duchess’s female employees. There are several conflicting accounts of Miss Walker’s demise. One witness stated that Miss Walker, while trying to restore calm, was accidentally shot. Another by-stander reported that Miss Walker mistakenly shot herself with a revolver she’d taken to carrying on her person. The condition of the other female employee is not known at this time. Miss Walker, the daughter of Reverend Thomas Walker of Sully’s Bend, was once engaged to a prominent member of Wichita society, George Montgomery. After breaking off their engagement, Miss Walker purchased and opened The Duchess. Let this be a lesson to the gentlemen of this state. While we have given our women the vote, that does not mean they do not need our guidance. In this reporter’s opinion, had Miss Walker followed her esteemed father’s wishes, she might still be alive today.
It was several minutes before Morgan could comprehend the enormity of what he was reading. If the article was correct, Callie Mae would be dead in three weeks. Even in this century it seemed he was doomed to lose those he held dear. Well, not in this lifetime, dammit! He didn’t give a rat’s ass what those over-educated Washington bureaucrats thought. Surely preventing the death of one small woman wasn’t enough to throw the entire future out of whack, and even if it was, he wouldn’t see it because he was staying right here and taking care of business. He had a mother and brothers to look out for, a farm to work, and a certain little lady to straighten out.
Morgan froze. The frantic movements as he transferred the items to his saddlebag halted as the truth of his thoughts battered him. He had a mother, Emma, but she wasn’t really his mother, was she? Hell, yes, she was in every way that mattered, and he loved her, loved them all, Mead, Matthew, Melissa, and Callie Mae. He wasn’t two thousand miles away either, he was right here and there wasn’t a commanding officer telling him how to proceed. He could do things his way and the future be damned. There was no way in hell he would stand by and let Callie Mae die.
Swinging onto his horse, Morgan set out for the farm at a good clip. He had plans to make and he wasn’t above using force if need be. Matthew would help him and so would Mead if it came to that. He wondered which of the other girls had been injured and in what way? Was it shy Annalise, Marilee, Jane, or Fancy? Was it a minor injury or something more substantial, possibly permanently debilitating? Of all people, Morgan understood that not all wounds were treatable. Some scarred the soul. It would be a crying shame if one of those young girls was damaged for life simply because she answered Callie Mae’s hair-brained advertisement.
The smartest and perhaps the easiest thing to do would be to shut the damn saloon down, at least until the critical time had passed. Callie Mae would never agree, of course, but that was a minor point in his opinion. If he had too, he’d kidnap her and the girls and lock their butts up somewhere safe. There wasn’t much he missed about the modern world, but what he wouldn’t give to be able to throw their asses into a RV and drive a few hundred miles away until this threat expired.
He wondered if he could get Callie Mae to agree to marry him in such a short period of
time. He could take her on a long honeymoon trip, but that would leave the girls unprotected, unless he took them along. Money wasn’t an issue, but it didn’t appear women traveled in packs like they did where he’d come from. Heck, it was nothing to take an entire wedding party to Maui for a week or two in his world.
Getting her to marry him at all might be a problem. Hell, she was barely speaking to him. If only he’d done a better job of spanking her. Maybe she’d be more agreeable if she knew any further nonsense would result in him baring her bottom for a good licking. The next time she ended up over his knees he’d make damn sure he made an impression, but for now he’d have to consider all avenues open to him.
The smell of bacon cooking as he rode into the yard had his stomach growling in response. One of Emma’s meals always put him in a better frame of mind and he tied his horse to the rail and headed for the pump. After Sunday dinner he’d have a little talk with his brothers.
*
Ty Wainwright was waiting outside when Callie Mae and the girls arrived for church and after greeting them, he spirited Annalise away to his family pew with a strong arm around her waist.
Morgan took advantage of the vacant seat next to Callie Mae and planted himself right beside her, despite her glare. Snapping open her fan as though she smelled a foul odor, she rolled her eyes and clamped her lips together.
In the Whittaker pew, Missy winked at Morgan and stifled a giggle. Lilly huffed loudly to show her disapproval and shot a disgusted look at Mead who pointedly ignored her. In front of them, Laurie Dixon tried to keep her oldest boy from kicking the next pew until Matthew leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was worked and Laurie smiled gratefully over her shoulder when they all stood for the first hymn.
Emma smiled. She could hear the blended voices of Callie Mae and Morgan and observed Ty Wainwright holding the hymnal open for Annalise. Dorothy Wainwright was smiling too as she watched her oldest son leaning protectively toward the blushing young woman at his side. Lilly, who was normally quite vocal even though her voice wasn’t all that pure, was surprisingly quiet this morning, Emma observed. She wondered if Morgan sitting beside Callie Mae was the cause or she was just in one of her moods. Young Mrs. Dixon certainly had her hands full with her three young’uns and Emma made a mental note to ask her to supper next Sunday. Before she knew it, the service was over and Reverend Simms was asking the congregation if there were any matters that needed his attention or anyone who needed to be added to the prayer list.
Ty quickly stood and pulled Annalise up with him.
“Yes, Reverend, I have an announcement to make,” Ty said clearly. “I have asked Miss Annalise Martin to be my wife and she has accepted. Now we don’t have a date picked out, but I hope she doesn’t keep me waiting too long,” he teased. Noting her fierce blush, he patted her gently on the shoulder. “I know she’s new in town and this may seem pretty quick to some of you,” he continued, looking around, “but I’m a firm believer that when a man finds the right woman, he knows it. I feel very fortunate and I hope you’ll all be happy for us.”
“Congratulations to the both of you,” the minister replied jovially. “I’m sure the entire congregation joins me in wishing you both the very best.”
“Thank you, we, Annalise and I appreciate that, don’t we, honey?”
“Um, yes, of course,” Annalise croaked out just before her future motherin-law pulled her to her ample breast and hugged her.
The whole church erupted at that point. Callie Mae and the girls rushed forward to offer their congratulations and support to their friend, as did Missy and Cole. Several gentlemen came forward and shook Ty’s hand and a number of disappointed mamas pulled their daughters toward the doors.
“Oh for Heaven’s sake, she’s a saloon girl,” Lilly snapped, her eyes flashing as she swept by the others and made her way outside, fanning her face rapidly.
Mead stayed behind and spoke to both Annalise and Ty as did Emma, Laurie, and Matthew.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do about her,” Emma said softly as Mead escorted her from the church.
Mead didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. He knew quite well that it could only be his intended. Lilly had been behaving poorly ever since Morgan returned, but it was more than pique, much more. Apparently there was a side of Lilly he never knew existed and wasn’t overly fond of; it went far deeper than any chastisement could cure. There was a mean and somewhat spiteful streak in her he’d only caught a glimpse of now and then; previously he’d attributed it to her time of the month or just plain stress. Mead knew her shop wasn’t doing all that well, but it didn’t concern him. If she wanted to continue to work after they married she could, but he made enough to support them, although it wouldn’t be a lavish lifestyle by any means. However, before he’d slip a ring on her finger, he planned to get to the bottom of whatever was stuck in her craw. He had no desire to be tied to a shrewish woman for the rest of his days.
“Mrs. Dixon,” Emma called as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
Laurie kept one eye on her children who were caught up in an impromptu game of tag.
“Yes, Mrs. Whittaker. It’s nice to see you again. Was there something you wanted?”
“I’ve been meaning to invite you and the little ones out to the farm for supper,” Emma said, taking Laurie’s hand in hers and noting the calluses. “Would next Sunday be good for you?”
“Oh, Mrs. Whittaker, you don’t need to go to all that trouble. I know everyone in town feels a little sorry for me, what with losing Floyd and all, but we’re doing fine, really,” Laurie said with bravado.
“I’m sure you are, dear. I hear the Blue Bonnet is busy all the time. I just thought that maybe you’d enjoy a meal you didn’t have to cook.” Patting her hand, Emma continued. “Would five o’clock be alright?”
“Well, I don’t…”
“I’ll send Matthew with the wagon to collect you and the children. He’ll put a fresh bed of hay down and cover it with a quilt. That way if the boys fall asleep on the way home they’ll have a nice soft ride.”
“But I’m not sure it’s a good… what with Matt…”
“Nonsense, dear. Everything will be fine, you’ll see. Oh, there’s Mrs. Wainwright. I do so want to congratulate her on Ty’s upcoming marriage. I’ll see you next Sunday, dear,” Emma called over her shoulder as she hurried away.
“Quite determined, isn’t she?” Matthew said softly.
Laurie noticed him leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest and a big grin on his face.
“I’ll say,” she replied, her hands fidgeting with the skirt of her dress, smoothing away nonexistent wrinkles.
Matthew straightened and leaned just close enough to whisper, “So am I,” before he walked away whistling. His hot breath seemed to linger on the side of her neck and she snapped her fan open and vigorously tried to cool off.
Watching her brother saunter off, Missy took the opportunity to approach Laurie Dixon and slip her arm through hers.
“Oh do come, Mrs. Dixon. Mama’s the best cook in the county and I know she’d love to have you. Oh,” she gasped her hand flying to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say you’re not a good cook, I just meant…”
Laurie laughed and patted Missy’s hand.
“I know what you meant, Mrs. Rathborn, and I’m not offended. Please call me Laurie.”
“Alright, as long as you call me Missy. I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends.”
“Do you go to your mama’s every Sunday for dinner?” Laurie asked wistfully.
“Most Sundays we do, but today we’re riding out to see Cole’s folks. His pa has been feeling poorly so I did a lot of baking yesterday and made a big pot of stew. We’re taking that out to them and staying for dinner. Do your folks live around here?”
“No, they live in Ohio.”
“I don’t mean to be nosey, but why didn’t you move nearer to family, when Mr. Dixon p
assed away I mean?”
“I just couldn’t put that burden on them,” Laurie said sadly. “I miss them terribly, but it was my choice to come west. Now I have to deal with the consequences of my decision.”
“Sort of like ‘you made your bed and now you have to lie in it’?”
“Something like that,” Laurie murmured with a faraway look in her eyes.
“Well, you come to dinner next Sunday,” Missy said smiling. “The children will have plenty of room to run wild and it will be a break for you. I have to go, Cole’s waiting for me. See you then.”
*
“Will you walk with me a spell?” Morgan asked when he had guided Callie Mae down the church steps.
“Whatever for?”
“Well for one thing it’s a beautiful fall day and I thought we might enjoy a bit of it,” Morgan replied slipping his arm around her waist and leading her away from the congregants. “Unless of course you haven’t forgiven me,” he said, softly lifting her hand and gently kissing the inside of her wrist.
“Damn you, Morgan,” Callie Mae sighed as a shiver passed through her and she suddenly felt short of breath. “You’re just as smooth as buttermilk, aren’t you.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Morgan smiled, taking her other hand and nibbling on her wrist for a moment.
Callie Mae took his arm and pulled him further away from the crowd. “It’s no secret how I felt about you before you went away, Morgan, not to you or anyone else in this town. More than once I made of fool of myself tagging along after you and Lilly like some lovesick puppy,” she hissed. “Well those days are over.”
Callie Mae and the Marine Page 13