Chapter 3 #3
Jane offered a faint and uncertain smile and then looked to Morgan.
“It’s fine,” he said, bending his head toward her. “He’s not here because you told the boys his wife is pregnant.” He thought Jane appeared relieved. For Morgan it was further proof that she was na?ve. Perhaps hopelessly so.
Morgan closed the door behind Jane, then joined the marshal. “How long were you following us?”
“Not long. I watched you deliver Rabbit and Finn to the schoolhouse from my office. You afraid you’re losing that sixth sense of yours?”
“Can’t lose something I never claimed to have.”
Cobb shrugged.
Morgan looked the marshal over. He and Cobb Bridger were of a similar build, tall, rangy, and with a tendency toward lean, although Morgan thought Cobb might be turning the corner on that, a consequence of his recent marriage and his wife’s cooking.
As far as Morgan could tell their similarities began and ended with their bones.
Morgan held his ground as the marshal’s cool, blue-eyed gaze bore into him.
“I thought the plan was for you to be back at Morning Star by now,” said Cobb.
“It’s still the plan. There was a…complication.”
Cobb tilted his head toward the hotel. “She have a name?”
“Jane Middlebourne.”
“She’s not the woman in your photograph.”
“No, she’s not, but she is Jane Middlebourne.”
Cobb rested his elbow against the railing. “Look, Morgan, I don’t have a problem with you. Never have. I have a problem with the people you might attract.”
“No one’s come, have they?”
“No,” said Cobb. “No one’s come.”
“I brought you Jane’s photograph as a courtesy, Marshal, not because I had to. I keep my distance because I like it that way, not because I’m trying to avoid a confrontation. And to that point, there might never be a confrontation. You said it yourself, no one’s come.”
“Yet.”
Morgan nodded. There was no getting around the “yet.” “Do you want Miss Middlebourne to stand in front of your Wanted Wall so you can tick her off your list?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Cobb said.
Morgan smiled narrowly, without humor. “You’ve already done it, haven’t you? I bet you watched us across the way from your office. One eye on her. One eye on your wall.”
“I made a study when I saw her in your buckboard yesterday. When you weren’t gone this morning, I thought I better take a second look.”
“And?”
“And she’s not on my wall.”
Morgan looked back at the dining room window. He couldn’t see Jane standing there behind the glass, but that did not mean she wasn’t. “What now?” he asked.
“Are you going to marry her?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m inclined to honor my proposal.”
“Really?”
Morgan just stared at Cobb.
The marshal shrugged. “You’re right. It’s your business. The photograph got me thinking, that’s all.”
“It got me thinking, too, but she’s explained it, and I’m not exactly in a position to throw stones, now am I? I had to think about that.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“I still like to entertain the notion it’ll never come to that.”
Cobb nodded, blew out a long breath. “Then I hope you’re right, Morgan. Whatever you think, I’m not your adversary. I’m on your side.”
“What I think, Marshal, is that it’s better if we just bump along. Keeps things in balance. Standing on my side tends to tip the boat.”
“If that’s the way you want it.”
Morgan nodded once. “I’ll be packed up and out of here by three, four at the latest. I can’t speak for Miss Middlebourne. She’ll be making her own decision. She made that clear.”
Cobb chuckled quietly. He pushed from the railing and touched the brim of his hat. “Nothing wrong with that. Could be the two of you will bump along just fine.”
* * *
Jane looked up when Morgan stepped into the dining room.
She set her cup of tea down and acknowledged his presence with a brief smile.
Beside her, Ida Mae Sterling began to rise.
Jane protested, but Ida Mae would hear none of it.
She picked up her cup in one hand and patted Jane’s forearm with the other.
“I have things to do if there’s going to be ham and cabbage tonight.
You and Morgan can sit here a spell, and if I have my way with the girls, you won’t be disturbed.
” Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she veered in Morgan’s direction.
“Here. Take this coffee. I just poured it.” She thrust the cup at him, giving him no choice but to take it, and when his hands were occupied, she gave him an affectionate pinch on his upper arm.
“I like her, Morgan. I like her just fine.” Then she was gone.
Mortified, Jane stared at the tea leaves at the bottom of her cup.
Morgan set his coffee down, shrugged out of his coat, and dropped his hat on a nearby table. “You can’t mind her,” he said, sitting beside Jane. “She gets ideas in her head and just says what she thinks.”
Jane lifted her head, glanced sideways. “I believe she holds you in some affection. I observed that yesterday when we arrived, and again just now. Who is she to you?”
“I told you. She’s the widow of the former marshal.”
Disappointed with his answer, Jane pressed. “I imagine she thinks of herself as someone separate from her husband.”
Morgan shrugged. He kept his hands folded around his coffee cup.
“Ida Mae’s been free with her opinions since she realized she had a voice.
That thought is not original to me. Benton Sterling said that, and I suppose he would have known.
” He sat a little lower in his chair, sliding his legs far under the table.
His mouth curled to one side. “I guess you could say she’s got me like a chick under her wing.
Has for a long time. Even before I settled around here. ”
Jane tried to imagine Morgan Longstreet as a chick under anyone’s wing.
He stood head and shoulders above Mrs. Sterling, yet from what she had seen, it was probably an apt description of their relationship.
Morgan might pretend to chafe at it, dismiss it as unimportant, but what he did not do was try to escape it.
“Does she have children?” asked Jane.
“Yes. And grandchildren. They’re scattered, which makes the rest of us easy pickings.”
Jane hid an amused smile behind her teacup. “Is her advice usually sound?”
“Why? What did she say?”
Jane blinked. His reaction was more reflexive than responsive.
“She brought me tea, Mr. Longstreet, and kept me company while you were with the marshal. My question had nothing at all to do with our exchange.” She accepted his suspicious regard without looking away.
Mrs. Sterling had advised her to take Morgan Longstreet straight on. He would respect that, she’d said.
Looking away, Morgan raised his coffee cup and breathed deeply before he took a swallow. “I would have to say no one’s gone too far astray listening to Mrs. Sterling.”
“Thank you. That is all I wanted to know.” Jane looked to the window as Walt crossed the porch in front of it carrying a broom. She watched him set it down and begin sweeping around the rocking chairs. “Is Marshal Bridger a friend?”
“I don’t know if he has friends. Friends don’t necessarily settle well with the job.”
It was not an answer to the question she asked, but Jane did not bring it to his attention. “I wondered why you did not introduce me.”
“His business was with me.”
There was nothing rude in Morgan’s tone, but neither did it invite further comment. “You spoke for rather a long time.”
“We have not seen each other in a while.”
“It seems as if Bitter Springs is a quiet town. Is that his doing?” Jane saw Morgan press his lips together. He regarded her over the rim of his coffee cup.
“You have a lot questions, Miss Middlebourne. Is there something in particular you want to know?”
She shook her head. “Not one thing in particular,” she said.
“Everything.” When he simply continued to stare at her, she added, “Why, for instance, does no one I’ve seen wear a gun?
I read articles, pieces in the newspapers, which led me to believe everyone wears a gun.
You don’t. I’m not certain that even the marshal was wearing one. ”
“He was. But the rest have to abide the town ordinance. I checked mine at Bridger’s office when I came in yesterday. I’ll get it when I leave.”
“Everyone does that?”
“I don’t know. I do.”
“It’s unexpected.”
“That I obey the law?”
Jane shook her head. “No, I meant it’s unexpected that no one wears a gun.” She caught a glimmer of a smile change the shape of his lips. “Oh, you knew that’s what I meant. You were teasing me.”
“A little.”
“There was no opportunity to do that in our correspondence. I remember thinking I wanted to impress you with my serious nature. I was cautious. It seems it might have been the same for you.”
“I would say I was restrained.”
“Yes. Just so. Restrained.” He was still restrained, she thought. He contemplated his coffee as if it might hold answers to questions yet unformed.“Why are you not already married?” he asked suddenly.
The question took her by surprise. “The simplest answer is that no man has ever asked me to be his wife. Until you, that is.”
“What is the complicated answer?” he asked.
“That no man was ever allowed to ask.”
“That is complicated. Something to do with Cousin Frances?”
Staring into her own cup, Jane nodded. She said quietly, “I regret that you were able to draw that conclusion with so little difficulty. I disclosed more in my correspondence than was either prudent or proper.”
“As I recall, you wrote very little. Last night’s fish story was revealing.”
Jane touched one hand to her temple, recalling her headache the evening before. There was the source of her wayward tongue. “There is no satisfaction in judging her harshly.”
“If you say so. I could find some satisfaction in it.”
His wry tone made Jane look askance at him. She returned her hand to her lap and surprised herself by confessing, “Sometimes I hate her.”
After a moment, Morgan said, “That’s not always a bad thing.”