Chapter 9 #4
“Marshal Bridger said they came to town together by train with a story about looking for range work. They didn’t have gear, which bothered him some.
He directed them to Whistler’s place, but they went to the Pennyroyal instead.
That bothered him more. He didn’t know about the trouble we’ve been having until Jem told him about it after the fight.
By then, he had already sent the men on their way.
Too late to do anything except maybe speculate.
What the marshal got from the witnesses, and what I got from Jem, is that Jem had a bull’s-eye on his back from the moment those men walked into the saloon.
Miss Harrison might have encouraged it some because she can’t always help herself, but those men were spoiling for a fight, and not with anyone. They wanted it with Jem.”
Jane nodded slowly. “So the speculation is that they recognized him because they’ve seen him on Morning Star land. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“But it is speculation.”
“If that’s a question, the answer is yes. That’s all it is.”
Jane considered that. “Thank you.” Her chair scraped the floor as she pushed back from the table. Standing, she reached for the dishes. “Now I have work to do, including laundry. With everyone else away this morning, it will be your turn to hang the wash on the line for me.”
Morgan finished his coffee, watching her as she turned her back on him and faced the sink. Damn, but she had enjoyed saying that. He grinned a little then because he couldn’t really blame her.
* * *
As it happened, Morgan got out of laundry line duty because of the timely arrival of Rabbit and Finn Collins.
Morgan saw them when they were still a far piece from the house.
It was not their first visit to Morning Star, and he recognized them by the meandering route they were taking, as if staying on what passed for the road was just not interesting enough.
They were driving the old buckboard they used to deliver visitors and luggage from the station to the hotel, and it was fairly certain in his mind that they were fussing over who should be holding the reins.
Morgan made a point of intercepting them before they reached the house. He had a pretty good idea what had brought them out his way, and when they announced importantly that they were on official deputy business, he knew he was right.
“You better show me that business before we reach the house,” he told them, walking alongside the wagon. “Are you carrying something for me?”
Finn pointed to his temple. “Carrying it right here, Mr. Longstreet. Marshal Bridger didn’t give us anything to pass along.
Put it in our heads and made us memorize it.
We’re pretty good at that. Rabbit here knows all the presidents up through Mr. Benjamin Harrison, and I know just about everything there is to know about General George Washington on account of Mrs. Bridger thinkin’ there might be a lesson in it for me about tellin’ the truth and all. ”
Morgan did not know why he thought Finn could be hurried. “You’re referring to the cherry tree.”
“Ain’t I just? It’s a sorrowful tale. I figure he got a butt whuppin’ for what he did, but no one wrote that part down.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Bridger will want to hear your opinion on that, but I don’t. Not right now.” Morgan reached across Finn’s lap and took the reins from Rabbit. He pulled up on them and brought the mare to a halt. “Boys? What do you have to tell me? Rabbit, you go first.”
Rabbit lowered his scarf and tucked it under his chin. “Marshal says Pepper, Wilcox, and Ravenwood never did go as far as Cheyenne. He says it could have been around Westerville, but he doesn’t know for certain, and he says you might want to have a look around Hickory Lake.”
“Is that all?”
Finn said, “Except for the part about dropping by his office first chance you get to look at some sketches he made. I told him we’d bring them out, but he said he’d rather have you look at them there.”
Morgan could think of two reasons Bridger wanted it that way. The first was to keep them out of the boys’ hands; the second was so the marshal could have a look at his face while he studied the drawings. It was a good strategy, except that it wasn’t going to happen.
Still holding the reins, Morgan glanced in the back of the buckboard.
There were two parcels of equal size in the bed of the wagon, both wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
The similarities ended there. One of them had obviously been opened, though a serious, if clumsy, attempt had been made to rewrap it.
“What else are you boys bringing out here on official deputy business?”
Rabbit said, “Marshal Bridger said we should have something to show for our trip, so he bought an apple pie out of his own pocket from Mrs. Phillips.”
Morgan did not inquire about the contents of the other parcel. From the way the boys were nervously licking their lips, it was probably safe to assume that had already helped themselves to the contents. Cookies, Morgan guessed, but he was hoping for tarts.
He handed the reins back to Rabbit. “How about coming up to the house for something to eat? Mrs. Longstreet will enjoy your company.”
“That’s what Marshal Bridger said, but he was kinda chucklin’ out of the side of his mouth when he said it. You know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean. C’mon. Let’s get you up to the barn, take care of your horse, and then maybe you’ll want to meet Sophie. She’s the mustang I captured a while back.”
There followed a rather philosophical discussion as to whether “Sophie” was the proper name for a horse, especially one that been running the range all her life, but once the boys were properly introduced, they agreed that Mrs. Longstreet had got it right.
“We have guests,” Morgan told Jane as he came through the kitchen door. “They’ll be in directly. They’re putting up that basket of wash you set out for me.”
Wiping her hands on her apron, Jane sidled from the cookstove to the sink and looked out the window.
She got there in time to see Rabbit jump up and toss one of Morgan’s shirts over the clothesline.
Finn was standing on the other side to catch it in case Rabbit overthrew his mark.
They did not have a good strategy if the throw was short. “You are shameless,” she told Morgan.
“So are they. The marshal sent them out with two parcels of baked goods. You’ll be able see right off which one they were sampling.”
That made Jane laugh. “Will they stay for lunch?”
“I don’t think we can get rid of them without feeding them first.” He lifted his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and reset it on his head. “Will you be all right with them for a while? I have chores in the barn to finish up.”
“Of course.” She put out a hand when he started to go. “Just a minute. Tell me why the marshal sent us baked goods.”
Morgan shrugged. “My guess? To get Rabbit and Finn out of his hair on a Saturday morning.”
“He’s very clever, isn’t he?”
“That’s one word for it,” he said, stepping outside. “ ‘Devious’ would be another.”
Jane had some time to appreciate that as the boys shared the piano bench in the front room and fingered the piano keys in every combination they could think of.
First all the white keys, then all the black, then alternating, then every other.
In thirty minutes, they had not happened upon a tune, and she was starting to twitch.
From the kitchen, she called to them, “Why don’t you come in here, boys, and keep me company? I’m making potato cakes.” She winced as the bench crashed to the floor. “Are you all right?”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Longstreet,” Rabbit called back. “That was Finn.”
“Was not,” said Finn.
“Was.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jane said, raising her voice above theirs. “Pick it up and come in here.” She directed them to opposite sides of the table when they slunk in.
“It’s real nice of you askin’ us to sit with you,” said Rabbit.
“Yeah,” Finn agreed. “Mostly our gran wants us out of the kitchen. Same with Mrs. Sterling when we’re up at the Pennyroyal, but at least she gives us somethin’ to eat when she sends us off.
Gran shows us her broom.” He craned his skinny neck to see what Jane was doing at the stove.
“We havin’ anything besides potato cakes? ”
Jane turned a little sideways as she worked so she could keep an eye on the boys. “I have what’s left of yesterday’s roast warming in the oven. I thought you would have smelled that.”
Finn sniffed the air. “I think I have apple pie in my nose.”
Rabbit snickered. “That’s what you’re callin’ your boogers now?”
Before Finn came out of his chair, Jane put her hand down hard on the table. Except for coming to sharp, military-like attention, neither boy moved. “Good,” said Jane. “I have a broom, too. I also have cookies. Think about that.”
They fell quiet as Jane began shaping cold mashed potatoes into small cakes and rolled them in flour. “Do you boys generally visit the marshal on Saturday mornings?”
“Sure,” said Rabbit. “After we get our chores done. Sometimes we drop by on our way home from school.”
“We’re pretty much deputies now,” Finn said.
Jane saw his small chest puff. Only the fact that he was seated kept him from strutting. “So Marshal Bridger probably looks to you for help from time to time.”
Rabbit nodded. “Sure he does. He came for us this morning. Ain’t that right, Finn? He had to wait around while we finished up, but I don’t think he minded much. Gran had coffee and crumb cake for him.”
“I see. Marshal Bridger must have had an important assignment for you today.”
Finn sat up on his knees and leaned forward, supporting himself by the elbows. “Did he ever. Swore us in special.”
“Goodness. I have to believe you brought us the best apple pie in Wyoming. The best cookies, too.”
“That’s a fact,” said Rabbit.
Finn nodded. “’Course the pie and cookies are what you call a red hair. Ain’t that right, Rabbit?”