Chapter 12 #2
Morgan knew this because Zetta Lee invited him to sit at the kitchen table when she saw one of the men coming.
She gave him a biscuit with honey. He nibbled at it while she spoke to the man.
Even then he understood his presence tempered their exchange.
After they were gone, she took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom.
He forgot about his half-eaten biscuit when she showed him there were other ways he could taste honey.
He thought it would end when Ham returned from the drive.
He felt different, but he wasn’t sure what he felt.
Zetta Lee was beautiful, and what she did to him was exciting, but no matter what she said to justify what they were doing, the fact that she was justifying it at all was his assurance that it was wrong.
He wrestled with a confession that he practiced when he was alone, and he was prepared to say every word of it to Ham, but Zetta Lee practically dragged Ham to bed when she saw him again, and Morgan felt such a confusing surge of jealousy and betrayal that he said nothing.
And on the second afternoon of Ham’s return, when Zetta Lee sent Morgan to the smokehouse on an errand and then trapped him there, he felt both joy and shame as she opened the fly of his trousers, dropped to her knees, and took him into her sweet, hot mouth.
When it came time for him to ride with the others, the cattle drives were much shorter.
The advance of the Union Pacific made it possible to take the cows no farther than the nearest depot, in this case, only as far as Rock Springs, a distance of little more than a hundred miles.
Zetta Lee complained prettily that she didn’t like the idea of her youngest going off with the others, and because Ham considered the ranch was better served by having Morgan manage it than ride, he agreed with Zetta Lee that Morgan should stay back.
Morgan remembered that Zetta Lee had hardly let him out of her bed, let alone out of her sight. He was old enough, strong enough, understood enough now to tell her no, but that counted for nothing. She had him so twisted up inside that he did not know the word when she was around.
Ham Welling came back from that trip to Rock Springs with the bones of his right foot smashed by the chuck wagon’s wheel.
The doctor came from town to look at it, but there was nothing he could do.
It would heal or it wouldn’t and that would be that.
The foot became infected, then gangrenous, and the doctor returned to Eden Valley to amputate.
Ham died three days later, and his wife and sons buried him in the shade of a cottonwood tree.
Zetta Lee spent the evening mourning her husband and all of the following day trying to get into his safe.
* * *
Morgan shifted. It only required that small movement for Jane to lift her head. “My arm is numb,” he said, a tad apologetic.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She felt a twinge of sympathy for him as he eased his arm back to his side and flexed his fingers. “You should have said something a long time ago.”
“I don’t think I really noticed.” He rubbed his upper arm until Jane took over the task for him. “It feels better when you do it.”
“Mmm.” She propped herself on an elbow and concentrated on what she was doing. “How did it end, Morgan?”
He stared at the ceiling for a long time before he looked at Jane.
“I told her I was done with her. Just those words: ‘I’m done with you.’ I don’t know why I said it that way.
Until then it always seemed as if she had the whip hand, but saying it like that, and hearing myself say it, I took it from her, and I never gave it back. ”
“Was it hard to tell her? I am imagining that you steeled yourself to say the words.”
“It wasn’t hard. Not then. Not after so long. Maybe if I’d thought about it, I wouldn’t have been able to get the words out, but I didn’t think. I just said them, and it was done.”
“Zetta Lee didn’t argue?”
“Some. But she never cornered me again or invited me to her room. She would not humiliate herself like that. I used to wish that she had argued more or set some traps again. When she didn’t, it got me thinking that I could have ended it whenever I wanted.
Years earlier even. Maybe ended it before it started.
It made me feel more responsible somehow. ”
Jane pushed herself upright and looked down on Morgan.
She searched his face, but he would not look at her.
“No. She was a wicked woman. And clever. She is still punishing you. You could not have stopped her one moment earlier than you did. She would have manipulated you; she did manipulate you. You think with your man’s mind when you look back on it now, but you were a boy then. ”
“Sometimes I know that,” he said. “And sometimes it slips away from me.”
Jane touched his shoulder and angled her head. This time he looked at her and held her gaze. “I grieve for that boy,” she said. “I grieve that he has never known peace.” She took his hand, squeezed it. “But I love the man who keeps him close and protects him and has the courage to let me know him.”
“The boy or the man?”
“Both. The courage to let me know the boy and the man.”
“Jane.”
She closed her eyes briefly, her smile faint but content, and when she opened them again, Morgan was searching her face. “Yes?”
“You said you loved that man.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Did you mean it?”
“Do I often say things I don’t mean?”
“Right now I can’t think of one.”
“Well, there is your answer.”
“I wish you’d say it again. Straight. To me.”
Jane leaned forward and brushed his lips. She lifted her head to stare into his eyes. “I love you, Morgan Longstreet.”
His sigh was barely audible, mostly just a gentle rise and fall of his chest. “It feels even better than I thought it might.”
“You thought about it?”
“Some.” The way his mouth curved made him look very young suddenly and just a little abashed. “All right. A lot.”
“I think that’s nice.”
“Have you ever said it before?”
“I’m sure I must have said it to my mother and father.”
“But what about to someone like me?”
“Like you?” She pressed her lips together, thinking.
“Jane.”
“No, Morgan. I’ve never said it to someone like you. Aside from the fact that there is no one like you, I have never loved another man and therefore have felt no urge to say so.”
Morgan tapped his chest with his forefinger. “It’s the boy. He needed to know.”
“I understand. It’s all right.”
“I’ve never said it to anyone.”
“You still haven’t.”
“Should I say it now?”
“Only if you want to. Only if it’s true.”
“Do you mind if I wash off the stink of Zetta Lee first?”
“I think I’d prefer it.”
Morgan sat up. Jane released his hand as he moved to the edge of the bed.
Tightening the towel at his waist, he stood and padded to the washroom.
Jane watched him go. When he shut the door she lay down and pulled the covers up to her shoulders.
Smiling to herself, she closed her eyes. She did not remember falling asleep.
* * *
Jessop cracked an egg against the side of a bowl and prepared to separate the shell with his thumbs.
“Quiet,” Morgan snapped in a stage whisper. “I told you, Jane’s still sleeping.”
Jessop replied in a similar tone. “Then you tell me how I’m supposed to prepare them with the shell still on.”
Scowling, Morgan muttered something under his breath and sat back in his chair.
Jem answered for him, sotto voce. “Hard-boiled.”
Equally hushed, Jake said, “Soft-boiled.”
Max said, “Anyone want more coffee?” When everyone just stared at him, he shrugged and set the pot down.
Jessop turned back to the hot griddle and dropped the contents of the eggshell onto it. It sizzled and crackled loudly on a thin layer of bacon grease. Behind him, he heard Morgan swear softly and everyone else snicker.
Jake asked, “Is she all right?”
“She didn’t say she isn’t,” said Morgan. He glanced over his shoulder to the doorway. “Do you think I should check on her?”
The men all looked at each other, then at him. No one answered.
“What?” he asked.
Jem shrugged. “Just surprised you asked, is all. Usually you do or you don’t. Whatever it is.”
Max stretched his legs under the table. “Guess she’s got you tied up in knots, boss. That sound about right?”
It sounded about right, but what Morgan said was, “You think she’s got me in knots because I asked you if I should go back and see if she’s all right?”
Max shrugged. So did everyone else.
Morgan picked up his coffee cup. He had it almost to his lips when he said, “I love her.”
No one said anything.
Morgan looked at them over the rim of his cup. “Well?”
Jessop glanced over his shoulder. “Hell, boss, I reckon we all knew that.”
“Yeah,” said Jem. “What made you say it?”
“It’s the knots,” said Max. “You’ve got them yourself, Jem. You should know they provoke a man to say peculiar things.”
“Well, sure, but it don’t happen much at the kitchen table, not without cards and liquor to ease the way. Jessop, how’re those eggs comin’? Boss is hungry and talkin’ out of his head.”
Morgan’s mouth twisted to one side. “You all had your fun? Jake, you have something you want to say?”
“Nope, but if you want to say it again, I guess that’d be all right. Sounds like you could use the practice.”
Morgan set his cup down. “Does it?”
This time they all nodded.
He cleared his throat and rolled his neck. “I love her.”
Jane stepped into the kitchen, a forefinger pressed against her lips. “Shh,” she whispered. “You’ll wake her.”
Morgan scowled at Jake. “You knew she was standing there.”
Affecting innocence, Jake held up his hands.
Jane squeezed behind Max’s chair to reach Morgan. She stood behind his chair and placed her hands on his shoulders. Leaning forward, she kissed the top of his head. “Don’t blame Jake. I told him not to say anything.”
Morgan reached back and laid one of his hands over hers. “You heard?”
“I did.”