Leather and Lace (25 page)

Joe nodded. “I’ve read the letters written on Miss O’Hare’s behalf. Each one will require an investigation. Your statement given to us by your lawyer, Mr. Andrews here, indicates a strong desire to lead a decent, respectable life. Is this also true?” Joe had not moved since they began.

“Yes, sir. The statement also says I’m a Christian. Jesus Christ is now the Lord of my life.”

The federal marshal coughed and shifted his feet. “Yes, ma’am. It does state your—your newfound religion.” Zach handed Joe a map of the western United States and territories. He turned it for her to see. “We’ve been unable to penetrate a good many of the outlaws’ hideouts. Are you willing to give us a hand?”

“Yes, sir. I mentioned this in my statement to Governor Ireland.”

“Would you kindly indicate how we could get into the Hole in the Wall?”

Couldn’t you have asked me something easier? Casey found no need to examine the map. “You can’t. There’s only one way inside—through the opening. Two men with Winchesters can easily hold off any posse. Most likely you’d have to bribe another outlaw to gain access.”

“What about Brown’s Park?” Joe pointed to the familiar area in the far northwestern corner of Colorado and the Utah Territory.

She didn’t need to take a look at his map there, either. “It will take a long time before lawmen can cleverly outdo the outlaws in this area.”

“Why?” Joe’s question sounded angry, even hostile.

Casey carefully picked her words. “Outlaws are clever. They aren’t afraid to take a gamble on the odds against them. This is serious business for them. Not only are they getting rich, but they’re also working on their reputations.” She hesitated and clenched her fists in her lap. “Most lawmen—forgive me, gentlemen, for being blunt—form a posse and take off after them without any forethought or plan. Now I can show you trails leading out of the various hideouts.” She leaned over the table and pointed to Brown’s Park. “But it won’t assist you in finding outlaws. It will only help your men get out alive.”

Joe continued the lengthy process of questions and answers. At last he folded the map and handed it back to Zach. “Your information will definitely help us. We also have several wanted men who’ve disappeared. Possibly headed north to Canada or south to Mexico and South America. Given the list, can you help us locate them?”

“I’ll do my best,” Casey said. “Please understand, the locations may be outdated. Usually outlaws return to the same hideouts to rest up and plan their next job. But with a hint of trouble, they move on. An outlaw changes his name as often as respectable folk say their prayers.”

The meeting lasted until early evening. They broke once for water and continued on. Casey and Joe were tense with the tedious questions and answers, and the other two who had labored over the written portion were equally tired.

“I believe we’re finished, Miss O’Hare,” Joe finally concluded. “I want to thank you for your cooperation. It will be rewarded. I promise.”

Was he sincere? “I appreciate the government giving me this opportunity to tell the truth and possibly clear my name.” She watched for movements in his face. None. No help at all. “How long before I can expect to hear from the President?”

“Six weeks, I’m sure. Since the governor’s office researched your other documents, the process should not be any longer than that.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his saddlebag on the table. “Here’s the governor’s pardon just as I told you at the start of the day. I know you heard his decision before our meeting. This is the official document.”

Casey took the paper and read it slowly. She savored every word. Her eyes dampened upon completion, and she held it firmly in her grasp. “Thank you, sir. God bless you for delivering this to me.”

The two federal marshals stood. “Good luck, Miss O’Hare,” Joe said. “I wish you the best. Is there anything else you’d like to say on your behalf?”

Casey didn’t need to deliberate the matter. “Only that I would be forever grateful if you could stop Davis Jenkins.” Even the name of the dreaded outlaw upon her lips caused her to tremble.

“Yes, ma’am. With your information, I hope we’re able to find him and a lot more like him,” Zach said. “And I want to thank you for your patience while I recorded your statements. After listening to your answers, I plan to write my own recommendation to the President.”

Afterward, the wagon creaked and groaned away from the deserted house and back toward the ranch. Twilight shadows darkened to evening against a three-quarter moon and the first hint of stars.

“It went well,” Morgan said. “Casey, you displayed considerable control the whole time.”

“It wasn’t me.” The emotional strain of the day left her exhausted. “God must have stood right behind my chair with His hand on my shoulder and directed it all. And I couldn’t have done nearly so well if you hadn’t been there to support me.”

Morgan lifted his hat and wiped his wet forehead. “I’m so proud of you, and I’ll make sure Ben knows about the official pardon. Most likely he’ll sleep easier knowing he’s not bending any laws.”

They laughed. It felt good. Casey’s gaze swept over the silhouette of the man she loved. “This was a hard day, wasn’t it?”

“I felt as though each drop of sweat was a prayer in itself. Between the heat and the tension, I lost track of time. Recording every word was like being in law school again. But it’s over, and we did our best.”

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” Casey sniffed and reached for her handkerchief. “In one breath I want to shout, and in the next I’m so relieved it’s over that I want to cry a bucket of tears.” She stretched stiff, aching back muscles. Suddenly a realization hit her. “Morgan, they’re making the recommendation for a full pardon.”

He laughed again. “I knew they would.”

“Now we wait.” She attempted to sort out the inquiries and her replies from the afternoon. Both men had asked numerous questions, and she didn’t always have an answer. She offered information and drew maps, especially in the area of the lower Colorado Plateau and on south through the canyon lands.

Six weeks. Seems like forever. Surely I gave them enough information. Both of them said they were grateful for my statement. Still, I’m impatient. I want it over, but all I can do is allow God to work out His plan. She felt Morgan’s attention on her and met it with a weary smile. His devotion never ceased to amaze her. If only she could reveal her own devotion to him.

Three weeks passed, and Morgan sensed Casey moving farther and farther away from him. He tried to ignore her black moods and the way she avoided being alone with him, but how much was he supposed to take before he confronted her? He had no intention of ever turning back into the old Morgan who resorted to behavior that looked like a three-year-old’s temper tantrum. Telling her he loved her never seemed to be enough. Many times he thought she didn’t believe him, or maybe her feelings had changed.

Morgan’s selfish attitude made him angry. He needed to be thinking more about her and less about his wounded pride. Confusion etched his every waking moment and haunted his dreams.

The problem lay in waiting to hear from Washington. He knew how much Casey looked for the official pardon. The worry and wondering had to be driving her nearly crazy.

Davis Jenkins . . . he hadn’t given up. The man held a grudge against anyone who crossed him. If Morgan let his mind dwell on the way the outlaw had pursued Casey from the time she was barely a girl, the old fury threatened to take over. If he chose to dwell on her brother, Tim, who had done nothing to help Casey, he grew angry again. Morgan could only imagine what he’d do if faced with Jenkins or Tim.

Don’t dwell on it. You can’t change the past.

Tonight he planned to ride out to the ranch and ask her straight out if she’d changed her mind about him. He shrugged. Maybe she’d met someone else. After all, Grant was right there at the ranch ready to step into his big brother’s shoes. The age difference wasn’t that much. I am really pathetic to be jealous of my own brother. If she was happier with Grant, I’d have to walk away.

With a deep breath, Morgan decided to sidestep his own feelings and ask her what he could do to help. He’d join his family for dinner and hope for the right words—and the right answers.

*****

Casey wondered why Morgan showed up unexpectedly for dinner, but she didn’t ask. Lately she’d treated him shamefully, and she didn’t really mean to. He simply irritated her with his constant urging to spend time with him. She wanted to be left alone until this whole ordeal was over. The idea of being touched or kissed repulsed her. Then she’d remember all Morgan had done and how much she really did love him.

“What can I do to help you through this?” Morgan said while they sat alone on the front porch step.

“Nothing. This is my war.” She listened to the singing insects and fought the unexplained anger rooted deep inside.

“It’s our war.” Morgan’s voice rang tenderly against the approaching evening shadows. “Casey, don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not. I’m simply tired of waiting on something that probably won’t happen.”

“I love you—”

“Morgan, please, must our conversations always lead to this?” She turned her attention to the lights of the bunkhouse. Not that she cared at all about what went on out there.

“I sense the cool night air is getting to you,” he said much too cheerfully.

“Not the air. Just you.”

He rubbed his palms over his jeans and stood from the porch step. Without a glance in her direction, he walked toward the corral, where the faint light of dusk cast a golden shadow on a single horse.

“I’m sorry.” How could she be so cruel? When he failed to reply, she ran after him. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

His eyes stayed fixed on the horse grazing nearby. “What did you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The waiting to hear from President Arthur. Not having any money to give Jocelyn for living here. Tim . . . Jenkins.” She dared not say more.

“I want to hear the rest of it.” In the fading light, Morgan turned to face her. He didn’t appear angry, but she recalled the same tone from the time he questioned her in the mountains of Utah.

She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I want to get married.”

“Why? Have you decided you don’t love me?” His words were laced with hurt.

“You’re not being fair.”

“I’m not? You tell me you love me, but you don’t want to marry me? I want the truth.”

“I do love you, Morgan. I’m scared.”

“Of what? I thought we were going to see this pardon through together.”

I’m not afraid of not getting the pardon as much as I am of living the rest of my life with a man who might turn on me.

Silence echoed around them. The horse walked to the edge of the corral where they stood, and Morgan reached to stroke the animal’s head. Several long moments passed.

“You know, Casey,” he said without looking her way, “the ranch hands said this mare couldn’t be broken. They claimed she was too wild, even loco. Jesse told me the horse ought to be shot. He gave up on her. Then one day, Grant decided he’d break her. He worked long and hard, gentle-like, until the horse felt confident of his voice and touch. She’s now tame enough for children, but the ranch hands still won’t ride her. They’re afraid. Can’t see past the mare’s old ways.”

A chill snaked up her spine. Tears stung her eyes, and she touched Morgan’s shoulder. “Can I have a little more time until we hear from the president?”

He blew out a sigh. “All right. I’ll not mention another word of marriage till the pardon arrives. And I’ll not be coming out to the ranch, either. You can have all the time you need to think about us. I love you, Casey. Nothing will ever change that, but I’m a man, and my pride won’t let me beg.”

He turned and walked into the house. She felt numb and miserable. An emptiness settled in the pit of her stomach. A short while later he rode off toward town.

What have I done? I love him so much, and now I’ve hurt him. Maybe lost him.

No one pressed Casey and Morgan about the problems between them, but she saw the dejection and worry in the whole family. Her restlessness coupled with unhappiness caused her to stay to herself. Day after day she searched the Scriptures for God’s answer to her quandary. She hated herself. She was fickle. Whatever happened to the godly woman she craved to be? Sarah would be so disappointed.

*****

Morgan attempted to focus his attention on drawing up a land sale for a nearby rancher, but he couldn’t concentrate. Frustrated, all he could think about was Casey. Her words and actions made no sense to him. He wanted to understand. He really did.

Shaking his head, he tried reading the document before him again. The door opened, and his mother stepped into the office. He stood and embraced her.

“Afternoon, Mama. What brings you into town?”

“I stopped in to see the reverend and you.”

“Thanks. How’s everything at the ranch?”

She nodded. “Busy. Do you have a few minutes for me?”

“Sure. Sit down. Is something wrong?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

He raised a brow and waited for her to continue.

“I want to talk to you about Casey.”

“We’re not seeing each other right now.”

“I don’t need a lawyer to tell me that.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Mama.” Morgan startled at her sharp tone.

She moistened her lips and removed her bonnet. “I think I should explain something to you.”

“I wish somebody would. This is making me crazy.”

“I know, Son.” She hesitated as though searching for the right words. “What do you think her experience with men has been like?”

He shrugged. “Not good. Her brother mistreated her, and Jenkins is an animal.”

“Do you really understand what that means to her?”

He scratched his stubbly chin. “I suppose.”

“Her pa was a drunk, and he beat her. You know the situation with her brother and Jenkins.” Mama leaned in closer. “She’s never known anything but fear when it comes to men. Jenkins forced himself on her when she was nothing more than a girl. He hurt her, Son, more than once. What do you think that did to her?”

Realization flooded his entire body, and he swallowed hard. “She’s afraid I’ll be the same way. I—I hadn’t thought about it that way before. She’s afraid of me.”

“I believe she loves you, but fear is pretty powerful.”

“What can I do? I make her angry every time I come near her.”

“I’m not sure, but I think prayer is a good beginning. And don’t give up.”

He didn’t answer. Jenkins still had a hold on her. As much as forgiveness had been crucial in his relationship to God, most days he’d like to see the man dead. “I can’t give up, Mama. I love her too much.”

*****

One Sunday afternoon just after the midday meal, Casey borrowed the Andrewses’ wagon and drove toward town. She was so tired of the confusion about her feelings for Morgan, and she desperately needed direction. Prayers went unanswered. When nothing but silence came, Casey decided to turn the wagon around and head back to the ranch. Perhaps she needed to talk openly and honestly to Jocelyn and Bonnie about her doubts in marrying Morgan. She didn’t want to disappoint her friends any longer. Besides, she was consumed with guilt for the ugliness raging in her soul.

The longer Morgan’s kindness and devotion ruled his emotions, the more suspicious she became. She felt his caring covered for something else, and that something would be hidden until she spoke her wedding vows.

She tried to listen for God’s voice, but the only thing she heard was the clamor of her own doubts. Surely all of this wasn’t due to her impatience with the pardon or her fear of Jenkins. Or was it?

The reverend had spoken this morning on man’s insistence in judging others. “Judge not, lest ye be judged,” repeated in her mind like a newspaper headline. She pondered the sermon and wondered if God meant those words especially for her. Then she saw Morgan’s face and heard his voice. Oh, how she loved this man, but things weren’t right between them. Might never be. She felt awkward seeing him at church, as if he were a stranger. Grant stood beside him and nodded when they walked by, while Jocelyn and Bonnie looked on with sadness written in their eyes. None of them were unkind, simply distant like a patch of wildflowers on a mountain pass just beyond reach.

Glancing about, Casey stared up at the sky. It had turned a dismal shade of gray. She studied the sky for possible rain clouds. Suddenly the wagon hit a hole in the road and sent her bouncing on the rough wooden seat.

“Stupid horse!” she shouted to no one but the animal pulling the wagon. Closing her eyes, she heard the reverend’s words with sudden clarity. The wagon wheel rolling over the rut wasn’t the horse’s fault. It’s my fault for not paying attention to the road. I’m judging a horse for my shortcomings . . . I’m judging Morgan for my shortcomings . . . I’m judging Morgan because I’m afraid he’s like Jenkins.

The turmoil about Morgan suddenly made sense. His actions weren’t separating them. Her refusal to trust had caused the problem. All this time, Morgan had been trying to please her and show his love. And all of this time, she’d been running from what she wanted most. God had put Morgan in her life for a reason. They belonged to each other. She knew that now. Sarah’s words echoed across her mind. Morgan would always try. That’s what mattered. She had to tell him now. She must tell him how wrong she’d been.

Casey reined in the horse. Forgive me, Lord, for not listening and for being so stubborn. The immediate necessity to see Morgan overwhelmed her. She’d barely come two miles. Was this foolishness? Certainly not. She needed to talk to him right away and ask him to forgive her. He deserved to know she would marry him. That is, if he hadn’t changed his mind.

She turned the wagon around and headed to Kahlerville with a sense of urgency that chilled her to the bone. Once in town, the proprietor of the boardinghouse checked for Morgan, but he’d left earlier.

“Miss Flanagan, I believe I heard him say he was heading over to talk to Reverend Rainer.”

Should she visit the parsonage and interrupt them? Casey fought the urge to race down the street to the whitewashed parsonage beside the church. What if the two men had business matters to discuss? One more time, she’d look selfish.

“Did he say how long he’d be gone?”

“Most of the afternoon, I think. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, thank you.” Perhaps she’d wait until he returned. Still, she had the Andrewses’ wagon, and they’d need it to return to church tonight. “May I write him a note?”

The man pulled a pad of paper from under the counter and pointed toward the pen and ink beside the register. “You go right ahead, and I’ll shove it under his door.”

She smiled and hoped she disguised her disappointment. The proprietor walked away, giving her much appreciated privacy. She composed her thoughts and wrote:

Dear Morgan,

Today God spoke to me about my terrible actions toward you. I’m so sorry for the way I have treated you. I do love you, and I will marry you tonight if that is what you want. I know the future is uncertain, but I can’t imagine one more day without you.

She blinked back a tear and regained her self-control.

I hope to see you at church tonight. Morgan, you’ve done so much for me, and I do feel badly about the heartache I’ve caused. I love you.

Casey

Saddened by Morgan’s absence yet filled with the joy of her new understanding, Casey realized she must get back to the ranch and apologize to Jocelyn and Bonnie. They had put up with her brooding long enough. She’d confess her self-centered heart to everyone and ask them to forgive her.

She climbed back into the wagon and for the first time did not feel the immense burden that had been a part of her for weeks. The ride back to the ranch sped by quickly. She remembered all the precious times with Morgan—the many times he’d proven his love. How she longed to make up these weeks to him.

“I love you, Morgan Andrews,” she said, and the horse picked up its pace. Casey laughed. Nothing could dampen her spirits.

Jocelyn and Bonnie were seated on the front porch, reading, when she returned. Grant had seen her coming and stepped down from the step to take the horse and wagon from her.

“You were gone such a long time. I worry about you, dear. So many bad things can happen.” Jocelyn took a breath. “Bonnie and I were just talking about spending tomorrow planning our garden. We’d love for you to help us.”

“That sounds like fun. We can start tonight after church if you’d like. We can even bake bread while we’re talking about the spring planting.” She laughed at their questioning stares and proceeded to tell them about the early afternoon.