In Want of a Wife

by Jo Goodman

  “I saw it,” said Morgan. He spared a brief look for the trio at the table. “Jane. Boys. Are you all right?”

  Jane pressed her lips together, nodded. Finn and Rabbit each raised a hand just above the table.

  “Good. They have nothing to do with what’s between you and me, Gideon.”

  “That’s why they’re not dead.” He ended the sentence abruptly. Although he did not say it, the word “yet” hung in the air.

  “Where are my men?”

  “Around and about.” Gideon chuckled lightly. “That’s what your wife said to me when I asked where you were. She came around, though. You got more to worry about than your men, Morgan. I come to make things square between us. You owe me. I need you to think about that. You got a nice place for yourself. A wife who’s real fine to look at when she’s not talkin’. So many head of cattle that I bet you didn’t know the half of what we took. Sure, you had three years out before Jack and I saw the light of day, but I think you’ve done better than can be explained by dumb luck. Zetta Lee says you got what was comin’ to you for all those years you were her own special ginger pie.”

  He raised a couple of fingers. “Now, don’t go all twitchy on me, Morgan. You don’t want to ruin this before we get under way. Besides, Zetta Lee’s gone. Same as Jack’s gone. She can’t spread her legs or her stories. And Jack? He’s all done with cheating.”

  “You killed them?”

  “Not Jack. Not my brother. But Zetta Lee was nothing to me except the whore who sent us away. I went to see her in Lander before I found you. She wasn’t livin’ on the ranch. Sold it off for a place in town and swore to me that she didn’t get much for it. A lot of her stock was gone. Cattle thieves. The house was not worth anything, but she did have the land. You know what she did with that money? She bought herself a brothel. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth?”

  Gideon smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Do you really have a problem with me shooting her dead in sight of our daddy’s grave?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jane pressed a fist against her mouth. It was not enough to suppress her whimper. She saw Morgan set his jaw and knew he had heard her. Gideon was either oblivious to her distress or uncaring of it because he began to describe the final minutes of Zetta Lee’s life, those minutes when she realized his intention was to kill her.

  For the first time since entering the kitchen, Finn and Rabbit actually looked afraid. Jane wanted to take them by the hand. It might have reassured them, but it would not have made them happy.

  “Enough.” It was Morgan, not Jane, who spoke up. He surprised Gideon into silence. “That’s enough,” he said quietly. “If you need to tell someone, tell me, but not in front—” Morgan spun around as the back door opened. A second gun was pointed at him.

  Gideon holstered his Remington. “Give him some space before he takes it out of your hands.”

  Marcie pulled the door shut and then kept his back to it. He looked around, nodded to Dix, and then came back to Gideon. “Everything all right?”

  “As it should be,” said Gideon. “Did you check on Avery like I told you?”

  Marcie nodded. “He’s fine. Those three boys sure are fit to be tied.” The long scar running through his salt-and-pepper beard meandered a little as he chuckled. “And I mean it exactly like I said it. Mmm-mmm-mmm. Especially that one we acquainted ourselves with over at the Pennyroyal. He’s spittin’ mad. You’d think no one ever got the drop on him before.”

  “All right,” Gideon said. “You’ve had fun.”

  Morgan turned his back on the gun and faced his brother. “Where’s Max? He said three boys. What did you do with Max?”

  “He’s resting. There was an altercation, I guess you’d call it. Your wife fixed him up.”

  Jane said, “He was a little worse off than Jem. They put him in one of the bedrooms. I haven’t heard a sound from him since.”

  Gideon smiled pleasantly. “See? He’s resting, just like I said.”

  “There’re four of you?” asked Morgan. “I’m counting four. Three here and one in the bunkhouse.”

  “Let’s just say you don’t know the half of it.”

  “Eight men? I don’t think so, Gideon.”

  “Four,” Jane said quickly. “He wanted me to think there are others, maybe two more, but there aren’t.”

  Gideon screwed his mouth to one side as he shook his head. “I don’t like her much.” He pointed to Dix. “If she opens her mouth again, shoot the little fella there.” His fingerpost moved to Finn. “Yeah, you. And stop squirmin’. You got ants in your pants?”

  “I gotta pee, mister.” His eyes darted to Jane. “Sorry, Mrs. Longstreet, but I gotta go real bad.”

  Gideon said, “Good thing you got here when you did, Morgan. I learned a little about the advantages of patience while I was in prison, but those lessons are fading some in my mind. You understand?”

  “Let Finn step out on the porch.”

  “Jesus. Marcie, take the boy outside.” He drew his gun and held it on Morgan while Finn practically danced his way to the door. He jerked his chin at Rabbit. “You gotta go, too?”

  Rabbit shook his head. “No sir, leastways not yet.”

  Morgan asked, “What are you boys doing out here anyway?”

  Before Rabbit could respond, Gideon raised his gun a fraction and drew Morgan’s attention back to him. “They brought you something. A crate. It’s pretty heavy. They’re speculating it’s gold.”

  Morgan had an apologetic smile for Rabbit. “Sorry. No gold.”

  “We didn’t really think there was gold in it. We had cookies and pie, too, like the last time, but they’re still out in the wagon.”

  “Sure wished I had looked,” said Morgan. “I suspect we could use some pie and cookies about now.”

  Gideon snorted. “And here I was thinking it was a real shame they were wrong about the gold. That would have squared us, and we wouldn’t have to concern ourselves with the Cattlemen’s Trust.”

  “So that’s your game here. The Cattlemen’s Trust.”

  Before Gideon could confirm it, the door opened and Finn stumbled into the room. Morgan had to grab him to keep him from falling.

  Marcie shut the door so hard it vibrated. “He pissed on me.” He pointed to his right trouser leg. There was indeed a wet stain below the knee.

  Morgan quickly pushed Finn toward his chair to get him out of Marcie’s way. Marcie looked as if he wanted to club Finn, and that was probably only to make shooting him easier. Gideon’s reaction surprised Morgan, though. His brother was laughing.

  “Damn, Marcellus. The boy said he had to go, didn’t he? Couldn’t you get out of his way?”

  Marcie grunted and drew his gun. He pointed it at Finn. “Dix, don’t you concern yourself with shootin’ a kid. If Mrs. Longstreet says somethin’, I’ll shoot him.” With that, he turned the gun on Morgan.

  Gideon holstered his weapon again and knuckled away a tear at the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what you think, Morgan, but I’m kinda wishin’ Jack was here to see this. He never did cotton to taking things too seriously. I liked that about him. It skewed his judgment some, but that was Jack.”

  Morgan did not respond.

  “Right,” said Gideon. “Have a seat. Time for plain talk.”

  Morgan sat at the head of the table. He had a reassuring smile for Jane that encompassed the boys, and a dark, narrow look for Dix standing at Jane’s back.

  Gideon stepped to the side until he had Morgan’s face in view. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Here’s what I’m proposing, Morgan. There is a Barkley and Benjamin in the manager’s office at the Cattlemen’s Trust. I’ve seen it. I even had a chat with the manager after the marshal left, just to get the feel of things. Made a little deposit, too.”

  Morgan recalled that Gideon had said something to Jane about seeing them coming out of the bank. Bridger might have still been inside when Gideon w
ent in. Morgan recognized the opportunity that he and the marshal had not been able to see at the time. Under the table, his hands curled into fists.

  “You know about Barkley and Benjamin safes,” said Gideon. “I remember that you’re particularly good with them.”

  “I hope you brought dynamite. It has been a long time since I’ve touched one.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that will matter. As for dynamite, I figure I’ve got three sticks sittin’ right here at the table, another in a bedroom, and three more hog-tied in the bunkhouse. That should be enough to blow up Morning Star and pretty much make a ruin of your life. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

  Morgan nodded.

  “Good. We’ll stick to what we know and to what we know works. My men have done some scouting. They had a look around Bitter Springs before they checked in with the marshal. Most folks will be in bed soon. The ones who aren’t will be at the Pennyroyal or Whistler’s Saloon. That’ll make the alley behind the bank a quiet place. We go in through the back, get you settled at the safe, you perform your magic, and we leave.”

  “We? I’m leaving the bank with you?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t be right to leave you behind. Anyway, if I kill you there it won’t exactly look like you did it on your own, and I think preserving the illusion for a little while makes sense.”

  “All right, but why do you think anyone will suspect me? People around here don’t know about me, what I’ve done.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But they’ll come to it because I’ll be leaving somethin’ of yours behind. That’ll bring the marshal and his men out this way first, and we’ll be long gone.”

  “Well, I can tell you’ve thought a lot about it. Do you know what you’re going to leave behind? It should probably be my hat.”

  Gideon looked it over. “I suppose that might work. There’s nothing special about it, though.”

  Morgan removed his hat and placed it on the table. “What’s special is this.” He pointed to his hair. “There are probably one or two threads of it in the crown. Besides, if anyone does see me slinking through town, they’re likely to catch sight of my hair first. I’m known by that.”

  “It is like a struck match. Sure, we’ll leave your hat.”

  Morgan nodded. “So how do we do this? I figure everyone’s not going into Bitter Springs.”

  “Marcie and Avery stay. Dix comes with you and me.”

  “Then we are all coming back here?”

  Gideon shook his head. “No, Morgan. You do your best work under pressure. Like I said, we will stick to what we know. You will want to pay attention to the time. Once we leave, Avery and Marcie will also take notice of the time. You will do the same. I’m figuring about eight, maybe nine miles as the crow flies to town. We can be at the Cattlemen’s Trust in forty minutes. Of course, how long it takes you to open the safe will determine the outcome for these folks at the table and the ones you can’t see. I figure you’ll have an hour left once we get to the bank. The less time you use fiddlin’ with the safe, the more time you have to get back here. If Marcie and Avery don’t see you one hundred minutes after we leave, there will be nothing for you to come back to. That’s clear, isn’t it?”

  “I have not opened a safe in nine years, Gideon. I’ve never touched an 1884 Barkley and Benjamin.”

  “See? You know it’s a Model 1884. That’s what I’m talking about here.” He pointed to himself. “I didn’t know that. Marcie? Dix? Either of you know that?” When they both shook their heads, he went on. “I guess you did something to keep up. You always set store by book learnin’.” He dropped his hands to his sides and pushed away from the wall. “Now, who do you want to take with us? Never hurts to have extra insurance.”

  “No,” Morgan said. “They stay here. I will come back for them. All of them. They stay here.”

  “I’m thinking along different lines. It seemed polite to give you a choice, but I can see how that could be a hardship for you. I don’t mind making the pick, although I do wish I had better pickings.”

  “No,” Morgan said again.

  “Stay in your chair. It’d please me to have your wife along if she didn’t think I cared about her opinions, and Rabbit over there is a little too bold for my tastes. Now, Finn here, depending on how you look at it, either pissed on Marcie or pissed him off. Maybe he did both. That makes him the best one to come along, seeing as how Marcellus is staying here.”

  Jane opened her mouth to protest and clamped it shut when Gideon cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “That’s right,” he said. “I don’t care for your opinions, and if Dix shoots the boy because you have it in your mind you can talk now, I’ll just take the other one.” He jerked his chin at Morgan. “How the hell did you meet this one?”

  Morgan did not look at his brother. He only had eyes for Jane. The slender smile that lifted the corners of his mouth touched his gaze. “She answered my personal advertisement.”

  “Mail-order bride? You don’t have another one in that crate in the front room, do you?”

  Morgan waited until Gideon was done laughing at his joke. “No. That’s a sewing machine.” Still watching Jane, he said, “She told me once that she had one when she lived in New York.” He saw tears well in Jane’s eyes and watched her bite her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She, too, was remembering their first morning in this house, in this kitchen, when he was critical of her apple green dress with the white polka dots and ruffled neckline because it was too pretty. I shall miss the sewing machine I had in New York, she had said, but I do well enough with a needle and thread. She told him she would make aprons, and she did, and every time he saw her wearing one, he thought of the sewing machine. “Unlike you, Gideon, I care a great deal about the things she says.”

  “Huh.” He scratched behind his ear. “You always were a ladies’ man. Now I know why. You poke them and listen to them. I just poke ’em.”

  “Shut up, Gideon.”

  A soundless chuckle made Gideon’s shoulders rise and fall. “Let’s go. Take your hat.” He walked behind Morgan to get his hat and coat. “Finn, you got anything you want to say to your brother before you go?”

  Finn nodded and stared at Rabbit with solemn regard. “I reckon we should’ve ate more of those cookies. Maybe had some of the pie.”

  Rabbit nodded. “I had that in my mind, too.”

  “Touching.” Gideon finished buttoning his coat. “C’mon, Finn. This way. Morgan, you follow. Dix, you’re the caboose. Marcie, I’ll fire one shot to let you know when to start that hundred minutes. You have your pocket watch?”

  “I do.”

  “Then we are out of here.”

  • • •

  Jane thought she was prepared for the report from Gideon’s gun, but when it came, she shuddered from head to toe. Rabbit was lifted out of his seat. She slid a hand toward him. With his brother gone, there was no reason not to accept her offer. Apparently he thought so, too. He slipped his hand under her palm and allowed her to give it a squeeze, and then he turned his hand over and took hers in his. Jane had no words. It was as lovely a gesture as there ever was.

  Marcie put his gun away and sat at the table for the first time. He set his pocket watch in front of him. “You think he can do it, Mrs. Longstreet?”

  “Of course he can.”

  “Good to know. I have to say, I’ve had my doubts about this plan all along, but Gideon had it in his head that it had to be done this way. Just desserts, he called it.” He glanced at the stove. “Is the coffee still hot?”

  She nodded and started to rise.

  “Sit. I don’t mind doin’ for myself, not when there’s no gang to serve.” He got a cup and went to the stove. “Now, on the trail, it’s a different matter. Someone gets up to get himself a cup and suddenly you got someone else yellin’, ‘Man-at-the-pot.’ That means you’re obliged to carry the pot and give a fill-up to anyone who wants one.” He returned to his chair and sipped his coffee for temperature before he too
k a swallow. “This is real good. You have any fancy fluff-duffs?”

  Jane frowned.

  Rabbit said, “He’s talkin’ about fancy cakes, doughnuts, food like that. Must be the just desserts that got him going one way on that track.”

  “Nothing like that,” Jane said evenly. “But I understand there is a pie and cookies in the wagon in the barn.”

  “I heard that, too. Guess I’ll be leavin’ them there.” He drank more coffee. “You haven’t asked. That surprises me a little.” When Jane did not respond, he said, “You haven’t asked me how I come to throw in with Gideon.”

  “I do not want to know.”

  Marcie spoke as if she had not. “Prison.” He slowly traced his scar with a fingernail. “I wouldn’t want to say what I did to get there in front of the boy, but I could take you in the bedroom and show you.”

  Jane showed no reaction that she could control. It was not possible to keep blood from draining out of her face.

  Marcie glanced at the pocket watch. “One hundred minutes is a long time for some things. Not enough for others. What do you say, Mrs. Longstreet? Would you like to buy some time for your husband?”

  • • •

  Morgan and Finn rode abreast. Gideon led the way. Dix was still the caboose. Morgan rode Condor, the same saddle horse he’d had under him all day. He would have preferred a fresher mount, but Gideon insisted on the gelding. Finn, though, got Sophie when she proved too recalcitrant for Gideon to mount. She was used to someone lighter in her saddle these days, so Morgan suggested Finn, but he already had it in his mind that he would be the one riding her back to Jane. She would fly for him, and she had the heart to do it.

  “We can cover the ground faster,” he told Gideon. “Finn can keep up.”

  Gideon looked over his shoulder. “Worried that there won’t be enough time?”

  There was no point in responding to his brother’s mockery, so Morgan didn’t. He glanced over at Finn. The boy was staying in the saddle, and that was the best that could be said for his seat. The only animal the Collinses owned was the mare that pulled the station buckboard. Finn and Rabbit spent considerably more time behind her than on her. Sophie was taking her lead from Condor, not Finn.