by DiAnn Mills
She shook her head. “Only one.”
Chapter 25
The Friday morning Casey was to meet with Morgan to review his findings for her state pardon brought all of her misgivings to the surface. Sarah had spent a miserable night with severe vomiting. The poor woman had withered away to nearly nothing, and the constant sickness didn’t help the deterioration.
Both Casey and the reverend were exhausted. Sarah’s bed had to be stripped each time until there were no clean bed coverings left. Before sunrise, Casey managed to hang the wash out to dry. She already dreaded the morning with Morgan, certain his position as a reputable attorney was about to be challenged by his taking on an outlaw. She needed a little rest to perk up her spirits. Before returning to her own room, she checked on Sarah and found her crying. Wet vomit coated her hair and body. Casey put aside her own needs and bathed her dear friend. She brewed a cup of ginger tea to stop the retching, but the woman couldn’t drink it. Finally she slept.
Much later, Casey entered her own room only to discover Morgan’s arrival stood just moments away. She heard the door open downstairs and listened to the reverend greet him. Her entire body felt as though someone had given her a beating. The reverend needed his breakfast. She smelled of vomit, and her Bible hadn’t been opened. After peeling off her dress, she washed up and hurriedly dressed, then pinned up her hair. All the while, she stole glances at the clock racing ahead.
Emerging from her room shortly after nine, she cringed at the late hour. Morgan will be furious with me. She shuddered at the memory of his cold, hard stare. He’s gone to so much trouble for me, and I can’t even be on time.
“Good morning,” Morgan said as she hastened down the steps. “Whoa, girl.” He frowned.
“I’m so sorry.” Her heart pounded. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
He held up a cup of coffee that had been made hours before. “My concern is you. Slow down. The reverend and I have been talking and drinking coffee.”
“Reverend, you haven’t eaten breakfast.” She brushed past the two men to the kitchen. If Morgan was drinking the reverend’s coffee, he’d have a surly disposition for sure.
“I’m fixin’ it now. Have the biscuits all ready to set in the oven. You’re the one who needs something to eat. I just told Morgan how you were up all night with Sarah.”
“We both were.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t have an appointment with the best lawyer in town. Why don’t you sit down for a little while, drink some coffee, and at least eat a biscuit and apple butter?”
“Oh, I can’t.” She glanced at Morgan, desperately needing to read his mood. “We’re already late.”
“Casey, calm down a bit.” Morgan reached for her hand. “I’m the fancy lawyer here, and I’m waiting on one of the reverend’s prize-winning biscuits. I don’t have anything scheduled except you.”
“I think I’d rather get it over with.” Her stomach twisted.
“And we will, honey. A few more minutes won’t make any difference. I think you’ll be pleased with what I have to say.” He sounded so sweet and caring that she believed every word.
“All right.” The coffee did smell wonderful, even if the reverend’s strong brew tasted like prairie dirt, and she’d felt the pangs of hunger long before dawn.
“By the way, you look beautiful,” Morgan said.
The reverend chuckled. “I believe those are the words spoken by a man in love and looking forward to his wedding day. Mmm, wouldn’t a Christmas wedding be nice?”
Casey shook her head. “You two are a matched pair.” I’m not ready to get married. There’s too much left unsettled in my life.
“I’m taking my coffee up to Sarah’s room,” the reverend said. “I’ll be praying for you two this morning.”
Once the reverend disappeared, Morgan turned to her. “I’m sorry you had such a bad night. You look exhausted.”
“I really am all right. Tired mostly, and nervous about my case.”
He traced his finger on top of hers and grasped the cup. “Are those feelings why you’re avoiding me?”
“I haven’t been avoiding you.” But she had.
“Honey, something has had you upset since that afternoon at my office.”
“The problem isn’t you.” I can’t tell him I’m afraid of him.
He raised an eyebrow. A worry line etched across his forehead. “Are you having second thoughts about marrying me?” He breathed deeply. “You’re expecting the old Morgan to lash out at you without warning.”
While she scrambled for words, he must have realized the truth. He lifted her chin, and her gaze met his. “I’ll earn your trust, Casey. I won’t have you afraid of me.”
She turned her head. “Maybe I’m just like some scared cat with all that’s happening. It’s so hard to be cheerful around Sarah when I see her dying in front of me, and it hurts to see the reverend struggle with his emotions. Then I worry about Bonnie and Ben, afraid they will get caught in the middle of my problems. And you’re spending all your hours on this case to clear my name. Well, my jumpiness can’t possibly be your fault.”
He brushed a kiss across her fingertips, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, which lately seemed to accompany every waking moment.
“One day,” he began, “you and I will be able to put all the misunderstandings and problems of today behind us. Until then, we must talk. I can’t possibly know how you feel or what you’re thinking unless you tell me. Agreed?”
She nodded, and he patted the hand still within his grasp.
“It’s easier posing as Shawne Flanagan.” She attempted a smile.
“We’re about to remedy any more pretense. I believe you’re going to be pleased with what I’ve put together.”
*****
At ten thirty, Morgan ushered Casey into his law office. By then, they’d taken time to pray, and she’d relaxed a little—or so he hoped. He saw the fear in her eyes, and it had nothing to do with clearing her name. Perhaps a year ago, she might have hid it better. Back then, the wall she’d built around her didn’t leave a weak spot for emotions to take over. But she was incredibly strong, much more than she realized.
I’m to blame. He’d seized her trust, then threw it back in her face without explanation. He’d waited too long to tell her the truth about Kathleen, and he may have lost her for good. Perhaps battling for Casey’s love was Morgan’s most difficult struggle, but first he had to set her free from those who chased her.
She removed her shawl and laid it over a chair. With a sigh, she studied his few furnishings, then walked behind his desk to the bookcase filled with law books. Her fingers traced the engraved gold lettering along the spines as she moved from one to the other. “It’s dusty again,” she finally said.
“Sorry. I raised the window.” He studied her, wondering what was going on in her pretty head.
“These books teach you the laws of our country?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
She whirled around and returned his smile. “Morgan, you must be very smart.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
She wore a dark blue skirt and a white blouse. Her swept-up red-brown hair and the curls framing her face gave her the appearance of a fine lady. No hint of an outlaw.
“I believe God is our hope and strength, but having this much knowledge at your fingertips has to make you feel confident.”
He chuckled. “Not always. I sure felt better when that friend of Ben’s left town yesterday.”
“Have you and Ben talked about a pardon from Governor Ireland?”
“I had a feeling you’d bring that up.” Morgan lifted a chair from behind his desk and moved it beside hers. “I’ve compiled information I want to go over with you.” He opened a leather satchel and removed letters and documents pertaining to her case. “I’ve recorded your story in detail. You’ll find dates, places, and types of crimes that the Jenkins gang committed while you rode with them. Remember the night at the parso
nage when I questioned you about the role you played during his robberies? Note”—he pointed to items of interest—“you stated specifically your whereabouts during each one of them. He had you posted as a lookout with the horses or back at the campsite. Also, I have a signed statement from Doc about risking your life to help me. He added a lengthy portion attesting to your good character. In the past six months, newspapers and wanted posters report you’ve been involved with gang activities while you were living at the parsonage.” He handed her the various documents and studied her reaction to each one.
“Everything has been signed or witnessed and dates verified,” she said once she completed reading each one. “So this is what you’ve been doing these past weeks.” She read both of Doc’s letters as a result of Morgan’s request and hers. “I know the problem is where there’s no proof of my innocence.” She straightened up the stack and handed the papers to Morgan. “If you don’t contact the federal marshals for me, then I’ll have Ben do it.” She clasped her hand over his, sending tiny shivers up his spine. “Don’t try to talk me out of this. I’ve thought of little else for months.”
This would seal her coffin. I can’t let her do it. “What you’re telling me is dangerous. I’m not so sure it’s necessary.”
“I have to do this. Will you arrange it, please?”
Morgan studied her placid face, the one he first saw in the mountains of Utah. “I’m sure I can secure your pardon without endangering your life.”
“Have you forgotten all the things Jenkins has done? What good does it do me to ask for a pardon and not give something back in return? And do I need to remind you that he has not given up his search for me?” She tilted her head. “Did you speak with Ben’s friend from Austin?”
“I met him. He’s determined. Of course, I made sure I came across as a small-town lawyer. He wasn’t interested in me.” Morgan tapped his pen on the desk as though the distraction might alter her stand. He grappled for words—not a normal problem for him, but the woman he loved wanted to step into a viper pit. “You might have to change your name again and move to some obscure town far from Texas.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to give up your home and family, Morgan, but to me, any other way is selfish.” She turned to him and tilted her head, her face a vision of peace. Yet he knew her deepest need. She had to free herself from running and hiding. Or she would die trying. “You know I can’t do anything less, not only for me, but for all the Kathleens and Morgans of the world.”
“I want to stop you, but I don’t know how. What can I say or do to change your mind?”
“Nothing. The price of freedom is not too dear to me.” Her words swept over him like a soft breeze. “Simply help me do what must be done. You have no idea what it’s like to constantly look to see who might be behind you. There’s no safe place. All I can do is stand and fight.”
His heart swelled with emotion, causing him to say nothing for several moments. She was right. He hated to admit it, but the state would look favorably on her offer.
“I’ve been called many things,” she said. “You’ve heard them, everything from Jenkins’s woman to a she-devil. I want it all to end.”
He studied her, the woman he loved. From her stubborn stance, he knew she’d have Ben help her if he refused. This way he could still protect her. Casey, my love, must it be this way? He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “I’ll need to follow up on a man in San Quentin who rode with Jenkins for a while—Leroy Wilson. I want to see if he’d consider backing up any of your statements.”
“Leroy Wilson? How did you know about him?”
“I put him there. He despises me for sure, but he may not feel the same way about you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“After Leroy was shot, I found out about it. Hate drove me to track down every man who ever rode with Jenkins. I went to the railroad folks and said if they’d let me represent them, I’d not charge for my services. I worked hard to get him into prison, and I doubt if he’s forgotten it.”
“So much I never knew. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s in the past, remember?” Morgan said. “Do you recall anything about him that might help us?”
Casey nodded. “He’s not a smart man, but I’m not so sure anything he’d say about me would be good.”
He leaned toward her and directed his words straight to her heart. “Then we’ll find out together. The risk is someone may find out what we’re doing. You didn’t ride all of those years with Jenkins and not comprehend exactly what I’m saying. Those men might understand if you received a pardon. They know you aren’t guilty. But every outlaw around will be after you once they got word you sold them out to the law.” He hesitated. “They’d cut you down in front of a town full of witnesses.”
She smiled. “I’m too tough for you to scare.”
Chapter 26
Stepping into the fresh, crisp air, Casey felt better about the path Morgan had chosen to clear her name. They’d prayed together again, asking God to lead the way and asking for help to accept whatever He chose for them. On the way back to the parsonage, she found it easier to talk about what she could do for the federal marshals. Her burden seemed lighter, as though her dreams were not impossible.
“How long will it take to arrange the meeting with them?” she said.
“I need to speak with Leroy Wilson first. Then I’ll make a trip to see Governor Ireland. Considering how that goes, I can request a meeting with the federal marshals.” He paused. “I don’t like this at all.”
“It has to be this way.” She linked her arm into his, and they both waved at a wagon passing by. “The more I think about Leroy, the more I remember conversations and what he did for the gang. The last time I saw him, he was in his fifties. He smelled worse than the others. Looked like dirt had gotten under his skin and stayed there. His hair and beard were always greasy and scraggly looking, and he drank too much.”
“Why did Jenkins put up with him?” Morgan said. “I thought he booted out drunks.”
“Leroy proved to be the exception. He played up to Jenkins—praised him about how smart he was. That he’d never be caught and one day he’d be the richest man in Mexico. Bragged to the others that there wasn’t an outlaw around who could measure up to Jenkins.”
A lady and her small daughter walked by. Casey and Morgan greeted them and continued on.
“Anyway,” she said once the two were out of earshot, “too much liquor slowed Leroy’s reaction time during a train robbery, and a passenger shot him.”
“He was lucky to get a jail term and not a hanging. I’m afraid he won’t cooperate with me, but maybe he’ll talk to you.”
She didn’t have much hope that the old outlaw would help her receive a pardon. Not that she recalled anything unpleasant in her dealings with the craggy old man. But why should he? “I wish I had a guarantee that all you’re doing will be worth it to you in the end. You’ve worked so hard.”
“Who’s in control here?” he said. “Have faith, Casey. Don’t fret so.”
“Hush. Don’t call me Casey in public.”
“You’re right. I’ve told all the others to call you Shawne. Then I slip up.”
They walked on in silence, while her world spun with the possibilities of total freedom. A crow called, and another flew from a treetop. She’d never cared for those birds. Their feathers reminded her too much of Jenkins’s black hair. Many times she wondered if being caught by the law or Jenkins would end the turmoil raging inside her. A moment ago, her hopes heightened. Now she questioned it all again.
“Oh Morgan, when the gunfire is over and the smoke clears, where will you and I be?”
“Together.”
His firm words nearly shook her. She had to trust. That caused her to shudder, too. The ways of men . . .
“Will you go with me to California?” Morgan said.
“San Quentin? What’s going to stop the guards from arresting me? Or one of the priso
ners from recognizing me. I’d—” She stopped her sentence in midair. I have to go. Old Leroy hates Morgan.
“I’m sorry. That’s selfish of me.”
“No. Leroy won’t talk to you without me. I’ll make sure I look like a lady and wear a bonnet that shields some of my face.”
“Honey, you always look like a lady.” He sighed heavily. “This is too dangerous. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She laughed. “You were being smart. Walking down the streets of Kahlerville is dangerous for me.” The idea of walking into San Quentin was madness, but she didn’t have a choice. Morgan needed Leroy’s testimony, and she’d do whatever was needed to get it. “I’ll have to find someone to tend to Sarah. She’s so fragile, and I hate leaving her.”
“We’ll talk to the reverend.”
“And we need a proper escort.”
This time Morgan laughed. “We rode down a mountain in the dead of night without the proprieties of society. As well as I can remember, we had someone chasing us.”
“This is different.” She punctuated her words with a nod. “When the word finally gets out about you and me—and it will—it’ll be bad enough that you’re keeping company with an outlaw. We don’t want the town gossiping about anything else, especially if a federal marshal starts asking questions.” She gave him her best smile. “Do you suppose Jocelyn would take the trip?”
He studied her for several moments with a grim look she didn’t quite understand. “I’ll see what I can do.”
*****
A week and a half later, Casey and Morgan followed a prison guard down a damp, dark corridor to the visitation room, where they were instructed to wait for Leroy. She didn’t feel like talking. Too much rested on the convict’s cooperation. The mere thought that she might not walk out of there or that she might end up in a prison like this one brought the familiar churning in her stomach. Her breakfast threatened to come back up, and her head began to pound. She smoothed her dress and adjusted her bonnet. Repeatedly she deliberated over Leroy’s loyalty to Jenkins and his hatred for Morgan. What had the past few years behind bars done to him?
