Callie Mae and the Marine

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “Fine, fine, Matthew come home first, but Becky Sue Linders had already up and married a fella from Texas. Weren’t none of us surprised ‘bout that. She said she couldn’t be sure Matthew hadn’t gone off and got hisself killed and she wasn’t gonna take the chance of endin’ up an old maid. They got a little farm on the outskirts of town and they just bought old man Thompson’s place that adjoins it. Matt went plum loco for a while,” Cole said, shaking his head. “He always was crazy for that gal. Mead come next, had a pretty bad leg on him, but you can hardly notice the limp anymore. He’s got a good job at the bank, even took a room in town so it was more convenient. Tried ranchin’ but the long hours in the saddle made him worse and it ‘bout broke him to have to give up on his dream.”

  “I imagine so,” Morgan agreed, understanding exactly what that was like. “What’s wrong with his leg?” he asked, wondering if he knew anything that would help Mead. He wasn’t a medic by any means, but he’d seen enough wartime injuries to have a fair idea what was possible with the proper treatment.

  “Took a bullet in his leg, and I guess it plumb shattered part of the bone. The doctors wanted to amputate, but he wouldn’t let ‘em and thankfully his commandin’ officer agreed. Saved his leg, but ‘taint right. He wears a brace now.”

  The team clipped along at a good pace and it wasn’t long before Morgan could see a white farm house up ahead. Set back from the road, it had a wide porch, complete with wooden rockers. There were two large barns behind it. The dust the wagon raised in the road almost choked him as the man slowed, but instead of turning in, he rested his arms on his legs and held the reins.

  “I reckon I better tell you somethin’ else before we go on up to the house,” he sighed, turning his head and looking at Morgan. “You ain’t asked me about Lilly,” he remarked, clearing his throat.

  “Lilly?”

  “Lillian Piersal. Jesus, Morgan, how hard you hit your head when that horse threw you?”

  “Pretty good I guess,” Morgan replied, rubbing the back of his head. An injury might come in handy in explaining any memory lapses.

  “Well, I damn well hate to be the one to tell you this, but Mead’s courtin’ her.”

  “Is that right?” Morgan said, not sure what this had to do with him.

  “Hell, man, you didn’t expect her to wait forever, did ya?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “I just wanted to warn you. There’s a good chance they’ll be at your Mama’s for Sunday dinner.”

  “Thanks. I don’t guess I’ll worry about it today. I just want to get reacquainted with my family.”

  “That’s a plum fine attitude,” the man replied, giving a whistle to the team and starting up the dusty drive.

  Morgan watched the young woman who came out of the house closely. A little over five feet, her dark hair twisted into a bun, she stood waiting for her husband with her hands on her hips. Her white dress was sprinkled with blue flowers, a basket sat on the porch beside her, and Morgan could see the toe of her shoe tapping impatiently.

  “Cole Rathborn, do you have any idea what time it is?” she yelled at her husband. “Mama is going to have a fit that we’re late again. You should have been back long ago, but I can see that you got sidetracked again! I swear if I want to be on time I’ll have to start driving myself and leave you home to fend for yourself. Who’s that with you?” she called, holding her hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.

  “Now you just hold your tongue, Missy, and wait till you see who I’ve got in this here wagon before you begin chewin’ a piece off my hide.”

  “It don’t matter none to me who you got with you… I don’t like being late and you know it…” she said, her voice falling off as she took a step down the stairs, her eyes glued to the figure on the seat of the wagon. “I…”

  Morgan smiled. At least now he knew the man beside him was named Cole, and he was about to learn a whole lot more as Missy screamed and catapulted herself of the steps.

  “Morgan,” she cried. “Morgan, it’s you at last!”

  She was short and curvy, but she could run like the wind. Morgan jumped down from the wagon as soon as it slowed and did what seemed natural under the circumstances. He caught Missy in his arms, lifting her off her feet and twirling her in a circle. She clung to him as though she’d never let him go. He saw the tears streaking down her cheeks and felt the need to comfort her.

  “It’s alright, Missy,” he whispered into her hair as he stroked her back.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she sobbed, clinging to him tightly.

  “I’m a little surprised to be here myself,” he said honestly, strangely moved. Whoever the earlier version of Morgan was, he was loved, that much was clear.

  “Are ya still mad at me?” Cole asked his wife, grinning as Morgan set her on her feet.

  Missy laughed and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Of course I am,” she told her husband, tipping her head back and looking into his twinkling brown eyes. “You were late.”

  “But I brought your brother,” Cole said, stunned at her words.

  “Yes, and you were a few years late doing that as well,” she said smiling. “Get the basket, honey, and let’s get going. I can’t wait till Mama sees who we brought to dinner.”

  Shaking his head, Morgan lifted Missy up onto the wagon seat and climbed up beside her. Cole was still mumbling as he set the basket in the back and pulled himself up.

  “See what I’m telling ya, Morgan?” he sighed, snapping the reins. “Sometimes she just needs it.”

  “Needs what?” Missy asked suspiciously.

  “Aw, nothing.”

  Morgan chuckled, his hand patting Missy’s as she clutched his arm as though afraid he was going to disappear.

  “Um, Morgan, there’s something I think you should know before we get to Ma’s,” Missy said gently as they bounced along the uneven road. “It’s about Lilly…”

  “I already told him,” Cole interjected quickly. “Couldn’t see no sense in puttin’ it off seein’s how it’s Sunday and all. They sat together at the service this mornin’ and that means…”

  “Well, did you break it to him gently?” Missy demanded. Her eyes snapped as she elbowed her husband in the ribs before turning back to her brother. “We all know how you felt about Lilly, Morgan. Mead waited a long time before he let his interest show, and she was pretty hesitant about letting him court her, what with your history and all. Finally, she gave in, but it was only because we all thought you weren’t coming home,” she sighed with tears in her eyes. “I hope you won’t hold it against them. They seem to be getting on fine and we’ve all been expecting them to set the date, although it hasn’t happened yet.”

  Morgan put his arm around Missy and gave her shoulders a squeeze.

  “I’m sure it will all work out, Misfit. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

  “Humph, Misfit, you know I hate that name,” she said with a huff, “I’ll let it go today ‘cause I’ve missed you so badly, but I don’t want that to start up again. It wasn’t until I married Cole that people finally stopped calling me that, no thanks to you.”

  Morgan had no idea where that nickname had come from. It just seemed to fit her and popped out of his mouth without him giving it a thought. Good thing it was familiar to her or it might have caused a problem. So, he had two brothers, Mead and Matthew. Just the name caused his throat to tighten in grief. He wondered if this Matthew would be anything like the brother he’d already lost. His ‘mother’ was still alive, but his ‘father’ had passed and apparently he, Morgan, had a thing for Lilly, who was now seeing his ‘brother’, Mead. It was a lot to take in and he hoped he could keep it all straight in his head.

  “Have you thought any about what you want to do, now that you’re home?” Missy asked. “I guess that’s a silly question,” she admitted, sadly. “You probably had all kinds of time to think while you were gone.”

  “Umm, y
eah I did,” Morgan replied. “For a while I wasn’t sure I would make it out of there alive,” he embellished, his mind going back to his last deployment. “I guess I’ll have to find some kind of job.”

  “I hope you’ll spend a few days with Ma before you go off again, Morgan. She’s missed you something awful,” Missy said. “Cole and I have been hoping that once Mead and Lilly get, I mean if they get married, they’ll move in with Ma so she won’t be alone,” she continued, peeking at Morgan from under her lashes and hoping she hadn’t hurt his feelings by mentioning the marriage.

  “Where’s Matthew living?” Morgan asked, resting his foot on the front board of the wagon and studying his boots.

  “Matt’s there, but he’s almost never home. Spends his free time, when he’s not tending the farm, down at The Duchess. If he’s not there, he chasing everything in skirts this side of the Missouri,” she sniffed, clearly disgusted.

  “The Duchess?” Morgan asked, hoping it wasn’t something he should already know about.

  “Yes,” Missy replied, elbowing Cole as he snorted. “Remember Callie Mae Walker, the preacher’s daughter from over in Sully’s Bend? Well, she got in a big fight with her pa, something about him wanting her to marry a man from Wichita, as her pa’s health is failing. Callie Mae sent a wire off to her grandma back east and her grandma sent her money to buy her own business. Said a woman ought to be able to support herself and make her own choices. Can you imagine that?” she asked, clutching Morgan’s arm.

  “So what does that have to do with The Duchess?” he asked curiously.

  “Why, she bought herself a saloon,” she said laughing. “Had ‘The Duchess’ painted across the front in big gold letters! Her pa about had an apoplectic fit, got all the ladies in town to picket her, but Callie Mae just smiled and waved all those cowboys on in. The gossip is she’s doing quite well, but they say she’s taken to wearing a little gun in her garter,” she continued with a whisper. “There’s also talk she’s planning on bringing in some ‘fancy ladies’ from St. Louis,” she finished, blushing wildly.

  Cole shook his head. “Now, Missy,” he scolded. “Wasn’t today’s sermon about the ninth commandment? I think gossipin’ falls into that somewhere.”

  “I am not bearing false witness,” she gasped. “I have it on good authority that she does carry a gun for…”

  “Missy!”

  “Oh, alright,” she snapped, straightening her skirts and avoiding her husband’s eyes.

  Morgan didn’t think the good-natured Cole had a stern bone in his body; apparently he’d been wrong, because Missy dropped the subject and was quiet as they pulled off the road and started up a series of small hills.

  Turning his head and looking off in the distance, Morgan smiled. The warning in Cole’s tone as he spoke to his wife was enough to have her rethinking her behavior. In Morgan’s world, the woman would have told her husband to ‘fuck off’ or ‘kiss her ass’, but right here, right now, she was closing her mouth and minding her husband. Amazing what a little spanking could do to make a marriage more pleasant and congenial. He had a feeling he was going to like it here and one thing he knew for sure: he had a lot more interest in meeting Callie Mae, than he did in meeting Miss Lillian.

  Chapter Three

  She was lovely, small and delicate with thick dark hair pulled back and swept into some kind of bun. Her dress was dark pink, the same color as her cheeks as he took her hand and patted it reassuringly. She kept her eyes lowered, whether in embarrassment or shame he wasn’t sure, but he immediately tried to put her at ease when he entered the parlor.

  “It’s good to see you again, Lilly. Please don’t make this worse than it has to be. I’ve been gone a very long time,” he said gently, thinking it was a massive understatement. “There’s no reason in the world you shouldn’t be dating… courting again. If everything I’ve heard is true,” he continued, giving Missy a raised eyebrow glance, “Mead will make you a wonderful husband.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding,” Lilly said softly, standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. Reaching back, she took Mead’s hand and pulled him forward. “We never intended… I mean neither of us planned…”

  “Shh, it’s alright. Mead,” he continued, shaking his brother’s hand. “Congratulations, you’re a lucky man.”

  “I think so,” Mead said as he slipped his arm around Lilly. “I’m just glad there are no hard feelings, Morgan. A marriage shouldn’t start out causing a rift within the family. I just want you to know I’ll step down if you and Lilly feel you want to…”

  “No,” both Lilly and Morgan yelled at the same time before everyone started laughing.

  Mead smiled and kissed the top of Lilly’s head. “So I guess we’ll be getting married?” he asked, tipping her chin up.

  “I guess,” Lilly sighed, “although that wasn’t the most romantic proposal, Mead.”

  Mead put his hands under her arms and plucked her from the floor, kissing her right on the lips. “You’ll get plenty of romance once that ring is on your finger,” he promised, setting her down and swatting her bottom.

  Lilly yelped, blushing furiously, but she didn’t retaliate or bitch. She just rubbed her backside and slipped her other arm through Mead’s. No one else seemed to think anything of it and again, Morgan was surprised. Apparently the men in his family were in charge, and that looked pretty appealing from where he was standing.

  “Alright,” his mother said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s eat and then we have a wedding to plan. Finally, all my family is back together,” she said smiling as she took Morgan’s arm and let him lead her to the table. “Well, except for Pa, but that can’t be helped,” she sighed, taking her seat. “Morgan, you sit at the head of the table,” she insisted. “You’re the head of this family now. It’s what Pa would have wanted.”

  Morgan took the seat, feeling an unfamiliar weight settle over his shoulders. He looked at his mother, so welcoming and warm when he appeared after such a long time, longer than she knew. The tears of joy on her wrinkled face as she’d hurried down the front steps after spotting him from a distance had soothed an ache in him he hadn’t been aware existed.

  “I knew it was you,” she’d cried, clasping him to her as soon as his feet hit the dirt. “Oh, you don’t know how hard I’ve prayed for this day and now the good Lord has seen fit to answer.” She wept as she took his face in her hands and studied it.

  Holding her frail body in his strong arms, his hand had stroked her silver hair in awe. The love she felt for her son was unnerving, and he was both embarrassed to be receiving something he wasn’t entitled to and enthralled by how good it felt.

  “Matthew, say the blessing,” Emma Whittaker ordered her youngest son. “It’s you have the most need of prayer,” she continued, trying to hide her grin when Matt’s mouth dropped open.

  “But, Ma,” he complained, “you know I ain’t much for religion.”

  Morgan folded his hands and looked at him much the same way he would one of his team had they questioned an order. It seemed like years since he’d been inclined to give a damn about anything, but suddenly this was important.

  Matthew bowed his head and thanked the Lord for the bounty before them, Morgan’s safe return, and the upcoming union of Mead and Lilly.

  Dinner was wonderful, the table laden with food. Morgan ate the ham, sweet potatoes, and green beans slowly, savoring every bite. The warm cornbread with sweet, creamy butter and honey had him swallowing a moan of pure appreciation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything that didn’t come out of a cardboard box or a paper wrapper. Who knew food would taste so good without all the preservatives and artificial flavor enhancers, and he made a mental note to think about going organic when he went back. If he went back.

  The conversation around the table flowed freely and Morgan tried to assimilate as much information as he could. Who was courting who, who was new in town, and who’d had enough and was heading further west. Acco
rding to the research he’d done, his family appeared to be one of the lucky ones. The house was sturdy and made of wood with weathered clapboard siding. The farm itself was prosperous, and they expected to make a decent profit come harvest time. That he didn’t know a lick about farming didn’t concern him. He could ride a horse, was a hell of a shot with the pistol he wore, and he was intelligent. He’d learn what he needed to and he’d learn quickly.

  As Lilly and Missy rose to clear the table, Emma dished up apple pie, giving each piece an ample dollop of whipping cream. Passing the plates around the table, she smiled at her son.

  “I must have had a premonition,” she said, misty eyed. “Something just told me to make your favorite today, Morgan.

  “Thank goodness for intuition,” he replied, grinning as he took his plate from Matthew’s hand and dug in. He tried not to wolf it down, but it was nearly impossible. The taste and texture were incredible, unlike anything he’d ever had before. His own mother, God rest her soul, never baked a thing in her life as far as he knew. Store bought goodies were what he’d been raised on, unless he was lucky enough to be invited to dinner at a buddy’s house. Wiping his mouth, he sat back and patted his stomach, full to the brim.

  “I guess you haven’t had a decent meal in a while,” Missy observed with a teasing grin.

  “You could say that,” Morgan agreed, “A very long while. In fact, I don’t recall the last time I had such a meal,” he continued, unable to suppress a yawn.

  “Son, why don’t you go up to your room and rest awhile,” his mother suggested. “I’m sure you’ve had a long journey. I’ve kept it just as you left it,” she said, looking down, remembering all the times she’d gone in there and prayed for his safe return.

  “Thanks, Ma, I think I will,” he replied with another yawn. Rounding the table, he kissed the top of her head, patting her shoulder. The pain and loss she’d suffered were clearly etched on her face, yet underneath he sensed strength far greater than his own. She hadn’t curled up in a ball and withdrawn from the world but had faced her grief and carried on. He, on the other hand, had become a shameful, self-indulgent wimp, throwing the biggest pity party in history. He vowed to do better, this time around.