Jane went from skeptical to disbelieving. “I was fine and you know it, and I didn’t step off. You carried me off.”
“Not quite how I remember it, but it doesn’t change the fact that you came a long way to be here. I thought I should look after you.” He set his hands together again and rested them against his belt buckle. “You were right that I was set to propose back there at the platform.”
“I know. In front of God and witnesses. You told me, remember? And then you thanked me for rescuing you from acting the fool.”
“I should have made a better apology.”
“You said what you meant.”
“I would have written it better.”
Jane’s smile was a bit rueful, a bit wistful. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure you would have.”
Morgan nodded shortly. “You want to know what I was thinking just before you interrupted my declaration?”
“I don’t know. Do I?” When he said nothing, she finally nodded. “Yes, please. Tell me.”
“I was thinking that I made a contract with you and that I needed to honor it.”
“To be a man whose word means something.”
“Yes,” he said. “To be exactly that.”
“That’s important to you?”
“Yes.”
“So it was no romantic impulse that I forestalled.”
“No. I told you I am not a romantic.”
“I know what you told me.” And perhaps he was right about it. “You reconsidered that contract quickly enough. What does that say about you and your word?”
“That I would make a fine lawyer if I did not have such a disgust of them.”
Jane laughed quietly. Her eyes crinkled. When she sobered, she said, “Cousin Franny’s husband was a lawyer. He was made a federal judge in the County of New York two years before he died.”
“A judge,” said Morgan. “Well, at least you were not related to him by blood.”
“He was a good man, Mr. Longstreet, and I was heartbroken when he died.”
Morgan sat up. “Then I’m sorry for that.”
Jane accepted him at his word. Her eyes wandered to the door. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“The bathhouse.”
“So no cell for you.” She thought he might be moved to grin. He was not. “I still do not know why you did not look closer to home for a wife.”
“Perhaps I did, and no one would have me.”
“At the risk of flattering you, I think finding some young woman in Bitter Springs to have you would not have been a problem.”
He shrugged. “I don’t come into town often, and what I know about courting a woman is as much as I put in my letters. Sitting on a porch swing, holding hands, trying to be interesting, well, it seemed like more tiring work than mustering calves for branding and not nearly as satisfying.”
Jane’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh my. It seems you have given this some thought.”
“I did. I heard about papers and periodicals that accepted inquiries. I wrote to several.”
