Jane pressed her lips together, but it was an inadequate stopper for her amusement. Laughter bubbled anyway. “You have a wicked sense of humor, Mr. Longstreet.”
“I was being serious, Miss Middlebourne.” His tone was dry as the dust on his boots, but he saw Jane was unfazed by it. She did not believe him. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Jane set down her fork and returned that hand to join the one in her lap. “I will,” she said. “I do.”
Morgan picked up his coffee cup. It felt too small, too dainty, in his hand. Like Jane.
“You are scowling again. The coffee’s not to your liking?”
“I haven’t tried it yet.”
“Then perhaps you should reserve judgment.”
One of his ginger eyebrows kicked up. “You’re still talking about the coffee, aren’t you?”
Jane smiled. “You said something like that last night. Yes, Mr. Longstreet, I’m still talking about the coffee.”
Morgan gave a short nod, took a swallow, and imagined he manfully concealed the fact that he burnt the inside of his mouth. Still, the swirl of cold air that entered the room was a welcome diversion. When Jane looked toward the dining room entrance in anticipation of more guests, Morgan sucked in a breath. By the time she turned back, he was returning his cup to the saucer.
“There’s a pitcher of water on the sideboard over there,” she said. “Shall I get it for you?”
Except to make her chuckle, his sour look had no impact on her. “Your concern is noted. I’ll be fine.”
“You ordered a big breakfast. It would be unfortunate if you were unable to taste it.” Her eyes swiveled to the pair entering the dining room. “Who are they?”
Morgan glanced behind him. “Howard Wheeler and Jack Clifton. They’re here every time I am so I’m figuring them for regulars. They used to be with the railroad. Stayed behind when it moved on. That’s about as much as I know, and I have that from Ida Mae.”
“Mrs. Sterling.”
“Yes. Her husband worked the rails with them and settled here same as they did. He was marshal after that. For years, in fact. Killed in an ambush on Morning Star land. It was the Burdick property back then. The story that went about at the time was that he was mistaken for a rustler. Everyone knows now that he was murdered, plain and simple.”
“I never thought of murder as plain and simple.”
“This one was.”
“Was I wrong to have the impression that you are a relative newcomer to Bitter Springs? You seem to know a lot.”
“I told you how it is here. Some stories you can’t avoid. I didn’t grow up in these parts, but I had a passing acquaintance with Benton Sterling years ago. His wife remembers it.”
Jane nodded. “I thought she treated you familiarly.”
“I don’t know about that. She’s good to everyone. ’Course she makes everyone’s business her own.” He gave Jane a sharp, pointed look. “And if you tell her I said so, I’ll?—”
“Break one of God’s commandments, Mr. Longstreet?”
Morgan’s smile was wry. “Several.”
Both of her dark eyebrows lifted. “Well, you can rest easy. I can keep a confidence.”
If that were true, Morgan thought, she would be the first woman of his acquaintance who could.
Cil appeared with their food. Ribbons of steam rose from Jane’s bowl of oatmeal and Morgan’s plate of hotcakes. The distinctive aromas of bacon and steak hovered in the air. Cil set down a small pitcher of molasses syrup in front of Morgan. “Mind you eat them warm,” she told him. “They’ll be tastier.”
When she was gone, Morgan looked over at Jane. “She winked at you again.”
“Did she? Maybe she has something in her eye.”
“Hmm. I’m sure that’s it.”
