“Marshal,” Morgan said with a nod. As he held the door for Jane, he said to her, “Wait for me in the dining room. I need to speak to the marshal. I won’t be long.”
Jane glanced over her shoulder.
“Ma’am.” Cobb Bridger lifted his hat.
Jane offered a faint and uncertain smile and then looked to Morgan.
“It’s fine,” he said, bending his head toward her. “He’s not here because you told the boys his wife is pregnant.” He thought Jane appeared relieved. For Morgan it was further proof that she was naïve. Perhaps hopelessly so.
Morgan closed the door behind Jane, then joined the marshal. “How long were you following us?”
“Not long. I watched you deliver Rabbit and Finn to the schoolhouse from my office. You afraid you’re losing that sixth sense of yours?”
“Can’t lose something I never claimed to have.”
Cobb shrugged.
Morgan looked the marshal over. He and Cobb Bridger were of a similar build, tall, rangy, and with a tendency toward lean, although Morgan thought Cobb might be turning the corner on that, a consequence of his recent marriage and his wife’s cooking. As far as Morgan could tell their similarities began and ended with their bones. Morgan held his ground as the marshal’s cool, blue-eyed gaze bore into him.
“I thought the plan was for you to be back at Morning Star by now,” said Cobb.
“It’s still the plan. There was a…complication.”
Cobb tilted his head toward the hotel. “She have a name?”
“Jane Middlebourne.”
“She’s not the woman in your photograph.”
“No, she’s not, but she is Jane Middlebourne.”
Cobb rested his elbow against the railing. “Look, Morgan, I don’t have a problem with you. Never have. I have a problem with the people you might attract.”
“No one’s come, have they?”
“No,” said Cobb. “No one’s come.”
“I brought you Jane’s photograph as a courtesy, Marshal, not because I had to. I keep my distance because I like it that way, not because I’m trying to avoid a confrontation. And to that point, there might never be a confrontation. You said it yourself, no one’s come.”
“Yet.”
Morgan nodded. There was no getting around the “yet.” “Do you want Miss Middlebourne to stand in front of your Wanted Wall so you can tick her off your list?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Cobb said.
Morgan smiled narrowly, without humor. “You’ve already done it, haven’t you? I bet you watched us across the way from your office. One eye on her. One eye on your wall.”
“I made a study when I saw her in your buckboard yesterday. When you weren’t gone this morning, I thought I better take a second look.”
“And?”
“And she’s not on my wall.”
Morgan looked back at the dining room window. He couldn’t see Jane standing there behind the glass, but that did not mean she wasn’t. “What now?” he asked.
“Are you going to marry her?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m inclined to honor my proposal.”
