Morgan said, “You could probably ask Mrs. Sterling. She would know which side of the fence is which. She’s been both.”
“Maybe I’ll do that.” The smile she turned on him was a shade regretful. “And maybe the problem will take care of itself if I stop nagging and nipping altogether.”
“Seems a mite excessive.” He thought Jane might be hiding a smile behind her teacup. What he could see of her brightening eyes led him to believe that could be the case. “I don’t think you should change your ways on my account. Besides, you don’t exactly flinch when I rail at you anyway. More or less, it rolls off your back like water off a duck. I wasn’t convinced you were paying attention.”
“I pay attention.”
“I know that now. And you’re a worrier, too, thinking over things the way you do long after they should be tucked away. I didn’t realize that.”
“Now you do. It is remarkable that laudanum and lack of sleep have not deprived you of your faculties. Would you like a pencil? Some paper? Perhaps you will find it helpful to make a list of my shortcomings while I am here to assist you.”
Morgan grinned so widely that he would not have blamed Jane if she had thrown her teacup at his head. She looked as if she were tempted. He put up his hands and prepared to duck in the event she gave in to the urge. It fascinated him how curiosity got the better of her temper. In moments she had completely reined it in and was regarding him with a puzzled expression, not an angry one.
“What is it you found amusing in that?” she asked. “I was serious.”
“That was entirely evident.”
“Well?”
“It’s your tone. It’s real tidy. Your mouth is so full of sauce it should choke you, but it doesn’t on account of you’re so tidy.”
“I see,” she said slowly.
He nodded. “I guess if I were making a list of the things that aren’t among your shortcomings, I’d put ‘real tidy with her words’ on that one.”
Jane pressed her lips together.
Morgan asked, “Are you doing that with your mouth because you don’t want to laugh or because you don’t know what to say?” He shook his head. “No, don’t answer that. I’ll come to it eventually.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said on the back of a sigh. She finished her tea, rose, and moved her cup and saucer to the sink. “I am going back to bed. I know you do not need help, but do you want it?”
“You go on. I’m going to sleep in one of the chairs in the front room. I’ll keep my foot up.” He thought she seemed on the verge of objecting but caught herself. She nodded once and turned to leave.
“Jane?”
She paused, looked at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“Pain wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t sleep.”
“There’s something else?”
“The pillow. The sheets. They smell like you now.”
Morgan figured those words would be enough to keep her away from him for the rest of the night no matter what she heard. What surprised him was how deeply they made her flush.
Max and Jessop rode out early the next morning. Jem left for town with Jane’s list soon after that. Jake had chores to do in the barn. He came out once to present Morgan with a crutch he had fashioned from some scrap wood. It was sturdy and functional and about as comfortable under Morgan’s arm as the splinter in Jem’s ass, but Morgan thanked Jake and fashioned a pad for it out of a worn huckaback towel that Jane gave him. After that, he got around well enough to harness Sophie and lead her into the corral. He thought the crutch might bother her, but it was more like she thought they were on equal footing.
Jane avoided looking out any window that presented a view of the corral. She had her hands full keeping the water warm in the copper boiler so she could wash sheets. She stripped the beds as much for her peace of mind as for Morgan’s. They smell like you now. He would not be able to say that tonight, and she would not be able to think it.
Jane did not spend much time preparing the afternoon meal with only three of them present to enjoy it, but in anticipation that the others would be back by supper, she braised beef and served it with carrots and mushroom gravy. The biscuits were what drew everyone’s attention when she set the basket on the table. They were so warm that puffs of steam rose from the flaky centers each time one was split.
Jem smeared his biscuit half with butter, looked as if he meant to shove the entire piece in his mouth, but in the end took a surprisingly dainty bite. “What?” he asked when everyone stared at him. “A man can savor a thing, can’t he?”
“Sure,” said Jake, shrugging. “Nothin’ wrong with that.”
“That’s what I thought.” Jem set his biscuit on the edge of his plate and patted down his pockets. “Here you go, boss. I brought this back special for you.” He reached across Jessop to hand Morgan a cobalt blue bottle.
“What is it?” Morgan said. He wiped his hands on his napkin and took it.
