“My parents slept together,” she said. “I remember that. In India, the accommodations were often cramped, and sometimes I shared a room with them. Sometimes a bed. What about your parents?”
“I don’t know.”
Jane let that pass. “Mr. Ewing and Cousin Frances had separate bedrooms. They did not even adjoin, but I have no idea who insisted on that arrangement. I suppose that means people can do as they like. You might discover you are not comfortable sleeping with me. I could jab you in the ribs or kick you. Steal the blankets. Rub my cold feet against your legs. I might talk in my sleep.”
“It would still be a respite from how much you talk when you’re awake.”
Jane poked him in the ribs with an elbow. “I might snore.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
Morgan yawned in dramatic fashion. “I am not opposed to finding out.”
Jane turned so she was held in the crook of his arm again. “I like you, Morgan. I do.”
Morgan reached for the lamp and extinguished the light. He set his mouth at the crown of her head and whispered against her hair, “I’ll be damned.”
Jane heard Morgan get up in the middle of the night, but she let him go. The back door opened and closed. She did not remember him coming back to bed, but he was there when she woke. She carefully removed his arm from around her waist and slipped out of bed without disturbing him. In fact, she managed all of her morning rituals while he slept.
It was the aroma of coffee that brought him out to the kitchen. He stood directly behind Jane at the stove, peering over her shoulder as she poured. His hands rested at her waist. To keep her steady, he said, and she did not disagree. She needed a little steadiness this morning, especially when he put his lips to her ear.
Jem and Max came in the backdoor, each of them carrying a tin cup of coffee from the bunkhouse. They stopped so abruptly that coffee splashed the backs of their hands.
“This, uh, this a bad time?” Jem looked at Max, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. He mouthed the words “say something.” When Max just jerked his head toward the door, Jem cleared his throat. “We will, uh, that is, we’ll just show ourselves out, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Stay,” Jane said.
“Go,” Morgan said.
Max started to back up, but Jem pulled out a chair and sat down.
Morgan changed his mind about what he was going to whisper in Jane’s ear, and said, “We’ll talk about what you’ve done to Jem later.” He backed away, cup of hot, black coffee in hand, and took a chair himself. He waved Max over. “Jessop and Jake out already?”
Max nodded and sat. “They figured they’d go out to Hickory Lake first, seein’ as how the rail line cuts that way going to Cheyenne. We all thought about what you said last night.” He darted a look in Jane’s direction. She was humming to herself while she cracked eggs over the skillet. He still dropped his voice to a near whisper. “Seemed the most likely place to look around for jumpers.”
Looking at Jane’s back, Jem said more loudly, “Never know what one of those Herefords is gonna do.”
Max rolled his eyes. Morgan sighed and shook his head. Jane dropped both halves of an eggshell into a bowl and turned around. “Cows jump fences?”
Jem said, “Sure. One jumped over the moon, didn’t she?”
Jane gave him an arch look. “Clever, Jem. Very clever.” She turned back to her skillet and eggs.
When breakfast was over, Jem and Max headed to the barn. Morgan lingered at the table for coffee and conversation.
“Jem’s face looks worse today than it did last night,” Jane said. “But I suppose that’s to be expected.” She began gathering plates and utensils, pulling them toward her to stack.
“Leave them,” said Morgan. “Drink your coffee. I’m not sure that you’ve ever finished a cup that was still warm.”
“Morgan. I have things to do.”
He pushed the plates out of her reach. “So do I, and all of it will be there in ten minutes when I get up from this table.”
“All right.”
“Cows don’t jump,” he said. “A steer will buck and charge and carry on like he has no sense, but he won’t jump barbwire.”
