Morgan held the team steady until Mead pulled himself up on the seat. He could tell it was painful for his brother and wished there was something he could do.
“Funny, I don’t remember you making such a fuss about Ma’s cooking before,” Mead said. “You just shoveled it in, gave a grunt of thanks, and were out the door.”
“Things change,” Morgan replied, giving the reins a snap and heading the wagon toward home. As much as he and the real Morgan seemed to resemble each other, there were bound to be differences and he had to be careful he didn’t do too many things that were out of character.
“I guess living on army rations has given me a new appreciation for home cooking,” Morgan offered as the team picked up speed.
“You’ve changed, Morg,” Mead said, looking his brother over as he absently rubbed his bad knee.
“How so?”
“I’m still pondering on it, but you’re different. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, just a sense that you’re not the same man you were. The old Morgan would have damn near killed me for even thinking about courting his woman, yet you don’t seem to care.”
“Do you love her?” Morgan asked, meeting Mead’s dark, thoughtful expression.
“I expect I do,” Mead admitted, “although at times I get the feeling that I don’t really know her and she gives me a lot more sass than she’d have dared to give you,” he sighed.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think she’ll make a good wife for you?”
“It’ll be interesting,” Mead laughed. “She can’t cook a lick and has been pretending she can for months.” His grin fading, he continued. “I just don’t understand how you could step aside so easily, and frankly, I think it’s bothering Lilly a little too.”
Morgan was quiet for a few minutes as he gathered his thoughts. Life was unpredictable at best. He didn’t want to make any mistakes at this point and he used his own experience as a basis for the missing Morgan.
“I had a couple of pretty bad injuries in the war, Mead. That changes a man, as you well know. Makes him assess what’s truly important to him, if anything. For a while, nothing was, important I mean. I didn’t care one way or the other whether I took my next breath. I guess if you really love a woman that would be enough to help you hang on, and carry on. It wasn’t with Lilly. Or with Cara, he realized.
Mead nodded and chewed over his brother’s words as they rode along in silence for a while. Resting his forearms on his thighs, Morgan held the reins loosely as he debated asking Mead some questions that were sure to raise his eyebrows. Finally, when they were only a mile or so from home, Morgan slowed the team and swiveled his gaze to his brother.
Clearing his throat, he broached the subject that was on his mind. “During the heaviest of the fighting, I took a blow to the head that’s left me confused about a few things,” Morgan began, his face heating up.
“Confused?” Mead asked. “What exactly are you confused about, Morg?”
“Well, it seems that Cole, um…disciplines…I mean spanks our sister,” Morgan stammered.
“Yeah, and?”
“I was wondering if that bothers you,” Morgan asked, clearing his throat.
“Hell no,” Mead replied with a snort. “Missy has always been cantankerous. With you gone, it fell to me to try and rein her in. Frankly, I was happy to have Cole take her off my hands. Why, what’s this all about? Do you think Cole is too hard on her?” Mead asked, suddenly uneasy.
“No, it’s not that. I just…well, Matthew mentioned something about you taking Lilly out to the barn after dinner the day I came home. He implied that you spanked her.”
“I did. She was rude and disrespectful in Ma’s house and I won’t tolerate that. I tanned her hide good for her. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Yes, but I was wondering how you did it?” Morgan asked, his face beet red.
Mead laughed a deep, rich sound and shoved his brother’s shoulder. “How do you think I did it?” he said, smiling. “I sat down on a bale of hay, pulled her over my knees, and had at it. Is there any other way?” he snorted, clearly stunned at the turn this conversation had taken.
“No, I guess not, I was just wondering if there was any…you know…protocol or rules regarding such things? Anything I should know before I…”
“Morgan, what is this about? You’ve probably swatted more naughty bottoms than any other man in three counties. Why would you need advice from me?”
“I don’t remember,” Morgan admitted.
“You don’t remember?” Mead asked, astonished. “That’s hardly the kind of thing a man’s likely to forget.”
“Maybe so, but I have forgotten, and if you don’t want to…”
“No, no, I’m just surprised is all. What do you need to know?” Mead offered, failing to keep the smile off his face.
