“Why, sure I will. Whatever you need Morgan, you just name it.”
“Remember the day you found me on the road?”
“Sure I do, you got throwed and…”
“Well, I want you to show me exactly where that was. Can you do that?”
“It was by the turn off to the Stanford place. You been by there plenty of times.”
“I need you to take me there,” Morgan insisted. “I know where it is,” he lied, “but I want you to show me exactly where you spotted me. I must have hit my head when the horse bolted and I’ve lost something very important. Can you do it?”
“Sure I can. Just let me throw on some clothes and saddle my horse.”
“Thanks,” Morgan said, sighing in relief as he walked back down the steps.
“Don’t you want some coffee, at least?”
“No, I’m kind of in a hurry and I need to get back to drive Ma to church. Tell Missy I appreciate the offer though.”
“Okay, I’ll be with you in two shakes.”
Climbing on his mount, Morgan shook his head. Cole seemed to be a good man, but if he thought he had problems with women, he should get a glimpse into the 21st century. Getting the vote was only the first step in women’s rights and that was a good thing in Morgan’s opinion. He also supported equal pay for equal work, a woman’s right to choose what happens within her body, and deplored violence against women.
On the other hand, there were a great many women who had mouths like a toilet bowl. They wore extremely revealing clothes and informed you that you were a disgusting pervert if you looked at them. If you offered advice, you were likely to be told to fuck off; they didn’t need a man to tell them what to do. The line of political correctness was getting narrow and a man had difficulty walking it. Multiple sexual partners made sexually transmitted disease a very real concern for all parties involved. Not that he’d ever worried about Cara. She rarely swore and sex was at the very bottom of her list of priorities. Her job consumed her and now that he was clear about what she was working on, he could understand why. Just being here was incredible. As a military man, he had to marvel at the possibilities.
Could men like Hitler, Mussolini, and Stalin be eliminated before they murdered millions of innocent people? Alerting the fleet to the imminent attack on Pearl Harbor would have given the US Navy time to prepare a much more suitable welcome for their uninvited guests and the retaliation would not have taken place, killing thousands of civilians in Japan. The twin towers might still be standing and all the lives lost in terrorists attacks saved. Presidents would not be assassinated. Who knew how the world could be changed.
Most likely, his younger brother would still be alive and probably his parents. Knowing what he knew now, he would not have married Cara. The challenge she presented and his obstinate nature set things in motion that should never have happened. He saw that now. She wasn’t right for him, had never been what he needed.
He’d been a natural born leader whether on the ball field or on the field of battle, and he’d led his men to their deaths. That would be the first thing he would change if he could. He would tell his commanding officer to kiss his ass and he’d trust his gut instincts. There would have been no ambush.
His need to guide and protect would have led him to a different sort of woman. Someone who would allow him to be the man he was born to be. Things in the 21st century had always seemed a little out of balance to him. Women didn’t have much respect for men in general, and he’d witnessed plenty of man-bashing in his life. Troy, one of his best friends, had a wife who delighted in humiliating him in public. Shelly would spend Troy’s money, embarrass and insult him, and laugh with her girlfriends about what a ‘pussy’ he was. When Morgan asked why he put up with it, Troy replied that he didn’t want to damage his career with a divorce. He had a mistress who treated him fairly well and he didn’t want to hurt his children. On the outside they presented as a wealthy, socially promising couple, but inside the walls of their home their lives were in tatters. Morgan wondered how Shelly would fair in the 1880’s, and if given the opportunity, would Troy teach his pretty wife some manners the old-fashioned way?
Shelly flirted shamelessly with any man over twenty and younger than sixty who crossed her path, including Morgan. More than once he would have liked to teach her a lesson himself. Unfortunately, blistering the ass of your friend’s wife was not acceptable unless they were into that sort of kink, and there was plenty of that in his time too, if you knew the right people or visited the right clubs.
There seemed to be simplicity in the life he was part of now. People worked and struggled, but there was a common belief in the way things were done. There were rules and consequences and acceptable behaviors that were expected. The proprieties were observed. Hell, there were even certain guidelines for spanking a misbehaving female, if what Mead told him was correct.
Neighbors knew each other by name and helped out where and when they could. The community accepted the dictates of society for the benefit of all, well, so far that seemed to be the case. All of them except Callie Mae, of course. She was something of a rebel, he thought with a grin, but an appealing one. He hoped she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew by bringing in the young women from St. Louis. From what he’d witnessed in town, the ladies weren’t particularly pleased with her and he wondered if people actually got tarred and feathered.
When Cole joined him, Morgan paid close attention to their location as they rode.
“This is it, Morg. You were standing right over there,” Cole said, pointing to a stand of trees. “What are you lookin’ for anyway? Want me to help you?”
“No, you better get on back and have your breakfast. I’m sure you’ve got chores to do before church. I’ll find my own way back and see you there. Thanks, Cole, I don’t know why I couldn’t remember exactly where it was.”
“Probably ‘cause you hit your head. I think I will get back. Missy was just mixin’ up a batch of apple fritters and if I hurry, they might still be warm. I’ll see you later.”
Morgan climbed down from his horse and waited for the dust in the road to clear before wandering further into the trees. Quickly, he located a small leather pouch and withdrew a metal container. Opening it, he took out one of several round metal discs before closing the tin and returning it to the bag. He then placed the bag in the crotch of the tree, out of sight. Walking back to his mount, he took a wrapped package out of his saddle bag and slid the disc under the covering. Placing the package in a small clearing, he returned to his horse. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself if someone should ride by, so he backed his horse further into the trees and waited.
It was early and even if Cara got the signal right away, she would have to drive the distance to the facility and get through security. Taking out his pocket watch, he noted the time. It was seven-thirty, and if something didn’t happen soon, he would have to leave and hope no one stumbled upon his missive. When he looked up, the package was gone.
Smiling, Morgan headed for home. If he hurried, he would have just enough time for breakfast and he could almost smell the ham, eggs, and cornbread Emma was sure to be cooking. Making a mental note to pay more attention to Emma’s recipes in case he did have to return to his own time, he sunk his heels into the horse’s side and urged him to pick up the pace.
CHAPTER 7
The service got much more interesting the moment Callie Mae Walker trooped into the church late, with her ‘girls’ in tow. There was quite a bit of gawking from the gentlemen and an equal amount of disdainful sniffing from the ladies as they raised their noses in the air and quickly looked away. Morgan smiled and shook his head before becoming very engrossed in his hymnal.
“Miss Walker,” Reverend Simms called from the pulpit. “I see you’ve brought some visitors with you today. Would you care to introduce them to the congregation?” he asked in his deep, booming voice.
