“I’m sure it will all work out, Misfit. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“Humph, Misfit, you know I hate that name,” she said with a huff, “I’ll let it go today ‘cause I’ve missed you so much, but I don’t want that to start up again. It wasn’t until I married Cole that people finally stopped calling me that, no thanks to you.”
Morgan had no idea where that nickname had come from. It just seemed to fit her and popped out of his mouth without him giving it a thought. Good thing it was familiar to her or it might have caused a problem. So, he had two brothers, Mead and Matthew. Just the name caused his throat to tighten in grief. He wondered if this Matthew would be anything like the brother he’d already lost. His ‘mother’ was still alive, but his ‘father’ had passed and apparently he, Morgan, had a thing for Lilly, who was now seeing his ‘brother’, Mead. It was a lot to take in and he hoped he could keep it all straight in his head.
“Have you thought any about what you want to do, now that you’re home?” Missy asked. “I guess that’s a silly question,” she admitted, sadly. “You probably had all kinds of time to think while you were gone.”
“Umm, yeah I did,” Morgan replied. “For a while I wasn’t sure I would make it out of there alive,” he embellished, his mind going back to his last deployment. “I guess I’ll have to find some kind of work.”
“I hope you’ll spend a few days with Ma before you go off again, Morgan. She’s missed you something awful. Cole and I have been hoping that once Mead and Lilly get, I mean if they get married, they’ll move in with Ma so she won’t be alone,” she said, peeking at Morgan from beneath her lashes. Morgan could tell she was hoping she hadn’t hurt his feelings by mentioning the marriage.
“Where’s Matthew living?” Morgan asked, resting his foot on the front board of the wagon and studying his boots.
“Matt’s there, but he’s almost never home. Spends his free time, when he’s not tending the farm, down at The Duchess. If he’s not there, he chasing everything in skirts this side of the Missouri.” From the tone of her voice, Morgan could tell she was clearly disgusted.
“The Duchess?” Morgan asked, hoping it wasn’t something he should already know about.
“Yes,” Missy replied, elbowing Cole as he snorted. “Remember Callie Mae Walker, the preacher’s daughter from over in Sully’s Bend? Well, she got in a big fight with her pa, something about him wanting her to marry a man from Wichita, as her pa’s health is failing. Callie Mae sent a wire off to her grandma back east and her grandma sent her money to buy her own business. Said a woman ought to be able to support herself and make her own choices. Can you imagine that?” she asked, clutching Morgan’s arm.
“So what does that have to do with The Duchess?” he asked curiously.
“Why, she bought herself a saloon,” she said laughing. “Had ‘The Duchess’ painted across the front in big gold letters! Her pa about had an apoplectic fit, got all the ladies in town to picket her, but Callie Mae just smiled and waved all those cowboys on in. The gossip is she’s doing quite well, but they say she’s taken to wearing a little gun in her garter,” she continued with a whisper. “There’s also talk she’s planning on bringing in some ‘fancy ladies’ from St. Louis,” she finished, blushing wildly.
Cole shook his head. “Now, Missy,” he scolded. “Wasn’t today’s sermon about the ninth commandment? I think gossipin’ falls into that somewhere.”
“I am not bearing false witness,” she gasped. “I have it on good authority that she does carry a gun for…”
“Missy!”
“Oh, all right,” she snapped, straightening her skirts and avoiding her husband’s eyes.
Morgan didn’t think the good-natured Cole had a stern bone in his body; apparently he’d been wrong, because Missy dropped the subject and was quiet as they pulled off the road and started up a series of small hills.
Turning his head and looking off in the distance, Morgan smiled. The warning in Cole’s tone as he spoke to his wife was enough to have her rethinking her behavior. In Morgan’s world, the woman would have told her husband to ‘fuck off’ or ‘kiss her ass’, but right here, right now, she was closing her mouth and minding her husband. Amazing what a little spanking could do to make a marriage more pleasant and congenial. He had a feeling he was going to like it here and one thing he knew for sure: he had a lot more interest in meeting Callie Mae Walker, than he did in meeting Miss Lillian.
CHAPTER 3
From the parlor Emma Whittaker heard the wagon coming up the drive, the jingling of chains and the faint sounds of conversation. Missy and Cole were late, as usual. Her son-in-law was known to dally on a fine sunny day. Moving out onto the front porch she watched them approach, her eyes straining to see who else was with them. Clearly, they’d brought a guest but she couldn’t make out who it was. It didn’t matter, she thought, wiping her hands on her apron. There was plenty of food ready and waiting. Another mouth wouldn’t make a difference and she was used to feeding a hot meal to strangers passing through. Cole must have picked one up along the way. Perhaps it was a neighbor who’d had trouble on the road.
The wagon drew closer. There was a man with them, one who seemed strangely familiar even from a distance. Her heart skipped a beat and she placed a hand on her chest. She forced herself to calm down. For years she’d stood in this same spot, hoping and praying each time that the man riding up the drive would be her Morgan. Each time she’d been disappointed, but something felt different today. Today the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Today her hands trembled and she gripped her apron tightly to steady them.
Anxiously she went down the steps. The man tipped his head to look at Missy. For the briefest moment the sun caught his face and Emma saw his jaw line. Then she knew, knew with one hundred percent certainty that her prayers had finally been answered. With tears streaming down her face, she ran toward the son she’d feared she would never see again.
“Morgan, Morgan, I knew it was you,” she’d cried, clasping him to her as soon as his feet hit the dirt. “Oh, you don’t know how hard I’ve prayed for this day and now the good Lord has seen fit to answer. I wish your Pa was here to see you.” She wept as she took his face in her hands and studied it.
Holding her frail body in his strong arms, his hand stroked her silver hair in awe. The love she felt for her son was unnerving, and he was both embarrassed to be receiving something he wasn’t entitled to and enthralled by how good it felt.
He held her for what seemed like a long time until she stepped away and dabbed the rest of her tears with her handkerchief.
“Let me look at you. Are you all right? Did you get hurt?”
“No, Ma. I’m fine; I’m no worse for the wear.”
“Well, thank the Lord for that. Come on inside, supper’s almost ready. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, and I think you and Mead have some things to discuss.”
“I know, Ma. Cole told me on the ride here.”
Lilly was standing just inside. She was lovely, small and delicate with thick dark hair pulled back and swept into some kind of bun. Her dress was dark pink, the same color as her cheeks as he took her hand and patted it reassuringly. She kept her eyes lowered, whether in embarrassment or shame he wasn’t sure, but he immediately tried to put her at ease when he entered the parlor.
