Leather and Lace (23 page)

“Murder, train robbery—a whole list of things. You’ve seen the wanted posters.”

Leroy whipped his gaze around the drab room. “She ain’t never done nothin’, at least not while I rode with Jenkins.”

“What did she do for the gang?” Morgan’s implication startled her. A surge of anger trailed up her spine. What did he mean by that?

“I thought you wanted a pardon for her,” Leroy said.

“I do, but I have to know what she did do for Jenkins.”

Morgan, didn’t you believe me? The old hurt caused her to ache all over. Surely he had a reason for this.

“Just like I said, nothin’. Most times she just rode with us, so’s folks would see her with all that purdy hair and face. Jenkins liked that, ’cause he claimed she was his. But when it came to jobs, she refused to help. Why, she stayed back at the camp most times unless Jenkins was in a fit. Then he made her ride along to watch the horses or somethin’ like that. Miss Casey was a good girl, yes sirree. She never shot nobody or stole nothin’. All she did was bandage us up and cook.” Leroy stared at Morgan triumphantly. “So if you’re figgerin’ to get me to say somethin’ bad about her, forget it. I’m no fool, Andrews. You’re trying to get her in prison, too—or hung.”

Morgan shook his head and tilted back his hat. “I can’t trick you, can I? I have a hard time believing a woman riding with Davis Jenkins all those years wouldn’t earn her keep, but of course she was Jenkins’s woman.”

She clutched her hands tightly in her lap. She desperately wanted to believe Morgan had a good reason for the questioning. Later she’d find out why. Now she needed Leroy’s statement.

Contempt spread over Leroy’s face. “Jenkins just thought he owned her, but I knew better. She hated him.”

“Would you be willing to write a letter stating what you just told me?” Morgan said.

Bless you, Morgan. I’m so sorry.

“I don’t read or write good.”

“The guard will write down what you say, word for word. Then he’ll read it back to you. You can make a mark, and he’ll witness it.”

“Got it all figured out, don’t you?”

“I meant what I said. I’ll tell the warden you helped me. He’s already assured me of recommending parole,” Morgan said.

Leroy swung his attention toward her. “Ma’am, I don’t know what you see in this lawyer, but if I were you, I’d stay away from the likes of him.”

Thank you, Leroy.

A short while later, Casey and Morgan took in the fresh, fragrant air of a California winter day. For a while, she thought the stagnant smell of the prison had penetrated her whole body. And Leroy Wilson—she’d forgotten how he never bathed. But right now she could kiss him.

“I’m sorry about the questioning,” Morgan said. “We simply needed additional character references. He hates me for a good reason, and he got a full measure of my bitterness.” He paused. “I made sure he got a stiff sentence. At the time I felt hanging was too good for any of Jenkins’s gang. I wanted them to suffer . . . for Kathleen.” He patted her hand. “But yesterday’s gone. We have today and all the tomorrows we’re allowed.”

The sun seemed to shine a bit brighter, or maybe it was God’s blessings illuminating their souls. Morgan whistled a nondescript tune while they walked to the ferry that would take them across the bay to San Francisco. There, Jocelyn waited at a hotel. Casey leaned into his strong shoulder. “I admit I was ready to come after you myself. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset without waiting for an explanation. You were wonderful.”

He chuckled. “Wonderful, huh? I thought you might tear me apart right in front of Leroy and the guard.”

She smiled. “I strongly considered it. Fought it really hard.”

He planted a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll wade through this mess, and it will be worth it.”

“I can’t wait to tell your mother.”

“Yes, ma’am, anything for my lady.”

The train ride back to Kahlerville proved uncomfortable. The black soot settled upon their clothes, and the food tasted terrible. But for Casey, it was a time of victory. With Leroy’s testimony safely tucked in Morgan’s satchel, she had hope.

“I think we’re having an early Christmas,” Morgan said one morning midway through the journey home. “I think we celebrated early.”

“I agree,” Jocelyn said. “I’m anxious to get back home and start baking, but what you two received from Mr. Wilson is the finest gift.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Morgan turned to Casey and gathered up her gloved hand. “I wanted a Christmas wedding, like the reverend suggested, but I guess I’ll have to wait.”

Casey felt her pulse race, not in anticipation of the wedding, but in eagerness for all the legal matters to be over. Perhaps someday she’d busy herself with thoughts about Christmas baking, gifts, and family celebrations. But not yet.

The few days before Christmas brought a chill to the morning, and sometimes the crispness lasted all day. The difference in the weather left a feeling of expectation in the air. Or perhaps it was the time of year. Casey realized so many things in her life were about to change. She wasn’t convinced the changes would be for the best, but for now she’d celebrate all those blessings that God had given.

Sarah grew worse. Every day that ticked by drew her closer to the end. Casey prayed she would not pass away before Christmas. Just a few more days, Lord. Let her have this one last Christmas with the reverend.

Casey pasted on a smile and looked for things to brighten the ill woman’s day. She made sugar cookies and let the smell waft through the house, although dear Sarah could not eat even one. The reverend spent more time in his wife’s bedroom. Every day the lines in his face increased.

Morgan had decided to wait until after January 1 to visit Governor Ireland. She realized Morgan knew best, but each day that passed chiseled away at her hope.

Christmas arrived quietly at the parsonage. The reverend and Casey had decided that Sarah needed rest and that an abundance of celebration and visitors would only weaken her.

“It’s enough for me to have Sarah this last holiday,” the reverend said at Sarah’s bedside. “God blessed me with this extra time to share the celebration of Jesus’ birth with my precious wife, and I refuse to leave her side today.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Sarah said. “I’m being selfish, but I can’t think of anything better than you right here with me.” She leaned back against the pillow, her hair pinned properly and her face a beacon of light.

“I want to prepare a good dinner for you,” Casey said. “I’ll bring it upstairs as soon as it’s ready.”

“No pumpkin pie for me,” Sarah said with upturned lips. “Often wished I liked it, but never acquired a taste for it. John here loves it. ‘Pumpkin pies and roasted pumpkin seeds make my day,’ he always said.” She smiled up into his face. Her skin looked and felt like paper. “Tell her, John,” she said.

“We do have something for you,” the reverend said.

Casey shook her head. “It’s not necessary at all.”

“I know, but Sarah and I decided upon this some time ago.” He excused himself and brought her a fairly large package wrapped in brown paper and tied with red cotton ribbon.

“I’ve never had a gift this large for Christmas.” She glanced into his face. “In fact, I haven’t celebrated this time of year since I was a little girl.” She swallowed a lump. “I’m getting more like a woman every day.”

The reverend laughed, and Sarah smiled. Casey immediately set the package down on the rocker and touched Sarah’s cheek. She bent and kissed the woman. “Merry Christmas, Sarah. I love you.”

“And we love you.” Sarah’s eyes sparkled as though all of heaven radiated through them.

Feeling a bit giddy, Casey opened the package. She gasped. A dress, a beautiful green velvet dress fit for a queen. “This—this dress was featured in the newspaper.” Her gaze flew to Sarah. “The day I told you about my past.”

“Indeed it was,” Sarah said.

“But it’s so expensive.” Casey smoothed her fingers over the fine fabric. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

“But we wanted to,” the reverend said. “You are like one of our children, and this is a small token of our devotion.”

Casey lifted it from the package and held it up to herself. “I don’t know when I will ever be able to wear something so fine.”

The reverend chuckled. “If you would ever say yes to Morgan, I imagine he might take you someplace fancy after the wedding.”

She didn’t breathe a word of the misgivings mounting in her mind about marrying Morgan. This was a day of celebration, and she would not spoil it. “I have something for each of you.” She excused herself to retrieve the small gifts from her room. For Sarah she had a shawl that Jocelyn had helped her crochet, and for the reverend she had handkerchiefs embroidered with his initials, also with the help of Jocelyn.

In the middle of the afternoon, Morgan arrived bringing gifts from the Double H. The two sat in the parlor, side by side on the sofa. The clock in the hallway ticked away peacefully, as though blessing their time together.

“Is your tree beautiful?” she said, feeling a twinge of regret for not being a part of the festivities.

“Nearly touches the ceiling,” Morgan said. “Yesterday Grant and I took the wagon and found it. Took us a couple of hours because we couldn’t agree.” He laughed. “Anyway, Mama and Bonnie brought out the decorations, and Grant and I strung popcorn.”

“How much popcorn did you eat?” Casey could almost smell it.

“More than we strung.” He sobered and brushed a wayward curl from her face. “Sure wish you could have been there. We all missed you.”

“Me, too, but I need to be here. Besides, I don’t think it would be a good idea with Ben enjoying the day with Bonnie. There will be plenty of other Christmases for me to share with friends and family.” She tried to envision the decorated ranch house. “I have gifts for you to take back.” She nodded toward a basket on a table near them. “I baked a few things, and there are some jellies and jams.” She took a breath. “And I have a little item for you.”

Morgan rubbed his palms together. “Is it a year’s supply of kisses?”

She glanced at him before standing from the sofa. “Not exactly.” She reached among the gifts and handed him his.

He opened it slowly, not at all like she expected. She watched his face, hoping to see a favorable response.

“A journal,” he said and turned the book over in his hand. His features lost all manner of teasing. “This is perfect, Casey. I needed one of these to record these—these days of securing your freedom. Thank you.”

She nearly wept. He was obviously moved by her choice, and it pleased her very much.

“Now, my turn,” he said a few moments later.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small box.

Casey stared at it and then at him. Please don’t propose marriage now, Morgan. I can’t give you the answer you desire, and I don’t want to spoil Christmas.

“Go ahead and open it,” he said.

Casey lifted the lid of the box to see a delicately carved gold and ivory broach. It nearly took her breath away. “Morgan, it’s beautiful.”

He smiled. “I found this in San Francisco. Remember when you and Mama rested at the hotel?”

She nodded. He said he’d gone for a walk. “Thank you so much.”

He sighed as though relieved that she was pleased. “I knew the reverend and Sarah had given you a dress, and I wanted you to have something special to go with it.”

“Perfect,” she said, brushing her fingertips across the broach.

“But you are my real gift.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her lightly, his lips tasting of the peppermint candy from a bowl in the hallway. The sweetness reminded her of what life with Morgan might be like. If only she weren’t so afraid.

On January 2, Morgan left for Austin to see Governor Ireland. Casey should have been excited. Instead, worry knitted her insides. She wanted it finished. Now. The three days Morgan was gone seemed like forever, but when he did return, the wait continued.

Marriage. Morgan brought up the subject so often that she hated to see their conversation veering toward his love for her. She used to look forward to his visits. When did her love for him turn into such agony? When she remembered how Jenkins hurt her.

In the evenings when Sarah drifted off to sleep and Casey had the remaining hours to herself, Morgan arrived at the parsonage. She believed he stood outside in the street and waited for her to blow out the lamp in Sarah’s bedroom. Night after night, his pattern continued. Many times she wished the reverend would stay seated with them in the parlor, but he always excused himself to his study after a brief conversation. This particular evening, she sensed a lighter mood about Morgan the moment she opened the door. Maybe he wouldn’t mention marriage tonight.

“I have a surprise for you.” He closed the door behind him. He grinned, and the way he rubbed his palms together made her wonder what had happened.

“From the look on your face, you’d better tell me soon before you burst.”

“Evenin’, Morgan,” the reverend said. “Did you have a good day?”

“A busy one, which is good,” he said. “I saw you this afternoon coming from the barbershop. Thought about inviting you to my office, but a couple of ladies stopped you.”

The reverend chuckled. “I needed rescuing. Did you want to discuss something?”

“Just to talk a spell,” Morgan said.

“Here I thought you and Shawne had set a date. Sarah’d love to hear that.”

Casey hadn’t thought of Sarah wanting to see them marry. How could she ever disappoint her dear friend? But she couldn’t face getting married.

“You’ll be one of the first to know.” Morgan wrapped his arm around Casey’s waist. “Soon, I’m sure.”

Casey forced a smile. “Things need to calm down around here first.”

The reverend sobered. “I understand. Hard to set up housekeeping with all this upheaval. Glad I started calling you Shawne right from the start. Seems like I look twice at every man who enters town. Want to make sure it’s not a stranger.”

Her smile this time was genuine. “Thank you. We should have word any day.” She turned to Morgan. “Right?”

“Well, I did receive a letter this afternoon.”

She gasped. “From Governor Ireland?”

“Possibly.”

“I’m leaving you alone.” The reverend laughed. “This sounds like something just the two of you need to share.”

Morgan took her hand and led her into the parlor. She trembled from the excitement. He moved one of the cream-covered lace pillows and sat on the sofa. Her heart pounded and her pulse raced. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from inside his coat pocket.

“Is it good news?” A fluttering in her stomach reminded her of butterflies—hatching.

“What do you think?” he said. “Do you honestly believe I would interrupt your evening if I didn’t have good news?” He shrugged. “Of course, I interrupt most evenings.”

Casey tried to ignore the anxiousness rippling through her body. “Morgan, I can’t wait much longer. Please read it to me.”

“I have two items to report.”

She held her breath.

“Can I have a kiss first?”

She leaned over and lightly touched her lips to his. “Please.” She immediately caught her cross words in midair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “This is important to both of us, and I’m teasing. First, I found my old marriage records from Billings that place me there the same day the land office was robbed. So the records seal my testimony. And this letter came.” He opened the folded piece of paper. “Would you like to read it?” He handed her the paper.

She pushed it back to him. “No. You do it. I’m too nervous.”

“To tell you the truth, I have it nearly memorized. Governor Ireland has taken into consideration all the documents we presented. He deliberated over them for several days before making a decision. With your willingness to reveal confidential information about the outlaws, he has agreed to drop all charges against you in the state of Texas.”

Casey laughed and cried at the same time. “I can’t believe it finally happened. And this means I won’t be wanted for any crimes in this state?”

Morgan nodded. “I didn’t want to bring this up before, but the problem lies in the alleged crimes from other states. You could still be forced to stand trial for each charge. By law, a state has a legal right to demand extradition. In other words, a state has the right to demand that you be turned over to them.”

“If they find me.” That thought brought little comfort even in light of the pardon.

He picked up her hand. “Understand once the word is out about your pardon, lawmen from all over will be swarming like angry bees to find you.”

“But I don’t understand. I’m willing to work with them.” Melancholia welled up inside her. Had Governor Ireland’s pardon made matters worse?

“The governor knows this and recommends we take your file to President Arthur as soon as possible. A meeting has been arranged with you and a federal marshal. A marshal is due here in three weeks. The governor feels we will be successful in receiving a full pardon from the President with your willingness to give information.”

She shivered. “I wanted the opportunity to help. I prayed for this. But I’m afraid for you, your family, and our friends. I know it’s selfish, but I’m afraid for myself.”

He lightly squeezed her hand and looked into her face. “Not if this is handled properly.”

“Do you think meeting with the federal marshal is a better way than standing trial for each accusation?”

“Definitely. Standing trial and casting your fate upon a jury is like throwing dice. Who knows what kind of mood they’d be in or who may have bribed them? The whole thing could last months, even years. This way, the marshal can hear your sincerity. He will already have viewed the testimonial letters. Also, he won’t have any idea you live in Kahlerville. I’d prefer you lead your conversation toward whereabouts in another part of Texas. I don’t want you to lie. Just not offer every bit of information.” He paused. “I want to protect you, so don’t say anything that could be twisted and used against you unless you’re asked specific questions.”

“I understand.” She sensed warmth rise from her neck to her cheeks. This had to work.

“When this is over, you’ll have a clean record with the law. You’ll be a free woman.”

The mere thought of freedom tempted her enough to do anything the President or the governor or the federal marshals asked of her. Morgan slipped his arm around her shoulders as though he read the many thoughts racing through her mind.

“Will Ben’s effort to help me look like he kept an outlaw from being exposed?”

“Not at all. Ben’s reputation for keeping the law in this part of the state cannot be disputed. He’s highly respected.”

“Then Jenkins will be the only one left,” she said. “My last battle.”

*****

The next day, Sarah showed signs of improving. She sat in bed propped up with pillows and talked clearly of days gone by. She arranged her funeral while her husband took careful notes and wrote letters to their children and grandchildren. Her funeral would be a homecoming, a celebration of life rather than an ending.

With her renewed strength, Sarah saw an immediate urgency to have things done. The plants needed their leaves cleansed with milk, and Casey hurried to complete the job. A new family within the congregation needed a visit, so the reverend saddled his horse and paid them a call. Countless other tasks were completed to Sarah’s satisfaction, and still she had more for them to do. She made a list of those who needed food and clothing. Her bed was covered with books and papers while laughter poured from her very soul. She ate with an appetite not seen since the past spring. A time of rejoicing rang through the parsonage.

Sarah stared longingly outside and questioned the condition of her roses. In a few more months they’d need pruning. Did Casey know how to do that? Perhaps tomorrow she’d feel well enough to sit outside wrapped in a blanket.

After a restful night, Sarah woke cheerful and alert. She shooed the reverend out of the bedroom and on to his church responsibilities. “Your work is lagging because of tending to me. Go on and get caught up.”

About midmorning, Casey detected a change in Sarah’s physical and mental disposition. A certain sadness or longing prevailed in Sarah.

“Is something wrong? Are you in pain?” She touched Sarah’s pale cheek, but she was cool.

“Not in pain. I just have a yearning to go home.” Her weak smile was little comfort.

Casey caught her breath. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

“Yes, I believe so. I felt strange yesterday, and this morning the urgency is still with me. I’m content in Jesus’ presence. I feel Him all around me saying it’s time to go home, and I’m ready.”

Casey knelt at Sarah’s bedside and took the woman’s withered white hand into her own. Now she understood the surge of renewal from the previous day. She’d seen it in the dying before. But she hated to let Sarah go. The dear woman stood for all that was good and genuine in this world. “Are you sure?”

“Precious girl, I’m so tired, and I do want to see Jesus. Angels were here around my bed last night. They’re still here waiting for His word to carry me home.” Sarah’s gaze swept all around the room before resting again on Casey’s face. “Oh, I feel such peace. I wish I could describe it.”

“Should I go fetch the reverend?” Casey wanted to weep, but the joy in Sarah’s pale face refreshed her.

“Not yet. I want to spare him all the heartache I possibly can. This will come as a blessing. And for John, I want my death to be swift. When it’s all over, he can go on with his life and his ministry. The relief and strain of caring for me will be gone. I’m so glad I said good-bye to the children in October. Everything is finished.” She rose slightly from the pillow. Some of her white hair slipped from her bun. “I worry about you, dear. Some things aren’t resolved, are they?”

Casey tilted her head. She realized Sarah could see through any falsehood. “Do you mean the legal matters?”

“I mean with Morgan.” She laughed lightly. “Don’t you know by now that you can’t keep anything from me?”

Casey refused to burden Sarah with her own turmoil. “Morgan loves me and wants to marry me.”

“And what is wrong with that? Don’t you love him?”

“Oh yes, Sarah. I’ve loved him since the beginning.” Casey smiled and kissed her cheek. “You shouldn’t be fretting over me. I’m fine.”

“If you truly love him, why are you so unhappy?”

Silence filled the room.

“I don’t know how to put my feelings into words,” Casey finally said. “I feel so selfish discussing myself.”

“But you must talk to me. This is the old woman who loves you so very much.”

Casey hesitated a moment more. “I don’t trust him. I’m afraid his wildness and bad temperament will return. And marriage frightens me. This is hard to explain. It’s uncomfortable for me to talk about things that a good woman like you would find unpleasant. Jenkins hurt me in the way only a man can hurt a woman.”

“I understand without you explaining more. Any woman would be afraid of what marriage requires after an experience like that. Has Morgan given you reasons to doubt him?” Sarah reached for her hand.

“No. Since he told me what happened to his wife, he hasn’t lost his temper or done anything to make me think otherwise. But I keep waiting for his temper to flare up, and I’m afraid of marriage. So I’m always . . . prepared for the worst. Sometimes I want to touch him or tell him how much I do love him, but I’m afraid. I hate those awful moments.”

“You’re protecting yourself,” Sarah concluded and closed her eyes.

“Let’s not talk of this. You need your strength.”

With her eyes still closed, Sarah offered a weak laugh. “I will soon be dancing in heaven, but I can’t leave until I feel you’re going to be all right.”

“You are such a loving, beautiful lady,” Casey said. “I don’t know what to do but pray about the situation with Morgan. I can’t marry him with unsure feelings, and I’ve put him off until the legal matters are settled. I could insist Jenkins be found. But what then?”

“You’re right in not marrying him until you’re certain. If the Lord wants you to marry, He will tell you if Morgan is the right man. Just listen for the quiet voice of God. Sometimes we are so busy praying that we forget to hush and simply let Him speak.” Sarah moistened her lips and took a labored breath.

Casey fussed with the quilt around Sarah’s neck. “Please just rest now. You can talk to me later.”

Sarah shook her head. “There may not be a later. Sweet girl, remember this. It’s our nature to fail. Morgan will disappoint you from time to time, as you will him. He cannot be perfect, but will he try? There lies your answer, and only you can know his heart.” The last of her words came between gasps.

Casey leaned over and tearfully kissed her pale cheek. “I love you, Sarah, and I will miss you. You’ve been my mother and my friend. If I live a hundred years, I’ll never be able to replace you.”

The day progressed slowly, and the older woman’s anguish heightened. She refused to suppress the incessant pain, and her strength wavered. When the supper hour approached, she asked for the reverend. Before the parlor clock struck seven, Sarah died, cradled in the arms of her husband.

Kahlerville had lost a fine woman of God.

The day of Sarah’s funeral dawned cool and sunny, just as Sarah would have wanted. The church and yard were filled with people who loved her and were not ready to let her go. Many folks had stories to tell of her goodness, and the accountings were told well into the night.

Casey wanted to save her grieving for the quiet solitude of her room. She needed to be strong and help comfort those who mourned Sarah’s death. But in spite of her resolve, she felt a flood of her own tears. The death had been inevitable. Since the moment Casey agreed to nurse Sarah, the outcome had never been in doubt. Yet reality rarely found folks prepared.