to hear.” His hand lingered on her cheek. “So what do I get first?”
Casey sighed. “Coffee, cobbler, and then a hug.”
“Wonderful. Are you bringing it out here, or am I permitted to come inside?”
“Inside, Mr. Andrews. Let’s not give anyone a thing to gossip about, and let me remind you that your mother and sister are in the house.”
Once the back door closed behind them, Morgan reached into the bucket of water that she’d used to water plants and splashed her. She reached into a pan of water that she planned to use for cleaning and splashed him back. For the moment, she relished in their game and pushed aside Sarah’s death and all of her misgivings.
“Would you two please settle down?” Jocelyn called from the upstairs. “The neighbors will wonder what y’all are doing.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Morgan said. “Your favorite Shawne won’t let me work.”
“Me?” Casey covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “Your son is pestering the life out of me.”
“You two are worse than a couple of kids,” his mother called.
“I agree,” Bonnie said. “Mama needs to take you to the woodshed.”
Morgan shook his finger at her. “See what you’ve caused.”
If only these wonderful times would last. “All right, I’ll give in this time.”
After she served the cobbler and a light kiss was given to sweeten his coffee, Morgan grasped her hand. “I want to make you laugh like this every day for the rest of our lives.”
And she knew he did, but a lump in her throat the size of the Double H refused to let her utter another word.
*****
Casey slept little over the next week. The meeting with the federal marshal consumed her. Her appetite vanished, and she fought hard not to tear into her friends like some wildcat. She needed logic rather than worries to rule her mind.
The federal marshal could decide that her information was no better than what they already had in their possession. Another outlaw could have offered the same deal. A hundred things jumped in and out of her musings, and none of them were good. The what-ifs curved and turned with every fleeting thought. Her accountings of events and people might not be enough to sway the President of the United States. The man in charge of the country had many critical matters before him. Her request might appear insignificant or troublesome. Casey had never believed in fairy tales or grandiose ideals, and she didn’t intend to start now. But she prayed for a miracle.
Chapter 30
Casey faced the day of the meeting with the federal marshal with a mixture of dread and expectation. For months this meeting had been what she wanted most. But a twinge of fear twisted at her insides. She could walk away with the hope of the president pardoning her or be handcuffed and face a hanging. Fear wrapped its cloak about her, and she fought the urge to run.
Morgan arranged the meeting at an abandoned ranch house about five miles west of Kahlerville—away from those folks who knew her. There, questions and answers would determine her fate.
Casey took great pains in dressing. She didn’t want to appear like a member of the ladies’ aid society. Neither did she want to look like she’d just ridden in off the plains—or stepped out of a brothel. After much thought, she chose a simple brown street dress with a waist-to-foot inset of cream and brown print, which she had often worn to church. She tucked her unruly hair into a chignon at the back of her head and selected a dark brown hat trimmed in cream and green ribbon. The costume also gave the impression that she’d traveled some distance to Kahlerville to meet with the federal marshal.
She read through notes she’d carefully penned about various outlaws. Not knowing what might be asked of her, she fretted over the information. I could ride to the border and live out my days in Mexico.
A whisper of an ambush rode the wind, a trap set by the federal marshal to lure her into their jurisdiction. She wished she knew more about the law. She wished she knew more about far too many things. Was she properly prepared for the upcoming ordeal? Had she dressed so Morgan would be pleased?
Run, you fool. You’ll hang.
Just when she began to doubt, she realized the tiny voice shaking her resolve had not come from God. I can do this or I will die trying. Living a lie is no life at all.