Once outside, she managed to pull herself up onto his saddle. The outlaw climbed up behind her and drew her to him. His touch brought back too many memories—the many nights she’d slept with her Colt beneath her blanket and her fingers wrapped around a knife. The nights he’d wrenched the weapons from her and used her until he was satisfied.
He cursed and threatened those inside who might venture out after them. He took a quick look around and spurred his horse into a dead run. Casey saw a couple of ranch hands emerge from the bunkhouse and shout at the two as they raced away. Jenkins whirled around with an explosion of lead. She couldn’t tell if any of them were hit, but she prayed for their safety.
At first she had no idea where they were headed, but it soon became clear just where Jenkins planned to take her. They were riding in the direction of Morgan’s cabin.
This can’t be. Morgan will go mad. This can’t happen to him again.
She prayed for wisdom. Jenkins had wanted her once. “We can ride together again,” she said. “It can be just like you want it.”
He tightened his grip around her waist until she choked back a scream. She’d do anything to spare Morgan the horror of finding her dead in the cabin. Anything.
*****
“I’m ashamed of myself, Reverend.” Morgan paced the kitchen of the parsonage. “A rider brought Casey’s pardon late last night. I wanted to tell her this morning, but she left church before I had a chance to talk to her. I know I have to accept whatever she says about us, and that has my insides feeling like curdled milk. Guess I needed to talk to you before I head out to the ranch.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve really gotten prideful about this. I should have chased her down this morning. She’s waited too long to be free.”
“You’re being honest. I’ve seen her the past few months in church, staring back at me as though she wanted to cry.”
Morgan crossed his arms and stopped in front of the window. He remembered all the times when Casey had been afraid of him. “I think I ruined it between us, and it’s my fault. I shoved my bad temperament at her one too many times. Mama reminded me that she’s never known a decent man. No wonder she’s afraid to trust.”
The reverend stood beside him. “I’ll be praying you two will be rejoicing with the good news.”
“We both worked so hard on this pardon.” He turned from the window. “Lots of folks did. I think I’ll head back to the boardinghouse and get a clean shirt.”
“Facing our problems is the best way to solve them. If you two make it to church tonight, I won’t ask you about my sermon. Something tells me you’d have a hard time concentrating.”
“Maybe so, but I need to listen more instead of stepping into life each morning like a stubborn mule.”
The two said their good-byes, and Morgan made his way down the street to the boardinghouse. He thought about how he missed the ranch. Even the bunkhouse was more homelike than his room here. The proprietor waved at him.
“I have a note for you from Miss Flanagan. It’s under your door.”
Taking two steps at a time up the stairs, Morgan rushed down the hall to his room. He opened the door and snatched up the folded piece of paper. With the door open, he read each word, then read it again. He shut the door with his boot. “Thank You, Lord!” His words bounced from the walls inside his small room. In two minutes, he had on a clean shirt. Cramming the note inside his shirt pocket, he grabbed his hat.
At the livery, he saddled his horse, all the while frustration creeping through him. He couldn’t get to the ranch fast enough. But as he swung up onto the saddle, Ben walked in.
“Morgan, we need to talk.”
“I’m in a hurry. Need to ride out to the ranch.”
“There’s trouble.”
Alarm sounded through Morgan’s body. “What do you mean?”
Ben made his way closer. “Tim O’Hare was seen earlier this morning riding toward your land. He was alone. But what about Jenkins?”
*****
In all of Casey’s days at the ranch, she’d never been this close to the cabin—the scene of Kathleen’s murder. Morgan wanted to burn it to the ground, but it was also the cabin his father had