and kneading biscuit dough, she heard a knock at the kitchen door. Sensing the reverend might be needed, she dried her hands on her apron and opened the door. Morgan stood before her, hat in hand. She inwardly gasped.
“Good morning,” he said. “May I come in?”
Her gaze met his haunting stare. He would not see how her heart languished over the differences separating them. “Yes, of course. Is something wrong? Do I need to wake the reverend?”
He shifted from one foot to the other, clearly not the confident man she’d viewed in the past. “I came to see you.”
The logical side of her said to slam the door in his face.
“Please.” His clothes looked like he’d slept in them. “I have a few things to say.”
She moved from the door, and he stepped inside. “The coffee’s done, if you’d like a cup.” She determined to be pleasant.
“I could use something to get the cobwebs out of my head.”
Perhaps if you would answer my questions about Jenkins instead of leaving me to wonder.
He glanced about the kitchen while she poured the coffee. “Sure smells good. Would you like some help?”
“If that will make it easier for you to talk.”
“Remember the breakfast we had along the Green River?” he whispered.
She nodded, afraid to look at him. “You fished while I tried to figure out how I could get my guns back.” She picked up an extra apron.
He chuckled. “I had one eye on the fish and another one on you.”
How well she remembered that morning. “Would you like to break the eggs?” When he nodded, she tied the apron around his waist. Too close. She must not get this close. A longing to touch him crept through her, but she refused to give in. “The basket and bowl are sitting on the table.”
Morgan picked up an egg and tossed it in his palm. “I’m glad you’re still here. I was afraid you’d be gone before I got here.”
“I thought a lot about it, but for now I’m staying. What is it you want to say?” Her hand trembled.
“I make you nervous. You scare me to death, Cas—Shawne . . .” He hesitated and reached for her hand, but she drew it back. “I know my word is worthless. I can’t ask you to trust me when I haven’t given you any reason to. But I’m going to show you I’m a different man. Different from the one you met at your campsite in the mountains.”
Casey scrutinized every line on his face, afraid to believe him for fear of being hurt. “Trust you about what?”
“I’ve spent the night searching my soul for the right answers about you and me—and everything else. My mother frets over me when I should be taking care of her. I know what I am, and how I intimidate those I love. Grant is a fine man, but I can’t bring myself to tell him what an excellent job he’s doing with the ranch. Instead, I treat him like a schoolboy and criticize every one of his decisions.” He broke the egg into the bowl. “He runs the ranch better than I ever did. And poor Bonnie, I won’t let her grow up either. They need much more from me than they’re getting.”
He whirled around to face her. His jaw tightened. “I’m rambling on like a schoolboy. I’ve asked God to forgive me. Only He can mold me into a man of peace and integrity.” He picked up another egg. “Then there’s you and me.”
“I’m not a part of your life.” She cut perfectly rounded pieces of biscuit dough and placed them on a pan bathed in melted lard. If she dared to catch a glimpse of him, she’d relive the tears from the night before.
“But you are, whether you want to be or not. I want to help clear your name.”
The mere words caused her to shake. “How?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
She caught her breath. A hundred thoughts played through her mind. Why would a lawyer track down Jenkins? Best she keep that question to herself since her face was on so many wanted posters. “I never took you for a lawyer.” She shrugged. “Bounty hunter or lawman sounds reasonable. Besides, I don’t have the money to pay you.”
“I’m not asking for payment.”
“That’s the only way it can be.”
He peered into her face, then managed a laugh. “I think I’ve met my match. This bounty hunter, lawman, lawyer will name his price.”