or at the boardinghouse eating breakfast, Morgan sought out the owner of the newspaper. The sound of the printing press and the smell of the machine reminded him of the constitution’s guarantee of freedom of speech.
“Mornin’, Thomas. I see you’re getting the news out.”
Thomas lifted his gaze from the typeset. A wide grin spread over the man’s face, and he reached out to shake Morgan’s hand. “Good to see you. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to take up practicing law again,” he told the balding man. “Is my old office still available?”
“Everything’s just how you left it. Just a mite dusty.” He opened up a paper-laden desk and pulled out a key. “I’ve been looking for the day when you’d walk in here and ask for this.”
Morgan pulled out a wad of bills. “Here’s six months’ rent and a little more for all the trouble I’ve been. Can you mention what I’m doing in the paper? I plan to open in about a week.”
“Sure can. Folks will be mighty happy to know they have a lawyer again.” He handed Morgan the key. “You look good, Morgan. Real good.”
“Must be the clean living.”
Thomas laughed. “You forget your pa and I pulled you out of more trouble than I care to recall.”
“That’s why I ended up in law school.”
“Better there than jail.”
Ouch! The sound of that curdled his stomach. He’d waited too long to work on Casey’s problems. Once outside, the sun seemed to light a faint path through the center of town to the small building beside Kahlerville’s general store and post office. Hard to remember the last time he’d called the place his. He stuck the key in the door and stepped inside. A flood of memories rushed in, but they weren’t all bad as he had anticipated. A lot of good times and good things had happened here. Helping folks. That’s what he enjoyed doing the most. The ranch had its roots in what made him an Andrews, but his heart lay in practicing law.
He glanced around the office. Stale air met his nose, and dirt from the street covered the outside of the window. Beneath a thick layer of dust sat an oaken desk that the reverend had helped him build. A bookcase leaned against the wall on one side of the room, and two chairs sat against the opposite side. His law books and plaques were stored away at the ranch. Mama had taken care of packing up his office after he’d taken off after Jenkins. Immediately, he envisioned everything neat and clean. Somewhere at home was the sign he’d once hung above the outside door: MORGAN ANDREWS, ATTORNEY AT LAW.
A sense of pride and humility for how he could help Casey and the community rooted deep inside him. This afternoon he’d pull out the books and start compiling research. Tomorrow, providing Grant didn’t need him, he’d clean up the office. Casey might want to help.
The next item on this morning’s list, before trying to find Ben again, was to send a telegram to Doc. This time of day, the telegraph office was usually empty. He didn’t need folks listening in on his business. Furthermore, he had to be careful how he worded the message in case the clerk couldn’t be trusted.
Inside the small establishment, Morgan greeted a young man barely old enough to shave. After a few pleasantries, he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “Can you send a message for me?”
The clerk took the paper and read through it before tapping out the words.
Doc. Need a referral letter for our friend. I’m taking the case. Back to practicing law. Time crucial.
Morgan waited until the clerk finished, then tucked the piece of paper back into his pocket. He’d follow up with a letter. Someday the price of a telegram wouldn’t be ten times the cost of sending a letter. But in this case, time ticked away. The door behind him creaked and captured his attention.
“Mornin’, Morgan.” The cold, hard look on Ben’s face spoke fathoms.
“Mornin’. I’ve been looking for you.”
“That’s what I heard.” Ben nodded at the clerk and then turned back to Morgan. “You finished here?”
“Yes. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“I’d rather talk in quiet.”
Morgan followed him out of the telegraph office and down the empty street. “What’s wrong? Do you need to talk about Bonnie?”
Ben threw him a hard stare. “I’m through being a fool, Morgan. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on between you