A Vision Without Action Is Merely A Dream


A Vision Without Action Is Merely A Dream


A Vision Without Action Is Merely A Dream

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As the wagon bumped over the dirt road, Morgan tried to concentrate on his surroundings. The sun hung low in the western sky as it had for the past week or so since he’d left town. He hoped that meant there wouldn’t be a sudden summer storm.

The heat of the afternoon could be brutal, and he didn’t like being caught out in one without enough water to keep him from becoming dehydrated. He glanced up at the sky but couldn’t tell if clouds were coming or not by looking at the bright blue above him.

“How much farther do we have?” Morgan asked the driver when they’d reached the end of another long day’s journey. It was getting dark now with barely any light showing between the trees along the sides of the road. Trees gave plenty of shade for animals, but not humans. And even though there wasn’t an inch of skin exposed on either of them, they both looked sweaty and hot.

The driver pulled off the side of the road and stopped next to a small log cabin that sat back away from the road just off a narrow trail. “This is as far as you go tonight,” he told Morgan. “There is no reason for you to ride all night.”

Morgan didn’t argue with him about riding. He would’ve liked nothing better than to take advantage of this man’s hospitality. They needed someplace safe to rest after their long days on the road, but they also needed time to search out the men who knew where Sarah was. That would be hard to accomplish if they didn’t have enough daylight left after reaching this point.

He stepped down from the wagon. “We’ll make camp here for the night.”

The driver looked confused, but Morgan ignored him. He helped the girl get down off the wagon, and she moved to his side.

“What are your names?” he asked her as soon as they were both standing on the ground again.

She hesitated before answering. Then, as if she hadn’t given much thought about telling him, she said, “I’m Mary Anne, and this is Mr…. I mean John Smith.”

“Good evening then, Miss Smith,” Morgan said politely as he took the reins from the driver and led the horses toward the front door of the cabin. She followed him inside and let him open the door for her so that she wouldn’t trip over the uneven planks laid across the floor.

The interior of the little house was clean but plain—just two rough wooden beds, a table and chairs, a stove, and a few cupboards and shelves. No pictures covered the walls, nor did there appear to be curtains covering the window or any other kind of decoration. There was a smell of cooking meat coming from one room, while the other smelled of smoke from the fire in the fireplace.

Once they were inside, Morgan closed the door behind them and put the latch down to make sure that it stayed locked until morning. As he turned around, Mary Ann walked right up close to him, and he felt her fingers touch his arm.

His eyes flicked nervously to the door but found no sign of anyone else outside listening to them. He wondered what she wanted, whether she was really alone, why she seemed familiar, and where she got such a pretty dress. Her face looked young, perhaps younger than his own twenty-three years of age, which was still only half of hers.

Her smile grew wide as she pressed herself against him.

His heart began to pound faster, but he fought to control himself and kept his voice level and calm. “Miss Smith—”

But she interrupted him by saying, “Oh, Mr. Johnson! I know you now!”

Then she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Morgan stared at her for a moment, unable to believe his good fortune. This must be the young woman who had been at the ranch with the other man earlier in the day.

But he’d heard nothing further of her, so he assumed she was probably with that man now, wherever they might be hiding themselves out there in the woods. He certainly hadn’t expected to see her in person. Or to find her here in this remote place.

He returned her hug briefly but not nearly long enough. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Miss Smith.”

Mary Anne released him, her expression is suddenly serious. She looked worried, anxious, and frightened. She took a step back from him and looked around the little house. “I don’t understand how we can stay here.”

“Stay? What do you mean?”

“Well, this isn’t exactly a hotel, Mr. Johnson.”

The last thing he expected was an explanation from her. “No, it’s not a hotel. It’s a simple way station.”

“I know that. I meant…”

Suddenly, she turned and walked into the bedroom that smelled of burning wood, stopping in front of one of the two-bed frames. “How will we sleep together like this?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes, please!” She looked embarrassed when she said it, as if she were asking permission from the wrong man for something that should be done automatically. “I… I want you to hold me. Please. I… I need to feel you close to me. I…”

He watched her walk up to the other bed frame. “I’m sorry, but there is only enough room for one in each bed,” he explained. “You’ll have to sleep alone.”

“Oh. Oh… I guess…”

“Do you want to use the other bed?”

“No.”

She sat down on the edge of her bed and began to cry quietly.

Morgan couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to speak to her yet, and already she was crying. “What’s wrong?”

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’m just tired.” She looked so small sitting there alone that he wanted to reach out and hold her. “And hungry. I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Come here,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her over to sit beside him. He took the empty bottle and poured another drink from it for her. As soon as the wine touched her lips, she stopped crying, but her shoulders continued to shake with silent sobs.

He didn’t say anything more until he could tell her that she didn’t need to apologize for being afraid. He knew fear. And sadness. He understood her to need to feel protected by someone who cared for her, and he hoped that sharing his concern would help her.

But he was still surprised that she cried, especially in public like that. The women he dealt with rarely shed tears, except to give away their babies. Maybe he should have brought some cookies or cake along with them instead of hard cider for dinner.

As he handed her another swallow of the warm wine, he noticed that she was trembling. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder, which caused him to tremble too. He tried to think of something comforting to say, but he wasn’t sure he could come up with any words of wisdom. All he knew to do was simply hold her.

***

Morgan held Mary Anne close, feeling her warmth. His fingers caressed her hair while he stroked the back of her neck. He wished she were dressed, but even then, the thought of touching her intimately made him nervous. There was no telling what sort of relationship he and this woman had in store for each other, and there was no telling how deeply she felt about him.

He wondered how many women were left out there in the wilderness, waiting for his return. Did he owe anyone else any explanations before he could take a wife? How many women did he really love?

He couldn’t honestly answer those questions, nor could he decide on an acceptable time limit to wait before taking another bride. For better or worse, a marriage of convenience was the most common arrangement between men who came through these parts.

But if there was ever a woman worth considering as much more than a marriage partner, it was Miss Mary Anne Smith. She had saved the lives of his ranch hands and helped capture that killer horse thief.

And she was beautiful. So much so that Morgan’s own heart skipped several beats at the mere sight of her. But if she didn’t fall in love with him, then what good would it do to marry her? Why not marry someone who loved him?

“Miss Smith?”

When she didn’t move away from his embrace, he realized that she must have fallen asleep. “Are you still awake?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I…” She paused, swallowed, and started again. “I want you to know… I care very much for you. More than a man can ever hope to understand about another human being.”

“Really?”

“It goes beyond caring. I want to marry you, Mr. Johnson.”

“Marriage?”

“Yes! I’ll go anywhere you ask me to. You don’t have to worry about my being afraid because I won’t stay long enough to get cold feet.”

“Long enough?” What was he getting himself into?

“If we are meant to be together, then we will find our way to each other.”

“How do you know I want to marry you?”

“Because you’re already married,” she replied calmly. “To another woman. Or at least you have been married since yesterday.”

That startled him. “I suppose… yes, I am.” It seemed strange to admit it in front of someone else, but he was proud of having a family.

“Then why not ask your wife for a divorce?”

Morgan hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t as simple as just asking for one. First, a husband needed to prove that his wife didn’t want the marriage anymore. Then he would need to provide proof of a new wife and a stable home for her.

And finally, he’d need to make arrangements with the state to legally end his former union. But even then, a wife could appeal to the court on religious grounds, which would keep him from seeing his kids or his ex-wife. Not to mention, it might be difficult to explain to his children why they suddenly had two moms. That didn’t matter, though. He wanted to marry this woman.

“Why would you want to marry me?” he asked. He was only guessing at her reasons, but he assumed it had something to do with the fact that he was a man who cared. He didn’t mean that sarcastically either—he really wanted to know how a woman like Mary Anne felt about him. “There are dozens of other people living near here.”

“You’ve shown us all that real gentlemen look like,” she said.

That surprised him. He hadn’t expected to hear such words coming from a woman who claimed to be a schoolteacher. “I’m not exactly an exemplary gentleman.”

She smiled. “No, I suppose you aren’t. But you’re doing the right thing by trying to help people and save them from their own bad choices.”

His chest swelled at her praise. “So how does a woman like you feel about a man like me?”

“Very deeply. I think there may be someone else who is willing to marry us, but we should give this some careful thought first.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to rush into anything,” she said gently. “I think a man and a woman are both capable of loving each other, as well as making decisions based on common sense, which includes knowing when to hold off on a proposal until after you have met someone else.”

“I never asked you to marry me,” he protested, feeling defensive for some reason. “I never said yes to anyone but you!”

“Yes, you did.” She placed her hand against her heart, where her wedding ring rested, and looked up at the ceiling. “You proposed to me last night before I left this room.”

“Well, I—”

He paused in surprise. Did that mean that she was thinking about leaving him for another man?

“Mr. Johnson.” It was obvious that she didn’t wish to upset him any further. But it was too late.

“Don’t you dare run away from me!” He pulled her down onto the bed beside him. “We don’t have to wait to see if you were wrong about wanting to marry me or not. You’re here now, so let’s talk about it.”

Mary Anne sat quietly while he spoke, listening intently and occasionally nodding. It took him several minutes of talking before he realized that she wasn’t going to speak. So he turned toward her, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her passionately.

The kiss lasted longer than Morgan remembered it taking when he kissed her at the dance hall because he was distracted by the fear of losing her. Now, however, he didn’t care. This time there was no threat hanging over his head. There was nothing stopping him from devoting himself completely to Mary Anne.

The kiss ended quickly, but he still held her close. Her body pressed against him as she lay on top of him, her breasts crushed into his chest. Morgan felt his pants growing wet and warm under his jeans.

He knew Mary Anne didn’t want to rush anything, so he stopped kissing her long enough to remove his belt. He used it to tie her wrists to the brass headboard. Then he pushed her legs apart and entered her slowly with his fingers.

She cried out softly, but it was the sound of pleasure, not pain. Then his hips began rocking back and forth as he continued to thrust inside her. He felt her arms begin to tremble beneath his hold.

After a few more thrusts, he couldn’t control himself anymore and buried his lips in her neck. His breathing quickened as he lost himself in the moment. They were making love without protection and yet she didn’t seem afraid of getting pregnant, which was unusual considering most women worried about that.

Her soft moan grew louder. She moved her hips slightly and her cries became more insistent. When Morgan felt her body start convulsing again, he came hard with her. She clung to him afterward, her eyes closed tightly, and sighed contently.

Morgan waited until she opened her eyes before speaking. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked tenderly. “Or would you rather stop and leave me alone?”

Mary Anne laughed. “I enjoyed every minute of it. You made me feel very desirable, unlike any other man has ever done before.”

He caressed her cheek. “Then let’s talk about marriage.”

“What if I told you I was already married?” she asked suddenly.

That surprised him even more than her confession that she had fallen for him. A lot could happen between now and when she arrived home. If they were still together then, why wouldn’t she just tell her husband that she was leaving him? It seemed strange to him that she would hide something so important, especially since it involved someone who lived in the same town as her husband.

But then again, maybe it was better to keep it quiet, to avoid upsetting a man whose life wasn’t easy by any means. That was how he saw the relationship between the three of them. She wanted to live as a woman, not as a wife. And he wanted her to be happy. He had been selfish for wishing otherwise.

“Why should I believe you?”

She smiled faintly. “Because you know that I am telling you the truth.”

Morgan thought about what she had just said. She might not want to upset him but she also didn’t want him to get hurt or worse. “If you were married, you would have told me immediately upon arrival,” he said carefully. “So you aren’t married.”

“No, I’m not married.”

“Then why—”

“I’ll tell you everything in a little bit,” she interrupted. “For now, just lie next to me and relax.” She reached behind her and touched him. “It won’t take much convincing to convince you.”

Morgan didn’t argue. For all intents and purposes, he’d already agreed to be her husband. It was only a matter of time before that happened. But she hadn’t answered his question so he decided to let it go. “Let’s talk about your marriage to Mr. Johnson.”

“Not right now,” she whispered, placing a finger over his mouth.

He shook his head. “You’re going to tell me soon, and I want to hear everything.”

Mary Anne hesitated briefly before answering. “My husband is a blacksmith in the town across from this one.”

“Are you certain he doesn’t know that you are a woman?”

“Yes, he never suspects,” she said firmly.

Morgan nodded but didn’t say anything else. It appeared that Mary Anne was willing to give up everything if she believed it was what she really wanted. That kind of courage impressed him. Most women would probably have run off by now.

They spent some time talking and making love. By the time they both fell asleep, they had forgotten all about their discussion about her husband. But the next morning, while they were eating breakfast, Morgan finally brought up the topic.

“How do you intend to explain your disappearance?” he asked, referring to the fact that Mary Anne needed to make up an excuse for her absence if she ever returned home.

Mary Anne chewed on her lower lip before saying, “I think I have the perfect thing to say.”

Morgan watched as she leaned forward to pour more coffee into her cup. The way her long hair cascaded down her back gave him a new appreciation for what she must look like under that thick hat. Even though she had no makeup on and wore masculine clothing, she appeared attractive enough to entice him to ask her to marry him.

“I can’t wait to hear it,” he said, trying to appear casual. “And don’t worry, I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. Not yet anyway. It may come later, but for now, you need to do exactly what you wish to do.”

“Thank you.” She looked at him, a smile touching her lips. “Now, about our agreement.”

When she mentioned the term, he almost choked on his food. His mind flashed back to the night when Mary Anne had given him the ring she intended to use for the ceremony. Her expression had been one of complete satisfaction. Now he understood.

The idea had struck her overnight—and it certainly pleased him too. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. There was no doubt that he loved her. She had made that perfectly clear. So why did he hesitate? Why couldn’t he bring himself to simply agree to everything she wished, just like he always had done before?

The End

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