Dream Stars
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The next day, after breakfast and the morning chores, were done, Morgan was waiting for her in the library. “I have a surprise for you,” he said as she walked in carrying an armful of books.
“A surprise?” She set down the stack on the table and smiled at him. The smile quickly faded when she noticed that his face had turned red. He took two steps back but stopped short of closing the door behind him. It made her wonder what sort of a surprise it could be if it caused such a reaction.
After several seconds, she decided to ask. “What is it?”
He stepped forward again, his hand outstretched. “Come here.”
She put one foot inside the room and then hesitated as he moved closer. His hand closed around hers. For some reason, her fingers felt cold against his warm palm. They stood like that until he pulled her close and then kissed her.
Her lips tingled; a sensation she’d never experienced before. Her arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed, pulling him closer still. When his tongue touched hers, she moaned softly into his mouth. It tasted sweet—like strawberries or maybe cherries. She couldn’t tell which. But they both knew that this kiss was no simple peck.
Their tongues danced together, each searching for the other’s taste. Then he broke away from their kiss only to move his mouth to her ear. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispered so quietly that his breath tickled her earlobe.
“No,” she replied. “Please don’t.” She didn’t know why she said any of those things, except that she wanted him to continue. And he did. Their mouths met again, but this time it wasn’t just about kissing anymore. His hands roamed over her body, feeling every inch of her skin until she was certain he knew exactly where she was most sensitive.
His kisses were passionate and sensual, yet gentle enough not to bruise her tender flesh. The more he touched her, the warmer she became. She felt as though she would burst at any moment.
“I love your soft hair against my cheeks,” he whispered to her ear. “It feels like silk.”
She lifted her head to look into his eyes. The intensity there stunned her. He loved her! It was obvious even through their kiss.
Then his lips pressed against hers again, and it seemed that everything else disappeared into blackness.
***
Morgan watched the woman sleep, marveling once again at how beautiful she looked in slumber. How could she sleep with all the excitement and tension surrounding them?
He reached out and brushed her hair aside, watching it drift across her cheek. He wished it was his touch instead of his fingers brushing over the silken strands.
When she opened her eyes, Morgan smiled at her first glimpse of him. A smile she returned in kind. It warmed his heart that she liked to see him smiling. It pleased him that she found him attractive despite what others might say about him.
He sat by her bedside and held her hand. “Did you have a good night’s rest?”
“Yes,” she replied in a sleepy voice. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You needed the rest.”
“Thank you for staying up last night,” she said. “I thought you might be tired after working all day yesterday, but now I understand why you stayed up.”
“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.”
She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling like stars on a clear night sky. “I’ll bet you’ve never worked so hard.”
“Never,” he answered honestly. “But it was worth it.”
“How did you get this scar?” She pointed to the mark on his chin.
“I was attacked by a bear once.”
She frowned and tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go of her hand. “That can’t be right,” she said. “There are no bears in Texas.”
“We have coyotes.” He tugged gently on her hand to keep her beside him. “They look much like wolves. That’s why some people call them ‘coywolves.’ They were quite dangerous.”
“Why did it attack you?”
“For food.”
“Oh.” She nodded her head as if accepting the explanation. But then she added, “Were you alone when it happened?”
He laughed. “No, there was another man with me. He was killed by the bear, too.”
“So, it was a pack of coyotes?”
He shrugged and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I suppose that’s possible.”
“If you had been alone, would you have survived?”
The question took him off guard. “I don’t think so,” he admitted. “But I don’t regret having a friend along at that time. We helped each other out.”
“I’m glad you were able to help the man who died,” she said. “That’s very nice of you. You’re a good person, Mr. Morgan.”
He stared down at the small woman lying in the bed, so young and vulnerable, and wondered what sort of life she’d led before coming here. Would she ever tell him? Or would she try to forget the past and begin anew?
“Are you hungry?” he asked, changing the subject. “Do you want to eat something?”
Her stomach growled loudly enough to wake the dead. “Starving!” she exclaimed. “What do you suggest?”
“Whatever you feel like eating is fine by me.”
“Then how about pancakes?”
Morgan chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”
“I’ll start the fire while you fix breakfast,” she said.
With one last lingering glance at the sleeping woman, Morgan walked toward the fireplace. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. Six o’clock…
He glanced back at the woman. Her eyes were still closed, but she appeared to be breathing normally. No sign of any trouble from the fever. He hoped that meant he could take her home soon. Then he remembered her condition. She couldn’t travel far or for long periods of time. She probably couldn’t even walk without resting frequently.
He knew he was being selfish, wanting her to leave as quickly as possible so he could spend more time with her, but he also knew it wasn’t healthy for either of them to stay at the ranch too long. His job was to make sure he got her out of Texas safely and then return her to her brother in Chicago. If he allowed himself to become too close to her, he risked not doing his job correctly.
He lit the lantern and set it on top of the mantelpiece. As he stood there, staring into the flames, he realized he didn’t know if he’d ever see her again.
***
It was late afternoon when Sarah returned to the house, carrying their empty lunch pail and dirty dishes. “Mr. Morgan has gone outside,” she explained when she saw the look of surprise on his face. “He must have left for work already.”
Morgan watched her walk inside and drop the pails on the table. “Has he eaten yet?” he asked, knowing that he’d need his strength for the long day ahead.
“No, I just told him we wanted to eat something before he leaves.” She sat down across from him. “Did you enjoy your first full day with us?”
He chuckled. “As much as I enjoyed my morning with you.”
“Good. Maybe we’ll get to spend another night together.”
He grinned and leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “And maybe we will.”
“Maybe,” she whispered back. “You never know what may happen tomorrow.”
A sudden chill swept over him as he recalled her words from the previous night: ‘My sister won’t live very long.’
Had her words been prophetic? What if he did lose her? He’d never forgive himself if he failed to find the killer—or worse if he lost his chance to save the woman he loved.
“I wish I could have stayed longer,” he said, trying to sound cheerful.
She smiled. “I know. Me too.”
“Is there anything special I should do today to help Missy?” he asked.
Sarah shook her head. “Not really. The only thing I can think of is that you could take some fresh eggs up to the ranch. It would help feed her since her appetite seems to have returned.”
“I’ll do that,” he agreed, feeling more hopeful than he had in days.
***
After they finished their meal, Sarah helped Morgan carry the bowls and plates to the kitchen where he washed them.
When she returned to the parlor room, he was sitting next to Missy on the sofa reading aloud. She was holding the book upside down and upside down so he could read the title. He turned the book right side up and looked at the cover, which depicted a handsome cowboy galloping a horse through a valley filled with beautiful wildflowers.
“What does this say?” Sarah asked, pointing to the word “Cowboy” written in black ink at the top of the page.
“It’s a children’s story called ‘The Adventures of Little Cowboy,’ ” he answered.
“I haven’t seen any little cowboys around here,” she remarked. “I wonder why the author used that name?”
“That might be because the author is an Englishman,” he said. “I’m surprised he knows so much about our way of life.”
“How many times has he visited Texas?” she asked.
“Only once. That was years ago when he came to write for a magazine.”
“But you’ve known him all these years.” She pointed to the book on the table.
“Yes. We met in London before I ever came west.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He stared at her, realizing that he hadn’t told her anything about himself. Not even how he’d come to Texas. How could he possibly explain that?
“I guess I forgot,” he lied, hoping she wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“Don’t forget now.”
He shook his head as if to clear away unwanted thoughts. “Sorry. It’s hard enough to concentrate on the story without distractions.”
“I don’t want you to get distracted,” she said, smiling. “I want you to concentrate on getting Missy better.”
She reached for the book and flipped through its pages until she found the one she was looking for. “This one says ‘Little Cowboy Takes a Trip.'”
“Missy’s going to be pleased,” Morgan said, smiling at the thought of Missy reading to him.
“I hope you’re right.” She handed him the book, and he opened it to read the story of a young boy who rode his pony into town. After a few minutes, Missy began to fuss, and Morgan took over reading.
“Do you remember this part?” he asked after reading the passage. “Where Little Cowboy rides past the livery stable and sees a big gray horse saddled and ready for a ride.”
“Yes.”
“That’s probably why Missy likes the book so much,” he said, looking fondly at Missy who continued to chew on her thumb as she sat in his lap. “She loves horses.”
“She doesn’t seem to like her nursemaid very much,” Sarah observed.
Morgan glanced at Missy, wondering if she’d overheard Sarah’s remark. He was relieved when he saw that she seemed to be asleep. But then he noticed the frown lines between her eyes. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with her nursemaid,” he said, smoothing out the blanket on his lap. “Perhaps Missy just needs time to adjust.”
“I hope so,” she replied, glancing around the parlor. “We could move to another room if you prefer.”
“No, I like this room, especially when I’m reading to Missy.”
He picked up the book and began reading again. As he listened to the soft rhythm of his voice, he felt more relaxed than he had in days. He wasn’t thinking about anything except the characters in the book.
Then he heard someone coming up the stairs and glanced toward the door. A moment later, the front door slammed open, startling both Missy and Sarah.
He dropped the book onto the floor and stood up, alarmed by Missy’s sudden cry. Then he turned and ran to the door, pushing it closed against whoever was outside.
A man wearing a gun belt appeared in the doorway. His face was hidden behind a large pair of black-rimmed glasses and his hat was pulled low over his eyes.
“Who are you?” Morgan demanded. “And what do you want?”
“I’m not here for you,” the man answered. “I’m here for Missy.”
“You can’t have her.”
“I can if you don’t cooperate,” he snapped. “Now turn around and put your hands on your head.”
Morgan looked back at Missy, who was still crying. “Please! Don’t hurt her!”
“I won’t harm a hair on her head if you help me find my daughter.”
“How did you find us?” he asked.
“I tracked down a woman who said she was hired to take care of Missy.” He motioned toward Sarah. “This is her mother.”
Morgan’s gaze fell on the baby carriage in the corner. “Was Missy inside when you arrived?”
“Of course.” The man took off his hat to reveal a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. “She’s always with her nursemaid.”
“I’ll go check on her.” Morgan moved to the bedroom, but the man grabbed his arm before he got halfway across the room.
“Wait!” He held up his hand. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. I only need to talk to Missy.”
Morgan paused, trying to decide if the man might be telling the truth. “What will happen if I say no?”
The man hesitated, then lowered his hand. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll kill her.”
Morgan let out a sharp breath. “All right. Just stay where you are.”
“Thank you.”
Morgan stepped into the other room, feeling a cold chill settle upon his back. “Missy?”
“Mama?” Missy cried from the bed.
Morgan rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”
“Is that…?” She pointed to the man standing in the doorway. “My daddy?”
“It’s me,” he said, taking hold of Missy’s hand. “Your real father.”
“But how?” she asked, turning to look at Morgan. “Did he come back for me?”
“Yes, he came to rescue you. He saved Missy too.”
Missy turned to Morgan and reached for his hand. He bent down and kissed her cheek, then took her hand and led her to the bed. “I’ll explain everything later,” he whispered, tucking Missy under the covers. “For now, try to sleep.”
“I can’t believe it,” Missy said, staring at Morgan with wide eyes.
“I know.” He watched as she slipped into unconsciousness and then went to the window. “Where is your father? Why didn’t he tell me he was alive?”
“He’s not here,” she said, looking at him with such trust that he wanted to weep. “He left me here.”
“Why would he do that?” Morgan asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him to return home. We can leave together.”
“We can?” She smiled and tucked her arm through his. “Let’s go then!”
The End