Heritage And Honor

Chapter 1-3

Morgan stared at the swinging batwing doors. “What was that?”

“That was a woman you don’t wanna tangle with.” Fred walked back behind the bar.

Morgan shook his head, then rejoined his brother at the table. Warren was laughing at the spectacle.

“Have your laughs, big brother.”

“You were right. That was a woman. And what a woman.” Warren laughed again.

“What kinda woman walks around dressed like that?” Morgan took a gulp of his now-warm beer. “Those trousers showed...well, they showed she was a woman for Christ’s sake.” Morgan couldn’t erase the image of her stomping out of the saloon.

The denim material had hugged every curve of her lower body. Her hips had swayed like a porch swing. He’d seen, and liked, the curve of her waist, hips, and backside. And they were all attached to long, long legs…and now everything was etched in his mind.

Damn, he didn’t need a woman messing with their plans. He took another swig of his beer.

“She sure was a spitfire,” Warren said. “She didn’t swoon right into your arms, either.”

Morgan grunted. “I don’t know what territory you live in, but not all women swoon into my arms.”

“Morgan, you always have women swooning into your arms. And men who want to shoot you.”

“Are you talking about that little redhead back in Wolf Creek? She didn’t swoon at me.”

“Only because the dude she was with wanted to shoot ya. He found out who you were and pulled his g*n. To his demise, the fool.”

Morgan shook his head. He hadn’t wanted to kill the fellow, but the man wouldn’t back off. When the fellow had pulled his g*n, Morgan didn’t have a choice but to defend himself. “It’s not my fault fast guns want to make a name for themselves, Warren.”

“I know that. Your height sure as hell doesn’t help. You stand out like a saddle blister.”

“Hobble your lip.”

Warren raised his hands. “Sorry. You may be my younger brother, but you certainly ain’t my little brother.”

Morgan was two years Warren’s junior and four inches taller. He didn’t mind being tall. Hell, he didn’t mind being fast with his pistol, either. He just didn’t like being a target for every gunslinger looking to put a notch on his grip.

And he didn’t like women in saloons unless they were ladies of the night. That spitfire had class. Morgan had heard it in her voice and had seen it in the way she carried herself. And she was filled with fire. She'd tried to hold her emotions in check, but Morgan sensed her passion just beneath the surface. One day, it would burst out. Maybe he’d be around...damn it. He didn’t need this right now. “Someone needs to turn her over his knee.”

“Oh, we’re back to her again?”

“No.” Morgan shook his head. “I mean, she shouldn’t be in here.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a lady, Warren. And she has class, despite those trousers.”

“So you want to bend a lady over your knee? Interesting.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Okay, enough. Back to business.”

Warren nodded and took a sip of his beer.

“I’ll head out to the Bar M. You meet up with me, and we’ll talk to this Andy about getting hired on. The first part of our plan will be in motion.” Morgan knew once they had set their plan into action, there was no turning back. He also knew he had no desire to stop. It was all or nothing.