Raiding With Morgan by Jim R. Woolard Page A

Her response was what every man longs for in his dreams. ‘And you’re Owen Mattson, of Elizabethtown. You’re respected for your knowledge of horses, Mr. Mattson, and not many men are built like you or look like you. You are a man I’ve asked about and wanted to meet, without appearing too forward.’
    â€œTy, your grandmother was prone to say certain things were meant to be. Your mother and I talked until dawn, after the Iron Gate closed. In a mere month, I was asking her father for her hand in marriage. Bran McVey trusted his daughter’s judgment and gave us his blessing.
    â€œI never lied to your grandparents. Your grandfather was livid when I told him of my pending marriage to the daughter of a tavern owner. Keena’s education, her musical talents, the fact she was co-owner of a respected Louisville business establishment, frequented by the governor of Kentucky, fell on deaf ears. Enoch Mattson refused to admit anyone to his home associated with the serving of alcoholic spirits, the same as he threatened to bar a son who imbibed and gambled.”
    Ty watched a grim sadness wash over his father’s face. “His reaction didn’t surprise me. Your grandmother was weeping, and it near tore my guts apart that if I married Keena McVey, I’d most likely not see either of them again unless it was your grandmother on the sly. Lord, how she would have loved your mother’s high spirits and her music.
    â€œI left that stone wall of silence behind me for good. Bran McVey had always wanted to own racehorses. He provided the money and I provided the horse knowledge. We bought a farm, south of Louisville, and established Iron Gate Stables. That fall, your mother became pregnant with you. It was a happy, busy time for us. Then came the war with Mexico. Your mother was familiar with my adventures in the Arabian Desert. She understood my restless nature, and that nothing would keep me from fighting for God and country. I enlisted with John Hunt Morgan’s cavalry unit in Lexington and headed west. I wasn’t worried about leaving your mother in her condition. I had faith in Bran McVey to care for the two of you until I returned.
    â€œBut as they will, things went awry while I was off glory seeking. Your mother died giving birth. It was weeks before I learned that. I couldn’t desert the army, and Bran McVey was now in full charge of you, so I wasn’t terribly worried about your welfare. The situation quickly took a second turn for the worse. One afternoon, Bran’s buggy horse ran wild as he drove to Iron Gate Stables. The buggy crashed into a fence post and Bran was killed.
    â€œBran’s sole living relative was his brother, Dagon. By Bran’s will, Dagon inherited a one-third interest in everything his brother owned. Dagon managed the taproom at the Iron Gate. He had a wild eye and a loose wallet. He did make one good decision. Being a bachelor who liked the ladies his brother wouldn’t admit to the Iron Gate, he had no intention of assuming responsibility for a child not yet a year old. He hired a wet nurse and together they traveled to your grandfather’s farm.
    â€œAccording to your grandmother’s letter, it must have been a onetime occurrence, never to be repeated. Dagon banged on the front door with that big brass knocker Mother loved to hear announce guests. Your grandfather answered the door. Without any exchange of greetings, Dagon set your bassinet on the stoop and told an astonished Enoch Mattson, ‘Here’s your grandson, Tyler Owen Mattson. His mother’s dead and his father’s in Texas, killing stinking Mexicans. You raise him. I don’t have the time or the interest.’ And with that, he climbed into his buggy and whipped his horse down the lane, fearing your grandfather might fetch a gun and shoot him.”
    Ty was brimming with questions. “What happened after Dagon left?”
    â€œWell, for certain,