“Step on her, you stupid beast!” The whip sang in the air again. “Do it, or I’ll cut you. Do it, you son of a bitch!”
Sunset screamed again. Swaying dizzily on her knees, Molly looked up, and all she could see was the rearing horse and flashing hooves. Dear God. She threw up an arm to shield her face, knowing she was about to die. Only somehow Sunset wheeled at the last second, bringing his front feet down beside her instead of on her. Molly sobbed, her body quivering with relief.
Sunset tried to move away from her. Rodney cut him off with a snap of the whip. The horse circled the other way, and again, Rodney blocked his path. Molly knew the horse could only avoid stepping on her for so long. Eventually terror would blind him, and he’d kill her.
A snarl crawled up Molly’s throat. She focused sharply on Rodney, despising him with a virulence that made her whole body tremble. Enough. He’d contaminated her life with his evilness, twisting and transforming everything into an ugly travesty, robbing her of everything precious. She wouldn’t let him destroy Sunset as well. She wouldn’t.
A sudden calm settled over her brain, even as she tensed her body to spring. She waited until Rodney swung the whip again. Then, with a speed and strength she didn’t know she possessed, she vaulted from a crouch, throwing up her arms to catch the snaking leather in her hands. Dimly, she felt the whip cut into her palms. She tightened her grip, snapped her wrists to wrap the leather around her arms, and with all the force of her weight, she jerked.
With a surprised yelp, Rodney toppled off the fence rail into the pen. He hit the dirt in a facedown sprawl and shook his head as if to clear it.
“You bastard!” Molly cried, throwing the whip with all her strength through the rails of the fence. “You leave my horse alone!”
Rodney shook his head again. Then he tried to push to his knees. He fixed Molly with a dazed, bewildered look, as if his senses hadn’t quite righted themselves yet. When his gaze cleared, he thrust a hand inside his jacket.
“Plan B,” he said, and pulled out the gun. “It’s registered in your name, darling. I lied.”
Molly tensed, knowing a bullet would plow into her body at any second. This was it. She was dead.
Only she’d forgotten the third player in this scene. Sunset. The horse came from behind her like an avenging angel, mane flying, tail raised like a cavalry flag behind his gigantic black body. He advanced on Rodney, never slowing. Rodney screamed and tried to throw himself out of the stallion’s path, but Sunset ran his heart out to reach him.
“Oh, God!” Rodney yelled.
The next instant, Sunset ran right over the top of him. Molly almost whooped. Yes! Rodney wasn’t such a big man when he didn’t have a whip in his hand.
Molly raced forward. The gun had slipped from Rodney’s grasp and lay in the dirt. She kicked the weapon outside the pen, beyond Rodney’s reach. Sunset circled to the far end of the corral. Molly, intent on Rodney, didn’t realize the horse was racing back until she saw hooves flash. She glanced up. Sunset stood on his hind legs. Eyes wild, mane flying, his powerful body a sculpture of magnificent jet in the sunlight, the horse seemed poised there for endless seconds, a vengeful beast bent on destroying his tormentor.
With a scream of rage, the stallion brought his front hooves down on the man who had scarred him for life. Stupefied, Molly watched, a part of her cheering Sunset on. The horse deserved his moment of revenge. Rodney deserved to die. For seconds that seemed to last a short eternity, Molly felt smug satisfaction and sincerely hoped the stallion delivered a lethal blow. What a fitting ending to a totally misbegotten life.
Sunset shrieked again and crouched on his rear legs to pummel Rodney with his front hooves. In that instant, Molly regained her sanity. Sunset. The stallion was intent on killing Rodney, and she didn’t blame him. But what would happen to the horse if she allowed it? No matter what the provocation, a stallion that turned killer would be destroyed.
She darted forward, afraid the crazed horse might turn on her if she interfered. “Sunset, no! Sunset, stop!” Molly leaped in to grab the stallion’s halter, knowing even as she did that she lacked the strength to pull him off. “Sunset, please. Please!”
The instant the horse felt her hands on him, he grunted and backed away to stand motionless over the man he hated so much, blowing, snorting, every muscle in his glorious body tensed. Molly sobbed and hugged the stallion’s neck. “I know,” she whispered. “I know just how you feel, Sunset, but it’s better this way. It’s better this way.”
Rodney moaned and rolled over. Molly could tell by the way he moved that he wasn’t seriously hurt. For Sunset’s sake, she was glad of that. The stallion had already suffered enough because of this man. Keeping an arm around her horse’s neck, she gazed down at her ex-husband, feeling detached. His suit was ripped and in a few places she thought she could see a little blood. Compared to the wounds he’d inflicted on Sunset, his injuries were mere scratches.
“Dare to move, and I’ll turn him loose on you,” Molly warned.
Rodney angled her a hate-filled glare. “And I’ll see him shot!”
“No, you won’t, because I’ll let him kill you.” Molly looked him dead in the eye. “I’ll tell the authorities I bludgeoned you myself before I allow anyone to touch this animal.”
Rodney came up on one knee. Sunset snorted and started to prance. Rodney froze, cast a wary glance at the stallion, and lay back down. “Hold him, for Christ’s sake!”
Molly smiled. “I’m feeling very weak and dizzy from the blow to my head. Lie still, Rodney. If he starts to act up, I may not be able to keep him off you.”
Rodney’s hazel eyes went dark with fear. He flattened himself to the ground. “You bitch!” he whispered.
“Yes, and don’t forget it.”
Over the roar of the house fire, Molly thought she heard something. Before she could identify the sound, she heard Jake’s voice. “Molly. Oh, sweet Jesus!”
Glancing around, she saw Jake swinging off his horse, dust billowing around him. He emerged from the rust-red cloud at a dead run, a blur of blue and burnished skin that sailed over the fence as if it wasn’t there. Molly felt as if a locomotive had plowed into her when her husband snatched her up in his arms. Sunset whinnied and backed up a few inches, but he didn’t run.
“Dear God, dear God.” Jake turned in a half circle with her locked against his trembling body. Molly wanted to tell him she was okay, but he was hugging her so fiercely, she couldn’t talk. “You’re bleeding. You’re hurt.” He loosened his embrace to catch her face between his hands. “Oh, sweet Lord, your head’s cut.”
“He hit me with a rock.” Molly reached to feel, wincing when her fingertips grazed the deep gash.
She was about to say that she was okay when Rodney rose to his knees. Molly staggered dizzily when Jake suddenly released her and whirled around.
“You son of a bitch!” He plucked Rodney up from the dirt and shook him like a rag doll. “I’ll kill you. I swear to God, you’re a dead man.”
Rodney took a wild swing, grazing Jake’s jaw. Jake retaliated by drawing back his fist and hitting Rodney squarely in the face. The blow sent the other man reeling back against the fence. Molly could only gape. She’d always known Jake was strong, but she hadn’t realized he had the strength to lift a large man clear off his feet with one punch.
“My nose,” Rodney cried, cupping his hands over his eyes. “You bastard, you broke my nose!”
“That’s not all I’m going to break!” Face contorted with rage, big body taut, Jake advanced.
“Jake, no!” Molly cried.
It was as if Jake didn’t hear her. He leaped on Rodney again, hauled him erect by the front of his jacket, and proceeded to rap his head against the fence post. Molly grabbed her husband’s arm, screaming for him to stop. He paid her no heed.
“You miserable, worthless piece of trash!” Jake shook Molly off as if she weighed nothing and plowed his fist into Rodney’s stomach, once again lifting him clear o
ff his feet with the blow and bending him double. “Keep your filthy hands off my wife! Touch her—even look at her again—and I swear on all that’s holy, I’ll snap your neck.”
Molly was afraid Jake might kill Rodney. She’d never seen him like this. His face was drawn. His eyes glittered. With every word he spoke, he bared his teeth in a snarl.
Suddenly Hank was there. He leaped on his brother’s back, locked Jake’s arms behind his waist in an unbreakable hold, and then rode it out, with Jake cursing a blue streak, staggering under his weight, and trying futilely to shake him off.
“Stop it, Jake!” Hank yelled. “He’s not worth it. Let the law punish the bastard.”
With a mighty roar of anger, Jake tried again to free his arms. “Get off me, damn you. He hurt my wife!”
Hank didn’t unlock his hold on his brother’s arms. “She’s all right, Jake. She’s going to be all right.”
Jake stood with his legs braced apart to bear the extra two hundred pounds draped over his shoulders. He heaved for air, his fiery gaze riveted on Rodney, who had slumped to the ground with his back against the fence, one arm angled over his stomach.
“He’s down,” Hank said. “You got your message across. If you pound it home when he can’t fight back, you’ll hate yourself for it later!”
“Like hell I will!” Jake cried. “Why show him mercy? Did he show Sunset any? Damn him! He bashed my wife’s head with a rock!”
“I’m all right, Jake,” Molly said shakily. “See?” She waved a hand in front of her husband’s face. “Would you look at me? I’m fine. It’s only a little bump. I’m okay.”
Jake cut her a glance. Some of the wildness went out of his eyes. “Nobody touches my wife,” he bit out.
“He’ll pay for it,” Hank assured him. “He’ll pay, Jake. But not this way. You could end up in prison. Is that what you want?”
Jake staggered sideways. Then he suddenly stopped fighting. Heaving for breath, he bent forward to better support Hank’s weight. Molly saw sanity returning to his eyes. “No, of course, it’s not what I want,” he ground out. “Get off me, little brother, before I beat the sass out of you.”
Hank grinned at Molly and released his brother’s arms. Patting Jake on the shoulder, he said, “You need to watch that temper of yours, bro. It could get you in trouble.”
Jake straightened, leveled a burning look at Rodney, and then, cursing vilely under his breath, he kicked dirt into the other man’s face. Molly almost laughed when Rodney sputtered and coughed. Since she’d eaten her own share of dirt only a few minutes ago, she felt it was just punishment.
“This is your lucky day,” Jake told Rodney through clenched teeth. “You’re not worth going to prison over, so I’ll spare your worthless hide.”
He came to Molly then. With shaking hands, he checked her for injuries, his touch so careful and gentle, she might have been made of fragile glass.
“I’m all right,” she whispered. “I’m all right, Jake.”
She looked up and couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Jake Coulter’s vivid blue eyes were swimming with tears. A muscle in his cheek bunched as he cautiously examined the wound on the crown of her head, his fingertips barely grazing the edges of the gash. “He could have killed you,” he said in a husky voice that shook slightly.
“But he didn’t. Sunset wouldn’t step on me, no matter what Rodney did, and together, we took him down.”
Jake slipped an arm around her waist and drew her against him. She could hear his heart pounding and felt his body trembling. By that, she took measure of how very much he loved her. She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his shirt. Never had anyone’s arms felt so wonderful. To love and be loved truly was such a fabulous feeling.
“Your house,” she whispered shakily. “All I’ve done is bring you heartbreak, from start to finish, Jake. I’m so sorry.”
His embrace tightened around her. He didn’t even look toward the burning house. “Never that, Molly girl. Never that. A spot of trouble, here and there, but no heartbreak. Don’t you know how much I love you?”
Molly did know. How could she not? She went up on her tiptoes to hug his neck. “Oh, Jake, I love you, too. But what of the ranch? He’s destroyed everything.”
“Not everything,” he whispered against her hair. “Not even close. We have each other, sweetheart. Nothing can keep us down for long.”
Sunset nickered just then. Molly opened her eyes to see that the horse was sniffing her husband’s sleeve. Jake chuckled and reached out to curl a hand over the horse’s halter. “So you’ve finally decided I’m okay, have you?” He tugged on the leather. “Come ahead. Love on her all you want.”
Sunset nickered again and moved in closer to sniff Molly’s clothing, then her hair. When the stallion smelled her blood, he snorted and pawed the dirt.
“I know,” Jake muttered, tightening his grip on the horse’s halter. “I’d like to stomp him, too. But we better not.”
Molly grinned in spite of herself. In that moment, she knew Jake was absolutely right. Everything wasn’t lost. They still had each other, and they still had Sunset.
Where there was enough love, anything was possible. The three of them formed a winner’s circle, and together, they would start over. Sunset hadn’t yet run his last race, and what had been razed by fire could be rebuilt. She would get her inheritance now. Money wouldn’t be a problem.
Molly turned in her husband’s arms to press her back against his chest. She barely saw Hank, who was bent over Rodney, relieving him of the computer disks and the papers he’d forced her to sign. She gazed instead at the burning house. Beyond the flames, the pastureland and forests of the Lazy J stretched like a promise, offering grazing land for the horses, timber for reconstruction, and an endless playground for all the little Coulters who’d someday be born. Molly meant to make sure that they grew up right there, on Coulter land, with their father’s dream a reality around them.
She straightened her shoulders and took a deep, cleansing breath. She remembered all the many times she’d heard a voice whisper in her mind. Who are you, Molly? Where are you? Now, she could answer both questions unequivocally.
She was Molly Sterling Coulter, and she was right where she belonged, in her husband’s loving arms.
Epilogue
Seven months later:
Snowflakes drifted gently through the air, flocking the Douglas fir trees with white and lending the gray-blue gloaming of twilight a magical feeling of Christmas. Pulling his very pregnant wife on a sled behind him, Jake trudged more deeply into the forest, keeping an eye out for the “perfect” tree. So far, nothing he’d found suited Molly. He glanced at his watch. If he didn’t find a Christmas tree soon, they wouldn’t get back to the house in time to greet their guests. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell Molly that. He didn’t want to ruin her surprise.
With a sigh of resignation, he forged onward. It was rough going in places, the snowdrifts so deep they came to his knees. The coarse towrope bit through his lined denim jacket, making his shoulder ache, and his legs were growing weary from the strain of pulling the extra weight.
“What about that one?” he asked hopefully, pointing to a small fir.
Molly gazed critically at the tree he indicated. After a moment, she shook her head. “It’s too scrawny.”
The last one had been too fat. Beginning to wonder if there was any such thing as a perfectly proportioned Christmas tree, Jake set off again. He walked only a short way before he had to stop for a breather.
“You’re getting tired,” Molly called in a worried voice. “I knew this was a bad idea. Just let me get off and walk. A little exercise will be good for me.”
“No way,” he managed to say between gulps of air. Though he’d already told her his reasons for pulling her behind him on the sled, he added, “Not in this deep snow. You could fall and hurt yourself.”
“I’m not made of fragile glass, and neither is the baby.” She pouted prettily and gave her
head a shake to rid her curly hair of snowflakes. “It’d be like falling on a pillow.” She dragged her gloved fingers through the fluffy whiteness beside the sled. “I couldn’t possibly get hurt.”
“You could fall on a stump hidden by a drift,” Jake pointed out. “Or on a big rock we can’t see. Besides, I’m not that tired.”
“Yes, you are. Please let me walk? Just for a while, then I’ll let you pull me again.”
Jake narrowed an eye at her. “You promised, no arguments. When it comes to the safety of my wife and son, I don’t want to take any chances.” Hoping to distract her, Jake scanned the small stand of evergreen trees around them. His dad had planted them as seedlings years ago, and now they were finally large enough to harvest. “Do you see one that you like?”
She frowned slightly. “You know what I think my problem is? They’re all too beautiful. I’ve never found it difficult to choose a Christmas tree from a tree lot. I’m in and out in ten minutes. Here, I can’t seem to make up my mind.”
“You know what they say. Give a woman too many choices, and all it does is confuse her.”
Her laughing gaze met his, and she poked out her tongue. “Yes, well, most men wouldn’t recognize symmetry if it ran up and bit them on the behind.”
Jake laughed and stepped around the sled to steal a quick kiss. Her warm, moist mouth tasted of Christmas toffee, and he was sorely tempted to forgo tree hunting to join her under the wool blankets he’d tucked so carefully around her.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” he asked huskily.
“Not for at least twenty minutes. I’m feeling neglected.”
Jake reclaimed her lips, deepening the kiss this time until she pressed close and put her arms around his neck. Unable to resist the invitation, he sank onto the sled beside her and drew her across his lap. When the kiss ended, they sat in silence, taking in the beauty of the forest around them. The falling snow seemed to absorb sound, creating an almost mystical silence that made Jake feel as if they were the only two people in the world. He rested his chin atop Molly’s head and sighed.
Sweet Nothings Page 43
