The Wren

by Kristy McCaffrey

  “Thank you, Mrs. Ryan. I appreciate that.”

  “Well, of course.”

  “How many acres do Molly and her sisters have?” Logan asked, still kneeling before the fireplace.

  “Hmm, let me think,” Jonathan said. “I’d have to rifle through the paperwork, but I’d say about twenty thousand acres.”

  Logan whistled. “You’ll make some rowdy ranch hand happy one day, Molly.”

  “Is that all anyone thinks about around here?” Matt asked, irritated. “Just how much land they can get their hands on?”

  “Times are changing, Matthew,” his pa said. “There’s talk amongst the ranchers about this new barbed wire fence. It could alter a lot of things, for the worse, some say, but I think mostly for the better. Land is important. Always has been, always will be. I’d be happy to have you stay close, Molly, but you don’t have to decide right now.”

  “Matthew,” his ma said, “you really ought to get some rest.”

  “I think I’ll turn in as well.” Molly stood. “Goodnight,” she said to the others, then turned back to him. “Goodnight, Matt.”

  He tried to think of something to say to stop her, but she promptly left the room.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll help you back to your room.” Logan grinned. “I’ll even help you put a nightshirt on.”

  “Like hell,” Matt muttered.

  Logan laughed and his ma reprimanded them with a single look before leaving the room with her husband. The image of his folks going off to bed struck him as odd. They were happy.

  “Jesus, Logan,” he said, “look at us.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His brother sat on the couch just vacated by their folks.

  “We’re grown men, still living with our ma and pa. Haven’t you ever thought about getting married?”

  “Yeah, sure. I almost did.”

  “What?” he asked in surprise. “Does Ma know?”

  Logan shook his head. “Nah. It didn’t work out. It’s just as well.”

  “What happened?”

  “She skipped town with some other guy.”

  “Then she obviously wasn’t worth it.”

  Logan blew out a breath. “Yep. Barely escaped that one.”

  “Have you thought about settling down with another woman?”

  “If you’re talkin’ about Lizzie McAllister, then you don’t have to worry. She’s all yours.”

  “I’m not interested in a fine society lady, all gussied-up and as smart as any man,” he said, surprised by the echo of Molly’s words from that first night when they were together.

  “Then just do us all a favor.” Logan stood to leave. “Start courting Molly and quick. I have it on good knowledge Ma’s thinkin’ of inviting Howie for dinner.”

  “Howie?” Matt asked, confused.

  “That baby-faced cow wrangler Molly was teaching to ride bareback.”

  Now Matt remembered. He hardly considered Howie competition. Or was he? The truth was, Matt had never courted a woman in his life. The women he’d spent time with didn’t particularly need courting, and he certainly wouldn’t have stuck around long enough to endure it.

  “Courting, huh?” he asked his brother. “Any suggestions?”

  “Don’t let Ma catch wind of it.” Logan’s ominous tone grabbed his attention.

  “Why?”

  “She was giving Molly her speech earlier, about waiting and taking her time in choosing a fella to shack up with.”

  “Ma told her to shack up with someone?” Matt asked, incredulous.

  “Jesus H. Christ, Matt,” Logan said in exasperation. “All the smarts must have been blessed to me. Of course, Ma didn’t say it that way. But think about it. Molly lived with Indians for years. You know their marriages were loosely structured, and the men often took more than one woman. Molly’s an easy target, and Ma knows this. She’ll be all over the guy who’s sweet on her. You’ll be lucky to steal a kiss, let alone get up her skirt.”

  Matt shook his head at his brother’s crude interpretation of what he wanted to do with Molly. While true, it also sounded crass and wrong. If that’s all he desired, then he was the kind of man he was trying to protect Molly from. Hadn’t he already stolen a kiss from her?

  “You’ve really cast a new light on it,” he said sarcastically. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime. Can I be the best man?”

  Matt swore but Logan had already left the room.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning, Susanna awoke Molly at dawn.

  “What is it?” Immediately Molly worried that something was wrong with Matt.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I just remembered something and I simply had to tell you.” Susanna sat beside her on the bed, still in her nightgown, her black and gray hair braided and resting over a shoulder. “Do you remember Sarah Pickett?”

  “Yes.”

  “She lives within a day’s ride from here. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Perhaps she’ll know something about your folks that might be useful, and I’m sure she’d be thrilled to know you’re alive.”

  “Can we see her today?” Molly asked hopefully.

  “I’ll speak with Jonathan. I’m sure we can leave after breakfast. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  After Susanna left, Molly considered seeing Mrs. Pickett again. It would be nice to talk with someone from her past. The woman had been friends with her mama—was it possible she knew of a connection with Davis Walker? The thought motivated Molly out of bed.

  * * *

  By mid-afternoon Susanna stopped her horse in front of a modest, wooden house. Molly glanced at the surrounding cottonwoods swaying in the wind, noting how the slight breeze from earlier in the day was fast becoming blustery. She hoped they’d make it back before the storm overtook them.

  A petite, older woman opened the front door and came onto the porch. Smiling, she wiped her hands on a white apron and waited with a questioning gaze.

  Susanna dismounted, looped the reins of her horse around a wooden post and removed her hat.

  “Mrs. Pickett? I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Susanna Ryan. I was a friend of Rosemary Hart.”

  “Why yes, I remember you. I’m pleased to see you again.” She reached out and clasped Susanna’s hand with both of hers. “How nice of you to stop by. I don’t get many visitors these days.”

  After securing her horse, Molly waited a few feet behind Matt’s mother.

  “Mrs. Pickett, I’d like you to meet Molly.” Susanna turned around to include her.

  “Please, call me Sarah. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Molly noticed the delicate wrinkles around the woman’s eyes and mouth, as well as her soft, white hair pulled into a bun. Still, she appeared youthful and her skin glowed with warmth.

  Memories filled Molly’s head—fond recollections of a cheerful woman who helped Molly’s mother adjust to a new life in Texas. Mrs. Pickett spent hours doing Mary’s hair, teaching Emma how to write her letters, and attempted to teach Molly how to sew.

  “May we speak with you for a bit?” Susanna asked.

  “Well, that would be nice. Please, come inside.”

  They entered the simply furnished house. Molly noticed the cleanliness of the dwelling immediately. The living room consisted of two rocking chairs positioned before a stone fireplace. A wooden table with matching chairs sat near the cooking stove, and a bed covered with a colorful quilt was visible through another doorway.

  Sarah turned the two rocking chairs around so they could all face one another, while Susanna brought a stool closer from the table.

  “I wasn’t expecting guests,” Sarah said, “but let me at least set some water to boil for tea.”

  “That would be lovely,” Susanna replied, “but not necessary.”

  “Nonsense. Please, sit down.” Sarah moved to the kitchen area with a purposeful stride. She added wood to the stove, then used a pitcher of water to fill the kettle.

 
Returning to the empty rocker, she settled herself.

  “I wondered if we could talk about Rosemary Hart,” Susanna began.

  Sadness played across Sarah’s face. “I still think of her quite often. Did the young lady know her?”

  “I did,” Molly answered. “She was my mama.”

  Sarah froze. “You’re Molly Hart?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Confusion played across Sarah’s face. “But...Molly is dead.”

  “It was all a terrible mistake,” Susanna interjected gently. “But she’s returned to us now and that’s all that matters.”

  “Oh, my word.” Stricken, Sarah sat back and stared.

  Molly reached out to touch the woman’s hand. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Pickett.”

  “You’ve been alive all this time? I can’t believe this.” The older woman grasped Molly’s fingers. “Oh, child, what a miracle this is. Your mama would’ve died a thousand times over if she were alive and thought you lost all this time.”

  “That’s why we’ve come,” Molly said. “Can you tell me about her?”

  Sarah release her hand and dabbed at the tears in her eyes. “Lord, it broke my heart when she and your papa were killed. They were such good people, and so kind to me. The work she gave me helped my Lou and me survive when he couldn’t work. He was sick, you see.”

  “Is your husband…,” Molly didn’t know how to phrase it.

  “He’s gone, God rest his soul. He died of consumption several years back.” Sarah took a steadying breath. “What would you like to know, my dear?”

  “Everything, I suppose. But what I’m most curious about is if she ever told you anything about Davis Walker, especially during the summer before she was killed.”

  Sarah paused, tentative. “What do you know about Mr. Walker?”

  “Only some...suspicions, mostly. Did Mama ever confide in you?”

  The elderly woman hesitated for such a long while that Molly almost asked the question again.

  “I suppose you’ve a right to know, and with Rosemary gone there’s no one left to tell, but I must say, I don’t feel right saying anything about it. It’s not really my place, you see. Your mama carried a great burden, and I’m certain it affected her health. She could hardly stand to be outside in the sun after a while. You can’t keep such guilt inside. It only festers.”

  Sarah glanced at Susanna. “Perhaps I should speak with Molly alone.”

  “No,” Molly said. “I trust Mrs. Ryan.”

  Sarah nodded, a deep sigh releasing her earlier, cheerful self. “Very well. Your mama didn’t confide in me right away, but, after a time, it became clear something distressed her greatly. I noticed it especially after Davis would visit her. One night, she broke down and told me everything.

  “Your papa, well, he was away at the time. I never breathed a word of this to anyone, not even after your folks were killed. I was greatly conflicted about whether I should have spoken up then, but I finally realized it wouldn’t help bring back all that was lost. And I wanted Mary and Emma to remember their mama as a good woman.”

  “What did she do?” Molly asked, a feeling of dread settling over her.

  “Well, you see, she and Davis knew each other in Virginia. They were actually engaged to be married.”

  “Yes, I know. I recently learned of this.”

  “You did?” Sarah asked. “Well, then, maybe this won’t be as much of a shock as I feared it would be.” Taking a fortifying breath, she continued, “Molly, your mama was in the unfortunate position of loving two men. I hope you’ll remember that and not judge her too harshly.

  “When Rosemary met Robert, she told me she was immediately drawn to him. So, eventually she broke off her engagement to Davis and married Robert. Within a short time, your older sister Mary was born. In the meantime, Davis married someone else and his wife bore him three sons. As I understand, she died in childbirth with the last.”

  “We all felt terrible when Loretta passed giving birth to T.J.,” added Susanna.

  “Rosemary as well,” Sarah continued. “She tried to ease Davis’ pain by caring for the babe, as well as for Davis and the other two boys.”

  “I remember,” Susanna said. “She ran herself to exhaustion. I always thought it was because of Loretta, but I’m guessing there may have been other reasons.”

  “She told me all she’d wanted to do was help in any way she could. She felt badly for a long time about how things had ended between her and Davis. Her intentions were noble, but in the end being near him wasn’t a good thing. There were still, well, feelings between them.”

  “Are you saying Mama carried on with Davis?” Molly asked in disbelief.

  “I’m afraid so,” Sarah said quietly.

  Anger welled in Molly. “How long?”

  “More than a year, it seemed.”

  Sitting back in her chair, Molly tried to fathom what her mama could have been thinking, carrying on with another man while she had a husband and child at home waiting for her.

  “But that’s not all of it, is it?” Molly asked, a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

  “No, dear,” Sarah said soothingly. “From the looks of it, I think you already know.”

  “What is it?” Susanna asked.

  Molly’s throat constricted around the truth, the final act in her mama’s betrayal.

  “Davis Walker is my father.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Matt waited on the front porch, leaning on his crutch and eyeing the storm quickly building on the horizon. It was late in the day, and his ma and Molly still hadn’t returned.

  As Logan rounded the house, a gust of wind flattened his shirt against him. At the same time, Matt saw his pa approach on horseback.

  His pa dismounted and Logan took the horse to the barn.

  “Have you seen Ma and Molly?” Matt asked.

  “No,” his pa replied, immediately looking concerned. “They haven’t returned yet?”

  Matt shook his head.

  “Damn.” Jonathan glanced at the sky. “Your mother knows better. It’s very likely she stayed put at the Pickett house. No reason to worry unless we have to.”

  His pa was right, but that didn’t make Matt feel any better.

  “How’s the foot, son?”

  “A nuisance.”

  His father laughed, then sobered. “I went to see Davis.”

  Matt looked at him in surprise.

  “What happened?” Logan asked, rejoining them.

  “I just wanted to ask him what he remembered of the situation surrounding Robert Hart’s death ten years ago.”

  When his pa became quiet, Matt asked, “And?”

  “He blathered on about that nonsense of Robert rustling cattle off Walker land, which I find hard to believe. Davis is a resentful man. I guess I never noticed just how much.”

  “Did he admit to wanting Hart killed?” Logan asked.

  “No, and of course I didn’t ask him. But a bottle of rot-gut later left him talking about Loretta in a way that turned my stomach.”

  “What did he say?” Matt asked neutrally.

  “Loretta was a nice woman,” his pa replied gruffly. “She sure as hell didn’t deserve Davis. It doesn’t seem he ever loved her. He described her as clingy and pathetic, blaming her for all his sons’ bad habits.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “There were other things going on between Davis and Robert,” he continued. “Some I knew about, but when I brought up what happened ten years ago, just casually mind you, he immediately went on a tirade about how I really never knew Robert. He brought up the cattle rustling, claiming Robert was changing the Walker brand to his own.”

  “But you don’t think it was true?” Logan asked.

  “No, I don’t. Robert was as good and honest a man as you could find. Why would he steal from Davis? He didn’t need the money. It’s just too easy now for Davis to lay blame on a dead man to cover his sorry ass.”

  “So w
hat now?” Matt asked.

  “We keep Molly safe and away from Davis.” Jonathan stood. “He’s wallowing in his own bitterness—that may be all the justice we can ever hope for. I don’t want him near any of the Hart girls again. I owe it to the memory of Robert and Rosemary to look out for their children. I know they would’ve done the same for me.”

  “This is ugly business, but I thank God every day for your mother,” he continued, surprising Matt with an uncharacteristic display of emotional sentiment. “You boys really ought to settle down and start a family. Your ma wants to see some grandchildren and I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind it either. Those things are important. A man shouldn’t spend his life alone.”

  “Is this the short or the long lecture?” Logan asked dryly.

  “Start bringing some women home, or I’ll be forced to search them out myself,” Jonathan remarked sternly. “You boys aren’t getting any younger.”

  “God help us,” Logan groaned, “they’ll be plain, homely, and sturdy.”

  “Ah hell, you boys are too picky.”

  Matt spied two riders in the distance. “So much for Ma stayin’ put.” He nodded toward them, feeling relieved Molly was safe.

  “The damn woman,” Jonathan said under his breath. “What’s she doin’ out in this?” A jagged bolt of lightning shot from the dark mass of clouds.

  Jonathan and Logan moved swiftly to meet the riders partway as Matt hobbled to catch up. Logan took the horses as soon as Molly and Susanna dismounted. The group proceeded quickly into the house.

  As they entered the parlor, Molly shot upstairs and disappeared.

  “What’s wrong?” Matt asked.

  His ma removed her coat. “Oh,” she said, rubbing her forehead, “I don’t even know where to begin. Molly needs some time, I think.”

  “Time for what?” his pa asked.

  “Where’s Rosita?” Susanna questioned. “Let me eat something first, then we’ll talk.”

  As his folks left the room, Matt knew he didn’t want to wait. Hopping upstairs, he paused at Molly’s bedroom door then knocked. “Molly? It’s Matt. Can I come in?”