The Wren

by Kristy McCaffrey

  The damn woman.

  Ducking branches, Molly quickly overtook the mare.

  Thinking quickly, Matt stopped short of following her trail down the hill, instead moving east in an effort to cut them off. Nathan was right behind him.

  After a quarter-mile, they stopped to determine the best angle to approach the group. Matt watched as Molly pushed Pecos into a stride to match the other horse, the animals running side by side. Then, his heart stopped and he forgot to breathe as Molly jumped from one to the other.

  “Sonofabitch,” Nathan muttered. “She’s got more balls than both of us.”

  “Let’s cut her off,” Matt said through clenched teeth. “Who knows how long that mare will hold her.”

  Riding parallel to Molly’s path, they rode hard, skirting obstacles and jumping uneven terrain. The sun shone from the west, thankfully at their backs, casting a golden glow on the land. Jackrabbits scattered before them and the distant flight of a pair of hawks caught Matt’s eye.

  As the bluff leveled out and their path met with Molly’s, Matt had a better view of her. The flimsy chemise she wore blended with the mare’s coloring, making it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Or perhaps it was simply her skill with the animal. She rode the horse with nothing to aid her, not even a bridle. Leaning low, she grasped the mane for balance, but exhibited a natural ease as she shifted constantly with the sporadic moves of the horse.

  Woman and horse became one.

  She spied him and waved, her dark hair swirling in the wind.

  “Don’t let go!” he yelled.

  Nathan’s horse moved forward on one side while Matt flanked Molly and the white mare on the left. He pushed ahead, trying to slow Winter. He noticed Molly pulling back on the horse’s head, slowing her considerably. As they came to a gallop, Winter began resisting the pressure, shaking her head back and forth. Just as the animal began to buck, Matt moved his horse to the rear and grabbed Molly before she hit the ground.

  Guiding his mount a short distance away, Molly shifted immediately so she could view the snorting female over his shoulder. Her face lit with the biggest grin he’d ever seen on her.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded.

  She laughed. “That was one hell of a ride.”

  “You could’ve been killed.”

  Molly looked at him, the smile faltering. “Are you angry that I tried to catch her? She was getting away. Every second counted.”

  Glancing down, he viewed the dark outline of a breast under her sleeveless top. Jesus, he hadn’t realized how naked she was.

  “We would’ve caught her eventually,” he said sternly, unbuttoning his shirt.

  As he pulled it off, she stared at his bare chest with concern.

  “Matt, we can’t…well, you know.” Deliberately, she moved her eyes over his shoulder then back to him. “Nathan is here,” she whispered.

  Yanking his shirt around her, he covered as much of her as he could. Nathan had already seen too damn much. “I don’t plan on making love to you. What you need is a swift kick in the butt.”

  “Well, you’re welcome,” she said sarcastically. “And just so you know, I’ve done that before, or else I wouldn’t have attempted it now.”

  “Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?” he said, more harshly than intended.

  Nathan approached, leading the mare with a rope behind him. “Are you both done arguing?”

  “We’re not arguing,” Matt replied.

  “Of course not. Molly, thanks for the help. I appreciate it. You ride like you were born to it. The Kwahadi must have prized your horse skills.”

  “I was only average among the best of them. The women didn’t ride as much as the men.”

  “You want her to ride with me, Ryan?”

  “Like hell,” Matt muttered under his breath.

  “That’s what I thought,” Nathan said, laughing. “Let’s go.” He took off at a good clip.

  Molly stuck her arms through the shirtsleeves draped around her, then with some effort climbed over his shoulders to sit behind him. He set a steady pace for their return, Pecos trailing them at a distance.

  When Molly wouldn’t hang onto him, he finally pulled her arms around his middle. “Hold tight.”

  He didn’t like the feeling that she might not need him as much as he needed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Matt dropped her at the back of the house without a word. Molly entered the kitchen and Rosita glanced up with a start. The woman did a quick scan of her from head to toe, but Molly was simply too tired to explain any of it. With the sound of her boots filling the silence, she went to her bedroom without crossing paths with anyone else.

  She unbuttoned Matt’s shirt and removed it, but didn’t set it down. Instead, she held it close to her face and inhaled the scent of him as she moved to look out the window, the last light of the day illuminating the stables. She saw Matt walking his horse and Pecos down below. Stripped to the waist, he looked tall, rugged, and utterly compelling. Lizzie darted from nowhere to join him, and Molly couldn’t bear to watch as the woman flirted with the man she loved.

  Crawling into the large bed, she smelled the still lingering scent of her and Matt from the previous night. Had it only been last night? It was fast becoming a distant memory, just what she feared would happen.

  Maybe she had been wrong to go after the horse. Lizzie never would have done such a thing. Ladies didn’t behave that way. Was that why Matt was so angry with her?

  Molly’s eyes drifted shut as she worried that she might not be the kind of woman Matt wanted.

  * * *

  When Molly didn’t come down for dinner, Matt offered to check on her. When his soft knocks on her bedroom door went unanswered, he quietly opened it.

  Molly was sound asleep in the center of her bed. For a moment he watched her, wishing he could lie down beside her and rest, only to awaken to her sleepy, seductive voice and enticing body. His anger with her had waned, and now all he wanted to do was be with her. But she was clearly exhausted, and his mother and their guests waited for him downstairs. Maybe later he could sneak back, but that was easier said than done—he and Nathan had been relegated to the bunkhouse to make room for Mrs. McAllister and Lizzie tonight.

  Regretfully, he closed her door and returned downstairs.

  * * *

  Much later, Matt and Nathan crashed in the bunkhouse. He was dead tired, having had little sleep the night before. On the heels of that thought came a strong desire to go straightaway to Molly’s room. Deciding he would doze for a short while then go to her, he lay down.

  The evening had been fairly dull as he’d tried to shake Lizzie’s company for most of it. The girl was trying her damnedest to catch his eye. He really ought to set her straight and save her the effort.

  Removing his boots, he vowed he would talk to his pa as soon as possible. When he worked out the details of making Molly his wife, then it would be obvious to one and all where his intentions and his heart lay.

  * * *

  Molly rolled over in bed, wondering what all the ruckus was about. It was still dark outside, but she definitely could hear men shouting. A fleeting memory of the night her family’s ranch was attacked came to her. Jumping from the bed, she grabbed a bathrobe and ran from her room.

  Coming onto the front porch, she ran right into Logan. “Molly, pardon me.”

  “What’re you doing here?” she asked in a hurry. “What’s happened?”

  Moving aside, she saw Matt materialize from the darkness, fully dressed and wearing his gun holster. The whinny of horses sounded from behind him.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  Men from the ranch moved past her.

  Ushering her off to the side, he grasped her shoulders. “We’ve gotten word Davis Walker’s been shot.”

  “What?” Shocked, she stared at him.

  “No one’s exactly sure what happened, but Logan rode in an ho
ur ago with the news. We’re gonna ride over to the Walker ranch and see what’s goin’ on. I want you to stay here, do you understand?”

  “You think this has something to do with me?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m not taking any chances. Nathan’s gonna stay here. Do what he says.” He gazed at her intently. “Promise me.”

  She nodded numbly, reeling from the sudden turn of events. What if Davis died? What if her father died?

  Matt moved away to talk to Nathan. Mrs. McAllister and Lizzie appeared in the front entryway, wrapped in robes, and began chattering nervously with Susanna.

  “I’ll send word as soon as we know something,” Matt said to his mother, interrupting them.

  “Be careful,” she replied. “And for God’s sake, tell your father to be careful.”

  “Where is Jonathan?” Molly asked, glancing around.

  “He’s gone ahead of us,” Matt replied.

  Logan moved past Molly. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  Matt’s eyes met Molly’s and she saw an odd determination in them. He walked to her, took her face in his hands and kissed her, firmly, completely and with no doubt as to his intentions toward her.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said against her lips. “Wait for me.” Then he, Logan and the rest of the men were gone.

  Molly stared into the darkness, the pounding of the horses’ hooves fading quickly with each passing moment. She could still feel the lingering effects of Matt’s lips on her as her fingers brushed across her mouth. Memories of the past inundated her, shifting her focus. There had been much love in her childhood, but also tremendous loss. And so many lies hiding within the cracks of truth. And now, what of the future? What of her future?

  Lizzie moved beside her. “You might have told me.”

  “Pardon?”

  “That you and Matt were together. My mama will hate it, of course, but there’s always Logan.”

  Molly wasn’t in the mood for Lizzie’s frivolousness regarding the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with.

  Mrs. McAllister joined them. “Lizzie dear, please go inside. I’d like to speak with Molly alone.”

  “Yes, Mama.” She left them.

  Now, only Molly and Mrs. McAllister remained on the porch.

  The stooped, gaunt woman faced Molly. “Shame on you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Carrying on with Matthew like that, and under his family’s roof, no less.” Any semblance of friendliness had disappeared, making Molly realize how hard the woman must have worked to keep it up in the first place. “I’ve heard about you. I said as much earlier.”

  “I don’t think this is any of your business,” Molly shot back.

  “Oh, it definitely is my business, especially if you plan to ruin Jonathan and Susanna’s eldest son, seducing him with your body only to contaminate their blood with that of a woman raised with Indians.”

  Molly was speechless. Matt had warned her such people existed, people who hated and despised the Indians they worked so hard to displace, but she had never imagined such venom would be directed at her in such a vengeful way. She’d handled rattlesnakes with better dispositions than Elizabeth McAllister.

  “You lived with the Comanche,” the woman continued, her wrinkled face contorting itself like a wicked spirit from the deepest reaches of the night. “Do you deny this?”

  Molly remained silent, gazing into the darkness that had just swallowed Matt and Logan.

  “You slept with them, you ate their food, you behaved like them. And surely you opened your legs to the men. You’re disgusting, coming back here, trying to live like a white woman again. You can’t possibly believe Matthew would marry you. Your presence will ruin his family. Perhaps the Ryans have been too kind to tell you the truth, but I’m not. It’s for the best you know your place, Molly Hart.”

  Mrs. McAllister clenched her bony hands into the velvet yellow robe she wore, then returned to the house. When Molly was certain she was good and gone, only then did she allow the tears she’d been holding back to roll down her cheeks.

  * * *

  Molly spent the remainder of the night in her room, awake, staring out the window as she thought of the path of her life. Knowing Mrs. McAllister was a bitter old woman still didn’t take the sting from her words, because buried somewhere among them was a shred of truth.

  She could never be what Matt deserved, a wife with an unblemished past, a wife who knew how to be a woman, how to behave like a woman. Despite his desire for her, even he was frustrated by her actions with the horse earlier. Whatever lay between them was destined to end. Perhaps it was better to curtail it now, rather than later, when leaving him would only be that much harder.

  Maybe a life with Lizzie McAllister was best for him. Together they would have land, wealth, and social standing. They would offer their children only the finest in all things.

  The thought saddened her. In her heart, Molly had hoped she and Matt might one day have a child. God help her, what if she was with child already? It was possible, she knew. They had done nothing to prevent it, despite Claire’s warnings and memories of the Kwahadi women speaking of such things.

  If she were pregnant, then she definitely couldn’t stay here. She could never shame Jonathan and Susanna in such a way. And what would Matt do? Would he cast her aside? Would he marry her out of pity?

  She didn’t know what to think anymore, except that she suspected she had overstayed her welcome. Mrs. McAllister hadn’t even mentioned that Davis Walker was, in fact, her father. She must not have known, but surely would in time. Such gossip would only hurt the Ryan family further.

  Hastily, Molly packed a few things, changed into a pair of trousers and an oversized shirt, and stuffed her hair into a hat. As the first rays of light broke across the land, Molly put the SR, and Matt, behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Molly rode Pecos to the northwest, across flat prairies and small ravines, the landscape familiar but hardly soothing. Too many memories existed for her in this place, both in the past and the present. By sundown her destination became clear—what was left of the Hart ranch.

  Darkness descended as Pecos trotted into the protected valley where the long-empty ranch house stood. The structure was still as it had been several weeks ago, when she had spent a rainy night inside with Matt. It all seemed a lifetime ago. So much had changed in such a short time.

  A wave of grief hit her. She missed her mama profoundly, with a sharp and twisting pain. So many questions unanswered, and a future now uncertain again. If she could see her mama once more, what would she say about Davis Walker? Did Walker even live at this moment? Molly would probably never know. Perhaps it would be best to leave Texas altogether, leave the past behind once and for all, and never look back.

  She glanced at the tombstones on the hill, the final resting place for her mama, Robert Hart and a little girl named Adelaide. The wind blew hard, whistling around Molly’s ears. The spirits were restless tonight. With a shiver, she wondered if her mama was among them.

  As darkness descended, the decision to ride farther was made for her. She would spend the night here, then move on in the morning.

  Taking Pecos to the dilapidated barn, she attempted to get her settled from the piercing tempest outside. As soon as she latched the stall, the sound of another horse startled her so much she jumped.

  Molly couldn’t understand where the other animal had come from, but she noticed tack resting nearby.

  Someone else is here.

  Instinctively, she started saddling Pecos again, but a man’s voice stopped her cold.

  “It’s the snake lady,” he said from behind her.

  Stunned, Molly recognized the voice. It was the man with Walker that night by the creek. What was his name? Sawyer? As she glanced over her shoulder, the rifle he pointed left no doubt in Molly’s mind the man was dangerous.

  “But you’re not just a snake lady, are you?” He smelled of hea
vy liquor. “You’re a Hart. Come home to visit, did you?”

  Releasing the saddle, she turned toward him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Came back for old time’s sake.” Sawyer shrugged. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  Staring at him, a flicker of something swirled in her head, but it wouldn’t stick.

  “Well, I remember you,” he continued. “You’re Molly, the middle girl. What a load of trouble you were back then. Who would’ve thought you’d rise from the dead? I really thought Davis was full of shit when he told me, but I guess you showing up here just proves it.”

  In a rush, it all came back. George Sawyer had worked for her family, here at the ranch, ten years ago.

  It was midday and all the men were out working, doing whatever they did around the ranch. Molly was never quite sure, was never really that interested anyhow. But today, Matt, Cale and Logan were repairing a portion of the corral, so it was the perfect opportunity to pester them. Usually, they didn’t hang about so close to the house during daylight hours.

  Molly was using The Wren to practice her aim by shooting rocks off the far side of the enclosure, small splinters of wood flying in all directions each time she hit her target. The three young men were swearing at her, threatening her with a dunking in the horse trough if she didn’t stop.

  Molly just laughed, and threatened to tell her mama and papa about their coarse language. Then, the sound of fabric tearing could be heard as Cale dropped one of the horizontal posts and it caught on Matt’s shirt.

  “That’s just great,” Matt said, shaking his head.

  Cale laughed.

  Molly saw her opportunity. “I’ll go to the bunkhouse and get you another one, Matt.” She smiled sweetly as she trotted off to the building a few hundred yards away. Cale’s voice trailed behind her.

  “What do you want to bet she hides some sort of rodent in it?”

  She smiled again over her shoulder, causing Logan to laugh and Matt to look worried. She’d show them. She just needed to figure out where to hide her pet. It was a harmless brown snake, but she was certain it would still give one of them a good scare. Under Cale’s pillow seemed the most appealing spot, but the reptile probably wouldn’t stay put.