Molly smiled, and Matt wondered how much time should pass before he made her his wife. She would need several days to recover. He debated how long he could wait. He needed to have that talk with his pa as soon as possible.
“I’ll check on you later,” he said.
Molly nodded.
“Rosita, please take Molly into the house,” Susanna insisted. “Put her in Matthew’s bedroom—she can’t possibly make it upstairs after everything that’s happened.”
“It is good to see you, señorita,” Rosita declared. “You not look bad at all. I take good care of you, and I have a stew with hot peppers that will fix anything that ails you…,” her voice faded away as they stepped onto the porch and into the house.
“I’m glad you found her,” his ma said, her concern evident. “Is she really well?”
“I think so,” Matt said. “Cale took good care of her.”
“Logan told me. Cale never fails to surprise me.” With hands on hips her gaze became thoughtful. “So, when should this wedding take place?”
“One week,” Matt said without hesitation, refusing to let his mother intimidate him.
Raising an eyebrow, she shook her head. “That’s hardly enough time to make plans. And Molly might need more time to recover.”
Matt heard what his mother was saying, knew she was right, but the patience that had become an integral part of his personality abandoned him now.
“Two weeks,” he conceded.
“Four.”
“Three, and that’s my final offer.”
Nodding, his ma agreed. “All right, three. I think I can pull it together by then.” She smiled, her eyes filling with tears, then she hugged him.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“Because I’m your mother, and I’m proud of the man you’ve become. And sometimes you remind me so much of the man I married.” She released him, then went into the house.
Matt didn’t waste any time locating his pa, in the barn packing supplies onto a mule as he prepared to head back to the roundup.
“You need me to come and help?” Matt asked.
Startled, his old man turned, then pulled him into a rough embrace. “Logan said you were comin’ in. How’s Molly?”
“She’s well.” Matt stepped back and smiled. It dawned on him he was a very happy man.
“Don’t bother with the roundup—they’ll be finishin’ up soon anyhow. You stay here and get some rest, then we can talk about Molly’s future.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Matt adjusted his hat. “I mean to marry her pa, and I’d like to ask if the offer for Ryan land and a stake in this ranch still stands.”
His pa laughed loudly. “You’re damn right it does.” He slapped Matt on the back. “Never thought I’d live to hear those words. It’s about time, son.”
“Yes, sir, it is.” And under the bright Texas sun, Matt’s future with Molly was sealed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Three weeks later Molly sat on the edge of Matt’s bed and wondered what she should do with her hair. Having never fussed much with it, she was a little baffled. Since today was her wedding day, she knew she better figure something out, and quickly.
Rosita burst into the room carrying the beautiful ivory gown Susanna had purchased in Dallas two weeks ago. Molly loved every lacy loop and soft contour of the silky material. She’d worn it several times over the last few days for last minute fittings.
“Why you sit there, looking lost?” Rosita asked.
“Well…” Molly chewed on her lower lip. Thankfully, it was no longer swollen. All that remained of her ordeal with Sawyer was faint bruising on her ribcage and several red scars on her legs, but both would be covered by the beautiful gown. Matt had made it clear that after the ceremony, when the gown was gone, the scars wouldn’t bother him in the least. That thought made her blush.
She and Matt hadn’t been intimate since the one and only time when he’d come to her during the storm. It had been frustrating, but he was determined to respect the wishes of his folks, as well as pay honor to the woman he intended to make his wife. Or, so he told her during a few heated kisses.
“You have second thoughts?” Rosita said.
“No,” Molly replied immediately. “Of course not. But what should I do with my hair?”
“Ah, I help you.” The elderly woman hurried over to her and started humming then frowned, muttered to herself in Spanish then shook her head as she scooped Molly’s hair into different configurations with her fingers. “This a big decision.”
“What is?” Susanna asked, entering the room.
“Señorita Molly’s hair.”
“I think it would look lovely down,” Susanna replied, moving to smooth out the gown draped on the bed.
The two women took several minutes to arrange Molly’s curls around her face. Her hair was now long enough to brush the top of her shoulders.
“And now,” Susanna said, surveying their handiwork once they were done, “we really need to get you into that dress.”
With much buttoning and primping, Molly soon stood adorned in her wedding gown. The dress, with elbow-length sleeves and a lace design sewn into the torso, fit snugly around her. The off-white material hugged her waist and outlined her bosom, as it had done in the fittings. But Molly suddenly worried that perhaps it was a bit too much.
“Should I cover myself more?” she asked, her hand skimming the flesh just below her collarbone.
“Nonsense.” Susanna examined the dress thoroughly for any problems. “You’re a beautiful young woman and this is your wedding day. All eyes will be on you. It never hurts to keep a man on his toes.”
“Pardon?”
Susanna stopped and gazed warmly at her. “Your own mother can’t be here, but I’m certain she’s watching from somewhere. And I’m sure she’s just as proud as I am of you and Matthew, and the happiness so long overdue you both. If Rosemary were here, she would cry and hug you and dawdle over you until you looked just perfect.” Pausing, she grasped Molly’s hands. “If there’s anything you need to know, if there’s anything troubling you, I hope you know you can always come to me.”
“Thank you,” Molly whispered, tears flowing.
“Do you have any concerns about the wedding night?”
Molly coughed then started to laugh, embarrassed as she wiped her eyes with the back of a hand.
Susanna shook her head, pursing her lips. “Men.” She smiled. “They’ve no patience. But then, we wouldn’t want them any other way, would we?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I’ve never told Matthew,” Susanna said, “but I was pregnant with him before my wedding day.”
“You were?” Molly asked, eyes widening.
Susanna nodded, taking a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and dabbing at Molly’s tears. “Everything will be made right today. And I couldn’t be more pleased to finally call you daughter. Oh my, I almost forgot!” Reaching into her other apron pocket, she pulled out a letter. “This just came for you from Mary.”
With a rush of excitement Molly took the communication, savoring the chance to finally connect with her family.
“You sit and read,” Susanna said. “Rosita and I will return in a bit.”
The two women left the room while Molly sat down in the chair by the window. She carefully unfolded the letter.
Dearest Molly,
I was never more shocked than when I received Mrs. Ryan’s letter telling me you’re alive. I can’t believe it. It’s such a miracle. I can hardly wait to see you! Have you written to Emma? She is still with Aunt Catherine in San Francisco.
I guess you know the truth about Mama and Papa. It was such a difficult time for Emmy and me. I can’t begin to describe it, but I realize it must have been so much harder for you. You were always the strong one, though. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re still alive.
I wish I could come to see you right away, but I’m very heavy with child. The baby should c
ome any day now. I was married five years ago to a man named Tom Simms. He’s wonderful, and I’m very happy. We have two other children, Robert Thomas is five and Molly Rose is three. My daughter is very much like you and well named. She hardly sits still!
We have a ranch in the Arizona Territory, east of Tucson, and Tom is doing well. I haven’t seen Emma since Molly Rose was born. We really should attempt to meet—so many years have been lost. Once the baby is born, Tom said he might be able to bring me to Texas to see you.
I would like to ask a favor. I have a very dear friend named Tess Carlisle who is looking for Cale Walker. Do you remember Cale? Tess thinks he might have information regarding the whereabouts of her father. It’s a long story, but I was hoping you could ask Mr. or Mrs. Ryan if they might know how to get in touch with him.
Please write at your earliest convenience. I look forward to seeing you as soon as possible. With love and fondness, Your Sister Mary
Molly wiped at the tears that appeared to be never-ending on this day. Mary was well and happy. For a desperate moment, Molly wished she could see her sister now, at this very instant, to hug her and forget the last ten years, to remember the brief childhood they’d shared, to remember the good times.
Mary had named her daughter Molly. It warmed her heart and left her speechless. Hopefully, one day soon, she’d be able to meet her namesake.
Mary’s casual mention of Cale made her realize, however, that she would have the distasteful task of telling her sister about their mother’s betrayal. How would Mary take the news that Cale was Molly’s half-brother?
Susanna peeked into the room. “Is it a good letter?”
Molly nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “She’s due to have her baby any time, but she wants to come visit afterwards. I feel a little guilty getting married today without either of my sisters present.”
“Would you like to postpone until we can get them here?”
Molly shook her head. “Who knows how long that could take. By then, Matt and I would probably have three children.”
“And I’d be a happy grandmama.” Susanna entered the room wearing a beautiful white and blue dress. “Everything’s set. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Molly stood, trying to quiet the fluttering of her stomach. Putting the letter safely on Matt’s dresser, she walked out of the room and toward her future.
* * *
Molly waited in the front entryway for Matt’s father to escort her outside. The ceremony was to be underneath a beautiful mid-summer day. Fiddling with the lace on her dress in an attempt to calm her nerves, she heard the door open and looked up.
Davis Walker’s large frame filled the doorway. Stunned, Molly froze.
“May I speak with you?” Davis asked, his hand hesitating on the doorknob.
Molly gave a curt nod.
Entering, he favored his right side. He shut the door, then faced her.
“Are you on the mend from your wound?” Molly asked, finally recovered from the initial shock at seeing him.
“Yes.” Davis’ eyes watched her with a haunted expression. “I know I deserved worse. I didn’t know if you’d see me, but I couldn’t stay away, not today. I suppose it’s too much to ask your forgiveness now, but I hoped that maybe…well, I’d like to get to know you. Be a part of your life, if you’ll let me.”
Molly heard the sadness in his voice. This man was her father. For a short time, or maybe a long time, her mama had cared for him, in some way.
Molly knew she couldn’t turn her back on him, but she also didn’t know how much she could give him. He had become the enemy in her mind. While she no longer felt such a strong animosity toward him, she wasn’t sure she could open her arms and forget everything that had occurred.
“I’m not certain,” she said. “We can try, but I’ll be honest with you—it’ll take time for me to get past all of it.”
Davis nodded. “I understand. I won’t pressure you.”
It startled Molly to see tears in his eyes.
“You look beautiful today,” he said, his voice catching. “You look like your mother.”
“I wish she were here.”
“So do I.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
In the late afternoon sunlight of a brilliant Texas day, Molly became Matt’s wife in a simple ceremony that was over all too soon. Hiding her trembling hands beneath a bouquet of red and yellow wildflowers, she gazed into Matt’s blue-green eyes as he watched her intently throughout the exchange of vows. He had never appeared more handsome, dressed as he was in a black jacket, vest and trousers, a crisp white shirt and black tie.
Logan—almost as striking as Matt in similar attire—and Rosita were the witnesses, the Mexican woman whooping for joy when Molly asked her several days ago.
“Sí, I witness you,” she had answered. “I wait a long time to see a Ryan boy get a good woman. Señor Matt, he get the best.”
Molly sincerely hoped so. She would hate to disappoint him.
About forty people attended the ceremony, neighbors and ranch hands, most unknown to Molly but all interested in the woman who had caught Matthew Ryan. Apparently, she was known not only as the girl who had risen from the dead, but from the shadows of the mighty Comanche as well. No one seemed to harbor the deep-rooted prejudice practiced by Mrs. McAllister, who was conspicuously absent.
Instead, Molly learned she had a bit of a reputation, for tales of her childhood were told with much enthusiasm. Matt also had high regard of his own across Texas, or so many of them told her. A tough army scout, a shrewd Indian negotiator, and a Texas Ranger who never hesitated to put his life on the line for his men or the Texans he was bound to protect.
But Molly knew such a life came with a price. She had seen the damage inflicted by Cerillo to Matt’s leg. Only once did he speak of it to her, briefly describing how the man had broken it repeatedly with an iron rod.
Molly sensed what Matt didn’t say—that the attack had been brutal and he’d barely survived. She knew he would never admit that his imprisonment and torture still affected him, but some things could never be erased from a person’s mind.
But new memories could replace old ones, and Molly hoped she could fill Matt’s life with enough happiness to put much of the last ten years to rest, for both of them.
* * *
In the aftermath of the ceremony, the crowd of people offering congratulations separated Matt from Molly, but his height allowed him to continue watching her.
She’d removed the flowers from her hair, and the early evening breeze blew the dark, unbound mass gently away from her face. Smiling, she greeted each person who spoke to her, listening closely to whatever they said.
The sight of her amazed him.
As a child, she’d been both endearing and exasperating at once, arousing in him a protectiveness he’d never felt for anyone. As a woman, she captivated him on so many levels he was unsure he would ever be able to completely explain the spell of Molly Hart in his life. One thing he knew for certain, though—he couldn’t imagine it without her.
Moved by emotions that always caught him by surprise when it came to Molly—when it came to his wife, he amended, a thought both strange and exciting—he loosened his black tie.
“Already feeling tied down?” Nathan asked, brandishing a bottle of whiskey. He handed Matt a glass filled with the amber liquid. Cale and Logan appeared from the throng of guests, shot glasses in hand also.
Matt laughed at Nathan’s question. “Someday you’ll go willingly, too. I look forward to meeting the woman who brings you to your knees.”
“Molly brought you to your knees?” Nathan asked. “Sounds interesting.”
“We must be desperate if we’re at all compelled to dig into my brother’s love life,” Logan said.
“There isn’t much to pick from in these parts,” Nathan remarked.
“There never was,” Cale cut in. “Now, if you want to discuss quilting next, I might be forced to make a scene. Don’t te
ll me your wife has already pestered you into not drinking anymore?”
Matt grinned at his new brother-in-law. The four men saluted each other briefly, then consumed the contents of their glasses in one swallow. Nathan refilled them.
“Here’s to a long life with Molly,” Cale said. “She’s a keeper, but if she ain’t, make no mistake. You’ll answer to me.”
Matt accepted Cale’s threat in the spirit it was given.
“Here’s to a quiet life as a rancher,” Nathan said.
They downed another shot.
“Here’s to you and Molly having a whole passel of babies to make your life anything but quiet,” Logan said.
“You’ll get yours,” Matt replied.
“Maybe, but you’re gettin’ it first.” Logan grinned. “I knew when you tried to marry her off, you were in piles of it too deep to get out of.”
They laughed, finishing the liquor in their glasses. But that was it for Matt, for he planned to be wide-eyed and bushy-tailed for his wedding night. Molly appeared, her face glowing as she smiled up at him. He settled his arm around her waist.
He drank in the swell of her breasts, outlined by the lacy fringe of her dress. She was enticing without ever meaning to be, and he began to contemplate getting her alone soon. But then he remembered the other men, and Molly’s dress was suddenly too revealing for his peace of mind.
“You look cold,” Matt said. “Why don’t you take my jacket?”
“I’m all right.” Molly looked somewhat confused by the offer.
Nathan laughed, and Logan swore under his breath.
“She married you,” his brother said. “Ain’t that enough?”
Matt glared at his brother. “Yeah, but pickin’s are slim around here, so y’all can go get your own.”
“Cale,” Molly said, “I wanted to talk to you before you left. I received a letter from my sister Mary today. She said a woman named Tess Carlisle is looking for you. Mary hoped you could get in touch with her.”
The Wren Page 23
