The Wren

by Kristy McCaffrey

  “Carlisle…,” Cale muttered to himself.

  “Do you know her?” Nathan asked.

  “No,” Cale said, “but I know the name. Did Mary say why she’s looking for me?”

  “She’s searching for her father and thought you could help.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Cale said. “She must be Hank’s girl.”

  “Hank Carlisle?” Nathan asked. “The name sounds familiar.”

  “J. Howard Carlisle.”

  “The infamous bounty hunter?”

  “Yeah. I rode with him years ago, but I haven’t been in touch with him in a while. I doubt I’d be much help in locating him.”

  “Mary’s living somewhere near Tucson, in the event you’d like to help this woman out,” Molly said.

  “I’ll look into it,” Cale said thoughtfully. “I owe Hank, several times over. And his daughter couldn’t be much older than you.”

  “Meaning?” she asked.

  “A young woman chasing after a bounty hunter like Hank could likely end up in some dangerous situations.”

  “You don’t even know this woman,” Molly said matter-of-factly. “Maybe she’s tougher than you think.”

  “You’re right. If I’m lucky, maybe she’ll be like you.” Then, he added, “Or maybe that wouldn’t be so lucky.”

  Molly laughed. “I hope she proves to be a thorn in your side.”

  “Spoken like a true Walker.” Cale smiled at Matt’s annoyed expression as he put an arm around her. “C’mon.” Guiding her from Matt’s possessive embrace, he added, “It’s time to break the news to T.J. and Joey about their new sister.”

  * * *

  Molly leaned against the corral fence and watched Winter prancing around. In the near darkness, two things stood out—the horse’s beautiful hide and her own wedding gown. She would have climbed up to have a better look, but didn’t want to ruin her dress.

  “She’s all yours,” Nathan said.

  “You’re not serious.” Molly stared in awe that Nathan would ever part with such a magnificent animal.

  “Yeah, you’re not serious.” Matt stood beside her, an arm hitched on the fence.

  Nathan laughed. “You can rest easy. I’ve been working with her these past few weeks. I think Molly can handle her now.”

  “I could handle her before,” Molly murmured.

  “I heard that.” Matt’s breath was hot on her neck as he leaned over her. She shivered from his nearness. The noise and chatter of the party could still be heard from inside the house, but soon it would be over, and then she and Matt would have their wedding night. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

  Logan and Susanna approached from the house. “There you are,” Susanna said, her tone immediately catching Molly’s attention.

  “What’s wrong?” Molly asked.

  “We just received word that Lester Williams is at Fort Sumner and he’s very ill.”

  “How bad?” Matt asked.

  “It sounds bad enough,” Logan answered. “I’m gonna ride out at first light.”

  “You want me to come?”

  “Nah. Cale’s gonna keep me company.”

  “What about Claire?” Molly asked. “Is she sick, too?”

  “We’re not certain,” Susanna said. “She’s not mentioned in the telegram.”

  “I’ll try to find her,” Logan said.

  Molly nodded, concerned about the welfare of her friend.

  “There’s more,” Susanna said, clearly reluctant.

  Molly waited. Perhaps it had been too much to hope that her wedding day would go off without a mishap.

  “I just found this letter.” Susanna indicated the parchment in her hand. “It was buried under paperwork on Jonathan’s desk. It’s from your Aunt Catherine, dated two weeks ago. I opened it since it was addressed to me, but I think it’s really meant more for you.”

  “Is it bad news?” Molly asked.

  “Yes, and no. Your aunt is thrilled you’re alive and hopes to see you soon, but apparently Emma ran off before receiving my letter.”

  “She ran away?”

  “It seems she planned on coming to Texas anyway, before she knew you were alive. She left a note for your aunt, but with an odd side-trip along the way. She decided to visit a large canyon in the Arizona Territory, but your aunt is concerned because Emma asked there be no mention of her whereabouts to anyone. Catherine says some men came looking for Emma shortly after she left. She didn’t tell them anything, but now she feels Emma may be in trouble and she’s unsure what to do.”

  “We should go and find her,” Molly said. “Do any of you know where this canyon is?”

  “I do,” Nathan replied. “It’s called Grand Canyon. I’ve been there although not down inside—it’s larger than anything you could ever imagine.” A look of disbelief crossed his face. “Quite amazing, really. She probably just wanted to see it for herself. Maybe I can track her down on my way to California.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Consider it a wedding present,” he said.

  “You were about to give me Winter as a gift,” she reminded him. “I think your offer is too generous. I can go and look for her.”

  “No,” Matt and Nathan said at the same time, although Nathan’s denial didn’t have as much heat as her husband’s.

  “Send word if you need backup,” Matt said over her shoulder.

  Nathan nodded.

  Molly put a hand on her hip, knowing this was probably the best solution but she worried nonetheless. “And if you do need help,” she glanced back at Matt, “then we’ll both come.”

  “Would you happen to have a picture of Emma?” Nathan asked Matt’s mother.

  “Yes, I might. Let’s go back to the house and have a look.”

  They all moved past the many guests still drinking, eating and socializing on the porch and in the parlor, then entered Jonathan’s study.

  Susanna retrieved a box from a wall shelf and rummaged through the many letters until she found what she searched for—a small black and white photograph of a young woman. “Catherine sent this to me a few years back. I believe Emma was about sixteen at the time.”

  Nathan took the picture, and Molly peeked around his broad shoulders to have a glimpse at the sister she hadn’t seen for ten years. The girl looking back wasn’t smiling, but she definitely had a glint in her eye, a twinkle that leapt from the photograph. Dark hair framed her face with curls, and her eyes stared straight into the camera with a forthrightness and assurance that was at odds with her youthful appearance.

  “She looks almost the same as when she was a child,” Molly said. “She’s very lovely.”

  Nathan stared at the picture a moment longer. “Yes, she’s very lovely.”

  Before Molly could ask what was wrong, he placed the picture in a pocket inside his dark jacket.

  “I’ll head out in the morning with you and Cale,” he said to Logan, who nodded.

  “Thank you,” Molly said to him. “This means a lot to me.”

  “Just take good care of Matt. I’m glad I won’t have to rescue him anymore.”

  “I will,” she said. “And I’ll take care of Winter until you return, but then you can have her back.” She shook her head when he began to protest.

  “You might as well stop now,” Matt said to Nathan, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You can always tell Emma that Molly was prepared to trade her for a horse.”

  “I don’t know,” Nathan considered. “Winter’s a damn fine animal.”

  Looking from Matt’s straight face to Nathan’s serious expression, Molly became irritated until she realized they teased her.

  “Well, you’re right,” she replied. “Winter is a fine horse. Maybe I should have you retrieve both of my sisters in exchange.”

  “I call a truce,” Nathan said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I can’t spend all my days tracking down wayward women.”

  “Sounds better than chasing outlaws,” Logan said. “Less likel
y to get you killed.”

  Susanna grimaced. “All right, enough of this talk. You boys are going to keep me tossing and turning all night with worry.” She grabbed Logan’s hand. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Bring Lester home, and make sure Claire is well.” Then, she settled on Nathan. “With luck on your side, you’ll find Emma quickly. Be…considerate when you tell her about Molly.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Nathan agreed. “But maybe I shouldn’t be breaking that news to her.”

  “No, tell her.” Molly looked into Nathan’s brown-eyed gaze. He was a man much like Matt—honest, reliable, and caring—although his exterior was more hardness and grit, traits carefully honed in a land that demanded nothing less of a person. She hoped that someday love might blow through his heart. “And tell her I’ve missed her.”

  Nathan nodded. “I will.”

  “We’d best return to our guests,” Susanna commanded. “This wedding day is still far from over.”

  But Molly hoped she and Matt wouldn’t have to entertain for much longer.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  In the darkness, Matt rode away from his folks’ ranch house with Molly snug in his arms. It was the first step in their future together.

  “Look at all the stars.” She craned her head back. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He kissed her neck. She smelled of sweet wildflowers, desert wind, and infinite possibilities.

  After a short ride, he brought them to the abandoned building his family had occupied years ago, the same one he’d brought Molly to after she learned Davis was her father. It was here he realized that he’d been fighting a losing battle. He wanted Molly, needed her, and he’d been a fool to keep railing against it.

  They dismounted. “Stay here,” he said. He went inside to light an oil lamp, then came back to retrieve his wife. Just before entering, he scooped her into his arms and carried her into their new home.

  “Is this where you’ve been all those days when you disappeared?” she asked as he set her down.

  He nodded, glancing at the fruits of his labor. Windows had been installed and curtains hung. A large wooden bed had been brought in from Dallas and adorned with a quilt made by his mother as a wedding gift. He’d cleaned the cast-iron stove, added a table and chairs, hung shelves and a cupboard, and stocked it with food, plates, cups, and utensils.

  “It’s small,” he said quickly, “but it’s private. And I promise to build you a big ol’ house soon. We’ll need more room when the children arrive.”

  Molly faced him. “I love it. This is more than I ever thought I’d have. Thank you.”

  He smiled at her, knowing he was a lucky man. Molly still wore her wedding dress. Dark curls hugged her neck and led to curves that called to him on more than just a physical level. She looked feminine and vulnerable, and he knew Molly Hart had lived in his heart from the beginning of time, or at least the beginning of his time. His life was clear and focused now, his path obvious. As a wren leaves a path of markers to its home, so was there such a path for him. And at the end was Molly.

  * * *

  Moved by all the effort Matt had gone to for her, Molly could hardly believe she finally had a real home.

  “I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out a white cloth then opened it.

  “You kept them?” she asked in surprise when she saw the contents.

  He handed her the golden cross still hanging on the same chain that had carried it around her neck ten years ago. He also gave her an old, tattered yellow ribbon, the one she had worn the night she disappeared.

  “I’ve kept them with me every day since I lost you. But now, I don’t need them anymore, because I have you instead.”

  Reaching into his trouser pocket, he pulled one last thing out to give her—a silver badge with a star at the center and the words TEXAS RANGERS in the surrounding circle. “You can have this, too. I’ll not be needing it anymore.”

  She began to cry but he kissed away her tears, stripping away the barriers of the past between them while stripping away their clothing. They came together, blazing as hot as the Texas sun, loving each other with tenderness, with need, and finally with desperation.

  Molly felt at peace as she lay in Matt’s arms, as the darkness surrounded them. Silence was no longer an enemy and her unyielding journey had finally come to an end. She’d been lost, but Matt found her.

  At dawn, Molly left her husband sleeping soundly in their new bed. She lingered over his slumbering form, his nakedness barely covered by the thin sheet. They hadn’t rested much, instead feeding their unending hunger for one another until sleep could no longer be ignored.

  She noticed that her clothes and personal items had been brought to their new home, and Matt’s thoughtfulness filled her heart once again. She quickly threw on a chemise and her boots.

  She spied the rusty metal box that had been her survival kit. Opening it, she removed the well-worn slingshot from her childhood, The Wren’s rawhide strap cracked and broken. Then, she gathered the gold cross, the yellow ribbon, and the Ranger badge from the table and headed outside as a light blue haze began to fill the sky.

  Tying the ribbon at the base of the slingshot, she positioned it in a resting place within the trunk of the cottonwood tree that protected the house. Then, she hung the necklace from it, the cross dangling back and forth before it settled into position. Finally, she placed Matt’s badge at the base of the slingshot. A sliver of sunlight shot across the land and the metal shone brilliantly. Molly squinted against the brightness.

  She remembered the child she had been—wild and spirited, bound to the land in ways even she hadn’t understood. She imagined Molly Hart would forever run across the prairies, slipping through gullies, catching snakes, and collecting rocks for The Wren.

  Deliberately, slowly, she turned away and walked into the dawning of a new day, a new future as Molly Ryan.

  Matt appeared behind her, shirtless and sleepy, looking untamed and dangerous, his own rugged strength drawn from the same land. He wrapped his arms around her and they stood strong against a new wind blowing.

  As one, they welcomed the sunrise.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  I’m so pleased you chose to read The Wren, and it’s my sincere hope that you enjoyed the story. I would appreciate if you’d consider posting a review. This can help an author tremendously in obtaining a readership. My many thanks. ~ Kristy

  Bonus Scene

  December 24th, 1877

  Matt shifted the two gifts to one hand as he opened the door to the bedroom he and Molly shared. He’d brought her to his folks’ house for the holidays so she could be closer to her family as well as his ma, since her growing belly did little for his peace of mind. While the impending birth of their child filled him with joy and pride, he also worried like a mother hen. His days as a Texas Ranger seemed tame by comparison to this next stage of life.

  Molly sat on the bed, her back against a pile of pillows. Balancing a plate atop her ballooning stomach, she spooned a large bite of food into her mouth.

  “Is that Rosita’s caramel cake?” he asked. “I thought it was all gone.” The Ryan’s cook had baked her delicious concoction for the large family gathering this evening. It was based on a recipe his ma had long used, however Matt was certain Rosita had added a few peppers to spice it up.

  Molly nodded, unable to speak around the sweet dessert. Her auburn hair, having finally grown longer, tumbled out of the bun from earlier and she still wore the emerald gown his ma had given her as a gift a few days prior.

  He approached the bed, sat beside her, and reached for a morsel of cake. Molly shifted the plate away from him.

  He laughed. “I can’t have any?”

  She glared at him. “It’s the last piece. And I’m eating for two.”

  Matt knew not to come between his wife and food. He was glad she could keep something down at long last, having recently recovered her appetite after a long bout of m
orning sickness. But now that her hunger had returned, it was like the force of a passel of nursing piglets.

  “I wanted to give you these tonight.” He placed the boxes beside her.

  She beamed and quickly consumed the remainder of the cake, then set the dish aside. She opened the first gift and went still.

  “Where did you get this?” she whispered.

  The portrait featured Molly with her mama, papa, and sisters, Mary and Emma. It was likely taken around 1866 since Molly looked to be about eight years old. While everyone stared straight ahead with a stony countenance, young Molly had a mischievous smirk on her cherubic face. Matt smiled every time he looked at it. This was the Molly he remembered—wild, tenacious, and curious. She’d crawled into his heart, becoming a part of his blood and bones, the very spirit that breathed life into him.

  He gave silent thanks that she was in his life, as he had every day since he’d found her again.

  “My ma had it,” he said. “After your folks were killed, and your sisters were sent away, she went through the Hart homestead and collected whatever mementos she could find. I had a new frame sent from Dallas. I thought you might like to have it.”

  Molly’s eyes welled with tears. Matt reached out to snag a crumb from her cheek. She kissed him, tasting of Rosita’s cake, both sweet and spicy.

  “We can put it on the mantle of the Rocking Wren when the house is complete,” she said against his lips, referring to the ranch he was building just for her. She resumed staring at her gift. “I can’t wait to show Mary and Emma tomorrow.”

  Matt knew this was a special Christmas for Molly. After having lived with the Comanche for years, she hadn’t celebrated the holiday since she was a little girl. And now, both of her sisters were with her. Emma had returned weeks ago and promptly married Nathan Blackmore; Mary had arrived a month ago with her husband and three children, having traveled from the Arizona Territory with Cale Walker—Molly’s new-found half-brother—and his wife, Tess. Matt’s folks had a full house at the moment, including his brother Logan, his wife Claire and her younger brother Jimmy.