by Bobbi Smith
"You don't even know me."
"Oh, I know you, all right, Dev O'Keefe. You're a fine, honest, wonderful man. You're no killer. The truth is going to come out. You'll see." She followed him, coming to stand right behind him.
At her declaration, Dev faced her, his impotent fury fueling his words. "What if you're wrong? What if the truth never comes out? What if they find me guilty, and I hang? It could happen, Molly. Believe me, it could happen."
"It won't." Her faith that everything would turn out right did not waver.
"But it might," he repeated. "Don't you see that it's better for you if this stops right here, right now."
"I can't stop how I feel. I'm in love with you. That's never going to change"
"I won't do this to you, Molly. I want to protect you. I don't want you to be hurt."
The thought that he was protecting her was noble, but she didn't want protection from him. She wanted his love. "What about what I want, Dev?" she challenged.
"Molly, you just don't understand."
"Oh, yes, I do. You're the one who doesn't understand, Dev. Love me, please, love me." She didn't give him any further chance to respond, but went to him, looping her arms around his neck and drawing him down for a flaming kiss.
As their lips met, Dev uttered a moan of defeat. Enfolding her in his embrace, he brought her fully against him. She held tightly to him as she eagerly demonstrated in the kiss just how much he meant to her. His denied passion blazed hotly, and his body burned for her.
This was Dev's wildest desire come true - kissing Molly in the moonlight, and for a time he was caught up in the splendor of it. Framing her face with his hands, he drew back to gaze down at her, seeing the happiness and adoration sparkling in her eyes.
"Molly" he growled her name in a hoarse, agonized whisper as he bent to kiss her again, his mouth covering hers this time in a slow, possessive exchange.
Without ending the kiss, they sank down together to the softness of the grassy bank. Their lips met, parted and cherished. Each kiss was more precious than the last as they celebrated the glory of the moment.
Dev knew he should stop, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to. He needed this... needed it desperately. Molly wanted it, too. She had somehow always known that they were perfect for each other, and she thrilled to his every kiss.
When he began to caress her, softly and tenderly at first, she whimpered in ecstasy. She was enraptured as he pressed hot kisses to her throat, and when he began to work the buttons of her bodice, she waited in breathless expectation. That sweet flesh bared to his questing touch, he moved lower. As his lips sought the swell of her breasts above her chemise, she cried out his name in rapturous delight.
The sound of her voice jolted through him, and Dev realized just what he was doing. A shudder wracked his body as he fought to bring his rampant desires under control. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen! He raged at himself for his weakness, and he vowed then and there never to allow it to happen again. He rolled slightly away from her to pull himself together.
Molly had been blissfully unaware of anything except Dev and the wonder of his touch. When he stopped so suddenly, and shifted away, she was heartbroken.
"Dev?"
"Don't say a word, Molly. Just don't say a word." The tautness of his voice silenced her.
The coolness of the night air on her partially exposed breasts, chilled her as much as his words did, and she shivered. She watched in silence as he got up. He stood over her for a moment, staring down at her, and she would never know that the image of her lying there with her hair spread out on the lush grass, her bodice partially undone and her lips swollen from his passionate kisses, would be the memory that would stay with him forever and give him many a restless, sleepless night.
With an iron-will that surprised even him, Dev said slowly, "I won't let this happen, Molly. I respect you, and I care about you too much. Wait for a man who can give you what you need - a family and a future. I'm not that man."
He strode off quickly toward the house, knowing that if he'd lingered smother minute, he wouldn't have been able to hold himself away from her. He drew a long, tortured breath as he moved through the darkness, and he wondered why his eyes were burning. By the time he reached the door, he'd managed to pull himself together, and he let himself in quietly.
"Jimmy, it's me. I'm back," Dev said softly, thinking the boy would be wondering who had come in. But as he walked past Molly's mother's room, he saw that the boy had fallen sound asleep in the ladderback chair beside the bed. He smiled thinking of the boy's diligence in staying by her side in spite of being tired.
Feeling tense and very barren inside, he wandered to the fireplace, and stood looking down at the hearth. He thought the cold, dead ashes there greatly resembled his emotional state right now - barren and lifeless. A short time before a fire had been burning within him, now it had been brutally smothered, all its brightness and light extinguished forever. He remained there, staring sightlessly at the fireplace, his thoughts as dark as the soot that stained the walls.
Moments later, he heard the door open behind him, and he knew without looking that Molly had returned. He wanted to face her and tell her that he was sorry. He wanted to make endless love to her and never leave her. But he knew it could never be, so he stayed where he was.
Molly entered the room to find Dev standing at the fireplace with his back to her. She noticed how he stiffened slightly when she came in, and a great sorrow filled her. Without speaking, she went toward her mother's room to check.
"Jimmy's asleep," Dev spoke as she would have gone in.
"I'd better wake him and get him in bed then," she said, intending to rouse him and have him switch rooms.
"Wait, don't wake him, Molly. Let me help," he offered. "Do you mind if I go in?"
"No." She was surprised by his offer.
She watched from the bedroom doorway as Dev crossed the room and carefully lifted Jimmy into his arms without waking him or disturbing her mother. Carrying him like a baby, he took him on into his own bedroom. Dev lay the soundly sleeping eightyear-old upon his bed and drew the covers up over him.
Molly saw the infinite gentleness in Dev's manner, and the unbidden thought came to her that he would make a wonderful father. It touched her deeply, and she said a silent, fervent prayer that nothing would happen to this man. He was too good, too special, and she loved him so.
"You can have my room for your own while you're here, Dev. I'll share with Jimmy," she told him when he emerged from Jimmy's bedroom.
"Are you sure?" He hadn't minded hiding there during the day, but he hated the thought of her being put out of her own bed because of him.
"I'm sure. I'll. be able to hear Mother better if I sleep in here."
He agreed reluctantly. "I just hope I don't have to impose on you too much longer"
"Dev," Molly said his name sharply to get him to look directly at her for he'd been avoiding doing it ever since she'd returned. "You're not imposing. I was happy to help you. I'm glad that I did."
They both said good night then and parted, bedding down in separate rooms even though in their hearts neither of them wanted to.
Later as Dev tried to fall asleep, he was tor mented by the knowledge that he was lying in Molly's bed. He could smell the faint sweet scent of her on the sheets, and he uttered a groan of frustration as his body ignored his logic and responded to the delicate fragrance. He rolled over, trying to force himself to rest, but it only got worse for him as every time he closed his eyes the vision of her lying on the grassy bank tortured him in a most agonizing way. Memories of the heart-stopping power of her kiss and the exquisite feel of her satiny skin beneath his hands taunted him endlessly. Tossing and turning, he sought escape through sleep, but the long hours stretched dark and desolate ahead of him. When sleep finally claimed him, it was not the blissful oblivion he'd hoped for, but a turbulent rest filled with twisted images of angry mobs, gallows and death. Only as morning
neared, did Molly slip into his dreams. Dev quieted, enjoying, at least in his sleep, the joy of the way things might have been.
Molly had trouble falling asleep, too. The memory of Dev's kisses and caresses, followed by his rejection left her feeling strangely restless and empty. She knew that he'd meant it when he'd said there could be nothing between them, and she knew that the threat of his hanging was very real. But she was not one to give up easily. She would be patient and hope for the best. She did love him, and she fully intended for them to be together. Holding that hope in her heart, she finally drifted off to sleep and dreams of Dev.
"Molly! Hurry!"
Jimmy's call startled her from a deep sleep, and she rushed from the bedroom to see what was wrong. Dev had heard him, too, and hurried from the bed. They came face to face, Molly clad only in her floor-length gown and Dev wearing just his pants.
Dev saw her sleep-flushed cheeks and the demure style of her nightgown that emphasized her innocence and thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Molly saw the wide strength of his chest and the powerful, corded muscles of his shoulders and arms and knew he was the most virile man she'd ever seen. A shock of sensual awareness shook them both, but they had little time to think about it.
"What is it?" he asked, forcing himself to get tough. There might be trouble on his account, and he had to be ready. He had to be thinking sharply.
It took Molly only an instant to realize her brother had called, her from their mother's room.
"It's Mother," she muttered nervously, then hurried in to see how she was.
"Molly," Eileen Magee managed a weak smile as she saw her daughter coming toward her, and she lifted a hand toward her in welcome.
"She's better!" Jimmy declared, his eyes alight with relief and love for his mother.
"How do you feel?" she asked tenderly, thrilled to see a look of sanity in her eyes as she dropped to her knees next to the bed and took her mother's hand.
"Awful, but judging from your reaction, I must be better than I was," she said, sounding tired. "Have I been sick very long?"
"A few days. We were worried, but the doctor came last night and left some medicine. It looks like it's working"
"You had the doctor in?" Eileen looked worried for she knew they had no money. "But I told you-"
"Don't worry, Dr. Rivers was wonderful and very understanding. Everything's going to be fine," she told her earnestly.
She nodded slowly, then frowned slightly. "Did I hear a man's voice in the other room?"
"Oh," Molly knew she had to think quickly. "Yes. That was Dev."
"Dev?" Eileen gave her daughter a questioning look.
"Sheriff Macauley sent him. A prisoner got out of jail, and the sheriff thought there might be some trouble. He sent Dev here to make sure things are all right." Molly was very much conscious of Jimmy's eyes upon her as she related the story, but she didn't flinch as she told only part of the truth. There was no point in upsetting her too much right now. She would tell her the whole story when she was feeling stronger.
"Oh," she sighed heavily. "There's no danger, is there?"
"Not with Dev here. I'm sure it will all be straightened out real soon."
Eileen thought it a bit strange that Sheriff Macauley would send someone out to their home in particular, but she said nothing more. She was too exhausted right now to worry about it. Molly seemed to have everything under control, and she'd always been a good girl.
"Are you tired? Do you want to rest some more?"
"I think I'd better," she agreed.
"Let me get you one more dose of your medicine, and then you can sleep."
Leaving Jimmy there merrily chatting away, Molly went to mix the potion the doctor had left. She found Dev waiting anxiously for her return.
"How is she?" Dev's concern was evident in the seriousness of his expression. He'd had no idea whether Jimmy's urgent call had been one of horror or one of happiness.
"She's awake, and she seems to be getting better, finally," Molly said smiling.
"I'm happy for you, Molly," he told her honestly, ignoring the compelling urge he felt to hug her.
"It's all because of you and your help paying the doctor," she responded.
"It was only money, Molly. I don't take any of the credit for her recovery." Dev denied any heroic claim. He had only wanted to help Molly any way he could.
"If it hadn't been for you, who knows how she would have been this morning," Molly looked up at Dev, her eyes shining with love for him.
He felt a constriction in his chest. "I'm glad I was able to do it for you," he answered, growing uncomfortable with the emotions that were plaguing him.
"She heard your voice and asked about you," she told him as she moved off to get the medicine.
"What did you tell her?"
"The truth, or at least part of it. I told her you were sent out here from the sheriffs office."
"That's all?"
"For now. I'll tell her the rest tomorrow, when she's stronger."
He nodded, wondering silently how the older woman was going to react to his presence in her home.
Molly sensed his unease. "Don't worry, she'll understand. Now, I'd better get back in there with this." She held up the medicine for him to see.
"If you need anything, if I can do anything for you, I'll be right here."
She gave him a bright smile as she returned to her mother, and Dev went back into her room and settled on the bed, to wait and see what the rest of the day would bring.
Macauley strode into the Golden Horseshoe shortly before noon the following day. He knew it was too early for the place to be crowded, and that was fine with him. He was looking for Wily, and he wanted to talk with him in private.
"Morning' Sheriff," Abel, the bartender, called out from where he stood behind the bar. He'd been expecting the lawman to pay him a visit, and he'd been worrying about what to tell him, should he ask about last night. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for Wily Andrews. Is he around?"
"Nope, not this morning."
"He was here last night, though, right?"
"Yes, sir, but he left some time after midnight. I haven't seen him since."
Macauley nodded as he let his gaze sweep the room. "Tell me, Abel, what went on in here last night?"
Abel didn't want to get in trouble with the sheriff, but then again he didn't want Stevens and his friends mad at him either. He knew how mean those three could be, and he had no intention of having them come in here and bust up his place. Besides, he justified what he was about to say, what did it matter anyway? No one had been hurt or killed. The prisoner was still safe. Everything had turned out fine. The furor had died down, and life was back to normal.
Abel tried to sound casual as he answered, "Well, a bunch of the boys got drunk, and one thing led to another, I guess."
"How'd it all get started? Who got them all riled up?"
"I don't rightly know that there was any one man who started it," he replied. "I went in the backroom for a few minutes to get something, and when I came back out the whole place was in an uproar. They were all talking hot and heavy about `seeing justice done."'
Macauley's look was knowing. "You don't remember anybody in particular making the most noise?"
"No, I sure don't, sheriff. But I'll be glad to ask around for you and see what I can find out," he offered, knowing damn good and well that he wasn't going to tell him a thing.
"You do that, Abel, and if Wily comes in before I get a chance to talk to him, tell him that I want to see him over at the jail."
"Yes, sir."
The sheriff left the saloon, even more convinced than ever that something was going on. He knew Wily was the key to everything, so he headed for the boarding house where he knew the old man kept a room. Mrs. Johnson, the gray-haired, heavyset widow-woman who ran it, was happy to help, and she guided him upstairs to his room.
"I don't know if he's still sleeping or not. I didn't hea
r him come in last night, but that's not unusual, he's always very late. He does love his liquor," she told him primly, as if not approving of her boarder's drinking habits.
"Here we are," she said good-naturedly as she knocked at the door. "Wily? The sheriffs here to see you." When there was no reply, she looked puzzled. "My, now that's strange." She knocked again, and when once more there was no answer, she looked questioningly at Macauley. "Shall I open it for you?"
"Yes, please. I won't disturb anything. Let's just make sure he's all right." He had a sickening feeling that the old man might be lying in there dead, murdered for telling him about the lynch mob, and if he was...
Mrs. Johnson fumbled with her ring of keys and then finding the right one, opened the door for the sheriff.
Macauiey entered slowly, looking carefully around. He wasn't sure whether it was a relief or an aggravation to find that Wily and most of his things were gone.
"My, now that's strange," the landlady said in confusion.
"What is?"
"Well, Wily just paid me last week for the whole month. It isn't like him to just take off like this - and without a word."
Macauley quickly thanked her for her time. "If you hear from him, let me know."
"Oh, I will, Sheriff, you can be sure of it."
Blocked in his attempt to find Wily and with him the truth, he headed back for the office in frustration.
The news of the vigilante attack reached Rancho Alvarez quickly, along with a rumor being spread by the owner of one of the restaurants in town that Devlin O'Keefe had disappeared from the jail. The minute Luis heard about it he dropped what he was doing and raced into Monterey to find out the truth.
The stories alarmed and angered Luis for he couldn't afford to have anything happen to O'Keefe. Santana had been a mildly popular man in town, but hardly the kind of citizen whose murder would inspire such an outraged show of devotion. He himself had only used the idea of a mob as a threat to blackmail Cordell into taking up the hunt for Reina. He had never believed that it might really happen.
