Molly's Hero

by Susan Amarillas

  Ethan caught up with her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him. “It’s not like that, Molly.”

  “Really!” She yanked free of him. “Do you deny that you own the railroad? My God, you own the railroad!”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Do you deny that you came here to get my land?”

  “No, but—”

  “Do you deny that you kissed me because you thought that would get you what you wanted?”

  “Yes! Dammit! Yes! I deny it. I never used you. I would never do that to you. When I kiss a woman, it’s because I want to.”

  “Oh, so you do this a lot then,” she snapped back at him.

  Ethan snatched off his hat and rifled one hand through his hair. “No. I do not go around kissing women. Certainly not to get their land. Billy was supposed to have taken care of this. Somehow he didn’t, and I said I would come here and buy the land. That’s all.”

  “Then why didn’t you say so when you rode in?”

  “Because you were sick. Because I felt sorry for you—”

  “Felt sorry for me! I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. I don’t need anyone to feel sorry for me.” She noticed Katie coming toward her with a fishing pole propped on her shoulder.

  Ethan grabbed her by both shoulders and held her. “Oh, no you don’t, Molly. You can send me packing if you want. But I won’t go with you believing that I kissed you because I wanted this damned chunk of Wyoming wilderness.”

  She was as stiff as a fence post, unmoving. Not at all like the woman who’d melted in his arms such a short time ago. “I wanted to tell you. There never seemed to be the right time.”

  “How convenient for you.” She easily pulled free and straightened the front of her blouse, making a show of fussing with wrinkles.

  “But when I kissed you…I know I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life. Because in the few days that I’ve been here something has happened between us. You know and I know it and there’s not a damned thing we can do about it. Every time we look at each other it’s like lightning and I want—”

  “I’m married!”

  “Dammit, don’t you think I know that! If I could find your husband I’d shoot the son of a bitch where he stands just for leaving you and Katie.”

  “Oh, I see. If you can’t get the land by making love to me then you’ll resort to shooting my husband.”

  This time it was Ethan who paced away. “You aren’t going to listen, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Molly,” he said softly, reaching out to her wishing, praying she’d reach back.

  She didn’t.

  “Leave, Ethan,” was all she said.

  “Molly…”

  Tears glistened in her eyes and clogged her throat. “I am telling you for the last time to get out of here! Get away from me! Stay far away from me!” She swiped at the tears that shimmied down her cheeks. “Damn you, Ethan Wilder.”

  With that she went to the cabin.

  Ethan watched her go. There was nothing else he could do. He went to the corral, gathered his gear and saddled Four.

  “Where you goin’?” Katie’s voice startled him.

  “Town.” He snapped the cinch down hard enough to make Four shy and side step. “Watch out!” Ethan grabbed her out of the way. He was taking his sullenness out on the horse and the kid and it wasn’t fair, he knew. So he hunkered down and said, “I’ve got some work to do.”

  “But we didn’t catch any fish, and you said you was gonna help me make a house for the birds to live in in the wintertime.” Her mouth pulled down in a frown.

  “Katie, honey, I’ll be around for a while, in town. Maybe later we can work on that birdhouse. Okay?”

  “I don’t want you to go, Mr. Ethan.” She hugged his neck and he hugged her back. This was getting tougher and tougher. Was this some kind of punishment for not telling the truth up front? If it was, it was working. He felt like someone had just gut-punched him.

  He pulled her arms from around his neck and set her back a ways from him. Brushing the hair back from her round face. Something moist was happening in his eyes and he blinked hard. “Honey, I have to go.” He stood and checked the cinch and bridle and the tie on his saddlebags. He swung up in the saddle.

  “You never did teach me how to ride your horse,” Katie told him.

  Ethan shifted in the saddle, the leather creaking. Four shook his head as though anxious to go. “You know, you’re right about that.” Leaning down, he hooked Katie under the arms, and in one motion positioned her in front of him.

  “Okay, I’ll take you as far as the road.”

  Katie beamed and bounced up and down as though they were already moving. Four looked back and Ethan chuckled. “Never mind, boy,” he said, giving the horse a pat. “Katie’s going to handle the reins this time.”

  They rode out into the sunlight together, Katie laughing and saying giddy-up as Four walked calmly along. He took her as far as the road. “Okay, this is where I leave you.” He lifted her down and deposited her on the ground. When he straightened, his gaze naturally sought the cabin and, sure enough, Molly was standing in the doorway.

  It was in his mind to go back there, to talk to her some more, to make her understand, believe him. He knew it was no use. She needed time to calm down. He needed time to sort out his feelings.

  “Katie!” she called, and Katie ran to her mother. He paused to look at Molly a moment longer, remembering, wishing, and regretting, oh, yes, regretting.

  “We aren’t through,” he called to her. She made no sign of hearing him. No matter. He’d be back. Yanking down hard on the brim of his hat, Ethan reined over and rode in the direction of town.

  Inside the cabin, Molly was putting the last of the supplies away, trying to concentrate on making dinner, on what Katie was saying—anything except the one thing she did not want to think about.

  Ethan.

  “But why did Mr. Ethan have to go?” Katie asked for about the fourth time in the last ten minutes. “I liked him. Didn’t you like him?”

  “Yes, Katie, I liked him.” More than I care to think about, she thought.

  “So, can he come back?”

  “Not right away.” Molly stowed the milk on the shelf.

  “Why not? Where’s he going?”

  “To town.” She unpacked the last of the crate and put it down at the end of the counter on the floor.

  “But we didn’t get to finish fishing and—”

  “Katie, why don’t you go outside and feed the chickens?”

  The little girl scooted down from the chair and started for the door. “Okay, but it won’t be no fun without Mr. Ethan. He let me ride his horse. Did you see me riding?”

  “Yes, I saw.” She had seen him sitting atop that horse, tall, powerful, dark. He was as tempting as sin and, even knowing what she did, it had taken all her strength not to go to him, to let him explain, to believe simply because she wanted to believe.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” Molly shouted after Katie.

  But for all her wanting Katie to stop talking about Ethan, being alone in the cabin was worse. It was strangely quiet without him.

  Well, she wouldn’t give in to this. She was strong. She’d been lied to and used by him. She should be angry. Dammit, she was angry.

  Molly straightened. She was not going to think about him in any way. She was better. Her fever was gone. She didn’t need him or want him around. She was lucky she’d found out the truth when she had.

  Yet, she seemed to feel his presence in the cabin. If she closed her eyes, Molly could see him standing in the doorway, filling the width of it, having to duck his head to come inside. Her hand naturally glided along the top of the chair. Memories of him sitting there, laughing with them over some silly thing Katie had said, came to mind. He had a nice laugh. An easy smile that lit up his eyes and made her want to smile back at him.

  No. This w
as getting her nowhere. She shook her head against the lush memories. She stormed toward the blanket he’d tossed over her bed this morning. Grabbing it with both hands, she snatched it up, the wool rough and scratchy on her sensitive skin.

  Molly stood there holding it against her, remembering him stringing it up that first night, remembering the fire and him risking his own life to save Katie’s.

  She’d been grateful to him for that. And more. Much more. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t been as angry as she should have been when he’d kissed her, when she’d let him kiss her.

  Why should he have this power over her? She needed to think about her husband. Yes, that was it. Think about Jack.

  But every thought seemed to be nothing more than a comparison, and Jack came up lacking every time.

  Molly dropped down on the edge of the bed.

  The cabin was suddenly overbearingly small and confining. How could a man make such a difference in her life in such a short period of time?

  She hurled the blanket down on the floor. “Leave me alone, Ethan Wilder!”

  But he had left her alone. She had ordered him from the place and he’d gone. She wanted her life back the way it was before she’d met him, before he’d come in and taken over.

  She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. She would not cry. She wouldn’t.

  “Damn you, Ethan!” she shouted. “Damn you for doing this to me!”

  Confused and desolate, she fell over onto her side on the hay-filled mattress. She curled into a small tight ball and cried.

  Chapter Ten

  There’s two things a man wants when he sulks, whiskey and solitude. Ethan found the whiskey at the El Dorado Saloon in War Bonnet. It was a poor excuse for a saloon, as far as saloons go. It was long past its prime, judging by the faded wallpaper and stained pine floors.

  The single room was long and narrow, with the required bar taking up half the length of the left side; a pair of spittoons punctuated each end. There was a mirror hanging behind the bar that was too dirty to reflect what light was coming in the equally dirty front windows. There was the distinct smell of stale tobacco and whiskey in the air.

  Two men in suits occupied a table near the front.

  Ethan went first to the bar. “Whiskey,” he said. “Bottle and one glass.”

  “Three bits,” the barman replied, his hand still around the neck of the bottle as though he weren’t letting loose until he saw the money.

  Ethan obliged, tossing several silver coins on the scarred walnut top. Grabbing up the bottle, he went to find a remote table in the back of the room.

  “Hey, you forgot the glass,” the squirrel-faced man called, and Ethan retraced his steps long enough to snatch the glass out of the man’s hand.

  He settled into a chair in the corner, his back against the wall. Sort of like his life these days, he thought. When he moved, the chair’s leg wobbled, and after a minute his dark mood wouldn’t put up with such a petty annoyance so he changed chairs but not location.

  He filled the glass with a slosh of whiskey and tossed it back in one swallow, taking pleasure in the way it burned his throat on its way down. Those men at the table near the bar kept glancing his way, then saying something low that he couldn’t hear. Probably knew who he was. When he saw one of them get up, he fixed the man with a you’ll-be-sorry-if-you-come-over-here look that must have worked because he went out the double doors.

  Smart man, he thought churlishly. He poured another drink and tossed it back. Hunched over the table, he stared at the amber liquid in the bottle.

  So this is what it’s come to, huh, Wilder?

  Evidently. Oh, he knew getting drunk wasn’t going to help a damned thing but it seemed like the only thing he could do, at least do right. Damn, he’d really made a mess of things.

  Another slosh of whiskey and another single swallow to take it in. So now what?

  Try as he might, he knew he still had to have that land for the railroad and he knew now with crystal clarity that if he got it, then Molly would never for give him. If he didn’t, then he’d lose everything he’d ever worked for, everything he’d wanted, every promise he’d made to investors and to Billy.

  So, what was he going to do? Damned if he knew! Ideally, he’d come up with some magical new route. Yeah, right, only if there was an earthquake big enough to move mountains in the next couple of weeks.

  Not much hope there.

  There was no other way around, not without going a hundred miles out of the way, not without losing time he didn’t have. Bankers were a coldhearted bunch when it came to loan payments.

  So he had to have the land or give up on the railroad.

  He poured another drink, the whiskey spilling over his fingers and onto the gouged surface of the table, pooling in a deep cut that someone had carved in the pine.

  Absently, Ethan ran his finger back and forth over that scar, feeling the rough edges, watching the way the liquor seemed to cling to his skin, then fall away. Something within his grasp, yet he was unable to hold on to it…like Molly.

  Shaking his head, he swallowed the whiskey. It didn’t burn his throat anymore. In fact, he hardly felt it at all. He ought to be halfway to getting good and drunk. He wasn’t.

  The glass was smooth and warm in his hand and he turned it around slowly, back and forth, between thumb and forefinger.

  He should never have kissed her. Yeah, that was his big mistake. He should never have stayed there, never gotten to know her.

  But Molly Murphy was the most enticing woman he’d ever met. She was strong and determined and honest—something he hadn’t been. When she smiled at him, it was as though she ignited a flame inside him. Erotic fantasies merged with rich memories, stirring his body to life.

  His fingers actually trembled when he reached for the bottle again.

  Molly had been like fire-heated silk in his arms, all soft and pliant. Her mouth had been easy against his, warm and willing, and when she’d made that little sound, desire had overwhelmed whatever rational thought he’d had.

  Dammit, she should have stopped him!

  He stilled, the glass held out in front of him. Yeah, she should’ve stopped him. She hadn’t.

  He put the glass down. Truth be told, in the back of his mind, he’d thought she would. Instead, she’d kissed him back. There was no mistake about that. He was no novice with women and he knew when a lady was willing. Molly Murphy had been very willing.

  That thought fed his male pride and something else. Thinking about her, another feeling stirred in him. Oh, there was lust there, but something else. Like a midnight shadow, like a ghost of a long-forgotten memory, a feeling circled in his mind just out of reach.

  Dammit!

  He snatched up the glass and slammed it down hard enough to draw everyone’s attention.

  “Hey!” the barman called out. “No trouble in here, you!”

  Ethan frowned. “No trouble.”

  Still the question lingered in his mind. Why had she kissed him? Why hadn’t she slapped his face?

  He was pouring himself another drink when he heard the shuffle of men’s feet and looked up in time to see Bartel and Evans and a couple of other men from earlier today come into the saloon. They made a beeline right for him.

  “Ethan!” Bartel said loudly as he and the others closed in on him. So much for being left alone to sulk.

  “So?” Bartel was saying as he dragged out a chair and sat down. The other three did the same.

  “Wilder,” Evans said by way of acknowledgement.

  The others nodded their greeting.

  “Have a seat,” Ethan said with a sarcastic edge to his voice.

  “What? Huh? Oh. You mind?” Bartel mumbled.

  “No, why should I mind?” Ethan replied in that same tone. He was in no state of mind to discuss the fine points of brooding with these men. “Drink?” He nudged the half-full bottle toward the center of the table.

  “Sure,” Bartel said, then over his shoulder c
alled, “Ben, three more glasses over here. I guess this means we’re celebrating?”

  Ben brought the glasses.

  “You got the land?” This time it was Brinsfield doing the asking.

  “Did I?” Ethan returned, pouring himself another drink. This one he sipped.

  “How much did she finally take for it?”

  The men all seemed to lean in at one time, as though he held the answer to the secret of life. He didn’t, though he wished to hell he did.

  “I didn’t get the land.”

  Their faces all showed their surprise. “What the hell happened?” Bartel said.

  “Nothing happened. I didn’t get it. We’re…in negotiations.” He poured the whiskey, but didn’t drink it. Suddenly he was losing his taste for it and for getting drunk. What he wanted to do was ride back out there, demand she listen to him, to reason. Fat chance.

  “You can’t leave it like that. What are you gonna do?” Evans asked. “We gotta have that land.”

  “Don’t you think I know that!” Ethan snapped back.

  Bartel turned to Brinsfield and said, “Maybe we better ride on out there tomorrow and—”

  “Don’t,” was all Ethan said.

  “Why? I’m sure if we explained things just right…” The sneer on his face was coldly chilling. “She can be made to listen.”

  There was something in that made that sent all Ethan’s protective instincts to the fore.

  “Leave her alone, Bartel.”

  Bartel lounged back in his chair and raked Ethan with an appraising stare. “Sounds to me like you’ve got your priorities mixed up.”

  “Leave the woman alone. My ‘priorities’ are none of your business. I’ll handle what needs handling.”

  “And how much handling,” Bartel emphasized the last word in a snide sort of way, “does the woman need? Is that old Molly’s price? A good roll in the hay? Why, Ethan, I figure you’re up to the task. If you ain’t, why I can sure—”

  Ethan didn’t even think. In one motion, he stood, reached across the table and grabbed Bartel by the coat front, dragging him halfway onto the table.