by Renee Ryan
Molly was attracted to the man. Even knowing all the reasons for keeping her distance, she didn’t want to fight her feelings anymore. Not at this precise moment. Maybe tomorrow.
But today? She wanted no more barriers. The past few hours had been harrowing and full of too many emotions, one trial on her nerves after another.
Molly wasn’t by nature impulsive or reckless. She certainly wasn’t irresponsible. Letting down her guard around this man would require all three.
And yet...
What would it hurt—just this once—to give in to her feelings for CJ? He could have been killed had the flaming board hit his head. She could have lost him forever.
Just this once, she told herself.
After that they could go back to being...whatever it was they were.
“CJ.” She moved a step closer, placed a hand on his arm. “I want to thank you for your efforts on my family’s behalf.”
CJ, being CJ, didn’t brush off her gratitude or pretend to misunderstand what she meant. He simply said, “You’re welcome.”
Something that felt like a promise passed between them. They’d been in this place before, on more than one occasion. They’d even kissed. This moment felt different. It felt like...more. Permanent and life-altering.
She’d been so scared, watching him go to the ground. Her feet hadn’t been quick enough, nor her screams of warning loud enough.
All those pent-up emotions boiled beneath her skin and she thought she might explode. No more thinking.
She gripped his shoulders, rose slightly on her toes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss started out slowly, a brief meeting of one mouth with another. But then CJ wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
She was the one to start this kiss. She must be the one to end it. With considerable effort she lowered her heels, the move sufficiently breaking the connection of their mouths. CJ loosened his grip but didn’t let her go completely.
For several long seconds they stared at one another, their breathing taking on a similar sporadic cadence.
The sweet tenderness in CJ’s eyes stirred something in Molly, something that had died with George. Something that felt like hope. Hope for the future.
CJ’s lips curved at the edges. “Well, that was...”
He appeared at a loss for words. Molly wasn’t feeling especially verbose herself. Kissing CJ had only added dimensions to an already complicated situation.
She let out a shuddering breath.
He touched her lips once more with his, then smiled down at her. “Go back inside.”
This time, she did as he requested.
* * *
Hours after kissing CJ, with the sun skimming the horizon, the fire was nearly contained. Nearly, but not quite. Molly was weary from worrying and fidgeting. Her back was one giant knot.
Most of the neighboring ranchers and men from the community had left. Only CJ, Edmund McKay and Hank Snowden remained working beside Molly’s father, brothers and their ranch hands. Their diligence had saved the main house and outbuildings.
The barn, however, was a total loss, nothing more than a pile of glowing ashes. According to Molly’s father, the danger was not yet over. At any moment, one of the smoking embers could ignite into something more serious.
Making food for the men had proved to be the perfect distraction for Molly’s mother. Food was always something they could do. Lula May was proving a master at organizing the spattering of volunteers left in the house. She’d sent her sons home, but she and her daughter remained.
Helen Carson put Daisy in charge of entertaining the twins and Pauline.
After making yet another urn of coffee, Molly went to check on the twins. They were sprawled across Daisy and all three had fallen asleep on the large, overstuffed sofa in the living room. They looked comfortable, which defied logic, considering their awkward position. Nevertheless, Molly decided to leave them sleeping a bit longer.
She returned to the kitchen just as her mother picked up a tray of food. Molly reached for another and followed her outside, making the short trek to the wooden picnic table set up near the back porch.
There was a bitter stench in the air and pockets of smoke hung over the general area. Drifting ash had settled over everything like a blanket of dingy snow. It would take weeks for her family to clean away the debris.
Suddenly overwhelmed, Molly set down the tray and studied the barn, now a black skeleton. A river of wet soot and dirty water dripped from the few pieces of wood still standing. The grass, once green and thick, lay trampled.
Her mother called out to let the men know more food had arrived. Her brothers ran over and inhaled their sandwiches faster than most people breathed air. They seemed not to care that their faces and hands were black with soot. A few of the ranch hands joined them, digging in as gustily as the boys.
His expression cheerless, his eyes bleak, Molly’s father walked over to her mother. As a single unit, they faced the carcass of the once white barn, their hands locked together, their heads leaning toward one another.
CJ strode over to speak with them. The three conversed for what seemed a long time. At one point her father shook his head, but CJ continued to talk quickly, gesturing to the barn.
As Molly eyed his tall, muscular build, so similar to her father’s, she realized CJ hadn’t taken a break since the accident. That had been hours ago. He finished whatever he had to say and walked toward the remains of the barn.
Still hand in hand, her parents bent their heads again and spoke softly. Occasionally, they would look up and watch CJ moving through the debris. Then they would huddle together and begin conversing softly once more.
Molly grabbed a clean plate, filled it with cold chicken, mashed potatoes and three buttermilk biscuits. She paused beside her parents. “CJ hasn’t eaten.”
“Hasn’t he?” Helen Carson eyed her with a shocked expression. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind.” She gave her a soft smile and started toward the barn.
“Molly, stop.” Her father’s voice held an authoritative note. “The fire isn’t completely out. The hem of your dress could run across a hot ember and ignite.”
She’d known this, of course, but she’d been so caught up in making sure CJ ate that she hadn’t thought of the dangers to herself.
Sighing, she handed the plate to her father. “Will you see that CJ gets this?”
“I’ll take care of it right now.” He kissed his wife, then set out across the crushed grass.
Not wanting to go back inside, Molly stepped next to her mother and linked their arms.
Helen looked from CJ to Molly, then back again. “He’s a good man.”
“Yes, he is. The very best I know.”
“He’s very...” her mother paused, seeming to search for the right word “...capable. The other men naturally look to him for guidance, as do your brothers. I’ve decided to like him.”
Molly laughed softly. “Me, too.”
Her father said something to CJ, who looked over his shoulder and settled his gaze on her. Heart pounding, she lifted a hand.
He started toward her, paused to set the plate on a nearby table, and then resumed his approach.
Untangling their arms, her mother stepped aside. “I think I’ll check on Daisy and the girls.”
Molly could tell her they were fine, but emotion clogged in her throat and all she could manage was a nod.
She swung back around, and kept her eyes on CJ as he continued striding toward her. He was filthy, clearly exhausted, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“Your father insisted I take a break.” His smile flashed white in his soot-covered face. “There was no arguing with him.”
“We Carsons are a stubborn lot.”
> “This is true.”
“Come with me.” Giving him no chance to argue, she took his hand and drew him to the table recently vacated by her brothers and the ranch hands.
He sat, then, lifting up a hip, pulled out a bandanna from his back pocket and wiped his face. The gesture only managed to smear the soot around. Despite that, Molly had never been more attracted to him than she was at this moment.
Fighting for calm, she lowered herself to the bench directly across the table from him. “Were you able to save anything inside the barn?”
“We freed all the horses. But everything else was destroyed.” He glanced over at the ruins. “The hay and cereals went up fast, faster than they should have. It was as if...”
He fell silent, his expression thoughtful as he absently took a bite of chicken.
“It was as if...?” she urged.
“Nothing.” He concentrated on his plate. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Please, CJ.” She placed her hand on his forearm, waited for him to look at her. “Finish your thought.”
“The barn burned so quickly I have to wonder if some sort of ignition fluid or kindling was involved.”
“Oh, CJ.” Her hand flew to her throat. “You don’t think someone started the fire deliberately?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” It was written all over his face.
He set down his fork, turned his head toward hers. What she saw in his gaze frightened her. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It could have been something already in the barn that set off the fire.”
“You don’t think it was an accident.”
“No,” he admitted after a long pause. “It’s the timing. Cattle keep going missing, and now this. A barn is the most important structure on a ranch.”
And losing theirs was a terrible blow to her family.
“I can’t help thinking someone is deliberately hitting our community with hardships.”
As she pondered the possibility, Molly’s senses seemed unnaturally heightened. Who would do something so intentional, so vicious? “To what end?”
“I don’t know.” He shifted on the bench, studied the dying embers. “But I plan to share my concerns with Sheriff Fuller.”
He started to rise, as if he meant to hunt down the lawman immediately.
“Not so fast.” Molly slapped a hand on the table. “You’re not going anywhere before you finish eating your supper.”
“Why, Mrs. Langley. Are you issuing me orders?”
“I learned from the best.” She gave him a pointed look. “Sit. Eat. I’m not going to relent until you do.”
An echo of a smile passed across his lips. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were worried about me.”
“I am.” She snatched a quick pull of air. “I care about you, CJ. You must know that.”
“Then marry me.”
“I...” No fair. The man was playing dirty, striking when she was vulnerable and willing to do anything to lighten his load.
Regrettably, marrying him would only add to his burdens. “I can’t.”
“Molly, whatever is keeping you from—” He was cut off by the bright flash of flames shooting out of a pile of ashes. “Hold that thought.”
He was on his feet a half second later. He took a step, paused, then leaned over the table. “We’ll continue this discussion later.”
His expression was full of fierce resolve.
Giving him even a moment of hope wasn’t fair to him, or the twins, or even to herself. Molly knew it was time to pull back. “There’s no need to continue this discussion.”
“Yes, there is. But not now.” He motioned to Edmund, some sort of silent gesture that the other man understood, because he headed in the direction of the small fire.
Without another word to Molly, CJ trotted over to where his friend fought the latest batch of flames.
Chapter Fifteen
Although the fire had been extinguished, the smoking embers required watching through the night. CJ took the first shift. He’d sent Duke to the Triple-T hours ago, knowing he could count on his foreman to manage the ranch in his temporary absence.
With John Carson and his sons inside the house grabbing some much-needed rest, CJ waded through the wet, sooty debris that had once been the largest barn in the community. In the stingy, early morning light, he kicked over a charred board, checked to make sure there were no hidden flames beneath.
Finding none, he moved on to the next pile of rubble.
The chore required his full concentration and helped keep his mind off Molly. This was not the time to be mulling over how her lips had felt pressed to his in a kiss she’d initiated, or how perfectly she’d fit in his arms.
Prior to those precious few moments with her, CJ hadn’t known, hadn’t understood, that his heart had been much like the charred remains beneath his boot. Seared, splintered, a heap of smoldering ashes waiting for the right spark to set it aflame.
Molly, with her good heart and generous spirit, had provided that spark. She’d changed how CJ saw the legacy of his past, and gave him hope for the future. Her confidence in him had restored his faith in himself.
A certain Bible verse flashed in his mind. He couldn’t remember the Scripture exactly, something about beauty from ashes, joy instead of mourning and a garment of praise instead of despair. Yes, that described perfectly how CJ felt this morning. Standing in the rubble it was as if he teetered on the brink of a new beginning, a new life.
He was determined to court Molly properly. He would approach her father once the shock of the fire had settled. He would declare his intentions in plain terms and ask for John Carson’s permission to court his daughter.
Eyes gritty, limbs weighed down with fatigue, CJ blinked away his exhaustion and contemplated the space where the big white barn had once been. His suspicions about the cause of the fire had only grown more pronounced through the night. Something about the way the structure had burned didn’t sit right.
The flames had been concentrated inside at first, the hayloft specifically, indicating the first spark had come from there. That meant weather hadn’t caused the fire.
Then what?
Not sure what he was looking for, CJ paced around the other outbuildings. Due to the combined efforts of the entire town, the other structures on the Rolling Hills ranch had been untouched. That spoke well of their community and how they pulled together in times of need.
So what had started the fire? CJ’s mind kept circling back to that question.
The timing struck him as odd, or rather oddly convenient. Nearly every man, woman and child had been gathered in Little Horn for the Founder’s Day celebration. Since the Carson ranch was one of the closest to town, someone could have easily slipped away from the crowd, made the short journey across the hills and then returned to the celebration with no one the wiser. Surely, that ruled out Ned.
Or did it?
CJ just didn’t know. He continued studying the rubble, working the details of the past week through his mind. First the stolen cattle and now this fire, the evidence suggesting foul play in all cases.
The sun could have created the spark to start the fire in the barn. But according to John Carson, the doors and shutters had been closed against the heat of the day.
CJ’s gut instinct told him someone had deliberately started the blaze.
Riders appeared in the distance, coming in fast and hard. CJ kept his eyes on the men, recognizing Edmund and Jeb Fuller as they rode closer.
The moment they pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted, CJ tilted his head toward the heap of ashes.
The two men, grim-faced and silent, followed him there.
Standing near the charred carcass, CJ broke down h
is concerns about the fire.
Frowning, Edmund yanked off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “Everything you’ve laid out has also occurred to me. What I can’t figure out is why this barn?”
CJ pondered the various theories that had come to him. “My logical guess is that the Rolling Hills is the largest ranch in the area. If someone wanted to put fear in our community, this was the one to strike.”
Jeb’s eyebrows arched nearly to his hairline. “You think the fire was set on purpose?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Although I too have wrestled with a similar thought, jumping to conclusions without hard evidence is always a mistake.”
“Not to mention, I see one, very large problem with your theory, CJ.” Edmund turned over a piece of smoking rubble with his toe. “John Carson doesn’t have any enemies.”
“A valid point, I’ll admit, but not necessarily a reason to rule out foul play.” CJ rubbed his thigh, working out the particulars as he kneaded a sore muscle. “Maybe the fire was only meant to get our attention, but it got out of control and burned too fast.”
“Could be,” Jeb allowed. “I can’t help thinking this incident is connected with the missing cattle.”
The three men fell silent. Then, slowly, each turned to study the distant landscape, as if the answer was somewhere just over the first rise.
Jeb drew in a tight breath and restated CJ’s earlier conclusions. “The Founder’s Day celebration would have afforded the means and opportunity to start a fire without being noticed. And the Carson ranch is the closest to town.”
“Cattle rustlers, arsonists, it boggles the mind.” Edmund ground the toe of his boot on a seared board, splintering the wood.
“I’m only one man,” Jeb pointed out unnecessarily. “I’m going to need help catching the culprit.”
“You think it’s only one individual?”
Jeb lifted a shoulder, let it fall. “Does it matter? One person, ten, twenty—whatever the number, in order to make an arrest I’ll have to be in the right place at the right time to foil the next attack.”
