by Renee Ryan
After a gentle reminder from CJ about the Carson fire, and how they were able to save the majority of the ranch because of the combined effort of the entire community, Clyde had reluctantly conceded.
“That’s a valid point. When disaster strikes we need to pull together,” he’d grumbled in his gravelly voice.
As CJ and Edmund rode away from Clyde’s place, CJ had a good idea why, at forty years old, the rancher was still unmarried.
They came up against a slightly different problem at the Windy Diamond ranch. Lucas Bennett claimed he didn’t have time to meet regularly. The cattleman’s problem was easily solved when his foreman offered to attend the meetings in his boss’s place. Since he preferred Hank’s company to Lucas’s, CJ was satisfied with the compromise.
He and Edmund set the date of the first meeting for Sunday afternoon. The ranchers would meet in the most central location possible, beneath the revival tent in Little Horn immediately following church service.
With Sunday being several days away, CJ took the opportunity to travel to Kettle Creek early one morning. It seemed the perfect time to speak with Mary Gillen about his idea for a Young Ranchers program.
Mary didn’t much care about the plan, thought it was a waste of her boys’ time, but she wasn’t completely against the notion, either. Understandably, her biggest concern was money. “Will it cost me anything?”
CJ assured her it wouldn’t.
She still hesitated, until he mentioned the small stipend. “Fine, they can go with you.”
Giving the woman no opportunity to change her mind, CJ piled her three surprisingly eager boys in his wagon and headed into Little Horn to speak with the town’s overworked blacksmith.
Cast in the light from the raging fire of the smithy furnace, James’s hard features took on a relieved expression. He offered his gratitude with a sincere word of thanks, then asked, “When would you be starting the program?”
“No time like the present,” CJ replied.
He gestured for Butch and Brody to climb in the flatbed with the two younger Gillens. Sean took the seat next to CJ on the bench and off they went. The trip to the Rolling Hills ranch was filled with the boys’ endless questions about the Young Ranchers program.
Sean asked the most, including the main one that seemed to be on all their minds. “Will we get to herd cows?”
“Eventually, but not today.”
“Tomorrow?”
CJ couldn’t find fault with the lad’s enthusiasm. “Not tomorrow, either.”
“When?”
“Not for several days.” He raised his hand to keep the boy from interrupting again. “We’re going to focus on raising the Carsons’ barn first.”
“No kidding?” Butch leaned over the bench, his eyes lit from within. “We’re going to help build a barn?”
“There’s a lot of preparation that goes into building a barn.” CJ steered the wagon onto the dirt road leading out of town. “That’s where you boys come in. You’re going to assist the Carson brothers with clearing away the debris left by the fire.”
“Doesn’t sound very fun,” Sean grumbled.
One of his brothers agreed. “Definitely not as fun as herding cattle.”
“You boys prove yourselves today, show me that you’re hardworking and reliable, then we’ll discuss getting you out on the range.”
They made the rest of the journey to the Rolling Hills ranch with the boys asking more questions and CJ answering. Finally, his mouth dry and his patience slightly frayed, he and the five founding members of the Young Ranchers program stood beside the huge pile of ashes.
Cleanup was hard, physically challenging labor. With so many hands working together under CJ’s efficient guidance, however, the task progressed.
Throughout the slow-going process, CJ found himself thinking often of Molly. Her father had given him permission to court her. CJ even had a strategy for winning her heart. He would take his time, gain her trust, let her get to know him as a friend first, then something more.
Unfortunately, there’d been little time to put his plan into motion. There’d been too many other tasks vying for his attention, especially drawing up a plan for the barn raising he would present the ranchers at their meeting Sunday afternoon.
In the sweltering heat, CJ took a swig of water from the canteen strapped at his waist. He shut his eyes a moment. The image of Molly’s stunning face played in his mind, around and around, like an echo in a deep canyon. His head full of the woman, he forced his eyes open and went back to work.
By noon, he and the boys had moved the largest pieces of charred wood and fragments into a pile out of sight of the barnyard. At this rate, they would have the area cleared by the end of the day.
With so much already accomplished, CJ called for a break.
As if Mrs. Carson had been waiting for her cue, she exited the house with a tray filled with heaping plates of food. The moment the woman returned to the house, out came Molly carrying a pitcher of lemonade.
The simple pleasure of seeing her warmed CJ’s heart. She set the pitcher on the table. Straightening, she reached up and absently anchored a hairpin in place.
It was then he remembered it was quilting bee day. He broke his silence with an innocuous question. “Are you working on a new quilt?”
He thought of the “decorative” blanket Hank Snowden had won at the Founder’s Day celebration, and couldn’t stop an amused smile from spreading across his face.
Molly drew in a sharp breath.
“We’re not sewing today.” Her voice sounded slightly rusty. Because of him? CJ certainly hoped that was the case.
“We’re...uh. We’re sorting hammers, nails and all sorts of other hardware for the barn raising.”
That made sense.
“Are the twins helping you?” He couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice. The girls were awfully young for such work.
Molly’s smile flashed. “They were helping us, but grew bored after about ten minutes. I left them inside playing jacks with Pauline Barlow.”
“Now that,” he said with amusement, “I believe.”
Molly stared at him, hardly blinking. She seemed captured by the sight of him, freeing CJ to study her gorgeous, mesmerizing face. She was a study in femininity and he suddenly couldn’t stand the distance between them, both figuratively and literally.
If only he knew what was keeping her from moving toward him. She liked him. She’d admitted as such.
Then what held her back? She had a huge capacity for love. He’d witnessed it in her relations with the twins, her family, her friends. Surely, there was room in her heart for both him and her deceased husband.
Aware they weren’t alone, CJ kept his back to the boys, who were now digging into their lunch. Molly’s beauty drew him a step closer.
He reached up, knuckled an errant curl off her forehead and tried to read her expression. All he saw was discomfort. That slayed him.
“Molly.” He took her hand when she tried to turn away. “We still have unfinished business between us, namely our discussion about marria—”
“You can’t possibly mean now.”
“No, not now.” CJ kept possession of her hand. “Soon. This evening, or tomorrow morning. Definitely before the barn raising.”
“I think that would be unwise. And unnecessary.” She didn’t quite meet his gaze. “You already know where I stand on the matter.”
“I do.” He released her hand. “However, until you give me a good reason for turning me down, I will keep asking the same question until I get the answer I want.”
She gave him a quick, lovely smile. “You are certainly persistent.”
“A flaw that has proved beneficial at times such as these.”
When she shook her head in exasperati
on, her mask fell briefly. Barely concealed emotion showed on her face, giving her an exposed and defenseless air. She quickly schooled her features again, but not before CJ caught the hurt and grief swimming in her eyes. The emotions had been so strong and real he’d felt them with a jolt of awareness.
What terrible secret had she buried deep in her heart? What hidden hurt could possibly cause such a look of pain?
While he contemplated her sad, beautiful face, CJ had a terrifying moment of clarity. If someone didn’t help Molly face her fear, she would continue turning within, slowly dying from the inside out until she became a broken shell.
As matters stood now, she was never going to share her secret with anyone, at least not on her own. If she had any chance of healing, someone would have to provide a safe environment where she could feel comfortable opening her heart.
Why not him?
CJ wanted—needed—to lighten Molly’s cares, as she’d done for him. He wanted to share her burdens in life. Not out of gratitude for all she’d done for him, but because he loved her.
He loved her?
Of course he did.
He’d always loved her, from their first meeting. Even when he hadn’t known his own mind, his heart had known the truth. CJ would do whatever it took to gain Molly’s trust and win her heart.
He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.
* * *
Molly noticed the change in CJ. It came in layers and tiers, much like the dawning of a new day. He’d gone from lighthearted, almost flirty, to thoughtful, then concerned, ultimately landing somewhere near grave and serious.
His eyes—oh, his eyes! They held such a depth of feeling—affection, adoration, something deeper still. Molly didn’t quite know what to think.
She took a long breath, her inhalation pulling in the putrid scent of burned cinders that still lingered in the air. There was much work to be done, yet here the two of them stood. Staring.
He flashed her a smile. The real one not many people witnessed. Just Molly and the twins and...
Oh, my.
“Hey, CJ,” Roy’s voice called from behind him. “You gonna eat with us or stand there talking to my sister all afternoon?”
“On my way.” He winked at Molly, then went to join the boys at the picnic table. In an assertive yet relaxed manner he sat down and took over the conversation. The youths hung on his every word.
Molly identified with their fascination. She liked being the center of CJ’s attention. Liked it a bit too much. The man could charm the rattles off a snake, shift the stars in the sky and soften the hard blows of life with that boyish grin of his.
He can never be mine. The sense of defeat nearly dropped Molly to her knees.
With nothing more to do but despair, she went back inside the house. Instead of joining the other women, she indulged her melancholy a bit longer and stayed in the kitchen. A glutton for punishment, she moved to the window and watched CJ interacting with the tableful of boys.
He looked so comfortable, so capable. At one point, he reached over and ruffled Sean Gillen’s hair.
In return, the boy, known for his churlish, surly nature, did the most extraordinary thing. He laughed.
The enormity of Sean’s response wasn’t lost on Molly. In just a single morning, CJ had turned the troubled, argumentative youth into a laughing, carefree boy.
Molly could only imagine what his influence on Sean’s life would be after a few months, a year. CJ had taken on the role of a father figure as naturally as a fish swam in a stream.
Watching him with the boys, Molly had never admired him more. Nor had she felt closer to despair. CJ Thorn was meant to have that houseful of children he wanted.
The backs of her eyes burned with the prick of tears.
Battling for composure, she lifted her face to the ceiling, attempted to pray for guidance. Her mind remained empty of words. Several rogue tears ran hot and fast down her cheeks.
The day only needed this, she thought, as several more slipped from her eyes. She blinked—and blinked and blinked and blinked—until she had her emotions under control.
Lowering her head, she pushed away from the window and made her way into the living room, where the women in her quilting bee were adding their collective effort to the rebuilding of the Carson family barn.
Eyes dry, she moved to her previously abandoned station and resumed sorting through a bucket of nails donated by their neighbors.
According to Molly’s father, the more prepared they were before the raising, the smoother the day would go, hence the need for organizing the buckets-upon-buckets of nails by diameter and length. It was slow, tedious work that required concentration.
In the process, Molly eventually won the battle against her misery, but she feared she’d lost the war for her heart.
She was in love with CJ Thorn. She thought he might be in love with her, as well. It was the most wonderful, awful, hopeless feeling she’d ever experienced.
“Molly, dear, would you mind helping me fetch another couple of buckets of nails from the other room?” Her mother asked the question without looking at her, clearly assuming her daughter would follow without argument.
Molly headed out of the room, then paused to cast a glance at the twins. No longer playing with Pauline, they were now happily helping Lula May organize the stacks of donated plates, cups and pieces of cutlery that would be used to serve meals to the workers at the barn raising.
Smiling at them, Molly continued on.
The moment they were alone, her mother pulled her into a long, tight hug full of maternal love. “Oh, my dear, I have such wonderful news to share with you.”
The older woman stepped back, and Molly was astonished to see her eyes glittered with tears—happy, unconstrained tears of joy.
Whatever could have put that jubilant expression on her face?
As soon as the question arose in her mind, Molly remembered another time her mother had looked like this. The day she’d told the family she was carrying Donny.
Was her mother with child again?
Something inside Molly shriveled and died. She was supposed to be happy, blissfully so. Helen Carson was a marvelous mother, a kind, gentle matriarch who showed her family unconditional love and support. She deserved as many children as the good Lord blessed her with.
All Molly could think was I want a baby.
If she let the thought continue she would break.
With her nerves in tattered threads, Molly braced herself for the blow that was sure to come. But, oh, how it would hurt. She forced a smile, an expression that didn’t fool the other woman for a single moment.
“Molly. What is it?” Her mother touched her arm, whatever she’d been about to say forgotten. “What’s wrong?”
“It is nothing.”
“You’ve gone unnaturally pale.”
“Please, Mother.” Sliding her courage into place, wishing she could get this terrible moment over with quickly, she said in a wobbly voice, “I want to hear your news.”
“It’s not my news. It’s yours.”
“Mine?” Molly couldn’t hide her confusion.
Eyes soft, her mother brushed her palm down Molly’s sleeve in a gesture she remembered from her childhood. “CJ has asked your father for permission to court you.”
“CJ...he what?”
Molly shook her head, hardly able to fathom what she’d heard come out of her mother’s mouth. CJ had spoken with her father, about her. “When?” she asked. “When did he approach Papa? When did they have time to—”
She stopped, unable to go on, stricken into horrified silence. Her legs didn’t feel steady. Her breath froze in her lungs. Then came the joy, spreading warmth over the spears of ice.
“They spoke the morning after the f
ire.”
CJ wanted to court her and had gone to her father seeking permission, as any honorable man would. It was so wonderful, so surreal, so impossible. Nevertheless, Molly found herself asking, “What did Papa say?”
“He gave his permission, of course.” Her mother smiled. “We both approve.”
“You approve? Now you approve?” Molly couldn’t keep the resentment out of her voice. “When barely a week ago you were attempting to talk me out of serving his family? Why the sudden change of heart?”
“We have seen the kind of man he is. Strong, capable, someone others turn to for guidance.”
CJ was all that her mother said and more.
“We have seen the way you are in his company. You smile often, and laugh, and seem at peace whenever he is near.”
The chill had returned to her heart, causing Molly to shiver. She crossed her arms at her waist in an attempt to still the trembling.
“Well?” her mother asked. “Have you nothing to say?”
She pressed her hand to her forehead. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Do you care for him?”
The question echoed in her brain. There was only one way to answer: with the truth. “Yes.”
The declaration stole the last of her air and she was forced to sit down in a nearby chair. For several moments, she studied her hands, as if they held the answer to her dilemma.
“Could you see yourself married to him?”
“Yes,” she admitted, because she could see herself married to CJ. All she had to do was close her eyes and a thousand images of their life together appeared, nipping at Molly’s resolve to protect him from the pain she’d inflicted on George.
“You will accept his suit?”
She could not allow CJ to court her. It would only give him hope where there was none. “No.”
“Oh, my dear.” Her mother knelt in front of her, placed her palms on her knees. “Why not?”
Misery lifted the ice from her heart and put it in her voice. “I cannot tell you.”
If she revealed her reasons, her mother would try her best to understand. She would attempt to offer Molly words of comfort. But Helen Carson would never know the disappointment that came from an empty womb.
