by Renee Ryan
Still eyeing Garrett with those hawk eyes, Sheriff Scott sat on the edge of his desk and stretched out his long legs. “You been out to the ranch?”
“Not lately.” He put a shrug in his voice. “Work keeps me busy.”
Uncomfortable under the sheriff’s bold stare, Garrett’s eyes tracked through the room, landing on the jail cells to his left. A few wrong decisions, a handful of bad choices, and he could have ended up in one of those as surely as he’d ended up studying the law. Garrett had harnessed an innate wild streak within a strong sense of order, stability and ruthless control.
Most of his life, he’d carefully managed his actions, tamped down any surge of rebellion into the darkest recesses of his soul. In recent years and with a lot of prayer, he’d learned to channel his risk-taking tendencies into business.
“…She seems happy enough, but her mother and I still worry.”
Garrett shook his head, realizing he’d missed a vital part of the conversation. He forced his mind to concentrate.
“Mrs. Singletary has been a good influence on her.”
Garrett’s heart kicked in his chest. Molly. They were speaking about Molly. Or rather, her father was speaking about her.
“Her mother and I are praying the widow will have a stabilizing influence on her life.”
Garrett’s mind went back to their time together in the past few days. The grown-up Molly had been more subdued than her childhood counterpart, with only a spark of her former self showing up in glimpses. “She’s certainly matured in recent years.”
Was that a good thing, this new restraint he’d seen in her? Wasn’t Molly’s unpredictable, untamed nature what made her so alluring? Wasn’t her feistiness what drew Garrett to her like a bee to honey, a moth to flame, a sap to his doom?
“By your comment, I take it you’ve spoken with Molly recently?”
Garrett nodded.
With very deliberate movements, the sheriff set his mug on the desk. “When?”
“Yesterday. Last night. And again this morning.” Realizing how that might sound to her father, Garrett hurriedly explained Mrs. Singletary’s business proposition and the subsequent events of the past two days.
“You attended the opera, willingly?” A look of masculine disgust swept across the sheriff’s face. “I can’t think of a worse way to spend an evening.”
Neither could Garrett. Yet, he found himself saying, “There were enjoyable moments.”
The kiss he’d shared with Molly later in the evening had been worth every excruciating, painful moment of bad music and screeching lyrics. Holding her in his arms again had been glorious, an awe-inspiring rediscovery of something he’d thought lost forever.
Caught in the memory, Garrett nearly spoke what was in his heart. Then he remembered who this man was that stared back at him with those merciless, narrowed eyes. The eyes of a protective father who saw far too much.
Garrett set down his mug and cleared his throat.
With the lawman in his eyes, Sheriff Scott leaned forward. “I seem to remember, you and Molly were once very close.”
Except for the nodding of his head, Garrett held perfectly still. “Yes, sir, we were.”
“And then you left for school.”
“That’s correct.”
Rubbing his hands together, the sheriff’s face became a landscape of hard planes and cold, ruthless angles. This was the man who wrung answers out of the hardest criminals in the territory. “Any regrets?”
“I…” Garrett cocked his head. “Sir?”
“I know my daughter suffered when you left. What about you? Any regrets over leaving her behind?”
Under normal circumstances, Garrett would have appreciated the man’s direct approach. Right now, he didn’t know whether to be horrified or stunned or glad for the chance to explain himself. “Molly was only fifteen.”
He said nothing more, as if her age justified his decision. Yet his answer revealed nothing of the agony he’d felt over losing Molly.
Garrett had given his heart to her and, just as his brothers had intimated, he’d never gotten it back.
“My daughter was young, I agree. But that’s not what I asked. Let me more specific. Any regrets over your decision to attend school so far away from home?”
Garrett answered from his heart. “I hated leaving Molly. But I made the right decision at the time.”
The sheriff’s entire body seemed to relax and Garrett felt as if he’d passed a difficult test.
Unfortunately, the exam wasn’t over, as evidenced by the man’s next question. “Given the same circumstances today, what would you do?”
“I’d ask her to come with me, as my wife.”
A rare smile spread across the sheriff’s face, this time reaching all the way to his eyes. “You’re a good man, Garrett.”
Good enough to court his daughter? “I’d like a chance to try again, sir.”
“You’re going to have be clearer, son.”
Garrett’s heart knocked against his ribs. But he held the other man’s gaze without flinching. “Sheriff Scott, I request permission to court your daughter.”
“So granted.”
Chapter Fourteen
Though Garrett wanted to begin his campaign to win Molly’s heart immediately, he had to meet with his brothers. At precisely ten o’clock the next morning, he directed them to the large conference table in the corner of his office.
Hunter and Logan wasted no time getting down to business. They laid out their issues with the purchase agreement for the land bordering the Flying M, while Garrett took notes.
He kept silent throughout their discourse, preferring to gather all the information before rendering an opinion.
Winding down, Hunter placed his hands on the table and pushed back in his chair. “Is it as bad as we thought?”
Garrett checked one of his notations with the actual contract then shook his head. “Not if you can talk old man Foley into signing off on your proposed changes to the property lines.”
Logan gave an exaggerated snort. “Oh, well, if that’s all we have to do…”
Point taken.
Ebenezer Foley was one step on the other side of impossible. Even on a good day, the ancient, grizzled rancher was about as flexible as an iron rod.
“Assuming we can get the old coot to see reason about the changes to the boundaries,” Hunter began in a remarkably patient tone considering who they were talking about. “What about the issue of water rights?”
“Those shouldn’t be a problem,” Garrett said. “As it turns out, I’m acquainted with the current owner.”
“And you think you can get him to sell the rights to us?”
“He’ll sell.” Eventually. The man in question loved a good negotiation and Garrett was one of his favorite opponents. “I’ll speak with him this week.”
Hunter’s eyebrows traveled to his hairline. “That soon?”
“You’re family. That makes this a priority.”
Clearly liking what he heard, Logan stood, moved to Garrett’s side of the table and slapped him on the back. “Always knew you were the smartest of the Mitchell brood.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong.” He stood to face his brother. “Weren’t you the one who nicknamed me Weasel when I was ten?”
“Hey, it was a compliment.” Logan laughed. “Weasels are wily and clever and get into all sorts of—”
Hunter cut him off. “What our brother is trying to say—” he moved directly between Garrett and Logan “—is that we’re grateful for your assistance on this.”
“Yeah, sure, that’s what I meant.” Smiling broader, Logan shifted back into view. “All kidding aside, little brother, you’re a credit to the Mitchell name.”
Until this moment, Garrett hadn’t realized just how important proving his worth to his family—these two men in particular—had driven him through the years. Now that he had clear evidence of their respect, he felt somehow lighter, as if a burden had been lifted.
/> “I won’t let you down.” He divided a glance between his brothers. “Either of you.”
“You’re the best of us all, Garrett. You make us all look good.” To punctuate his point, Hunter yanked him into a bear hug reminiscent of their big, gruff father.
For a man who’d spent most of his adult life on the wrong side of the law, Hunter was sliding back into his role as the responsible eldest brother with surprising ease.
With family at the forefront of his mind, Garrett addressed another concern. “Have you spoken with Fanny since lunch yesterday?”
The mood in the room turned somber.
“She told us she broke off her engagement and won’t reconsider.” Hunter’s concern was obvious in his unnaturally tense stance. “She wouldn’t give us specifics, but she’s holding firm to her decision.”
Garrett hadn’t expected her to change her mind. Nevertheless, he was disappointed to discover Fanny and Reese were truly finished. “Then we stand by her and hope she finds peace in the coming weeks.”
Both brothers nodded. “Agreed.”
They spent several more minutes catching up on the rest of the family before Garrett escorted them to their waiting horses. Though the air still had a bite, the sun had advanced in the sky.
Blinking past the brightness, his breath misting around his head, he watched his brothers ride due north. Eleven miles and they’d be back on Mitchell property.
He shook his head in wonder at the change in the hard men he used to know, men who hadn’t gotten along before a few years ago. Now, they were as close as any brothers could be.
Even more astonishing, if the two had been overly sappy when talking about their wives, they were worse when they mentioned their daughters. Neither man had fathered a son yet, and didn’t seem to mind. They doted on the women in their lives and appeared stronger for the experience. They epitomized the Biblical model of spiritual leadership, strength and integrity.
Garrett wouldn’t mind following their lead. Nor would he mind fathering daughters, as long as they favored their mother with her thick, black hair, creamy skin and blue, blue eyes. The fact that he easily put Molly in the role of his wife came as no surprise.
She was the woman he’d always wanted to marry, planned to marry, would marry.
No more stalling or putting off the inevitable.
Time to succeed where others had failed.
His first move would be powerful in its simplicity. He prayed she recognized the meaning behind the gesture.
Having cleared off his desk for the next several hours, he made a brief stop that turned into two and then headed over to Mrs. Singletary’s house.
The widow’s stiff-backed manservant opened the door with the faintest trace of disapproval in his gaze. “Mrs. Singletary isn’t expecting you for another hour.”
“I’m aware of our meeting time,” he said, equally formal in tone. “I’ve come to see Miss Scott.”
Winston acknowledged this with a short nod. “I will see if she is receiving visitors. Wait here.”
Obeying the rigid command, Garrett attempted to cool his heels in the entryway. He lasted an entire two minutes before restlessness set in. He impatiently prowled around the foyer, making several passes before a painting caught his eye.
The image of a much younger Beatrix Singletary smiled up at a dark-haired man with laughing eyes and classically handsome features. They were a stunning couple, to be sure, but what struck Garrett was how the artist had captured their love in the bold colors and capable brush strokes.
“That’s what love looks like,” Molly said from behind him.
Throat suddenly dry, Garrett turned his gaze to meet hers. He felt the impact of her beauty like a blow to his heart.
Words failed him. Coherent thought disappeared. And thus…he simply…
Stared.
Because this was Molly. Molly.
The only woman to capture his heart. The only woman he’d ever loved.
Her thick, long eyelashes fluttered softly. And then she smiled.
That smile. He’d seen it once before. A long time ago.
Memories tumbled over one another in his mind, and then her parting vow slid above the tangle.
I will always, always love you, Garrett Mitchell.
He was going to hold her to that.
But for now, he turned back to the painting and narrowed his eyes over the image. “I feel as though I’m eavesdropping on a very private moment.”
“I know.” Molly’s voice held equal parts amusement and awe. “Mrs. Singletary claims he was her soul mate.”
Hard to argue that, when the proof was right in front of him.
Molly sighed sweetly, the sound almost wistful. “Is it any wonder the widow believes in true love?”
“None at all.” Garrett shifted the bouquet from one hand to the other, surprised to discover his palms had begun to sweat.
Now that the time had come to present the flowers, he didn’t know what to say. It was as if he’d morphed into a tongue-tied, love-struck schoolboy again.
Reaching for a calm that didn’t exist, he thrust the bouquet between them. “Here.”
Charming, Mitchell. Real charming.
“Oh, Garrett.” Voice thick and husky, Molly’s eyes swam with emotion. “You remembered.”
“I did.”
As she took the bouquet brimming with all her favorites, a sound escaped her, one that might have been a sigh, maybe a sob.
He had to clear his throat. Twice. “The wild roses and lavender were easy enough to find. But I had to go to two different stores to locate the daises.”
Another sound escaped her, this one a gasp of surprise. “You went to all that trouble for me?”
“I know how much you love wildflowers.”
“Oh, you wonderful, wonderful man.” Clutching the bouquet to her heart, she launched herself at him.
He caught her, wrapped her in his arms and held on tight.
They stood lost in the moment, one foot in the past, the other in the present.
“I’ve missed you, Molly. I’ve missed us.” He whispered the words in her hair, the truth too important to keep to himself any longer. They’d wasted far too much time already. Seven years. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
She stiffened at that, and then slowly, deliberately stepped out of his embrace. The distance she created was small, barely the length of his arms, but she might was well have dug a ten-foot chasm between them.
His heart stalled in his chest, then sped up again when he saw a spark of hope flicker in her eyes. The moment lasted a split second before her expression went coolly blank. “I’ll always be your friend, Garrett. Always.”
He didn’t want her friendship. He wanted her love.
But she was back to holding a portion of herself apart, keeping her distance as if afraid he’d hurt her again.
Winning Molly’s heart wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d first thought. For now, he chose a soft, innocuous approach. “I’ll always be your friend, too, Molly.”
She gave him a shaky smile, then focused on the flowers. “They really are lovely.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
Her head still bent, she plucked at one of the blooms. “Garrett, why are you here so early? Your appointment with Mrs. Singletary isn’t for at least another hour.”
“I came to see you.”
Her head shot up. “But why?”
She really wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
He wanted to be honest with her, to declare his love here and now. To tell her that for him this wasn’t a game. It was real. His heart was on the line. But it appeared she wasn’t ready to hear those words.
One step at a time, he told himself. Slow and easy.
“Think about it, Molly.” He used his most reasonable tone. “If we’re to convince the widow we’re in love, we must stick to the formula. We start with variable number one, we—”
“Hold nothing back,” she finis
hed for him.
He nodded. “Consistency is the key. Mrs. Singletary might not be at home now, but she could show up any moment.”
“That’s true.” She touched her hair, smoothed her palm over the black silk. The slight tremble in her hand told its own story. She wasn’t completely immune to him.
Garrett pressed his advantage. “It makes sense I would arrive early in the hopes of running into you.”
“Of course.” She sighed, fiddled with a stem, sighed again. “All part of the ruse.”
“No, Molly. My early arrival is part of the ruse. The flowers…” He knuckled a piece of hair off her cheek. “Are because I care.”
* * *
Unfair. The man didn’t play by the rules. Gritting her teeth, Molly wrapped her fingers around the stems of the bouquet, all but choking the flowers with her grip. Garrett had brought her a beautiful arrangement of roses, lavender and daisies. She knew he was making a statement with the gesture. Maybe even a declaration.
Yet she couldn’t allow herself to hope, or dream of something more than friendship with the man. Too much stood between them. Namely their past, or rather her past. She’d accepted two offers of marriage in his absence, when she should have remained true.
She should have waited for him, even though he hadn’t asked. Maybe even because he hadn’t asked. But she’d been so hurt when he’d left for school, so full of anger and pride.
Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.
She’d made so many mistakes.
Because of her impetuousness, the two other men she’d agreed to marry would always stand between her and Garrett. Maybe he could forgive her, maybe he thought he already had. But there would always be the chance that resentment would grow in his heart.
Some mistakes, she’d come to accept, required more than words to repair, more than good intentions, more even than prayer. Some pain could not be undone, or easily forgotten, or perhaps ever fully healed.
No, she didn’t dare hope for more than friendship with Garrett.
“Shouldn’t you put those in water?” He pointed to the flowers in her hand.
