THE WREN
Wings of the West: Book One
by
Kristy McCaffrey
THE WREN
North Texas
1877
Ten years have passed since her ranch was attacked, her folks murdered, and Molly Hart was abducted. Now, at nineteen, she’s finally returning home to north Texas after spending the remainder of her childhood with a tribe of Kwahadi Comanche. What she finds is a deserted home coated with dust and the passage of time, the chilling discovery of her own gravesite, and the presence of a man she thought never to see again.
Matt Ryan is pushed by a restless wind to the broken-down remains of the Hart ranch. Recently recovered from an imprisonment that nearly ended his life, the drive for truth and fairness has all but abandoned him. For ten years, he faithfully served the U.S. Army and the Texas Rangers, seeking justice for the brutal murder of a little girl, only to find closure and healing beyond his grasp. Returning to the place where it all began, he’s surprised to stumble across a woman with the same blue eyes as the child he can’t put out of his mind.
First Edition published by Whiskey Creek Press, 2003.
Second Edition
Copyright 2014 by K. McCaffrey LLC
All Rights Reserved
Cover by Earthly Charms
ISBN 978-1-3106286-1-0
Smashwords Edition
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Books and Additional Works by Kristy McCaffrey
Wings of the West Series
The Wren
The Dove
The Sparrow
The Blackbird
The Bluebird
Echo of the Plains (Short Novella)
Stand-Alone Novels
Into The Land Of Shadows
Anthologies
Lassoing A Groom
Cowboy Cravings
Cowboys, Creatures, and Calico Vol. 2
Cowboy Kisses
Short Novellas
Canyon Crossing
Lily and Mesquite Joe
A Westward Adventure
The Crow and the Coyote
The Crow and the Bear
Long Novellas
Alice: Bride of Rhode Island
Young Adult Contemporary Short Novellas
A Current So Swift
(in the anthology This Summer Storm)
~ Praise for the Wings of the West series ~
THE WREN
“…McCaffrey’s mastery of setting and historic details gives this western gritty realism.” ~ Romantic Times BOOKclub
“I am a true historical western fan so this book was really an exceptional read for me. Don’t miss…what is sure to be a great series to follow.”
~ The Romance Studio
“Handsome, rugged heroes, strong heroines and a super storyline make THE WREN a keeper.” ~ The Best Reviews
THE DOVE
“…glorious descriptions of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, Las Vegas of the late 1800’s, and the Ryan homestead. This reviewer felt herself transported to the very locales being described.” ~ Love Romances
“Ms. McCaffrey writes from the heart…a definite must read.”
~ The Romance Studio
“If you are a lover of western romances, I’d recommend reading this one.”
~ Romance Junkies
THE SPARROW
“Readers will love the story…” ~ RT BookReviews
“I…commend McCaffrey for the historical accuracy of her stories…a phenomenal read that I’d recommend to anyone who enjoys historical romance, with a hint of the other.” ~ Jonel Boyko, Reviewer
“Ancient Hopi and Havasupai legends have a new voice in McCaffrey. Her inspired writing made her main character’s mystical journey into another realm entirely believable and kept the pages turning long into the night.”
~ City Sun Times
THE BLACKBIRD
“With dastardly villains, plenty of action, a strong heroine, surprising twists and turns, and a sexy cowboy, all underlined by a sensual love story, this historical western romance has something for everyone.”
~ Janna Shay, InD’tale Magazine
THE BLUEBIRD
“…a fast paced read with a depth to the characters and the story that kept my interest from the first page to the last…” ~ Jo, Romance Junkies
“…packed with adventure and action that left me breathless…amazing book…quite unable to put it down!” ~ Maia, The Silver Dagger Scriptorium
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bonus Scene
About the Author
Dedication
For Kevin,
with love
Chapter One
North Texas
May 1877
“Are you lost, miss?”
Startled, the woman turned in her saddle and glared wide-eyed at him. Beneath the brim of her dark hat, vibrant blue eyes watched him.
In this isolated corner of the Texan plains, the last thing Matthew Ryan expected to find was a lone woman atop a horse, staring at the three gravesites nestled into the hillside. A vision of a girl from long ago, her blue eyes just as vivid, flashed in his head. A lifetime had passed since that August night when he last saw Molly Hart on this earth. The loss, only a dull ache now, never fully seemed to leave him.
“No, I’m not lost,” she answered. Her voice was rich and layered, and slid around him like a warm fire after a cold spell.
“You’re a long way from nowhere,” he said, shifting in his saddle and adjusting his hat as a gust of wind blasted them. A storm brewed, teasing the land with its ever-increasing presence. Dark clouds pressed low on the horizon, and Matt suspected that soon neither he nor the woman would be riding far. He ought to leave now.
“So are you,” she replied.
“Did you know the Hart family?” He inclined his head toward the graves.
The woman turned away from him and nodded almost imperceptibly. Strands of dark hair escaped the confines of her hat.
“My name is Matt Ryan.” He scanned the small, enclosed valley and the dilapidated house about a quarter-mile away, the remnants of the Hart Ranch. A corral, stables, and bunkhouse also still stood, overrun by tumbleweeds and dust, ghostly sentinels of a once-vibrant
place. “My family has a ranch about thirty miles east of here.”
When his gaze settled back on the woman from nowhere, he found her staring at him in genuine shock. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.
Her horse, a fine-looking chestnut mare—the hue almost the same shade as the mystery woman’s hair—pranced nervously in response to her rider’s agitation.
“Matthew Ryan?”
“Have we met before?” he asked.
Instead of answering, the woman questioned him again. “How did the Hart family die? How did Molly Hart die?”
Matt paused. It had been ten years since he’d been to this place, ten years since the funeral when the three graves had been dug and the murdered bodies laid to rest. Was he a coward for not visiting sooner? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was Molly Hart’s death weighed on him still, like a vice around his guilty conscience for not staying with her that night.
“About ten years ago, the ranch was raided during a party. Mr. and Mrs. Hart were killed. Molly disappeared.” His tone was even, a mannerism honed during his years in the army and the Texas Rangers. Hiding his emotions had become second nature, a useful trait in his line of work. But at what cost, he sometimes wondered.
“And that made you think she was dead?” Distress played across the woman’s face.
“We didn’t. Not at first. Not until we found her.”
“What exactly did you find?”
Wind whistled through the valley and black thunderclouds formed quickly overhead. It was said if you didn’t like the weather in this part of Texas then just wait five minutes. It often changed that swiftly. He and the woman needed to find shelter.
Reluctantly, he pushed his mind to answering her. “A badly burned body.”
The woman struggled to rein in her horse when a lightning bolt shot out of the sky. “How could you be certain it was her?” she demanded.
“A small gold cross she always wore was found near the body. And the remains…were the right size.”
She turned back to the graves, giving Matt a view of her profile. Though she was dressed like a man in dark trousers and an oversized pale shirt, it was still obvious she was a young woman. Slender hands grasped her horse’s reins and a pleasing feminine arc graced her posture. Despite the animal’s uneasiness, it was apparent she had a natural instinct in the saddle.
“What’s your name?” he asked loudly, to be heard over the howling wind.
She nailed him with a look of distrust, disbelief and…abandonment? The thought baffled him.
Rain began to pour down in sheets.
“Let’s get down to the house,” he yelled, immediately guiding his horse down the slight slope they currently occupied. Over his shoulder he saw the woman hesitate, glancing at the broken-down remains of the ranch house with fear in her eyes.
But when he arrived at the deserted dwelling, she was right behind him. “I’ll take the horses to the stables and see if I can find a dry spot for them.” He pulled his saddlebags, then hers, from the animals and handed them to her. “Why don’t you go inside and see if there’s a place where we can wait this storm out.”
She nodded apprehensively.
While he tended to the horses—the stable was in better shape than he would’ve thought—he wondered about the woman and how she could have known the Hart family. Ten years ago she would have been just a child, probably not much older than Molly herself, and Matt was certain he would’ve remembered her. The summer the Harts were killed he had worked at their ranch, helping out Robert Hart at his pa’s request.
It was during that time Matt’s friendship with nine-year-old Molly had blossomed. On the surface they’d appeared mismatched—he was eight years her senior—but their easy camaraderie put him in mind of a sister he’d never had. The little sprite had worked her way into his heart in no amount of time, and he became her friend and protector. But it was in that last role that he failed, and even today the cost was almost more than he could bear.
Running through the rain, he nearly barreled into the woman in the front entryway. He wondered if she’d moved since entering the house. Immediately he pulled his six-shooter, scanning for a wild animal that might’ve taken refuge from the storm as well.
Reaching out, he touched her arm.
She jumped.
“Easy,” he murmured, gently moving her aside. Walking through the house, he inspected every room. Water leaked in several places, but luckily there was no sign of anyone, or anything, else. “The back bedroom seems dry.”
Instead of following him, the woman with the penetrating blue eyes and intriguing voice paused at the threshold of a different bedroom.
Matt frowned. When did he begin thinking of her as intriguing?
From the end of the hallway where he stood, a flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the almost-darkened house. The rain had plastered the woman’s pale shirt to her, clearly outlining her very feminine curves. Matt forced himself to look away. He wasn’t of a mind to take advantage of a lone female in the middle of nowhere.
She disappeared into the bedroom. He removed his hat and ran fingers through damp hair. Attraction or not, there was something strange about this woman. He followed behind her.
“Do you know what happened to Mary and Emma?” she asked softly, her back to him.
So, she knew of Molly’s two sisters. “They went to San Francisco to live with their Aunt Catherine.”
A quick exhalation, and her shoulders relaxed slightly. Bending down, she retrieved an old, filthy doll. “This was Emma’s,” she whispered.
“How is it you know so much about the family who lived here?” Matt asked, suddenly frustrated with this woman he hardly knew. “Who are you?”
As she turned to face him, a bright flash of light revealed tears running down her face. “I could tell you, but I think now you won’t believe me. I’ve been such a fool, thinking I could come back, that everything would be the same.” Staring at the doll in her hands, she said quietly, “A lifetime lost, for all of us.”
“What is your name?” Matt demanded, feeling an uneasy sensation in his gut. It couldn’t be, it really couldn’t. It wasn’t possible.
Even as she spoke, his mind and heart railed against it.
Her richly textured voice floated through the clash of rain and distant thunder.
“Molly Hart.”
Chapter Two
Molly watched Matt’s reaction in the fading light. His tall frame dominated the room as he stood utterly still, staring at her as if he were a hunter going for the kill. Disbelief and shock easily showed on his angular features, and water dripped from dark hair onto a drenched shirt. The anger she sensed lent him a feral expression—or was it his taut muscles, tensed as if ready to attack?
“What is your name?” he demanded again. “Your real name.”
“I just told you.”
“And I just told you that Molly’s dead. I don’t find your little joke amusing.”
“I wish all of this could be a joke,” she said past the constriction in her throat. “But it’s just a nightmare that never seems to end.”
An endless, ten-year nightmare. She hadn’t even known until two weeks ago that her parents were dead. A trader en route through the New Mexico Territory had told her—evidence of how little contact she’d had with white men over the years.
It had devastated her.
Her one hope had always been to return home to her family. Now that she had, the irretrievable loss of her childhood was a pain so sharp she almost couldn’t breathe.
She would never see her folks again. Even during the past week, she’d found the knowledge difficult to grasp completely. At least her sisters had survived. It was something; a tenuous link to grasp within the shaky foundation of her life.
Her own death, however, was the final blow, dropping any semblance of security she might have felt. For ten years, she’d hoped and dreamed for a rescue from her captors. For ten years, she’d wondered how and when she might
escape and return home. But everyone had thought she was dead. No one had ever searched for her. Matthew Ryan, her childhood friend, had never looked for her.
Matt, who stood across from her now, a virtual stranger, a man she would almost fear if she hadn’t known him so well years ago.
“Mind explaining how the hell you could be Molly Hart?” His voice brimmed with contempt.
“I was taken that night by the men who attacked the ranch.”
“Comanche?”
She shook her head. “No. A group of Comanche attacked us much later, after we’d ridden a while. Most of the men were killed, and nearly all were scalped. The Indians took me then.”
A flash of lightning illuminated the room and lit the broken frame of a bed still sitting in the corner. Her little sister’s bed. She and Emma had shared this room as children.
“And how do you explain the girl’s body we found? And the gold cross?”
“After I rode with the Comanche for a time, another band joined up with us. There were several white captives with them. One was a girl near my age.” Molly paused, then continued quietly, “She was quite hysterical, and the Comanche were impatient. One of them shot her with an arrow, nailing her to a tree. Some of the others seemed upset at the one who had done this, but by then it was too late. She was already dead. So they burned her. I threw my cross at her feet—it was all I could do for her. It was all I could manage because I was trying so hard not to scream myself.”
The Wren Page 1