“Why did you take the little girl?” Matt demanded.
“We was told there was something extra in it if we snatched the middle girl and dropped her near the Brazos River.”
“Who told you?” Matt’s restraint was wearing thin.
Whitaker shrugged. “I don’t remember. It was a long time ago. It was just somethin’ one man passed on to another.”
“Were you the one who shot Robert Hart?” Nathan questioned from behind Matt.
“Shit, I don’t remember. Everyone was all in a frenzy. And his damn wife was screamin’ and going on.”
“Is that why you killed her, too?” Matt was on the verge of smashing Whitaker’s face with one of his fists.
“She threw herself in front of him, the dumb woman,” Whitaker cried. “There wasn’t any way we could’ve saved her. Jesus H. Christ! You can’t hold me responsible for any of this. It’s not like there’s anyone left who gives a shit anyway.”
Matt hid his disgust at the callousness of the man’s attitude.
“But I wasn’t the one who shot ‘em,” Whitaker continued hastily. “One of the other men did it. But you won’t be able to nail him since the Comanche killed him shortly after that anyways.”
“What did Walker say when he found out what happened?”
“D’ya think I hung around to find out?” he yelped. “I’m not a stupid man.”
“That remains to be seen.” Matt wondered if he should believe Whitaker’s story or not. His gut told him he wouldn’t likely get anything more of value out of the man, who had probably told all he could remember.
“Who’s that girl?” Whitaker asked, a note of worry creeping back into his voice.
Matt didn’t need to turn around to know it was Molly. He wondered how much she’d heard. A quick glance at her pale face and stunned expression told him she’d witnessed enough.
“He’s the one,” Molly whispered. “The one who grabbed me.”
“What’s she talkin’ about?”
“I’m the middle girl,” she said angrily.
Whitaker swore loudly.
Chapter Twelve
Matt and Nathan rode south about a half-mile, with Molly trailing behind them. The orange tint of the sky signaled the impending sunset while the air began to buzz with the sounds of the night. Matt thought Molly had become too quiet since leaving Whitaker. As they pulled a few horse-lengths ahead of her, Nathan finally spoke.
“What do you plan to do about Davis Walker?”
“Damned if I know,” Matt replied.
They rode in silence while the final sliver of sun disappeared below the horizon. In the muted haze of twilight, Matt contemplated the woman riding behind him, the woman who had changed his life in the span of only a few days.
“What do you plan to do about Molly?” Nathan asked, as if reading Matt’s mind.
“Tie her to a bedpost,” he muttered.
“Would that be any bedpost in general, or just yours?”
Matt glanced at Nathan. There was a mischievous gleam in his friend’s eye.
“It’s not like that,” he replied. “I intend to do right by her.”
“You’re gonna marry her?” Nathan raised an eyebrow.
A slight shake of his head was all Matt could manage. “Can’t.”
“Why? Is she already married?” Nathan clearly wasn’t ready to let the subject drop.
“No.” It was like instructing a child. Matt reminded himself it wasn’t Nathan’s fault he felt so conflicted when it came to Molly’s future. “She’s been through a lot. She needs a man she can trust, not one who just wants to get between the sheets with her.”
Nathan laughed, looking relieved. “All right. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just wanted to understand how you feel about her.”
“I don’t feel anything for her,” Matt shot back. “At least nothin’ that merits any attention. She’s vulnerable. I won’t take advantage of it.”
“I suppose you feel guilty about what happened to her ten years ago.”
“Why shouldn’t I? I left her alone when Whitaker and those men attacked her home. I never helped her during the years she was with the Comanche.”
“Your problem, Matt, is you always take on too much responsibility for what goes on in this life. You did it countless times when we were in the army. And, although you never told me, I’m sure it was one of the reasons Cerillo was able to nab you as well. Let it go. You’ve got a woman in front of you that doesn’t come along every day. Are you going to piss it all away because of a sense of guilt, or because you feel too honorable to touch her?”
It wasn’t that he felt too honorable to touch her. It was quite the opposite. He feared it would be the most dishonorable thing he could do.
His friendship with Molly had been real years ago. He didn’t doubt she had cared for him, might still care for him now. Wouldn’t it confuse her to use that affection for his own ends? Would she respond to him simply because he desired it? The idea of coercing her didn’t sit well with him. Not after what the last ten years had wrought.
Eventually, Molly would come to terms with all that had happened, and then it was very likely she’d walk away from him. He supposed he really couldn’t blame her. But if he had to be honest—something he seemed determined to avoid when it came to his growing feelings for her—then he had to admit that maybe he wasn’t protecting Molly at all. He was shielding his own sorry hide in the event she left him, again. Only this time, it would be of her own free will. So much for honorable intentions.
“I think we part ways here.” Nathan reined his horse toward the east. “When I’m finished in Fort Worth I was planning to go to California to visit my sister, so I’ll stop in on my way back. Molly, it’s been a pleasure.” Nathan tipped his hat to her as she caught up to them.
“Thank you, Nathan,” she said, her mellow voice drawing a response from deep within Matt. “Especially for your help back there with Whitaker.”
“You take care of yourself,” Nathan said. “Take some advice—let go of the past and try to settle down. In the end, I doubt Davis Walker is worth the trouble of putting your life on the line tracking down scum like Whitaker. In my experience, Walker’s past will kick him in the ass one day anyway.”
Molly smiled, but her demeanor was somber. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Clearing her throat, she continued, “I have to be honest, you’ve completely surprised me. When we first met, I thought you a hard and unfeeling man, but you’ve managed to prove me wrong on each account. And I genuinely didn’t think you liked me at first.”
“Nothing could be more wrong. In fact, if Matt doesn’t do right by you, then you might see me again.”
A confused expression crossed Molly’s face.
“Get the hell out of here, Blackmore,” Matt warned.
Nathan laughed. Guiding his jet-black horse closer, he said in a low voice, “Take a chance, Matt. You deserve some happiness after Cerillo.”
Nathan clasped Matt’s shoulder briefly, then disappeared into the quickly encroaching darkness, his midnight black horse blending seamlessly into the night. His words hung in the air.
Take a chance.
Matt stared at Molly as she watched Nathan’s departure, the certainty of wanting her so very clear to him now. But she was young, and alone. He knew that unless she came to him of her own free will, he could never live with himself if he touched her.
Hardening his resolve, Matt rode beside her as they headed west.
* * *
Matt guided his horse through the darkness with Molly behind him. Pushing forward, he wanted to get them to a small creek before stopping for the night, but upon reaching the flowing water they encountered another camp.
At first, Matt tried to simply skirt around the three or four men surrounding a blazing fire, their horses grazing in the dim flicker of the orange light, but then he caught sight of one of the men and couldn’t be
lieve his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Molly guided Pecos closer to his gray-flecked gelding.
“The spirits must be out to haunt us tonight, because one of those men is Davis Walker.”
She snapped her head around. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Matt replied wearily. He took a deep breath. “Molly, let’s just keep on goin’. There’s nothing to be said tonight that will help anybody. In the end, Whitaker didn’t tell us much more than we already knew, so we really don’t have any more proof of Walker’s guilt than we did yesterday.”
“It’s just not right.” Her voice shook with anger. “He’s had the last ten years of his life. He took all of that away from my family.”
“Hey! Can we help you fellas?” one of the men around the campfire yelled to them, having finally noticed their presence.
“Davis, it’s Matt Ryan,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. He hoped the exchange would be brief, and that Molly wouldn’t do or say anything rash. As an aside, he said to her, “Maybe you better let me do the talking.”
Glancing at her face, visible from the firelight, he saw the flash of displeasure reflected in her eyes, but he also saw something else. She was afraid.
“You don’t have to worry,” he said. “I’ll protect you.”
“I’m not concerned about myself. I’m worried for you. Please be careful.”
Stunned by her words and the panic in her voice, further discussion ended as Walker approached their horses. Reluctantly, Matt dismounted.
“Matthew Ryan? Well, I’ll be damned. How are you?” Davis reached out and Matt couldn’t see any way of avoiding the handshake.
Matt hadn’t seen Walker in several years, but he hadn’t changed much. He was still tall, with a paunch now hanging over his belt buckle. His hair was thin and graying, but his eyes were still shrewd. Davis Walker wasn’t a man to be underestimated. Something in Matt’s gut clenched. He didn’t want Molly around him.
“I’m fine,” Matt answered noncommittally.
The other men stayed near the fire, but Davis gestured to them. “That’s Hal Lewis, Charlie Brewster, and George Sawyer. Maybe you remember Georgie? He used to work at the Hart ranch years ago, when all you boys were there.”
Matt didn’t have to turn around and look at Molly to know she had tensed at the mention of her folks’ ranch. He glanced at Sawyer, nodding slightly.
Matt did remember him, although Sawyer had been just a lad ten years ago, not much older than Matt and Cale. From the looks of things, though, he hadn’t changed much. There was something a little wild in the man’s eyes and his lanky body appeared poised for violence. Matt remembered he was a little crazed back then, and he found his opinion to be much the same now. Why was Sawyer hanging around with Walker these days? Something about it nagged at the back of his mind, but he’d have to think on it later.
“I didn’t realize you have a little lady with you, Matt,” Davis remarked when he noticed Molly’s presence. “Did you finally settle down?”
“No.” He would have lied, but he didn’t think Molly would understand. She was safer if the other men thought she belonged to him, but getting her riled up wouldn’t get them out of here any quicker.
“You both want to join us?” Davis asked. “We’re headin’ back to my ranch in the mornin’—we could ride together.”
“No thanks,” Matt replied. “We’re planning to keep going for a while yet.”
Davis winked, laughing. “Sure thing. Can’t blame you for wantin’ a little privacy.”
“Miss, you’re welcome to stay here,” George Sawyer said, a gleam of defiance in his eye.
Matt’s dislike for the man grew. “We really should be on our way.”
“What’s your name, miss?”
“Now, Georgie, keep your britches on.” Davis laughed again. “You’d think he never saw a woman before.”
“Not one as pretty as you, miss,” George said.
“She’s with me,” Matt said, his voice flat and definite. He couldn’t fathom why Sawyer challenged him, and it didn’t sit well that he eyed Molly.
“Heard you were hurt recently down south, Matthew,” Davis remarked, obviously trying to change the subject. “But you look well enough now. You plannin’ on going back to the Rangers, or you gonna stay on to help your pa?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Wish Cale would come home and help his old man out. Your pa is lucky to have you and Logan, even if it’s just for a short while.”
“Where is Cale these days?”
“How the hell should I know? Last I heard he was a goddamn bounty hunter in Colorado. I’m sure he must make good money, but I don’t see a cent of it. That boy never showed me much respect. And he never could stay in one place long enough, except maybe to take a crap. Well, at least I still have T.J. and Joey.”
Davis glanced at Molly, realizing his language. “Sorry, miss. Sometimes I forget myself. What’s your name, honey?”
Matt thought quickly for a lie, but she answered before he could, her voice clearly defiant. “It’s Molly.”
Matt swore to himself.
“Molly. Well, that’s a nice name. I knew a Molly once.” Davis reflected on that for a moment, then he slapped Matt on the shoulder. “Guess some things are better left in the past, eh?”
The urge to punch Davis came swiftly, an unnatural reaction since Matt had never been one to respond impulsively in the heat of battle. Standing very still, he steadied his breathing and reminded himself the other men might overpower him, leaving Molly on her own. He needed to think of her first.
“Well, Miss Molly,” George said, his voice sickeningly sweet, “if you ever get tired of being Mr. Matt’s woman, you’re welcome to warm my blankets. I’d take real good care of you.”
“Don’t mind Sawyer,” Davis said in disgust, “he’s a lot of bluster.”
Movement in the dry foliage behind the group of men abruptly caught Matt’s eye, bringing his senses to full alert. Before he could determine the culprit, something flew past his head and into one of the bushes. Molly slid off her horse, running toward the shrub. Matt saw the slingshot in her hand. He pulled his gun.
“No, Molly!”
But it was too late. The other men heard the rattle at the same time Matt did.
As Molly neared the darkened perimeter of the encampment, Matt watched her do a strange sleight of hand as she grabbed the snake quickly. One hand gripped the creature’s heart-shaped head from behind, the other held the long, thick body as it writhed in agitation.
“Jesus,” Matt said in a panic as he rushed after her, “put it down.”
She turned to face the stunned expressions of the men.
“Mr. Sawyer,” she said, contempt evident in her voice, “I can take care of myself.” She was stronger than Matt realized, given her control of the thick and twisting reptile. She held the snake out farther, which caused the men to jump back. “I would’ve cut its head off, but it’s bad luck to kill a snake within the boundaries of camp. An old Indian superstition. I certainly wouldn’t want to give any of you bad luck.”
As she carefully released the snake, all of the men stumbled backwards, hastily trying to get away from the very poisonous serpent as it slithered away into the dark night.
Matt held his ground.
The damn woman wanted to kill herself. Only the fact they had an audience kept him from shaking some sense into her.
Bending to retrieve her slingshot, she didn’t even look at him as she moved past Davis and the other still-agitated men. “Let’s go,” she said.
Matt paused, trying to control his temper. “Gentlemen.” He turned and followed her.
Chapter Thirteen
As Molly rode behind Matt in the shadowed night, she let Pecos find her own way. Weary and cold, she wanted to get as far away as possible from Davis Walker and the other men before stopping. She and Matt hadn’t spoken, but they seemed to be of the same mind.
The ru
sh of energy from grabbing the snake had worn off, leaving her limbs weak. The mental weight of facing the man possibly responsible for the murder of her folks also pressed on her. It was all too much to worry about at the moment, so she tried to quiet her thoughts. But for some reason, the night Bull Runner and the other Comanche warriors took her to Jose Torres’ camp kept playing through her mind.
There had been an instant when she thought Snake Eater might kidnap her. There had also been a flash of clarity when she was certain he would kill her instead.
The transaction with Torres was completed. Bull Runner negotiated for blankets, guns, and ammunition in exchange for Molly. In the oppressive darkness, only torchlights illuminated the contorted, savage-looking faces of the Comanche men, painted as they were for a war party. Molly had never seen the Kwahadi men appear so much like wild animals. As she stood next to Torres, she felt sick to her stomach. Drunk, he kept leering at her.
Her eyes locked with Snake Eater. His angry gaze pierced hers as he whooped and hollered. All of the warriors began circling around her and Torres, the pounding of the horses’ hooves shaking the ground beneath her. The display confused her, but one look at Torres’ frightened expression confirmed her suspicion this was an act of aggression by the Kwahadi men.
Later, she would remember with grim satisfaction the fear in the trader’s eyes, but at the moment she wondered in a panic if they were after her, or Torres. When she saw Snake Eater’s calculating eyes focused upon her, she knew she was the target. She counted her life in heartbeats.
The warriors continued in their circular path, shrieking and yowling, the constant movement making her dizzy. Then Bull Runner intervened, riding into the center of the frenzy. Giving her one last look, an expression almost of regret on his face, he forced the other warriors into the foreboding night before riding off himself. Her labored breathing echoed in the sudden, deafening silence.
That night she was favored, and not just with Snake Eater. Torres thankfully passed out not long after the noisy display.
The Wren Page 9