Sweet Silken Bondage

by Bobbi Smith

  Molly studied her mother as she lay, burning up with fever now and realized that she looked far older than her thirty-three years. Her hair, once flaming red, was now dull and streaked with gray. Except for the fever's flush on her sunken cheeks, she was deathly pale. Molly was used to her mother being strong. She'd always bounced back right away from any sickness, but this was the third day she'd been down with the fever, and she was showing no signs of improvement.

  "Jimmy, darling, I've got to go. I'm late already," Molly sighed, tearing herself away from the bedside.

  "Hurry home..." There was a slight tremor in his voice, as if the uncertainty of their situation frightened him, too.

  "I will."

  Molly gave Jimmy one last hug, then hurried from their small, four room house. It was quite a distance to the Golden Kettle, and she nearly had to run the whole way for fear of Bertha Harvey's considerable wrath.

  "You know I don't abide your being late, Molly."

  Bertha's snapped greeting welcomed Molly as she came rushing into the kitchen of the restaurant a short time later.

  "Yes, ma'am, but my mother's ill and -"

  "I have customers who need to be waited on. If you can't do it, I'll find someone else who can!" the gray-haired woman said coldly.

  It was exactly what Molly had expected her to say, and yet she still cringed at the threat. "Yes, ma'am."

  "You're already late getting the lunches over to the sheriff. Get on that right now."

  "Yes, ma'am," Molly replied breathlessly as she hurried around the kitchen gathering what she needed. In a way, she was glad that her first duty of the day would be to take the lunches to the jail. The less time she had to spend in Bertha Harvey's abrasive company, the happier she was, and then there was always the fact that she'd get to see Devlin O'Keefe again...

  "I want you to deliver the lunches and come straight back. I don't want you lingering over there talking to those prisoners. Do you understand me, Molly?"

  Her caustic comment jerked Molly's thoughts away from the young man who'd been arrested for Pedro Santana's murder, but for some reason hadn't gone to trial yet.

  "Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Harvey," Molly answered respectfully, "but I really don't think that-"

  "I don't pay you to think, Molly. I pay you to work." She silenced any comeback the girl might have had with an icy look. She was a narrowminded old woman who did not tolerate insolence from her employees.

  Molly ducked her head so Bertha wouldn't see the flash of angry resentment in her green eyes. She remained silent, but she really wanted to argue and tell her that Devlin O'Keefe, with his friendly blue eyes and soft, gentle voice, couldn't possibly be the villain everyone claimed he was. As desperate as Molly was for honest work, though, she knew better than to say anything that might anger her employer.

  Hurrying because she wanted to get away from her boss's overbearing nearness, Molly reached for the steaming kettle of stew on the stove without a towel to protect her hand. She gave a small cry of pain as she burned herself. Suddenly letting go of the pot, she spilled some of its contents.

  "That was stupid," the older woman ridiculed, not moving to help her. "Now you're going to be later than ever. Clean up that mess and get those pails over to the jail."

  Molly fought back tears as she bit her lip in an effort to distract herself from the pain.

  "And just remember what I told you, girl," Bertha went on, "I don't want to hear that you were talking with those two. I won't have any sluts working for me."

  "I'm no slut!" Molly responded quickly, unable to take any more of her verbal abuse.

  "And you'd better keep it that way. Those two prisoners are nothing but cold-blooded murderers, the both of them. Especially that Ace Denton. They're gonna hang him tomorrow, you know."

  "I know." Molly shivered involuntarily as she thought of Denton. Where Devlin O'Keefe seemed innocent to her, Ace Denton was just the opposite. There was something about the man that scared her. His eyes were cold and deadly, and she could sense no goodness in him. It was as if all the evil in the world was embodied in him, and she hated even just having to hand him his food through the cell bars.

  "Won't be too much longer before the other one's tried and sentenced to hang, too. Although," she mused lightheartedly, "I really shouldn't be complaining about them keeping O'Keefe alive. I'm making good money feeding him."

  "They aren't really going to hang him, are they?" Molly spoke up without thought.

  Bertha eyed her suspiciously, wondering why it mattered to the girl. "He's guilty. Everybody in town knows it. The sheriff found some evidence linking him to the murder"

  "But that doesn't mean he did it," she defended.

  "He's the killer, missy. Don't you doubt that for a minute. Sheriff Macauley wouldn't have arrested him if he wasn't sure. It's just a matter of time until he pays his dues like Denton's going to tomorrow." She didn't notice Molly's stricken look as she directed, "Now, just get those meals over there and hurry on back. There's a lot more work here just waiting for you"

  Molly finished preparing the hot lunches and then left for the sheriffs office. As she crossed the busy street and headed toward the jail, she questioned her own conviction about O'Keefe's innocence. If everyone in town believed he'd murdered Santana, why didn't she?

  Dev lay on the hard, uncomfortable cot in his jail cell, his arms folded beneath his head, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. When he'd first been incarcerated, he'd raged against the injustice of it. But as the long weeks had passed and he realized that he was no longer in command of his own fate, he'd called upon his reserve of patience and control. He would not panic. Only Clay could help him now. Only Clay...

  Dev thought of the last conversation they'd had before his friend had ridden out of town. Clay had told him how Alvarez had blackmailed him into tracking down his daughter and of how the Californio had promised that nothing would happen to him while he was gone. It had been a relief to know that he wasn't going to be strung up right away for a crime he hadn't committed, but it hadn't really changed anything. He was still locked up in the six by six foot room with no quick hope of getting out. It was only Dev's complete, unshakable confidence in Clay that kept him from losing his sanity. That, and the regular daily visits of Molly Magee, the pretty young woman who brought the meals from the restaurant.

  The thought of the lovely Molly stirred a warmth within Dev, and he smiled slightly as he pictured her in his mind. Her hair was a deep, burnished color, not red and not auburn, but somewhere in between. The peaches and cream of her complexion was highlighted by a light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were the clearest green. Her figure was slender and still a bit girlish, but with the budding promise of future curves. She was shy, and though he'd made numerous overtures in his most charming manner to try to engage her in conversation, she seldom responded. It troubled him that Molly always tried to keep her eyes averted from his as if she was afraid of something.

  Judging the sun's height through the small, barred window in his cell, Dev knew it was almost midday, and Molly would soon be coming with the noon meal. The sound of voices in the outer office alerted Dev to the fact that she had arrived, and he found he was eager just to lay eyes on her again.

  Ace Denton, a tall, dark-haired, mean-looking man whose murdering ways were legendary in California, was caged in the cell next to Dev's. He was an ugly man with an even uglier temper, and, unlike Dev, he was not happy about the day being half over. His trial had ended the previous afternoon, and he'd been convicted of his crimes and sentenced to hang. The execution was scheduled for the following morning, and as each hour passed, bringing him closer to meeting his maker, Denton grew more and more nervous and more and more desperate. There was no way he was going to let them hang him! No way...

  The sound of the girl arriving with their food gave Denton an idea. An evil glimmer shone in his eyes. He knew it would take a daring effort to get free, but he was prepared to pay any price to escap
e. Feigning indifference to Molly's presence, he waited until the time was right.

  "Here's your lunch," Molly announced as she entered the walkway before the two jail cells.

  Dev stood to greet her. "What did you bring me this afternoon, Molly?" he asked, giving her his most engaging smile.

  "Stew" she answered coolly. She didn't want to be drawn into conversation with him just in case Sheriff Macauley might report it to Bertha Harvey.

  "Stew's one of my favorites," Dev responded, taking the lunchpail from her. He lifted the lid to look inside. "It smells wonderful, and it's still hot. Did you make it yourself?"

  "No," Molly replied, not looking at him as she moved on toward Denton.

  Denton was lingering against the back wall of his cell watching her every move. He knew she was jittery around him and realized that he'd have to move quickly. As she held out the pail for him to take, he stepped forward and grabbed her by the wrist, jerking her forcefully forward.

  His action was so unexpected that Molly managed only a shriek as she lost her balance and slammed into the iron bars. She fought Denton automatically, but before she could break free, he turned her around and linked one strong forearm around her neck.

  "Denton! What the hell are you doing?" Dev was rigid with fury. If he could have reached him, he would have killed him for putting his hands on Molly, but Denton was standing out of reach near the far side of his cell.

  Denton gave a victorious, half-crazed laugh. "This little gal is my ticket outta here, O'Keefe! They ain't hangin' me! Macauley! Get in here! Now!"

  "Sheriff!" Molly cried out, her emerald eyes seeming huge in her pale face as fear seized her.

  When her terrified gaze met Dev's for just an instant, he knew he could let nothing happen to her. He had to help her! But how?

  The sheriff came running into the room, gun drawn. "What the...? Denton!" He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the ruthless outlaw holding the young girl in such a painful grip. Ace Denton was a cold-blooded murderer, and Macauley knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill again.

  "You just lower that gun, sheriff, or you're going to have a dead woman on your hands," Denton snarled, deliberately tightening his strangling hold on Molly so that she was gasping for air.

  "Don't do anything stupid, Denton."

  "What have I got to lose, Macauley? You can kill me now or you can kill me tomorrow." The murderer's eyes were wild as he taunted the lawman with the devastating truth.

  "What do you want?"

  "I want out! Now, you jes' come on over here and unlock the cell door or I swear I'll break her pretty neck."

  "Sheriff... please..." Molly whispered, terror showing plainly on her pretty features.

  Macauley knew he had no choice. He couldn't risk Molly's life. His only hope was to somehow trap the outlaw on his way out of the jail.

  "All right... all right..." The sheriff moved toward the cell door and unlocked it. "Now, what?"

  "Slide your gun down the hall toward the front office" Denton instructed. When Macauley had done what he was told, the outlaw spoke again, "Now, open the door, leave the key in it and step back."

  Again the lawman did as he was told. Slowly, Denton manipulated himself and Molly toward the open door. It was difficult for him to keep a hold on her, but he managed. When he moved out of the cell, he yanked her tightly against his chest.

  "Now, get inside, sheriff," he ordered coldly, enjoying the feeling of power that was surging through him.

  Dev watched helplessly as Macauley did as he was told. He was growing more and more angry as he watched the killer maneuver the lawman, and his grip tightened unconsciously on the pail of hot stew he still held. When Denton slammed the cell door shut behind the sheriff and locked it, taking the key, Dev knew he was the only one left to save Molly.

  "You're free now, Denton, let the girl go."

  "No way, Macauley"

  "What are you going to do with her?" the sheriff was asking, worriedly.

  "I ain't decided yet. But she'll sure be good company wherever I go," he replied, moving down the hall and dragging her along with him. Denton's big mistake was not considering Dev to be a threat. He was so intent on getting away that he started past Dev's cell without thinking.

  The only weapon Dev had was the stew, and he knew he had to use it. When Denton moved by, he hurled the pail of hot stew at him. It crashed into the bars near his face and sprayed hot, steaming food all over him. Denton screamed in astonished confusion and pain, and Molly took advantage of the moment to break free.

  "The gun, Molly! Get the gun!" Dev shouted, hoping she had enough presence of mind to react quickly.

  "Sheriff! Here!" Molly needed no encouragement. She made a mad grab for the gun just as Denton started to recover. She slid the weapon down the hall floor toward Macauley, and he stretched through the bars trying desperately to reach it.

  To their horror, Dev was the one who grabbed it. For an instant, time hung suspended. Molly and the sheriff watched in horrified fascination as Dev came up firing.

  Denton had been momentarily blinded by the stew, but he recovered quickly and dove for the gun just as Dev pulled the trigger. The bullet struck him squarely, killing him instantly. When he fell dead, an uneasy silence reigned in the jailhouse.

  Sheriff Macauley honestly thought O'Keefe was as cold-blooded as Denton. Unmoving, he waited with sickening certainty for Dev to turn the gun on him next. When he didn't, the sheriff was stunned.

  "Molly..." Dev said her name in a low, nonthreatening voice. He could see the fear in her eyes, and he wanted to erase that fear forever. He wanted to show her the kind of man he really was.

  "Don't hurt her, O'Keefe..." Macauley pleaded, afraid for Molly.

  "Molly, get the cell key off Denton and come here," he urged.

  Molly was deeply shaken by all that had happened, and her emotions were in turmoil. Devlin had shot and killed the other outlaw. He had saved her from a fate worse than death, but now he controlled the gun. Did that mean he wanted the same thing that Denton had? Was he intent on escaping? Would he try to take her with him, too?

  The moment was a tense one, for Molly realized she had no choice. She couldn't risk angering him. She had to do what he said. Mechanically, she moved to the dead outlaw and got the key. Molly hesitantly approached Dev, fully expecting him to demand that she release him from his cell.

  Dev knew both Molly and the sheriff believed him to be a savage murderer, and it was important to him that he prove to them both that they were wrong. As she crossed the few steps that separated them, Dev's eyes sought and held Molly's.

  "Are you all right?" Dev asked softly when she drew near.

  "Yes." She was so nervous that her reply was little more than a whisper.

  "I'm glad." His response drew a surprised look from Molly, and as she stopped directly before him, he reversed his grip on the gun and handed it to her through the bars. "Here, give this to the sheriff after you let him out."

  Molly blinked in bewilderment as she stared down at the revolver in her hand. Devlin O'Keefe could have escaped. He could have shot the sheriff and made a run for it, yet he hadn't. He had given her the gun and told her to free the sheriff. It lightened her spirits enormously to find that her instincts had been right about him all along. He wasn't the terrible, amoral killer everyone else thought him to be. Slowly a wide, bright smile lit her face.

  Dev was waiting to see what her reaction would be to his gesture, and when she glanced up at him, he knew that he'd accomplished his goal. There in her beautiful green-eyed gaze was all the respect and admiration he'd hoped one day to see. His heart sang at the thought, and he found himself smiling back at her.

  A shiver of some unnamed emotion raced through Molly as her eyes met Dev's. Startled by the unexpected strength of the feelings, she tore her gaze from his and rushed off to release the sheriff from Denton's cell.

  Macauley was shocked by what had happened, and he breathed an immense sigh of relief at the turn o
f events. He brought the blanket off the cot with him as he emerged from the cell, and he threw it over the dead man. That done, he put a comforting arm about Molly's shoulders and started to guide her from the scene of the carnage. He stopped before where Dev stood in his cell.

  "O'Keefe, that was a mighty decent thing you just did. You saved Molly's life, and we owe you a debt of gratitude for it," he said, self-consciously.

  "You don't owe me anything, Macauley. I told you, I'm no murderer," was all Dev replied as he looked him straight in the eye. He knew there was no point in saying anything more.

  Macauley studied him for a long moment, wondering if he possibly could have made a mistake in arresting the bounty hunter for Santana's death. Only when he remembered the damning evidence he'd found at the scene of the crime, did he turn away from DeVs unblinking scrutiny.

  When the sheriff started to usher Molly away, she balked, turning back to Dev. "Mr. O'Keefe?"

  He looked up. "My name is Dev, Molly."

  "Dev..." She met his gaze openly without hesitation. No longer was she afraid, for she now knew just what kind of man Devlin O'Keefe really was. "Thank you."

  It was much later that night, long after the carnage had been cleared away that Sheriff Macauley appeared before Dev's cell.

  "O'Keefe."

  "Sheriff?" Dev sat up quickly and immediately thought something was wrong, for the lawman's ex pression was very troubled. "What is it?"

  "You still claim you're innocent, but if that's so, how do you explain the evidence I found at Santana's ranch?" He studied his prisoner as he spoke.

  It thrilled Dev to think that he might be considering changing his mind about his guilt, and he knew he had to be totally honest with him now.

  "I can't explain how the medallions got there, sheriff. I wish I could. None of this makes sense. All I know is, I was never at Santana's ranch, and I didn't kill him."