by Bobbi Smith
"Just tell me what you want me to do."
"You'll... you'll have to stay in my bedroom" The strain of the entire situation was beginning to reflect in the haunted shadows of her eyes.
"There's no telling how soon Jimmy will get back. It might be five minutes or it might be two hours. We can't take any chances."
Dev could plainly see the fear in her expression, and a great sense of protectiveness filled him. He wished there was some way he could ease her plight. Without really thinking about it, following his instincts only, he reached out for her and took her in his arms. For a moment her body was stiff as she fought the tears. But she had ached too long, and Dev had touched that vulnerable spot with his tenderness and understanding. He cradled her near as she wept, realizing how right it seemed to be holding her this way. The soft womanliness of her body fit naturally against the hard male contours of his own.
"You're so very special, Molly..." Dev said in a husky voice. He lifted his hands to frame her face and tilted it up to him, and Molly suddenly felt special... and warm... and...
Molly felt like swaying against him. He was so warm and tender and caring. She had never known anyone like him in her life. The thought that she might soon lose him, filled her eyes with tears.
Dev saw the shimmer of tears in her gaze and gave a guttural groan. "Ali, Molly, I want so badly to make everything right for you." Then, unable to resist any more, he kissed her. It was a loving kiss filled with passion and promise.
Molly was the one to break off the embrace. She was afraid that at any moment they might be interrupted and Dev might be caught. "You have to hide. You know what will happen if they find out you're here."
Her concern for him eased the ache Dev felt when she moved deliberately away. Dev gave her a crooked grin, touched her cheek in a gentle caress and without another word walked into her room and closed the door. Molly was frightened of an emotion she didn't know or understand. It grew like a tidal wave, overpowering her thoughts until she sighed in confusion.
Lying on the bed with his arms folded behind his head, Dev listened to the sound of her retreating footsteps as she hurried back to tend to her mother. As he remained hidden, he prayed that the doctor would come soon and that everything would be fine, if not for him, then for sweet, gentle Molly.
Sheriff Macauley stood alone in front of his office, ready to face down the crowd of drunken men heading his way. He stood tall and immovable, the shotgun he carried held across his chest.
As they drew near enough he spoke, "You'll all have to go on home. There will be no vigilante justice in my town."
"We ain't goin' nowhere!" Rex hollered. "We've come for O'Keefe. We want to see real justice done!"
"O'Keefe's in my custody. Hell stand trial when the time is right. That's when justice will be done," Macauley replied, as if he was unperturbed.
"That ain't good enough!" Bucky yelled. "We know he's guilty! Let's hang the bastard!"
"Yeah!" Bloodlust was running high in the crowd, and they started to surge forward.
Macauley wasn't about to give ground or be overrun. The sharp click of the gun hammers sounded as he lowered the barrel of the shotgun to aim at the first approaching man. The action brought the lead man and the crowd behind him to a halt.
"I said, O'Keefe's in my custody, and he's going to stay that way!"
"How long you plannin' on keepin' him in your custody? Santana's cold and rottin' in his grave, and that bastard is still sitting pretty in jail!" Charley said in a loud voice, wanting to keep the crowd fired up.
"Shut up and go home!" Macauley threatened. "Move along! I don't want any trouble with any of you"
"We don't want any trouble with you either, Sher iff, so just hand O'Keefe over and then we will move along."
"Get out of here, all of you. I don't want to have to shoot, but I will."
"The sheriff ain't gonna hand him over, so let's just take him ourselves!" someone cried, and again they moved forward.
Macauley fired one barrel into the air. "Next man who moves is dead," he declared in a murderous tone, pointing the gun directly at the leaders of the crowd. Look," he continued, "I hope you think this prisoner is worth dying over, because if you try to break in my jail, one of you sure as hell is gonna die."
"You can't kill us all!" Rex snarled.
"No," the sheriff said calmly, "but the first man gets a load in the stomach. Think about it."
Rex was no hero and neither was any other man in the crowd. Enthusiasm for a hanging was fading before the sheriff's steady gaze, and even steadier shotgun.
"What'll it be?" Macauley pressed, and he was immensely relieved when the mob began to break up and drift away.
Charley was furious, but knew he could do nothing more right now without being too conspicuous. He headed back to the saloon with Rex and Bucky.
"Somebody must have warned him we were coming," Charley seethed. "How else could he have been ready and waiting for us?"
"Yeah, but who?"
"I don't know, but I intend to find out," he vowed as they reentered the bar.
Doctor Lyle Rivers, a portly gentleman with a trim, gray beard and mustache, responded right away to the urgent knock at his door. He was surprised to find little Jimmy Magee standing there.
"Why, Jimmy, good to see you again," he greeted him warmly. He liked the Magee family, thought them good, honest people, though they were having a rough time of it right now.
"Dr. Rivers, you gotta come with me!" he cried. He'd managed to contain his worry up until now, but he was desperate to get home as quickly as he could.
"What is it? What's happened?"
"It's my mother, sir. She's real sick. Will you come, now? Right away?"
"It's that serious?"
"Yes, sir. She's been sick for days now with a fever and all, and she's not getting any better. Molly's got money to pay you this time, so you don't have to worry," he added, not wanting him to think that they'd be asking for charity.
The physician gave him a tender look for he knew how important it was to this family to pay their own way and not be indebted to anyone. "That's never been a problem, Jimmy. Don't worry about it." He hurried to get his bag. "Let's go, shall we?"
The boy broke into a bright smile as he accompanied him on the long trek back home.
"Sorry it took us so long, Molly, but there was a lot of trouble at the jail," Jimmy told his sister as soon as they reached the house.
Their walk back from the doctor's office had taken them past the jail. They'd witnessed the whole dangerous scene that had transpired there, and the doctor had stopped to speak with Macauley about what had happened.
"Trouble?" She questioned hoping her fear didn't show. "What happened?"
"Some hotheads and a crowd of would-be vigilantes tried to overrun the jail and hang the prisoner. I feel sorry for whoever started it," Dr. Rivers informed her. "The sheriff is not the forgiving sort. He won't rest until he catches him."
"That's terrible, but thank heavens nothing serious happened. Sheriff Macauley is a good man."
"He certainly is, and he's a smart mem, too. He told me that he'd found out about the trouble ahead of time and had already moved that O'Keefe fellow out of the jail to safety. There was no hanging tonight."
"Good," Molly tried to sound surprised and relieved.
"You take the food over to the jail from the restaurant, don't you?" Rivers asked astutely.
"Yes, and I've come to know the man quite well over these weeks. He seems nice enough. I wonder where the sheriff hid him out."
"Nobody knows, and Macauley isn't saying, which may very well be for the best, all things considered. Now, let's see about your mother. Your brother, here, tells me she's been sick for a few days now."
"Yes, sir." Molly led the learned man back into her mother's bedroom.
After checking Eileen Magee completely, Dr. Rivers drew Molly out of the room, leaving Jimmy to tend to her. He handed Molly some packets of medicine.
> "Mix this with hot tea and see that she takes at least a good drink of it four times a day. If you can manage it, have her take more. If there's no improvement by tomorrow night, send for me again. Hopefully, though, this will do it."
"Yes, Dr. Rivers, thank you," Molly promised. "And here's your money."
"Now, Molly, you'd best keep that. You might need it."
"We owe you so much. I insist you at least let us pay on our back bill"' Molly smiled, "that you so kindly never mention. Please, Dr. Rivers," she added, "let me pay a little."
"All right, child, all right." He took the money reluctantly. "I hope your mother's better by tomorrow. This medicine should do it."
"Thank you," she said simply.
When the physician had gone from the house, Molly quickly called Dev. "It's safe now, you can come out."
"I thought he was never going to get here, and then I thought he was never going to leave."
"Me, too," Molly agreed. "But thank goodness he did come. Did you hear everything he said?"
"Yes," Dev said, frowning. "I'm worried about Macauley. What if they come back? He's in danger, and he's going through all of this just because of me.
"It's his job, Dev," Molly insisted, not wanting him to feel guilty.
"It's not his job to defend an accused murderer from a mob of wild drunks."
"It most certainly is. You haven't been convicted of anything! You aren't guilty of any crime!" she defended him passionately.
Dev looked up at her, surprised by the vehemence in her tone. "You sound like you mean that."
Molly blushed vividly, then confessed, "I do mean it. You didn't kill Santana. I'd bet my life on it."
Her professed faith in him warmed him. He would need the memory of that warmth when he had to leave. "You're right, Molly. I didn't kill Santana, but outside of Clay, you're the only one who believes me."
"I think you might be wrong there. I don't think Sheriff Macauley would have allowed you to go with me like he did, if he didn't trust you."
"That's true enough, but I've got to have some kind of proof, something that will convince a jury."
"It'll turn up, you just have to have faith," Molly lifted glowing eyes to his.
"Faith..." Dev repeated slowly. "Sometimes it seems so difficult to keep hoping..."
"I know, but just remember, I believe in you and so does your friend Clay. I'll never let you down, and neither will he, if he's half the man you say he is," Molly promised fervently.
"Clay is, but I hope you're right," Dev sighed, not sure whether to be elated or despairing. "He's been gone a long time."
"Molly..." Jimmy's plaintive call summoned her from the other room.
"I have to see to my mother," she apologized, sorry that she had to end the intimate moment with Dev. "Well talk more later on."
"Don't worry," he gave her a bittersweet smile. "I'll be right here waiting for you."
Their gazes locked for a long heart-stopping moment, and then she tore herself away to see what Jimmy wanted.
Bertha Harvey pinned Molly with a glacial glare as she returned to the restaurant some time later. "Where have you been? You've left here over two hours ago, and I ain't seen or heard from you since!"
Molly had practiced her story for her boss all the way there, and she was ready to face her with her version of what had happened. "There was trouble at the jail while I was there. Didn't you hear about it?"
"Trouble?" Bertha's eyes lit up at the thought of some excitement in town. "What kind of trouble?" Business at the restaurant had been slow, and she hadn't heard a thing about what was going on.
"There was a vigilante mob, trying to get to the prisoner."
"Did they?" Bertha asked avidly. She'd been waiting ages now for a hanging.
"No," she said, not wanting to explain any more than she had to.
"What about the prisoner?"
"I guess he's all right, I really don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"Evidently, the sheriff suspected something might happen, and he moved O'Keefe somewhere for safekeeping."
"Did you find out where he moved him to?" Bertha pressed aggressively.
Molly was growing nervous under her demanding questioning. "No, he didn't say."
"Did you ask?"
"No," Molly answered, wondering at her point. Why did she care about where the prisoner was?"
"I thought so," Bertha sneered. "What use are you, girl? Aren't you even the least bit concerned about the business we're going to lose?"
"The business?" She was astounded at her train of thought.
"Yes! If O'Keefe's been moved out of the jail permanently, they won't be needing us to bring the meals over any more. We'll be losing some good, easy money there." In disgust the older woman turned away.
"You're talking about money when a man's life is at stake!" Molly couldn't stop herself from protesting Bertha's callousness.
The old woman shot her a frosty glare and snapped, "I care about money. I don't care about O'Keefe. Anyone with half a brain knows the man's a murdering thief!"
"He hasn't had a trial yet," Molly defended.
"That's just a formality. The man's as good as hung," Bertha announced with conviction. "I'll tell you one thing, Molly, I'll just bet those vigilantes don't give up. If they were as angry as you say they were, they might just keep looking until they find him and when they do-"
Molly couldn't suppress the shiver that wracked her as she imagined a gang of wild, vicious men dragging Dev bodily from her home. "The sheriff will protect him," she countered.
"One man can't stop a whole town," her boss said nastily and then turned and left the room.
Molly felt frozen inside as she watched her go. She wondered if what she'd said was true. If the vigilantes didn't give up and kept searching for Dev, how would she ever be able to keep him safe? She couldn't let anything happen to him, but what good would she be in trying to protect him? She didn't even own a gun!
The thought of Dev being killed wrenched at Molly. Knowing she would be fired if she left early, she continued to work, but all her thoughts were focused on getting home as quickly as she could to make sure he was still there and still safe. She knew his survival depended on her, and it was a heavy responsibility to bear. Tomorrow, she decided, she would go talk to the sheriff. If he wanted her to keep him at her home, she would, but she was going to ask him for a gun, just in case.
Dev was nervous as he paced the front room of Molly's home in agitation. Jimmy had been watching over his mother ever since Molly had left the house to return to her much-needed job, so he'd been left alone with his thoughts, and he was finding that they were not pretty as the hours dragged by.
Dev was worried, deeply so, but it was concern for Molly that filled him, not for himself. He knew his presence in her home was putting her in jeopardy. The idea that he might ultimately be responsible for her being hurt in some way troubled him. He wanted to protect Molly, not place her at risk. He wanted to take care of her, not rely on her to protect him.
Again, the helplessness of his situation infuriated Dev. He was used to dealing with problems and dangers head on. He wasn't used to hiding out and slinking around like a thief in the night. He almost laughed at his unwitting analogy, but the compari son was too bitterly real.
Dev paused in the middle of the small room and sighed. It had been hard being cooped up in the jail cell, but it was even more difficult confining himself willingly to Molly's house. Still, though the door was locked from the inside and there was no one to prevent him from walking out, he knew he wouldn't leave. Too much depended on him staying where he was.
Molly had told him to use her bed for the night, and though he wasn't the least bit ready to sleep, he decided to lie down for a while. When she'd first offered him her bed, he'd argued with her, telling her that he'd be glad to sleep on the floor. She'd been adamant, though, telling him that Jimmy's bed was big enough for the two of them and that it would probably only be f
or this one night.
Dev stretched out on the softness of her small single bed, relishing its comfort after the long weeks of sleeping on the cot in jail. The pillow and covers held the faintest trace of Molly's own sweet scent, and just being that close to her filled him with warmth and a strange sense of well-being. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, remembering the way Molly had moved around both rooms before she'd left, making sure that all the curtains were tightly closed and how she'd told him to stay hidden in here should anyone unexpectedly show up at the door. It had been years since anyone had cared about him that way, fussing over him and worrying about him, and Dev found that he liked it very much.
Dev's thoughts drifted as he lay there. He thanked God silently for Macauley's quick thinking in getting him out of the jail. He liked Macauley as much as he could under the circumstances, and he wished him no ill.
There was the chilling possibility that the vigilan tes might keep looking for him. There was also the chance that their activities might have stirred sentiment about him to a fever pitch and force the sheriff to go to trial before Clay could return.
Dev grimaced at the thought of going to trial. He knew he had no defense to offer, no proof that he'd never been to Santana's ranch in his life. There was only his word on it, and, considering the general opinion of him in town, his word of honor didn't mean much. He knew he had to accept that the threat of his hanging was very real, yet he railed against the injustice of it all. He had found the one woman he could love, but until this was cleared up, if it was ever cleared up, he could never let anything come of his feelings for her. Lost deep in his despair, he was unaware that Jimmy had emerged from the bedroom and was standing in the doorway, watching him.
"How's your mother?" Dev asked, concerned that she might have worsened and that he needed his help. "Do you need any help?"
"She's sleeping," Jimmy answered as he continued to study him, his expression curious. "You're him, aren't you?"
"Him, who?" Dev was surprised to find the youth there with him.