Molly's Hero

by Susan Amarillas

  “Is this what you went back for?” He pried the cat loose, refrained from a brief impulse to send the animal flying in the direction of the stream and instead unceremoniously tossed it over the side. Of all the damned fool things. “Do you know you coulda died?”

  She looked at him and at the cat who sat grooming herself on the ground and then at her mother.

  Ethan saw it coming about two seconds before it hit. Tears. Lots of tears. A damned raging torrent by the time they reached her eyes. Oh, yes, there were sobs. Great big sobs. Here he was, going out of his mind trying to save her, and she was worried about some damned cats.

  Females. All the same. He got to his feet, his boots making scuffing noises on the planks. He was covered with soot from head to toe. His boots were singed around the edges and so were his pant legs. Then there was his burned hand.

  By this time Molly was crying, too. Great. Just great. Why were women always crying when things went well?

  Molly helped Katie over the side of the wagon. Ethan aided a bit.

  “I had to save Queenie, Mama. I had to,” the kid said with a pouting face that could win a prize. Who the hell cared about some damned cat when a person’s life was at stake? Life was what mattered. Staying alive had become his prayer during the war. When he looked down, mother and daughter were in each other’s arms. Crying. Laughing. Hugging. Just like that, any anger he’d felt vanished.

  “I know honey, I know.” Molly hugged the little girl tight, really tight. Oh Lord, no one ever felt so good. The child’s face was blackened from the smoke and there in her arms, Molly could feel her shaking. “You’re fine now.” She got down on both knees. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I was so scared.” She managed a shaky smile. She couldn’t stop touching her daughter. “What would I do without you? I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mama.”

  Still hugging Katie, Molly looked up at him. “Thank you.” Her voice was ripe with emotion and it tore at him like an unexpected kiss.

  “I’m glad I helped.” He jumped down from the wagon bed. It was all he could say, considering he was the one who’d set the barn on fire. Now she’d never understand why he was here. Yet if he hadn’t been…

  Katie suddenly turned and barreled into him, hugging his legs. “I love you too, Mr. Ethan.”

  Oh, great, he thought. The guilt inside him turned into something the size of Pike’s Peak. Things were going from bad to worse. First he’d lied to the mother and now he’d almost killed the kid.

  Okay, he forced a smile, like a kid who’s being praised for cheating on his test paper. Lightly, he stroked the top of Katie’s head with his good hand. “You’re not hurt, are you? Not burned?” His voice was a husky whisper.

  She shook her head as she spoke. “I was really scared. Jumping was really scary.” She hugged him again. “You saved me, Mr. Ethan. That’s why I love you.” She hugged him tighter and pressed her face against his denim-covered thigh.

  She loved him. He was touched, genuinely touched. He liked the kid, though he figured all this love would last until they found out his real purpose for being there. It was a purpose he wasn’t in quite such a hurry to tell them now that he’d gotten to know them both.

  Looking at the woman, he selfishly decided this was not the time to tell her anything. No, instead he was thinking that he’d never seen any woman more beautiful than Molly Murphy at that precise instant. Her hair blew free and wild, back from her face. Her nightgown clung to her body, outlining every curve from her full breasts to her flat belly to her long legs. He knew that he’d carry her image with him all the rest of his life.

  “Molly? You okay?” he asked gently.

  At the sound of his voice, Molly’s head came up. Their eyes met and held in a look of understanding, of relief, of something else she didn’t know how to name.

  Thank you, God, was her first thought. Thank you for sending me Ethan, was her second.

  Chapter Five

  There he stood, Katie clinging to his legs, covered in soot from head to toe. His mustache disappeared into the blackness that coated him. He looked awful. Awful yet wonderful, and without thinking or caring she walked to him. She needed to touch him to make sure he was all right but words like marriage, vows, commitment, circled in her head and she came up short, even though she was starting to believe Jack was never coming back.

  “Are you…?” She stopped inches in front of him. The hem of her nightgown brushed the tops of his sooty boots.

  But she was held by his gaze. Soft and inviting, as though he had the answers to questions she had yet to ask. Surely no man had ever looked at a woman so and made her feel the sudden heady warmth that surged through her.

  “I’m okay,” he said matter-of-factly. “Just burned my hand a bit is all.”

  He held it out for her to see and that need to touch him drumming inside her in an ancient rhythm made her cup his injured hand in hers.

  She noticed his flesh was warm and his fingers long and tapered, before making herself focus strictly on his injury.

  “This looks bad.” She tipped his hand this way and that. Lightning and thunder shook the sky above them but they seemed lost in a world that didn’t include such things.

  “I’ve had worse things happen.”

  She wondered briefly what he meant by that and glanced at the small scar over his right eye. “Let’s get you in the house. We need to get a bandage and some salve on that hand.”

  At the sound of a sudden snap of wood, they both turned at once. The front side of the barn was fully engulfed by flames. Though the roof showed no sign of fire, if the walls went, then…

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the building.

  “Thanks,” she said, still cupping his hand in hers. Touching him seemed to give her strength and comfort at the same time. It was silly but true. “I just can’t imagine how it got started. I mean, it wasn’t struck by lightning—that I would have heard—but somehow…” She shook her head in wonder. Another cough punctuated her words.

  A crack of lightning sliced through the air, followed by a clap of thunder. Then, the sky opened up like a torrent. Drops hit the ground and splashed up against her nightgown and his pants, big drops, huge drops, like pebbles in a pond.

  “Rain!” shouted Ethan. Grinning, he repeated himself, “Rain!”

  Molly stood by, staring at the barn, and then the sky and then the man, this incredible man dancing in her yard.

  “Rain!” he shouted again. “It’ll put the fire out. It’ll save some of the barn at least.”

  Without warning he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air, spinning around as he did. “Rain! I love rain!” he kept repeating, thinking somehow he was saved…maybe.

  “Stop!” she ordered even as she smiled and buried her face against the side of his neck. She clung to him, her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as the rain soaked their clothes. It felt so good to be held, to be cared for.

  Suddenly, Ethan was very aware of her body pressed against his. He was very aware of what he was doing and what he shouldn’t be doing. Unfortunately they were the same thing. Right this second he didn’t care about right and wrong, only about how good she made him feel.

  “Mr. Ethan. Mr. Ethan.” Katie tugged on his pant leg. “Swing me next.”

  Ethan lowered Molly to the ground, her face craned up to his. Water, like diamonds, beaded on her lashes and in her hair. All he could do was stand there and look at her. Lord, she was beautiful, and that beauty soaked like the rain into his mind and senses and heart.

  Then she coughed. A long racking cough that doubled her over. This time he was thinking when he said, “Let’s get both of you into the cabin. Right now.”

  She held his gaze a fraction of a second longer. It was a look filled with questions and longing. Oh, yes, longing. He knew it because he was feeling the exact same thing. Abruptly, she turned and walked away. He wanted to go after her, to tell her, to ask her—

&nb
sp; Katie’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked down at the little girl who’d come so close to dying and now danced playfully around him, her earlier trauma evidently forgotten. “What about me? Aren’t you gonna swing me?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  Yet Ethan’s eyes were fixed on Molly even as he scooped Katie up under the arms and twirled her around once, being careful of his burned hand.

  An earsplitting crash of thunder sent them both running for the cabin. Katie darted ahead while Ethan followed more slowly, his mind on Molly and the intimate moments they had just shared. Rain saturated his shirt and his skin beneath, making him shiver. At least he thought it was the rain.

  Katie barreled inside, leaving the door open for Ethan. Rain poured off the brim of his hat. Mud caked the bottom and sides of his boots. He hesitated in the doorway. Those nuns had drummed good manners into him with a firm hand appropriately placed.

  Molly glanced up. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m a mess,” he returned, motioning down his front as though to confirm his statement.

  Molly shook her head. “For heaven’s sake, I’m not worried about a little mud—not after what you just did.”

  Their gazes found each other across the room. Soft gazes. Inviting gazes.

  Ethan took a step, then another. He wasn’t sure if it was toward her or away from the storm. Three steps inside he stopped. Rain still dribbled off the edge of his hat. His shirt was wet through, as were his trousers. At least his boots were dry inside.

  “Close the door, will you?” she asked.

  “What? Oh, sorry.” He obliged.

  So there Ethan stood, feeling awkward and tense, not knowing what to do now. Rain pounded on the roof like the drumbeats of a walking charge. A quick glance through the window and he could see the rain coming down so heavily it blurred his vision of the trees and the road beyond.

  There was a long silence.

  Katie sneezed. One of those not-bothering-to-cover-her-nose sneezes that kids are so famous for, followed by wiping that same nose on her sleeve.

  The sound propelled Molly into action.

  “Katie Louise, you’re going to catch your death.” She crossed to where the little girl sat on the end of her bed. “Let’s get you out of these things right—”

  Molly coughed and sneezed, and coughed again.

  From his place near the door, Ethan could see that Molly was just as wet—wetter.

  “Hey,” he spoke up. “I think both of you are going to catch your deaths. First of all it’s freezing in here. Where’s the wood?”

  He was already walking in the direction of the kitchen stove. His clothes dripped and his boots made muddy marks with each step.

  “It’s got a couple of logs,” Molly told him as she continued to undress Katie. “I forgot to fill it today. I was—”

  “You were sick is what you were,” Ethan interrupted her words. “Still are. Where’s the wood?”

  “Outside. Next to the house under the overhang.”

  He put one log in the stove and waited until the flame took hold. Funny how fire could be a friend or an enemy…sort of like people.

  With that, Ethan tugged on the brim on his hat as he headed out the door. By the time he’d gone a couple of steps he was soaked even more, if that was possible. He was used to the hard life but he always hated to be wet. He’d forded too many rivers in the war, he supposed, or slept in too many rain-filled ditches praying.

  Lightning flashed overhead and he spared it only the barest of notice. The wood was wet but not soaked through. He gathered as many pieces as he could carry, wedged from chin to extended arm. Balancing the pile, he strode back to the cabin, not bothering to knock.

  “You all right?” Molly queried as he crossed the room and dumped the wood into the box.

  “Sure.” For a drowned rat, he thought but didn’t say. He tossed his hat on the counter. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there. The good news is, the fire is out.”

  “Really? How bad is the barn?”

  “We’ll be able to tell better when we get a closer look.” The front was mostly gone…he couldn’t tell about the rest.

  “Am not.” Katie’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Are too,” Molly countered.

  “Not,” Katie returned.

  “What’s the trouble?” Water pooled around his pant legs and dripped off his elbows and cuffs.

  “There seems to be—” Molly pulled Katie’s camisole over her head and dropped it on the floor next to her dress “—some refusal to take a bath.”

  “Am not,” Katie piped up as though to confirm her steadfastness.

  Well, this test of wills seemed to be getting nowhere fast, so Ethan did what came naturally. He took charge. “Stop!”

  “What?” they both said in unison.

  “You heard me. I said ‘Stop!”’

  “But—” Molly tried to protest but he stopped her with an upheld hand.

  “This is what we are going to do. Crazy as it sounds with this storm going on, there’s not enough water for baths here in the bucket. Waiting for several to fill will take way too long and I’m not going to the stream and back to haul water.

  “So I suggest we boil half the water and give Katie a sponge bath. In the meantime, Molly, you need to dry off and change nightgowns before your cold gets any worse.”

  Molly came slowly to her feet and faced him straight on in that stubborn way of hers he’d come to know so quickly. “Have you got any orders for dinner?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I put beans on to soak this morning and while I’d normally let ’em soak overnight, well, I think if I bring them to a boil for a while they’ll do.”

  Leaning back against the counter edge, he crossed his feet at the ankles. “Got any better suggestions?”

  Molly stared him, this man, this hero who’d saved her child, nursed her through her illness and had been a godsend. He was soot-covered and rain-soaked. She’d seen hounds that looked better. Still leaning up against her counter he seemed to be right at home, in her home…their home. No. That was wrong.

  “I have no objections,” she said softly and surprised them both.

  Two hours later, Katie had been bathed and dressed in her summer nightgown, then wrapped in a blanket from the rope partition like an Indian squaw. Molly had done the same. All of them had eaten a filling bean soup and the two ladies were seated a few feet away from the stove, which Ethan kept feeding with logs periodically.

  Ethan had stayed in his clothes since he had nothing to change into.

  “Mama, do you think the cats are all right?” Katie asked.

  “Yes, they’re fine,” she replied, and spared a brief gaze up at Ethan who was obviously struggling to hold his tongue.

  Outside the storm raged on.

  Dinner dishes were cleared. That meant Ethan dumped them all in the sink for tomorrow. The heat coming off the stove was just the right temperature, as though he had some way of controlling it.

  Or maybe it was just him. In either case it felt damned good.

  “You warm enough?” he asked both Molly and Katie, who were perched on chairs behind him, their blankets pulled tightly around them so that only their faces, their adorable faces, showed.

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “I’m warm,” they said in near unison.

  Ethan stirred the wood in the stove, then dragged a chair over and sat down next to Katie. “You scared the bejeebers outta me,” he said, giving her thigh an affectionate pat. “Don’t do that again.”

  Katie’s blue eyes rolled up at him above the edge of the blanket. Slowly, she lowered it. “I won’t,” she said with great solemnity. Another bolt of lightning speared the ground nearby, followed by a resounding bang of thunder.

  Before he realized what was happening, Katie scrambled out of her chair and into his filthy wet lap.

  “Katie. No. I’m a mess.” He tried to lift her away from him but no us
e. She’d managed to get her hands around his neck and was holding on for dear life.

  “But the thunder scares me, Mr. Ethan, and I want you to protect me.”

  Finally, he gave in. “Sorry,” he mumbled to Molly, referring to the blankets and the mess he was about to make of them.

  There they sat silently listening to the storm outside. Katie had snuggled up to Ethan, her arms still around his neck, her legs supported behind the knees by his arms.

  “Tell me a story, Mr. Ethan.” Katie rolled her head back to look up at him. A small yawn escaped her lips.

  “What? I don’t know any stories.” At least not the kind he could tell a five-year-old.

  “I’ll tell you a story,” Molly spoke up. “Come over here to me.” She reached for her. Katie squirmed tighter against Ethan.

  “I want Mr. Ethan to tell me one.” She tugged gently on the tip of his mustache. “You must know one story,” she coaxed.

  Ethan and Molly exchanged knowing glances. Sort of permission asked and permission given.

  Ethan’s brain was in overdrive trying like hell to come up with a story. Okay. He was gonna have to wing it.

  “I know one about a little girl.”

  Katie yawned again then smiled contentedly. He, on the other hand, was trying to figure out what he knew about little girls. Nothing.

  “Okay. Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was an, ah, witch, the most beautiful witch in the world. She had blond hair and blue eyes and her name was Katie.”

  “Like me!” Katie said before snuggling lower in the blanket, her eyes blinking fast in an effort to stay awake.

  “She lived with her mother, the beautiful queen of their country, and they had magic powers….”

  He wasn’t more than halfway through when he noticed that she was sound asleep.

  He gestured with his head and Molly leaned over to take a peek. She smiled. “Poor little thing. She’s had a tough day.”

  “I’ll just put her to bed.”

  Clutching the blanket around her, Molly turned down Katie’s bed and Ethan carefully slid her in, maneuvering the blanket free as he did. She barely roused.