Twilight in Texas

by Jodi Thomas

  Undressing quickly, Molly slipped into bed and snuggled under the covers, not for warmth, but to feel somehow surrounded and not so alone. As she twisted, the quilts held her, hid her, buffered her from the world. A world that had shattered around her feet in one day. A world where her only friend for thousands of miles was probably downstairs thinking he’d just married the craziest woman west of the Mississippi.

  Wolf stood rooted to the floor as he heard her moving above him. His huge fists formed tight white-knuckled balls, but he didn’t take a step. Every part of him wanted to climb the stairs and tell Molly who he really was. But he stood, listening to his own heart pound and calling himself every kind of fool.

  His new wife had just told him she was still in love with another man—him.

  NINE

  WOLF DIDN’T BOTHER TO CLOSE HIS EYES most of the night. Molly, his Molly, was one floor up. She might as well still be back East. He’d married her, but she had made it plain he would never hold her. He would never sleep beside her. Never make love to her.

  He watched the sun lighten the street outside on Congress Avenue and wondered how he could make it through another day without touching her. Another night without holding her. He’d never longed for any woman but Molly. She was the one in all his dreams and the few hopes he’d allowed himself to have over the years. Even during the war, when he was young and hot-blooded, he’d preferred a dream of her to the reality of an unknown woman beside him.

  Now she was close, so close, but she might as well still be the dream, for she would not be filling his arms.

  By the time he heard her moving about in the drugstore, he’d rolled up his bed and wandered into the kitchen looking for coffee.

  She stepped into the tiny room. He nodded a greeting and tried not to react to her nearness. She was all proper and dressed in black. Her cheeks were rosy, as though she’d just returned from a morning ride in the dawn mist. He, on the other hand, figured he looked more like a Pony Express horse who had just pulled a double shift.

  She said something about making breakfast. He circled past her to go wash up. She offered her room, but he said he’d feel more comfortable out back at the washstand Ephraim had set up on the porch.

  In truth, Wolf didn’t know if he could be in Molly’s room with all her things surrounding him. The smell of the rose soap she used must linger in the air. He’d have to touch her clothes that always felt freshly starched and sunshine bleached. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from running his fingers over the pillow where she slept. He’d go mad.

  “The washstand out back,” he mumbled again as if he hadn’t heard himself before.

  The alley was deserted and already hot. Half of the porch was crowded with boxes, but the washstand was tidy and fully stocked.

  Wolf stripped down to his trousers and washed in a bucket of cold water. He combed his hair, knowing that, within minutes, the natural curl would remove any order to it. With the scissors he found cradled in leather he cut another inch off his beard. It now hugged his jawline in a thick bush.

  As he cleaned his teeth, Charlie Filmore slid from beneath Miller’s disorderly pile of wood twenty feet away and staggered to the edge of the porch. Thanks to Wolf he’d finished a whole bottle last night. “Morning,” he mumbled, staring up at Wolf.

  “Morning.” Wolf watched him in the shaving mirror. He could smell the man from three feet away. Charlie had that aged ripeness of a dirty saloon floor.

  Charlie stuck his tongue out and wiped his face with the back of his hand, reminding Wolf of a stray cat grooming. “How’s married life treating you, Captain?”

  “Fine,” Wolf grumbled. Charlie Filmore was even uglier in daylight than at night. The wrinkles in his bullet-marked face were caked with dirt. His attempt at grooming only smeared the dirt around.

  Wolf glanced back at the small mirror reflecting his own face. Compared to Charlie, Wolf didn’t think he looked so bad. He scratched his beard and tried to remember what he looked like clean-shaven. “Want to earn four bits?” he asked Charlie as he put the mirror down.

  “I might if the work’s not hard.” Charlie raised an eyebrow, sending his face into a new collection of creases. “If you need something, anything, I can get it if you got the money. I know what’s in every storage shed in this town.”

  Wolf tossed him a half dollar. “All you have to do is what comes natural to you. Let everyone you see today know that I married the lady last night.”

  Charlie grinned. “I’ll do that. But you could have saved your money. Preacher Ford has probably told half the town by now.” He winked. “That bride of yours cooking breakfast?”

  Wolf nodded, hoping Charlie didn’t plan on inviting himself. He wanted to spend what little time he had left in town with Molly, not trying to avoid looking at Charlie Filmore head on.

  “Well then, I’ll be moving along. Her friend Ephraim cooked like an old army sergeant I once had. He could burn water and sour sugar. We never had a meal that we didn’t lose at least one man to stomach pains for the night. We’d line up for grub, starting at the back. Last man to check in had to eat first. If he started showing signs of turning green, the boys at the end of the line usually lost their appetites.”

  “Ephraim’s not around anymore, Charlie. He died, so there’s no need to worry about his cooking.”

  Charlie shook his head. “I know. Helped Miller with the coffin. He couldn’t have got it finished without me.” He straightened at his bragging. “What I’m trying to say is, near as I can tell, Ephraim was the good cook between the two of them.”

  When Wolf didn’t comment, Charlie leaned closer and whispered, “Yanks can’t cook, you know. They ain’t never been taught right. I heard they toss okra and even black-eyed peas to the hogs up north. Imagine that. Not one of them can beat a steak thin enough to chicken-fry it.” He shook his head. “It’s a wonder they won the war.”

  Laughing, Wolf asked, “Are you trying to tell me my bride is missing talent in the kitchen?”

  “Worse than that. It’s only a matter of time before she’ll be arrested for poisonin’ you. Your coffin’ll take more wood than most and Miller’ll be beggin’ for my help, as always.”

  Wolf tried to look concerned. “Thanks for the warning. My family, men who are like brothers to me, are the McLain boys. Between the three of them, they didn’t marry a cook. Karlee tries, but she just doesn’t have the gift. Allie burns everything, and my sister, Nichole, has a cook who lives in. But they love their men. I guess that’s why I’ve never heard a McLain complain.”

  Charlie shook his rat’s nest of hair again. “But, Captain, you don’t understand. It ain’t that she can’t cook. It’s more like the stove is a weapon to her, and she’s out for blood. I’ve seen roaches hightailing it out of the alley when she throws out leftovers. Since she moved in, I ain’t seen one stray cat or dog stop by this place to even sniff for food.”

  Wolf frowned, wondering if he’d have the guts to eat whatever she put in front of him for breakfast. “Thanks for the warning, Charlie, but I think I’ll be fine.”

  Charlie wiggled around as though fighting himself to get out more words. “There’s something else I better tell you, Captain, since you married the lady.”

  Wolf wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anything else Charlie had to say. If it was something bad about Molly, he wouldn’t believe it, and he’d hate to hit a man as down on his luck as Charlie.

  “She’s in trouble,” Charlie mumbled. “Someone wants her out of here worse than I’ve ever seen. Word is, they’ll pay plenty to have her removed or if she just happened to disappear that would suit someone fine.”

  Wolf’s interest piqued. “Who?”

  “I don’t know.” Charlie scratched his head. “I just heard things. Maybe they ain’t true. Even if they were, there ain’t a man in his right mind who’d mess with her now they know she belongs to you.”

  “Maybe. Let me know if you hear anything else. And get the word spread that any man w
ho messes with Molly will answer to me.”

  “All right, Captain.” Charlie straightened. “I guess that makes me now working for the Rangers.”

  Wolf nodded. “Right. You’re the secret ranger. No one, not even the pay clerk, knows. But don’t worry, if you come up with something, I’ll see you get paid.”

  Charlie saluted. “Yes, sir. You can count on me, Captain. I’ll keep my ears and my good eye open.”

  Wolf returned the salute and walked inside, buttoning a clean shirt. As soon as he could, he’d go to the office and let them know he wouldn’t be leaving for the border or anywhere else for a few days. He planned to stay close to Molly and nothing short of an earthquake would move him. Charlie was probably only repeating rumors, but he’d do some checking.

  If there were folks out to bother Molly, they’d have to deal with him from now on.

  When he reached the kitchen, Molly poured coffee. Breakfast sat on the little table, looking pretty as a dessert display in a fancy Harvey House.

  “Just in time.” She smiled. “I was afraid it would get cold.”

  Wolf stared down at lean ham and fat scrambled eggs on each plate. A stack of biscuits rested between two place settings, with butter and jam beside them.

  “This looks great,” he said honestly and waited for her to sit down.

  When she took her place, he hurried to the other chair. The smell of the bread made him smile. Charlie was a liar.

  They ate in silence. Wolf couldn’t believe how good everything tasted. When she pulled out two cinnamon rolls the size of his fist from a cold oven, he was amazed. Even Noma’s cafe didn’t make better. In fact, these tasted almost exactly like the ones he’d had at Noma’s yesterday.

  “That was a fine meal, Molly,” he said, giving her an opportunity should she feel the need to confess anything.

  “Thank you.” She calmly cleared the table without meeting his eyes. “I set Callie Ann’s meal aside. She should be up soon.”

  Wolf didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t about to confront her. What if his suspicions were wrong? Maybe there was some way to cook breakfast without heating the oven. Maybe she cooked it last night without waking him. Maybe she was a witch and conjured it up. He didn’t care. Molly had fixed him breakfast, and that was all he needed to know.

  The jingle of the front door saved him from worry. A young ranger called out and Wolf directed him to the kitchen area.

  He gave a quick nod to Molly as he handed Wolf a message. He looked like he wanted to leave but stood waiting for orders as if he’d been told to do so.

  “What is it?” Molly asked as she slipped into the chair across from him.

  “Trouble,” Wolf answered before even opening the paper. No one would have bothered him if it wasn’t something important. “Good news can be told. It doesn’t need to be written.”

  He almost tore the paper in half and tossed it in the stove, but without a fire, it wouldn’t stand much chance of burning. He was staying here. Whatever the note said, he was staying by Molly.

  Slowly he flipped the note open, his body already tense, preparing to stand his ground. But the words called to him, drawing him from his resolve. With grim lines across his forehead, he set his mind to what must be done.

  Molly touched his arm. “What is it?”

  Wolf could hear fear in her voice.

  “I have to go,” he said, forcing his gaze to leave the words on the paper. Forcing the words he didn’t want to say.

  For a moment, he stared at Molly, knowing he was leaving again. Leaving before she knew who he really was. There was no time to explain all that was in his heart. If a part of the love she’d said she had for Benjamin was still alive, then there was a chance she could love him. He’d claim that part of yesterday and build their tomorrows on it.

  “Will you take care of Callie Ann…”

  “Of course.”

  “…and take care of yourself?”

  Molly nodded slowly, like a soldier accepting an order.

  She’d been trained well, he thought. So well, she’d given up having dreams or plans of any future with anyone. People leaving her was a pattern in her life.

  “Philip, saddle my horse and pack the standard bag of supplies,” Wolf ordered the young ranger. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  Philip, who had waited impatiently, hurried away now that he’d received his orders.

  Wolf stood slowly, watching Molly’s fingers slide away from his arm. He wondered if he’d ever have the time to grow so used to her touch that he didn’t notice it.

  With determination, he moved to his saddlebags and checked them as he spoke. “You know I wouldn’t go if I had a choice. The note is from my sister, Nichole McLain. She says John Catlin is in trouble. John is part of my family, or as much of a family as I’ve ever had until I married you last night. He’s a wild kid, no stranger to trouble.”

  As he rolled the chamber in his Colt, he tried to think of how to tell her quickly all that had happened before. Why John had to live, not just because he was still a boy, but because he was all the family Allie McLain, Wes’s wife, had left, thanks to an Indian raid years ago. Allie was the one they had all thought was little more than a savage when Wes saved her and brought her home. She’d been kidnapped and tortured for years, thinking all her family dead. Then they’d found John, her brother. He’d lost his early memories of the settlement and of Allie. John believed himself to be Comanche. But somewhere inside him beat the heart of a little boy who’d been happy and known love before the day he’d had to watch his parents killed. If there was a goodness deep inside, John deserved a chance.

  Wolf had to try to make Molly understand. “My sister, in Fort Worth, received a telegram yesterday from a friend who is a U.S. marshal near Waco. He saw John arrested, but said nothing, only sent the message. She, in turn, sent messages to Daniel in College Station, Wes near Denton, and me. She said her husband, Adam, would take the next train. One of us has to get to Waco before John is hanged. He may be a fighter, but he’s not a killer.”

  Molly nodded, but her eyes told him she didn’t fully understand. “What can I do to help?” she asked as she helped him collect things.

  Wolf tied the leather on his saddlebags, then stared up at her. Unsaid words were like the Rockies between them. He didn’t know where to start. “Don’t take any chances while I’m gone. Lock your doors at night. Sleep with a Colt under your pillow.”

  He knelt and finished packing, unsure if he could face her and still leave.

  “I know what to do,” she answered calmly as though she’d said the words a hundred times.

  He glanced up and saw her frowning at him. She was a woman fully grown, a general’s daughter. She knew how to take care of herself. She’d lived much of her life in dangerous territory.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, fighting the urge to swear. All he wanted to do was stay with her, convince her that a part of him was still the young Benjamin who’d kissed her. But duty called, and honor demanded he go.

  He strapped on his gun belt and lifted his gear. “Follow me out to say good-bye, would you, Molly?” he said as he moved through the door.

  “Of course,” she answered almost formally as she wrapped a bit of food in a lace napkin.

  Several people waited in the street. Word must have spread, Wolf thought. Three of the rangers walked down from the office to see him off. They offered help if he needed it.

  Wherever more than one ranger stood, folks gathered to see what was about to happen. Even though Austin was the base they all returned to from time to time, it was rare to see a group of them. They wore no uniform other than a circle-star badge, and most kept that pinned beneath a coat. Yet, people in Texas knew a ranger on sight. Maybe it was his walk, tall and straight. Or maybe the way twin Colts were usually strapped to his legs so snug they appeared to have naturally grown there. Wolf wasn’t sure, but he’d seen it again and again. Folks stopped and watched when a ranger walked the s
treet. It was no different this morning.

  He laced his saddlebags in place and swung onto the blood-red horse. Wolf couldn’t help but groan. He’d thought he’d have more days in town this time. He didn’t even feel like his legs had straightened this stay. They were still bowed and ready to ride.

  No thoughts of staying were considered. He had to help John Catlin if it were in his power. Not only for the young man’s sake, but for Allie’s. Wolf didn’t want to have to tell Allie McLain her brother was dead. She’d had enough sorrow to last one lifetime.

  The street came alive with folks moving to work and merchants sweeping their storefronts. But he hardly noticed them. All he saw was a tall woman dressed in black, back held straight, chin lifted, hands at her sides. He didn’t understand why everyone wasn’t staring at her beauty. Couldn’t they see the softness of her honey-brown hair or the way her green eyes sparkled with a tear she’d never let fall. She seemed to move invisibly through the crowd, yet she took his breath away.

  “Molly,” Wolf called, as though she weren’t standing five feet away.

  She hesitated and, for a moment, he thought she’d remain a statue in the crowd.

  When she finally neared, he leaned over so that he could whisper in her ear.

  She stood on her tiptoes.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he ordered.

  “What?”

  “You want the town to know you’re my wife, don’t you? Then put your arms around me, darlin’.”

  She raised her arms awkwardly about his neck, brushing his hair with her hands as she followed his command.

  With one mighty swing, he circled her waist and pulled her up onto his lap.

  A cry escaped her before she realized what he was doing. Frantically, she held to him as his huge horse pranced at Wolf’s sudden movement. The few people on the street who weren’t already watching them turned to stare. The lady and the ranger made an odd pair.

  “This should let the town know we’re married,” Wolf whispered as he lowered his mouth to hers.