Twilight in Texas

by Jodi Thomas

  Josh lifted Callie Ann awkwardly onto his arm and grabbed his hat. Two other rangers decided they could do with a walk to Noma’s as well and followed Josh.

  When they disappeared, Molly faced Wolf. She knew there was trouble but was afraid to ask again.

  Without a word, Wolf took her arm and led her to his office. He tried not to look in her eyes. He wanted to keep what he had to say official before rage, greater than he’d ever known, broke out inside him.

  “We uncovered something about the fire at your place,” he said in low tones as he offered her a seat.

  Molly’s back was rod straight as she sat down. “Yes?” she breathed the word. This wasn’t going to be good news.

  “It was set, as we figured. The door had been blocked from the outside and no one could have run through the front to safety the way it caught fire within seconds. Whoever did it knew what they were doing and planned to kill.”

  “Me?” Molly tried to think of anyone who would want her dead. “Someone’s trying to kill me?”

  “No,” Wolf answered, forcing his words out slowly. “Someone wanted Callie Ann dead.”

  Molly was on her feet and in front of him before he could add more. “No! You’re wrong! No one would want to kill her.” She fought down a scream—It was me, someone wanted to kill me, not her. The idea that someone would burn a child alive was too horrible even to imagine.

  Wolf gently placed his hands just above her elbows. “We’ve got two witnesses who overheard a conversation earlier that night. A stranger in town, who called himself Black, was offered quite a bit of money to see that a little girl went up in flames. You just happened to be in the way when he went to work.”

  “Did you find this man? Did he admit to such a thing? It doesn’t make sense.” She shook her head. The witness had to be lying. No one! No one could burn a child.

  Wolf pulled her against him and held her as he spoke. “They found Black dead the day after the fire. His throat slit from ear to ear. He’d been strung up like a hog to bleed out. It took two days dragging every barmaid and prostitute in town to see the body, but finally someone recognized him and related the story. A saloon girl over at Tandy’s and a gambler were sitting nearby when the deal was made over several rounds of drinks. An argument over price drew their attention, so they listened in. They both swore they thought ‘the little girl’ was some kind of code for a bank job or a stage robbery. They didn’t believe the men really plotted to kill a child.”

  “The man who paid to have Callie Ann killed is still alive?”

  “That’s right, darlin’. The saloon girl said the man with Black was bone thin with a face weathered and tanned. He kept referring to his ‘bosses,’ like he worked for more than one man. He was just a middleman hiring the killer. He paid Black the first half in silver that night. I can think of only two men who might have a strongbox full of silver.”

  Molly looked up and waited.

  “The Digger brothers.” He said the names as if they were swear words. “The stage they robbed a few months ago was carrying silver. When we found Black’s body, his pockets were empty except for a handful of matches. The Diggers don’t give away their money easily. Or maybe they figure he failed and deserved to die.”

  “But why would they want to kill their own kin? She couldn’t hurt anybody. Callie Ann doesn’t even know about them.”

  “I can’t say, but I aim to find out. We’ve had word that since they think they got me off their trail for good, the brothers are headed this way to finish the job themselves this time. I figure they’ll come after me first, as soon as word gets out that I’m still alive. Then Callie Ann. Anyone standing near her will be killed. The Diggers don’t like leaving witnesses.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I have to get you and Callie Ann hidden away somewhere safe.”

  “No.” Molly shook her head. “They could be watching the roads. Someone might be watching us right now and reporting back. If we leave, we’ll be sitting ducks.”

  Wolf had to admit she might be right. Someone had helped the Diggers escape the night of the fire. That same someone could be following Molly and Callie Ann’s movements right now, waiting for a chance to catch them alone. If Wolf sent them by stage, half the town would know it. In a buggy, they’d face all kinds of threats on the open road. “I agree,” he finally decided. “You’re safer here, for now.”

  Molly hugged him tightly. “We’ll be safest beside you. I know it.”

  “Behind me,” he corrected, for if the Diggers got past him to Molly or the girl, he’d be dead.

  By the time Callie Ann returned with the cookies, plans were made. Two rangers would be stationed outside Molly’s house at all times. Another would sleep in the parlor. If the outlaws were true to form, they’d strike at night. Wolf would go to work each morning as usual, then double back and watch the house. Molly and Callie Ann were to stay inside and away from the windows until the Diggers made their move.

  “When do you think they’ll come after us?” Molly whispered to Wolf as they watched Callie Ann passing out cookies to everyone in the main room.

  “The soonest we figure will be tonight, about dinnertime. But don’t worry, I’ll have you home by then.”

  “Dinnertime!” Molly jumped to her feet. “I forgot. The aunts! What are we going to do about the aunts?”

  Wolf didn’t answer. There was no easy answer.

  Josh looked up from where he sat cleaning his Colt. “Red or sugar?” he asked casually.

  Molly rolled her eyes and sat back down. She almost felt sorry for the brothers if they bothered the aunts. Somehow two bloodthirsty outlaws and her two aunts didn’t seem like a fair fight. The outlaws would need reinforcements.

  TWENTY-THREE

  WOLF STORMED AND SHOUTED AND RAGED, but Aunt Alvina stood her ground. She’d never canceled a dinner party in her life, and she wasn’t about to now. The fact that the drapes were covered, an armed ranger sat in the parlor, and Charlie Filmore was making his bed in the kitchen didn’t deter her.

  Henrietta wasn’t surprised at the troubling news. Most people were low-life outlaws to her way of thinking, anyway. What difference did two more in this world make? Henrietta was practical, however. She loaded every chamber in her pocket sidehammer, made by a family friend, Mr. Samuel Colt. Then she calmly told her sister not to worry, she’d take care of anyone who barged in on their party.

  Miss Early finally stopped crying and helped with dinner, with the understanding that she and Callie Ann could eat at the little table in the kitchen with Charlie. Molly had feared she might run when trouble came, but Early proved to be a true friend.

  Wolf, on the other hand, became a bear. He grumbled and stomped around the house, refusing to cooperate in any way with even the idea of having a party. As the dinner hour grew near, Alvina decorated and Wolf fortified.

  By the time everyone sat down to the charred remains of Henrietta’s cooking, Wolf wasn’t even speaking a language any longer. He watched the window and listened for every sound, paying no attention to the dinner conversation. He ate nothing but kept his hand ready near his weapons.

  Molly tried to keep the peace. She answered for him when the preacher or the banker asked questions and complimented both her aunts repeatedly.

  The preacher didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. After meeting Wolf when he performed their wedding, he wouldn’t have been surprised by anything the giant did. The banker, however, had a great respect for the legendary Wolf Hayward and tried to draw him into conversation. He would have loved to go home with a Captain Hayward story to tell his friends.

  The aunts made up for Wolf’s silence. They volleyed small talk between them with practiced ease. By the time the guests left, everyone was exhausted. The aunts mumbled a good night and left the dishes on the table. Something Molly had never seen them do.

  Callie Ann had already been put to bed, and Miss Early was in the kitchen drinking coffee with Charlie.

  Molly watched Wolf ch
eck the locks for the fifth time, then take up his post at the top of the stairs where a window overlooked the back of the house. Wolf propped a rifle on either side of it and placed a chair so that he could see out without being seen.

  She changed into her nightgown and robe, then joined him. “Everything’s finally quiet,” she whispered as she moved to his side.

  Wolf didn’t turn from the window. “Mmmm,” he mumbled.

  She leaned against his shoulder. “Are you angry?”

  “No.” He slipped his arm around her waist, hungry for her nearness. “I’m just trying to keep you, and everyone else in this house, safe. I’ve seen what the Diggers can do. If they plan anything in town, it’ll be after dark.”

  Molly touched his hair lightly. “My father and his father were both military men. We Donivan women are used to taking care of ourselves.”

  Wolf caught her hand and held it. “I can’t take that chance.” He said the words more to himself than to her. “I’d give my life for you.”

  Molly knelt beside his chair. “I know,” she whispered. “That’s what frightens me.” How could she tell him she didn’t deserve the kind of love and devotion he offered? She had the feeling if she gave him all her love, it would only be a drop in the ocean compared to what he would give her in return.

  As she rested her head against his leg, his hand spread over her hair. “I like your hair down,” he said without looking at her.

  Molly closed her eyes. It seemed they’d had so little time to talk. “Wolf, why do you watch me so closely? I feel your gaze whenever we’re in the same room. Even at dinner tonight, you stared at me like I was the only one there.”

  “You were the only one there,” he answered.

  He brushed his fingers along the side of her face. “I know we have this unspoken agreement not to talk about the war.”

  Molly nodded. She knew, as a Southerner, he must have fought for the Confederacy. She didn’t want to know more. What if he’d been at the battle where her father had been killed? She couldn’t face knowing.

  Wolf continued, “But during the war, I saw so many horrible things. Scenes that I won’t live long enough to forget.”

  He paused, his hand caressing her face, his eyes fixed on the thin sliver of an opening between the curtains.

  “It wasn’t just the death and dying, but the senseless destruction. I saw Atlanta burn and miles of farmland stained with blood. I saw families torn apart and a way of life destroyed. Men whose ancestors fought in the American Revolution were left crippled and homeless overnight. Thousands who’d never owned a slave returned to watch their land sold for taxes and the right to vote taken away from them.”

  Molly pressed her cheek against his palm. She hadn’t really thought about what it must have been like for the Southern soldier returning home. In her town, there had been bands to meet each train and parties to welcome them home. She’d heard Rebel supplies had dwindled toward the end of the war and that soldiers sometimes fought barefooted.

  “I’m telling you this not to make you sad, Molly, but to let you know that when I look at you—every time I look at you—for a moment I forget.”

  Molly kissed his hand. “That’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  He looked down at her and cupped her face. “Don’t you know, Molly? If something happened to you, there would be no beauty left in the world.”

  His palm caught her tear. She had no idea he cherished her so. She rose to her knees beside him.

  “Go to bed, darlin’.”

  “Come with me.”

  He closed his eyes slowly, as though he couldn’t say the words looking at her. “I can’t.”

  “Then kiss me good night.”

  His free arm encircled her, and he drew her gently against him. His kiss was tender with longing. When he pulled away, Molly didn’t move.

  “Good night,” he whispered and stared back at the window, mentally returning to his job.

  Molly swallowed, trying to make herself stand. She wanted to ask, even beg, for him to kiss her again, but he’d already turned away.

  She stood slowly and walked to their room. One of these nights he wasn’t going to turn away, she thought, and what would she do with him then?

  The clock downstairs chimed half past the hour as she crawled into bed. She left the door open so she could see him guarding her. Wolf propped his foot on the windowsill and leaned back in the chair. A rifle rested across his lap. He’d give his life for her, she thought. His life.

  Molly closed her eyes and dreamed of dancing, not with Benjamin, but with Wolf. They waltzed across a marbled floor while all the other dancers circled the fringes, watching. The candlelight blurred into streaks as Wolf lifted her off her feet, and they whirled. The women wore flowing dresses made from yards and yards of silk, as they had been before the war effort. The men were polished and regal in their blue uniforms.

  In her dream, Molly looked down at Wolf as he lifted her higher and higher. His brown hair barely touched his collar, his beard was cut close against his strong jaw, the bars on his uniform reflected the light, twinkling like gold stars.

  She couldn’t help but smile down at him. He stared at her as though she were the only woman in the world and this night was the only night he’d lived.

  Like faraway thunder, the stomping of advancing troops invaded her dream, drowning out the music. Wolf lowered her to the marble and ran as the beat of marching soldiers became deafening. Molly called to him as a single shot rang across the dance floor. A scream pulled the air from her lungs. The bullet hit him, and he crumbled. With her terror, the dream turned foggy. She ran to him, crying so much she could hardly see his body curled on the floor. A circle of blood stained the marble.

  As she knelt to roll him over to see his face, her fingers touched the torn, dirty gray uniform he wore. Hands from all directions reached for her, pulling her away. Molly fought and struggled, trying to stay close to Wolf. She screamed, but still they tugged at her. Her fingers felt the fabric give way as her cries echoed around the great hall.

  “Darlin’?” a low Southern voice whispered into her dream. “Darlin’?” He made the single word sound musical.

  Molly opened her eyes wide and stared up at Wolf leaning over her. For a moment, reality mixed with her dream.

  “I heard you crying out. Are you having a nightmare?” Wolf asked as though he knew nothing of her terror, as though he hadn’t been there.

  “You’ve left your post.” She pulled herself up on her elbows.

  “Yes, but it’s all right. Josh stomped up the stairs a few minutes ago. I’m surprised he didn’t wake you. He’s taking over for a while.”

  She stared at him, forcing the dream into the shadows of her mind.

  “If you’ve no objection, I’ll stretch out here and get a few hours of sleep before dawn.” He lay back, but she could tell his body wasn’t relaxed.

  Molly rolled close to him, surprised that he hadn’t removed his Colts. “I dreamed we were dancing.”

  “I don’t know how to dance,” Wolf mumbled, already half asleep.

  “Then I’ll teach you.” Smiling, Molly placed her hand over his heart.

  His hand covered hers, and she felt him relax.

  “Sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll watch over you.”

  The aunts were packed and ready to leave when Molly awoke the next morning. Henrietta had decided this Texas was too wild a place for her. She missed her teas and garden parties.

  By the time Molly sat down to breakfast with the two of them, the lecture was well under way. “You must come back with us,” Henrietta stated, “and that’s all there is to it. No one in her right mind would stay in a state where she’s been burned out, threatened, and kept prisoner in her own home.”

  Molly tried not to listen. She’d learned years ago that arguing with her aunt was a waste of time. Henrietta’s ears only worked when she was the one talking.

  “This child, Callie Ann, isn’t
even yours, you know. She got along just fine before you came, and she’ll get along when you leave.”

  Pouring herself a cup of coffee, Molly was thankful Callie Ann still slept.

  “Your mother left you enough money and a fine house,” Alvina added as if they were simply having a chat and it was her turn. “Henrietta and I won’t always be around to take care of it for you. There is no need for you to work.”

  Molly guessed long ago that the aunts had nowhere else to go. They’d often said their parents had left them enough money to live on, so they didn’t have to accept some inferior offer of marriage. But Molly knew it wasn’t enough to live in the style they enjoyed now. Her father always referred to Allen Farm as Molly’s house. For as long as she could remember, he’d told her that her mother had gone to Heaven early, but she’d left Molly a home that would always be hers. The rambling three-story was large enough to offer each aunt a suite of private quarters. Though it was called Allen Farm, it had never been a working farm. As far as Molly was concerned, it was no longer her home.

  “Molly!” Aunt Henrietta shouted. “You must give up this impossible dreaming and come back home with us. You can’t seriously consider living in this place”—Henrietta waved her arm as if pointing at a slum—“with a man who doesn’t even know how to dress for dinner.”

  She strutted and gestured like a tour guide. “There’s an armed stranger in the parlor and a horrible creature sleeping in the kitchen.”

  “We’re safe enough now that it’s daylight.” Molly hoped her words would reassure the aunts, but they weren’t listening.

  “Henrietta, don’t forget to mention a cook who can’t cook,” Alvina added. “And no housekeeper at all.”

  Molly heard Wolf moving down the stairs almost without a sound. Both aunts jumped when he suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  “Coffee?” Molly asked Wolf, as if she weren’t in the middle of a debate.

  Wolf took a chair at the dining table, pushing aside the dessert plates from last night.