Matt didn’t see Claire Waters until they were almost upon her, hidden as she was in a slight depression in the flat terrain, approximately five miles to the south of what was left of the Hart ranch. She was hunkered down near a cluster of oak shrubs, her horse picketed in a concealing drop-off.
Molly dismounted and approached Claire without preamble.
Two women alone, doing their best to hide and stay out-of-sight.
The thought didn’t improve Matt’s already churlish disposition, caused in part by what Molly had told him of Davis Walker. But the basis of his dark mood began and ended with Molly herself. Her presence reminded him of the last ten years without her, of his failure to protect her.
When Claire rose, hesitant, from where she crouched, and Matt saw green eyes gazing at him from a young and pretty face, he swore under his breath. Claire couldn’t be much older than Molly. The revelation surprised him. He’d assumed her to be a more mature woman.
Instead, Molly had made her way to Texas with a girl who could’ve been her sister. Unprotected and vulnerable, they were obviously unaware of the many mishaps that could’ve happened to them. And that was just from the land itself—the weather and the creatures of the desert. He didn’t even want to contemplate their fates at the hands of men, especially in a land where women were scarce.
“Claire,” Molly acknowledged, smiling. “Are you all right?”
The woman nodded from beneath a broad-brimmed hat, a blonde braid trailing over a shoulder. Her look of distrust was hard to miss.
“This is Matt Ryan. It’s all right, he knows everything. Matt, this is Claire Waters.”
He swung down from his horse. “Miss.” He tipped his hat slightly.
“He was at the ranch,” Molly continued. “They all thought I was dead.”
“They did?” Claire asked, her voice level. “Is that why no one ever came looking for you?”
Matt sensed Claire’s anger on Molly’s behalf, despite the young woman’s features revealing nothing but a calm exterior. Her sense of loyalty toward Molly caused him to reassess his opinion of her.
“Yes,” Molly answered. “There was some confusion ten years ago, and another girl’s body was thought to be mine.” She smiled slightly, glancing at him over her shoulder. “He didn’t quite believe me when I told him who I was. Matt was a friend of my family when I was a child.”
“I remember you mentioning him,” Claire responded.
Matt recalled Molly’s statement about finding Claire bruised and bloody. She appeared recovered, although he did notice a jagged redness along her neck.
Molly and Claire possessed unmistakable shadows in their eyes, and Matt suspected life had aged them quickly and efficiently beyond their years—not an unusual occurrence in these parts. Still, it bothered him.
“I’ve told him about Walker, and he’s offered to help,” Molly said.
Claire gave Molly an are-you-certain-about-this look, to which Molly nodded.
“Davis Walker is still alive,” Claire said, “although he wasn’t at his ranch. An elderly woman, Mrs. Owens, said he was in Fort Worth for a few weeks. She let me stay the night because of the storm. Of his three sons, only T.J. was there. I didn’t get too much out of him except that he wanted me to share his bed.”
“T.J. was never known for being subtle,” Matt replied. “He didn’t hassle you, did he?”
“No,” Claire answered. “Joey Walker was due back today, but I missed seeing him because I didn’t want to be late meeting you. The oldest, Cale, hasn’t been at the ranch in quite some time. He would probably remember more than the other two about what happened ten years ago.”
“Cale was the one who found the body,” Matt said to Molly. “He never mentioned anything about his father back then, but he left shortly after that.”
“Did you leave, too?” Molly asked.
“Yes.” He’d departed with a heavy heart and a determination to get away from the stark reminders of Molly’s fate that had been everywhere at the time.
He watched Molly. Despite everything she’d been through, she stood tall and confident, her hair tucked into her hat once again. He was reminded of her knack for mischief, an extension of her curious nature, and he wondered if any remnant of that child still existed. She was strong, she’d survived, but at what cost?
Looking off to the east, trying to clear his thoughts, Matt said, “Cale joined the army around the same time I did, but after a few years he went out on his own.”
“Doing what?” Molly asked.
“I’ve come across him from time to time. Sometimes he’s a hired gun, sometimes a bounty hunter. He’s around somewhere. I’m sure I can find him.”
“Didn’t any of the Ryan or Walker boys stay put?”
“Not much to hold a man here.” Except endless days filled with memories best left forgotten. “Cale turned out all right. He’s got a sharp eye, a level head, and a better trigger finger than anyone I’ve met. Joey’s a crack shot, too. He joined the army eventually, but a few years back returned to help his pa manage the ranch. But T.J.’s been a burden, as far as I can tell. Drinks too much, gambles frequently. Davis has bailed him out several times.”
“What about Logan?”
“Who’s that?” Claire questioned.
“My younger brother,” Matt replied. He smiled. “Believe it or not, Logan meandered into the life of a deputy. But he returned last year to help out with the ranch. My pa’s been having some health problems.”
“Is that why you’ve stayed?” Molly asked.
Like a smooth whiskey on a cold night, her rich voice warmed him. Unbidden, visions of sharing such a cold night with Molly filled his mind.
“For the most part,” he answered, uncomfortable with his train of thought, knowing how out-of-line it was. Molly had always looked to him as an older brother. Indian captives, especially women, were often branded as tainted if they managed to return to their families. Molly would have a difficult time as it was, simply trying to readjust. He doubted she would welcome an interest from him that was as far from brotherly as he could get.
What he needed to do was make certain she was well looked-after. He should find a suitable husband for her, one who wouldn’t hold the last ten years against her.
“I think we should head back to my folks’ ranch.” He glanced at the sun sitting high in the sky. “It’s still a few hours’ ride from here. You’ll both be safe there. You can stay as long as you like, and you’ll be able to sleep in a bed.”
“The ground isn’t so bad,” Claire remarked, gathering her horse’s reins then settling herself into the saddle.
“There’s better ways to live,” Matt said.
“A better life.” Molly shook her head. “Sometimes the best life is simply being alive.”
Matt could see the simple truth in her words. By all accounts, Molly and Claire should be dead.
“You don’t have to worry about us, Matt,” Molly said more firmly. “We can take care of ourselves.” She climbed atop her horse.
Matt took the lead with Molly close behind, then Claire. He’d already made up his mind. He would take care of Molly. It was the least he could do. With her pa dead, she needed someone to look out for her welfare, to guard her reputation, to make certain the man she married did right by her. She needed someone looking out for her if she truly planned to chase down the men who killed her folks. That Molly might not want this from him was beside the point.
Matt hadn’t been able to save her ten years ago, but perhaps if he helped her forge a new life it would lessen his guilt while at the same time bringing much needed happiness into hers.
Despite the focus this new goal brought him, restlessness stirred once again, brewing just beneath the surface.
He’d simply have to ignore it.