The next morning, following breakfast, they set out. Jonathan and Susanna, Logan and Claire, Cale, and Matt. Molly took the lead, but Cale helped when her memory faltered. Matt stayed close. Molly tried to ignore his presence, but he was always at her heels.
Maybe he really did have feelings for her, Molly considered, warmed by the thought. Maybe Claire’s suggestions weren’t as ridiculous as they had sounded the previous night. Perhaps Matt simply needed nudging in the right direction. Molly dwelt on that during the long morning ride west into land that had long been the stronghold of the Comanche.
She recognized the scenery and memories tugged at her. She wore a dark blue cotton dress with a full skirt, at Susanna’s insistence, though she found the clothing tight and somewhat constricting. Molly had the sudden urge to strip down to her chemise and ride bareback. She had done as much while with the Kwahadi. How startling it was to wish, even for a moment, that she was back with them. But the yearning was there, pulling her into a past she had thought long dismissed in her own mind.
As Pecos climbed a low hill, Molly scanned the horizon from beneath the brim of her hat. “I think this was where the Comanche attacked.”
“I found the girl’s body about five miles from here, to the north,” Cale said.
Molly glanced at Cale Walker. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and as solid as Matt. His facial features were fairer, but she saw the same unyielding look in his light blue eyes. She knew he was close in age to Matt—twenty-seven, twenty-eight?—but, like Matt, he seemed much older, hardened by life and heartache. She wondered what sadness Cale carried within him.
“Let’s spread out and have a look,” Matt suggested.
“I think I’ll ride to where I found the body,” Cale said. “I’ll meet y’all back here.”
“Agreed,” Matt replied. “Logan, why don’t you and Claire scout the southern part of the valley. Pa, you and Ma take the east. I’ll follow you, Molly.”
Everyone nodded, then set off in their respective directions.
After she and Matt had ridden for a time, they entered a thicket of juniper and mesquite trees on the valley floor. Matt moved his horse beside hers. She couldn’t help remarking, “If you’re trying to avoid me, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”
Matt glanced at her, his gaze sharp. “I’m not trying to avoid you.”
“You don’t have to worry. When this is all over, I’ll probably go to my Aunt Catherine’s in San Francisco. I suppose I can find myself a good husband there and have a bunch of babies. Does that reassure you?”
She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she heard him swear under his breath. “That is what you want for me, right?” she pressed.
“I just want you to be happy.”
“I’m not sure happiness is a possibility anymore. Is it possible for you to be happy? What are your hopes for the future?”
They rode in silence while he reflected on her question. At length, he finally answered, sounding somewhat bewildered. “I guess I’ve never had any long-term goals, now that I think about it.”
“You joined the army, that was a goal,” she prompted.
“In a way.”
“What about the Rangers?”
“It served a purpose.”
“Which was?”
“To help the helpless.”
“That’s an admirable dream,” she said.
He shook his head. She took the chance to steal a good look at him. Steadfast and powerful, he was a force to be reckoned with, and he was so easy on the eyes that it made her heart ache. The strong lines of his profile, the lanky ease of his body as he rode—the visions burned themselves into her head and her heart. He was but a dream to her, a dream of masculine strength and beauty, a man and a vision of a man. So close, yet completely out of her reach.
“For the last ten years, Molly,” his eyes met hers, “I think I’ve been running from you.”
His admission confused her. “I don’t understand.”
“When I thought you died,” he said slowly, precisely, “something inside of me died. We were friends back then, I think you know I cared a great deal about you. You can’t imagine how devastated I was when Cale brought that body back, when everyone thought you’d died in such an inhumane and agonizing way. It killed something inside of me. And for ten years, I’ve run from it, trying to hold it at bay, trying to keep it from tormenting me.” In a ragged breath, he uttered, “The guilt tore me apart.”
Molly listened and began to understand. It filled her heart, knowing how much he’d cared, but emptiness followed close behind, because it was clear now why he would never touch her.
“I won’t use you to heal my wounds. You’ve suffered enough, but I’ll do everything in my power to help you find your own happiness.” His words and his gaze pierced her.
What had happened to him? It was as if he believed in nothing anymore.
“You’re wrong,” she said angrily, refusing to let the damn man off so easily. “I suppose it’s true I’ve suffered, but not as much as you. Despite everything, I still believe in the power of the human spirit. You obviously don’t anymore. And if that’s true, then you’re not the Matt I remember, because the Matt I knew would never give up. He would’ve lived life, embraced it. There is cruelty in the world—I suspect you’ve seen far more of it than I have—but what’s the point in living if we let it beat us? You asked me how I survived all these years. It really boils down to one word—hope. Without that, I would have lain down and died during those early days with the Comanche. But I refused to accept that. And I came back.”
“But to something much different than you thought,” Matt said, his tone frustrated.
“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s true. But the Kwahadi did teach me something. The world is ever-changing. The land, the seasons, they always brought something new. If you couldn’t adapt, you died. It was as simple as that. You can’t fear change.”
But what she saw in his eyes was fear. “What happened to you?” she demanded, startled by her own level of resentment with him. “Why are you so afraid?”
“If you must know, it’s not fear, it’s regret. You come back and throw my entire life upside down. You look at me with the innocent longing of a child.”
“I’m not a child,” she replied abruptly.
“That’s the problem. I’m doing my damnedest to do right by you, but you’re determined to needle me about it.”
“So, I’m nothing more than a pest to you?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
It was childish, but Molly kicked Pecos into a gallop and left Matt behind. It would seem they couldn’t even have a conversation anymore without arguing.
As Pecos broke through the surrounding brush, she abruptly reared, nearly throwing Molly to the ground. Holding tight, Molly glimpsed a flurry of movement, animals everywhere. Pecos took off at a dead run.
Molly thought it was a bear she saw. Yipping and barking filled the air. Chancing a look over her shoulder she saw not a bear but a stampede of cattle behind her, behind them a pack of coyote or wolves at their heels. Pecos darted back and forth, avoiding cactus and brush. Molly’s hat went flying from her head. The frightened animals continued running hard.
Gunshots rang out but Molly couldn’t be certain from which direction. Pecos ran at breakneck speed to the south. On a slight rise before her, Molly saw Logan and Claire still atop their horses, watching her. Claire, her brown riding dress blurring with that of her chestnut-colored mount, was trying to contain her agitated horse while Logan aimed a rifle in Molly’s direction.
“Get down!” he was yelling. “Get out of the way!”
Molly would have tried, but she had little control over the path her horse chose. The animal ran on pure instinct. Without warning, Pecos cut to the left, throwing Molly to the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of her, but she struggled to stand, aware she was in danger afoot.
The cattle, ten or fifteen at least, barreled toward her. From nowhere, Matt broke ahead of them. Leaning his arm down, Molly knew he meant to haul her onto his horse. She prepared to grab him, but as she did her foot slipped and she fell back hard, losing her grip on his arm. Matt reared his horse, and his feet hit the dirt as he roared something at her, but she couldn’t make it out. Her eyes focused on the animals that were almost upon her.
In a panic she tried scrambling up the hillside, but the dirt was too loose. All at once the snorting longhorns and Matt were on her. In a split second it was over, and she realized Matt had covered her with his body, her face smashed into the dirt.
The heavy animals had trampled him, not her.
Twisting underneath him, she rolled onto her back, his body still covering hers. “Matt? Matt?” His face rested near her breasts. With a hand on each side, she tried to raise his head. “Are you all right?”
He raised his eyes to her, clearly dazed, and tried to catch his breath. “Never better,” he choked out, but she didn’t miss the wince when he moved slightly.
Logan and Claire appeared, having run down the hill. “Don’t move, Matt,” his brother said.
“Wasn’t planning to,” he replied, his voice strained.
His hat was gone, so Molly touched his face, burying her fingers into his hair. Placing a palm on his forehead, she tried to comfort him since he was clearly in pain.
“I think your foot might be broken,” Logan said.
“No shit,” Matt muttered.
“How’re your ribs?” Logan asked.
“My legs took the beating.”
“Claire, give me a hand,” Logan said, trying to straighten Matt’s leg.
Molly watched as sweat broke out on Matt’s forehead and the veins on his neck bulged as he struggled to contain the anguish the movement caused. Instinctively, she wound her arms around his shoulders, trying to take some of his suffering into herself. Without thinking she placed her face into his hair, kissing him, murmuring to him. His arms tightened around her. Tears burned her eyes.
“I’m going to roll you over,” Logan said.
Reluctantly, Molly released Matt as he moved away from her. Claire came to her side. “Are you hurt?”
Molly sat up, feeling only a little bruised. “No, I’m fine.”
Jonathan and Susanna approached, both dismounting quickly. “What on earth happened?” Susanna asked, bending down beside the two of them.
“Those damn coyotes spooked a herd of beeves.” Logan scanned the surroundings once more. Dark clouds had formed in the sky and the wind was starting to pick up.
“I think we need to get Matt back to the ranch,” Molly said.
“I can ride,” Matt said. “Just get me to my horse.”
Jonathan handed his gun to Susanna, then moved to help Logan get Matt into the saddle. Claire guided Molly to her feet.
Cale rejoined them. “What happened?”
“Stampede,” Logan said. “Matt’s foot might be broken.”
“Want me to have a look at it?” Cale asked.
“Didn’t know you were a damn doctor,” Matt said, grimacing as he settled into his saddle.
“I spent some time with an Apache medicine man. But maybe I’ll just let you suffer.”
Matt swore under his breath.
“Claire might be able to help,” Molly offered, looking earnestly at her friend.
Claire hesitated before saying, “I do have some experience with setting broken bones.”
Cale nodded. “Two hands are always better than one. We’d best get back to the SR though, since it’ll probably need to be wrapped. Storm’s blowin’ in and I don’t think we should linger. But I did find somethin’ useful.”
“What’s that?” Jonathan asked, securing his hat against a gust of wind.
“A pile of bones, buried under a ridge. Looks like several men. No way to tell for certain, but it could’ve been the ones the Comanche killed—the ones who took Molly. Someone went to a lot of effort to hide the bodies.” Cale glanced at the coming storm, his own expression troubled. “That’s why we never found ‘em.”
“Let me talk to him, son,” Jonathan said to Cale. “We can’t be certain your pa had anything to do with this.” His gaze settled on Molly. “I’m not discounting what you think might’ve happened, Molly, but this is serious business. No sense flinging accusations until we’re certain.”
She nodded, knowing he was right. The wind blew hard now.
“Let’s get going,” Susanna said loudly. “Matthew’s foot needs attention.”
Logan retrieved Pecos, as well as Matt’s hat and Molly’s, and they all began a slow journey back to the SR. Molly rode close to Matt, not caring if anyone said anything about it. Not caring if he said anything about it.
Rain began falling in sheets. Luckily everyone had thought to bring a long coat since the weather often changed without warning. Drenched, with water streaming from their hats, they rode slowly across the flat open plains. Molly worried about Matt. Susanna frequently checked back on him, but he always assured his ma he was fine.
Jonathan and Susanna took the lead, followed by Matt and Molly riding side by side, then Claire, Logan, and Cale. Molly had to admire Matt’s strength because it was obvious he was in pain. His foot dangled from the side of his horse.
“Why don’t you let me guide your horse in, Matt?” Molly yelled, trying to be heard over the torrential storm. “It might give you a rest.”
He looked at her. “I’ll be fine,” he said resolutely.
“It’s not a crime to let someone help you.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“All I’ve ever wanted to do was help you,” he said. “You don’t like it any more than I do.”
All of sudden she laughed. What else could she do? She was cold, wet, and tired. Her folks were dead, she was homeless, and Matthew Ryan was just plain irritated with her. He did have an injured foot, she reminded herself, so she supposed the man could be justified his bad temper. If she could just forget how nice it had felt when he held her, when she had indulged herself in touching him. She wanted to again. She wanted the warmth, the connection. She wanted him, and no one else.
“What’s so funny?” He glared at her.
“When did you become such an ornery cuss?”
He scowled. “Don’t talk like that. You’re a lady now, not a child.”
“Well, thank God you finally noticed,” she declared, smiling into his face.
“I’ve noticed. All I’ve done is notice,” he muttered, turning away from her, but she heard it.
And it gave her hope.