The Wren Page 12

  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.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was late in the day when they arrived at the SR. Dark clouds still hung oppressively in the sky, but the rain had finally stopped. Molly went upstairs to change out of her wet clothes while Susanna, Claire, and Cale tended to Matt, who had been moved to his bed by Logan and his father.

  Susanna had been gracious enough to supply Molly with several dresses and undergarments, a nightgown and two pairs of new shoes. She laid her drenched garments on a chair and quickly donned a pale yellow dress that buttoned down the front. As she hurried back downstairs, she knew the reason for her haste. She wanted to make sure Matt’s foot would be all right.

  Hearing Jonathan and Claire in the parlor, Molly peeked into the room. An elderly woman was seated comfortably in one of the overstuffed chairs, a blanket over her lap.

  “Molly.” Jonathan gestured to her. “Please come and meet Mrs. McAllister.”

  Molly moved forward and the woman grasped her hand with bent fingers and large knuckles; Molly wondered if it was painful, and lessened the pressure in her hold. Mrs. McAllister’s face bore heavy wrinkles and her thin lips spread into a painted-on smile. A heavy mass of gray hair was pinned atop her head, and although she appeared frail and petite, the scrutiny in her eyes as she scanned Molly from top to bottom left Mo
lly thinking the woman was not what her appearance would seem to convey.

  “You can call me Elizabeth,” she said, a southern twang in her voice.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Molly stood back when the woman released her hand at last.

  “Mrs. McAllister was caught in the storm,” Jonathan said. “She’ll be stayin’ the night with us.”

  “Thank you so much, Jonathan,” Elizabeth said sweetly. “I always appreciate your hospitality, and it will be nice to have a visit with Susanna. It’s been lonely in my big old house since Charles passed on. I didn’t expect this storm, however. Came quite out of nowhere.”

  “I best check on Matthew,” Jonathan said. “Molly, would you and Claire mind keeping Mrs. McAllister company?”

  “No, not at all,” Molly replied.

  “Claire, we’ll have you set to go in the mornin’,” Jonathan added before he left. Then he was gone down the hallway.

  “You’re leaving tomorrow?” Molly asked in surprise.

  “I think it’s time. Mr. Ryan has made arrangements for Lester Williams to take me.”

  Molly nodded, glad that Claire would be returning home, but also saddened at the thought of her departure. Claire’s still-wet hair had been braided again, and she’d changed into a blue and white striped dress.

  Feeling chilled, Molly moved closer to the blaze burning brightly in the stone fireplace.

  “A young woman shouldn’t be out and about alone, in the wilderness,” Elizabeth said. “Too many Indians.”

  “But I thought most of the Indians in this area had been moved to reservations?” Molly asked.

  “That’s what they say, but don’t you believe it. I’d bet my mama’s fine china there are still some of them out there.”

  Molly wasn’t sure what to say, but something in Elizabeth’s tone told her it was a subject best not pursued.

  “So, are either of you young ladies betrothed to the Ryan boys?” Elizabeth asked.

  Molly frowned. “No, ma’am. The Ryans have just been kind enough to let us stay on a bit.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Ryan hospitality is well known in these parts. They’re good people. Where are you girls from?”

  Molly wasn’t sure what to say, but suddenly felt a need to safeguard her past. Claire saved her the trouble of lying.

  “New Mexico.”

  “Oh, that’s still a territory, isn’t it? I hear it’s a lawless land, full of bandits and outlaws, and more of those blasted red men. They’re like vermin, crawling all over this land. I just can’t abide their presence.” She waved a gnarled hand in disgust.

  Claire raised an eyebrow in Molly’s direction.

  Molly remained silent.

  “It’s a shame about Matthew’s injury,” Elizabeth continued. “Did he fall from his horse?”

  “No, ma’am.” Molly cleared her throat. “It was a cattle stampede.” Then she asked Claire, “How is his foot?”

  “It’s not broken, just badly bruised and swollen. Cale is wrapping it now. He’s going to be fine.”

  Elizabeth nodded knowingly. “No one believes me, but cattle are dangerous animals, there’s no doubt about that. But Matthew is young and strong. I’m sure he’ll be up and around in no time. I’d always hoped my Lizzie would marry one of those boys.”

  “Lizzie?” Molly asked. A quick stab of jealousy sent a jolt through her stomach. Or maybe all she needed was some food.

  “My dear sweet daughter.” Elizabeth smiled. “She’s away at boarding school in Richmond. She’s my only child, and I’ve missed her so. But she’s to return soon, and I have no doubt she’ll have plenty of men interested in courting her. She’s quite lovely. It’s a shame Matthew had to leave the Rangers, but perhaps it’s God’s plan.” Whispering, as if they shared a beloved secret, she went on, “I’m sure Lizzie will catch his eye, and I wouldn’t be at all bothered if she were to become a Ryan.”

  Molly thought she’d had quite enough. Forcing a smile on her face, she said, “I’d best check if Susanna might need help. You must be hungry, Mrs. McAllister.” Molly didn’t think she could stand there another minute and listen to her go on about her daughter and Matt. “I’ll see if Rosita has started supper.” Turning quickly, she left the room.

  She made a silent apology to Claire as she escaped to the kitchen.

  * * *

  Matt lay back, his head propped up with pillows. Cale had wrapped his foot, but the swollen injury throbbed and he took another steadying breath. At least it wasn’t the same leg Cerillo had mutilated. Now, both his legs were shot, but he didn’t regret it. He couldn’t think of what would’ve happened to Molly if he hadn’t managed to shield her from the crazed animals.

  Logan entered the room, carrying firewood, then proceeded to stoke the fireplace on the far side of the room. Soon, flames grew in strength.

  “Ma doesn’t want you to catch a chill,” his brother said, standing.

  Matt noticed Logan still hadn’t changed out of his wet clothes since they returned. “You’re the one who’s gonna catch a chill. Go clean yourself up.”

  “You never did get it, did you?” Logan grinned. “You’re ma’s favorite. I could be passed out in the pantry with pneumonia, but ma would still insist I fetch some peaches for you.”

  Matt suppressed a groan as he tried to shift his position. “Then where the hell are my peaches?”

  Logan laughed. “Get your own damn food. Pa has Dawson making a crutch for you. Should be ready tomorrow.” Then, out of the blue, he said, “Claire’s leavin’ in the mornin’.”

  Alarm shot through Matt. “Is Molly going with her?”

  Logan shook his head slowly. “Pa’s gonna send Lester with her.” He went silent.

  As the panic over Molly leaving gradually faded, relief flooded Matt. He could hardly chase after her in the condition he was now in. Damn. What was he going to do about her?

  “I’d take her myself,” Logan said reflectively, “but Pa’s countin’ on me for the roundup, especially now that you’re useless.”

  “Lester’s a good man. I’m sure Claire will be fine.” Selfishly, he was just happy that Molly was staying.

  “Yeah.” Logan turned back to the fire, poking it with an iron rod. “Mrs. McAllister’s here.”

  “I guess somethin’ good came of getting laid up after all.” Matt shifted his position again. His injured limb was propped up on a pillow, but pain still spread in all directions any time he tried to move his backside.

  Standing, Logan rested his hands on his hips. “Yeah. You’re lucky all the way around. You hungry?”

  “I don’t know.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He didn’t like being stuck in bed. He’d just recovered from an extended bed rest from his other leg injury. He didn’t particularly look forward to it again.

  “I’ll send Molly to keep you company.”

  Matt opened his eyes a slit, wondering what his brother was up to. Still, he wouldn’t mind seeing her. But he really should mind. Hell, he was too tired and in too much pain to care. Seeing her would be damn nice.

  “She’s been asking about you every five minutes for the last two hours,” Logan added, walking to the doorway. “I think Ma would be glad to lock the two of you away, but I wouldn’t mention it to Mrs. McAllister. She’s got her sights on you for Lizzie.”

  Matt did groan aloud now, rubbing his face. “I’m not good husband material.”

  “Don’t I know it. You’re too much a mama’s boy.”

  Matt threw a pillow at his brother, but it hit the door as it closed.

  * * *

  Molly knocked before entering Matt’s room, balancing the tray of food with her free hand. She took the muffled response—or was it a dog barking?—as a signal to enter. Kicking the door closed behind her, she noticed a pillow on the floor. When she finally looked up, she almost dropped the tray.

  Sitting upright on the bed, his injured foot resting on a pillow, Matt was shirtless and quite obviously pantless, wit
h a pile of bedcovers bunched at his waist. His appearance reminded Molly of every creature’s will to survive—barely leashed power with a watchful wariness as potential prey entered its vicinity. His exposed chest was broad, muscled, and dark hair curled downward. With gleaming eyes he watched her, the scrutiny intense and distinctly primal.

  “Are you always in a bad mood?” she asked in defense, then realized her poor manners. “I apologize, I’m sure your foot pains you.” Walking around the bed, she handed him the tray. “I’ve brought you some food.”

  Despite his position, he easily lifted the tray from her, his stomach muscles clenching, drawing her eye to the strength and grace of his body. With effort, she attempted to quiet her wayward thoughts.

  “Thank you.” He set the food on the center of the bed.

  “Logan mentioned you could use some company, but if you want me to go…,” She sensed that being alone with him might not be such a good idea. If Mrs. McAllister knew of his state of nakedness, she’d probably faint on the spot. The image brought a smile to her lips.

  “What’s so amusing?” he asked.

  “I probably shouldn’t say.” She glanced back at the closed door. “But Mrs. McAllister would probably comment on how improper it is my being here with you. Seeing as how you have no clothes on and all,” she added, in case her meaning wasn’t clear.

  Matt laughed.

  Molly liked it, having heard so little of it since they’d been reunited.

  “Then you definitely better stay,” Matt said. “That woman sticks her nose into too many people’s business.”

  “I got that impression.” She turned and dragged a heavy wooden chair closer to the bed and sat. “What did Cale say about your foot?”

  “He didn’t think it was bad.” Matt swallowed a piece of bread and drank half a glass of milk. “But it might take a week before the swelling goes down.”

  “I should thank you for trying to protect me. Those cattle came out of nowhere.”

  “Yeah. It doesn’t take much to spook ‘em. The storm and the coyotes were a bad combination.”