The Wren Page 4

  “Please, call me Susanna. How do you both know Matthew?”

  Molly took a seat beside her friend as Claire looked to Matt for an answer.

  “This is going to be a bit much to take in,” Matt intervened.

  His eyes locked on hers, and Molly was suddenly awash with nerves. After ten years everyone had changed, herself most of all. This homecoming was proving to be more awkward than she’d imagined.

  “Do you remember when the Harts were killed?” Matt asked his mother.

  “Of course I do.” A pained expression crossed Susanna Ryan’s face.

  “And when Cale found Molly’s body?”

  “Yes. Why are you bringing this up?”

  “It seems all these years we were wrong. It wasn’t Molly that Cale found.”

  Confused, Susanna looked at her son. “I don’t understand.”

  “She’s still alive.” Matt hesitated. “This is Molly.”

  Susanna’s eyes came to hers, frozen in astonishment. “Good Lord,” she utterly softly.

  Unsure what to do, Molly didn’t move either. Should she prove it? Perhaps she should tell Matt’s mother something from ten years ago to convince her who she was. But nothing came to mind.

  “Of course,” Susanna said finally. “You look so much like your mother.” Tears welled up in her eyes. Standing, she crossed the room. “Molly, my dear child.”

  Molly stood reflexively and Susanna’s arms engulfed her.

  “I can’t believe this.” Susanna’s words were laden with emotion. “It’s a miracle. We were so devastated after what happened, and of especially losing you.”

  She stepped back, and touched Molly’s face gently.

  Molly smiled hesitantly, uncertain how to react.

  “How did this happen?” Susanna asked.

  Molly glanced at Matt, whose shuttered gaze was unreadable. “It’s up to you how much you want to tell,” he said quietly.

  Taking a deep breath, Molly said, “I was taken by the men who attacked that night. Later they were raided by a band of Comanche, who took me with them. There was another girl with us, near my age. She was the one killed, but somehow you all thought it was me.”

  “Oh, Molly,” Susanna said helplessly, “you were with the Comanche this entire time?”

  “For a while, then they sold me to a trader who then sold me to a miner. I was with him for two years. I was able to make my way back here only recently. I didn’t know my folks had been killed until a few weeks ago.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Susanna whispered. “I can’t believe this. How did Matthew find you?”

  “I found her yesterday, at the Hart ranch.”

  Susanna stared at her son. “This is amazing.” Then, turning back to Molly, “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. You must be exhausted. Let me get both of you settled.” Susanna’s gaze included Claire.

  “We’re very grateful for your hospitality,” Molly said.

  “I’m heading out to look for Pa,” Matt said. “Is Logan around?”

  “No. He went patrolling the southern boundary. I’m not sure when he’ll be back, if at all tonight.”

  Matt grabbed his hat and headed for the front door. “Don’t hold supper. I’m sure Molly and Claire haven’t had a decent meal in some time.”

  Molly’s eyes locked with his, then he was gone. She had an irrational wish that he would stay.

  Tired and hungry as she was, she found the idea of sleeping in a real bed appealing. It had been a very long time since she’d done such a thing. Ten years, to be precise.

  * * *

  Molly opened the bedroom door upon hearing the soft knock.

  “I’ve brought you a nightgown and a change of clothes.” Susanna handed the garments to her.

  “Thank you.” Molly stepped back into the room. “And thank you for letting us stay the night.”

  Susanna entered and began pulling the covers down on the bed. “You’re welcome for as long as you like. Claire as well. In a few days the renovations in the upstairs bedrooms should be done, so you both can move up there.” She fluffed the pillows. “How did you meet Claire?”

  “Outside of Albuquerque a few months ago.” Molly didn’t say more, thinking Claire might not want her circumstances known to everyone.

  “Something has happened to that poor girl,” Susanna said as she finished with the bed. “I can only imagine what it was.” She crossed the room and closed the tan curtains that covered the only window in the room.

  A tub sat in the bedroom, steam rising from the water. Molly couldn’t help looking forward to the luxury. Once again, she glanced around the very masculine bedroom. It was Matt’s room. Susanna had insisted that he could sleep elsewhere, that he wouldn’t mind. Claire was in Logan’s room next door.

  “I won’t keep you,” Susanna said. “You can wash up then get some rest. Claire is already asleep.”

  “I wondered if you knew anything about my sisters.”

  Although she and Claire had eaten a quick supper with Susanna, there hadn’t been much conversation. Molly had been too intent on the meal—a simple stew and hot bread—to concentrate on talking. It had been so long since she’d had such a delicious, home-cooked dish—the aroma alone was one of the best scents she’d inhaled since the cinnamon cookies her mama had made when she was a child. One glance at Claire told Molly that she was in the same state of hunger also.

  Molly had gorged herself and felt a little embarrassed, but Susanna never made a comment. She simply gave the two of them second helpings and several more slices of bread each, then insisted they both have a bath and a good night’s rest.

  “Oh my, of course I do. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner.” Susanna clasped Molly’s hands and pulled her down to the edge of the bed.

  “Matt said they went to San Francisco to live with my Aunt Catherine.”

  “Yes. And Catherine has been kind enough to stay in touch. The truth is, I would’ve kept them myself. I was always quite fond of all you girls. But Catherine insisted they leave Texas. She didn’t think it was a good place for them to grow up.” Susanna paused. “She was right, of course. She was able to offer them so much more.

  “Mary would be twenty-four now. She was married four or five years ago. I had hoped to attend the wedding—Jonathan was ready to accompany me—but it happened very quickly, so there wasn’t time. Mary’s husband runs a ranch near Tucson, in the Arizona Territory. She had a child shortly after their marriage. Catherine didn’t mention it, but I suspect that was why the marriage was rushed.”

  Molly couldn’t conceal her astonishment. “Mary?”

  “Yes, Mary.” Susanna laughed. “I’ll admit I was surprised, too. Mary was always so intent on following the rules, keeping up appearances.”

  “Does she have a son or a daughter?”

  “A son. And she also has a daughter, who must be about three now. Mary actually wrote me a few months back. She’s expecting another child, and she seems to be doing well. Her husband’s name is Tom Simms and it sounds as if they are quite happy together. She’ll be as shocked as the rest of us that you’re alive, Molly. But I know she’ll want to see you as soon as she can.”

  Molly nodded, warmed by the news of a nephew and a niece and another on the way. “I’ll have to find a way to visit her.”

  “We can write to her tomorrow,” Susanna said. “As for Emma, she’s still with your aunt. She would be eighteen, I think, by now. From Catherine’s letters, Emma has been a handful. For a time, your aunt was very worried about her—she’d become extremely withdrawn. But her most recent letter mentioned she’s doing better. It sounds as if she’s full of determination these days, much the way I remember you were.”

  Molly smiled at the gleam in Susanna’s eyes.

  “According to your aunt, Emma is very lovely but not much interested in the young men coming around. She apparently has developed a bit of the gypsy in her, and I don’t think your aunt has the temperament for it. I suggested to Cather
ine that she send her here for a visit. And, of course, now that you’re here, I have no doubt Emma will want to return. We’ll write to them as well tomorrow.”

  “I’m most grateful.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. It’s such a miracle you’re alive—I still can’t believe it.” Susanna hugged her. “You should get cleaned up then get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.”

  The older woman left the room and weariness settled in Molly’s bones. She quickly undressed and bathed, then put on the long nightgown Susanna had given her.

  After wearing it for a short time, Molly decided it was too cumbersome and began searching through Matt’s bureau for something else to wear. Upon finding a white shirt, she quickly donned it, buttoning it down the front. It smelled of him, as did the bed: a potent mix of musk, leather, and soap. As Molly drifted off, it was as if she slept right beside him.

  The thought was as comforting as it was unsettling.

  Chapter Seven

  The scream awoke Molly with a start. For a moment she lay still, staring into the darkened room—Matt’s room, she recalled. Then she remembered the woman’s scream. Claire.

  Molly threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, and ran into the hallway. She stopped short when she saw a tall, muscular, and half-naked man. Then she noticed Claire standing in the doorway to Logan’s room, wearing one of Susanna’s long white nightgowns and clutching a blanket to her chest. Her blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders, framing a flushed face. She stared at the man next to her.

  Molly suddenly recognized him—it was Logan, Matt’s younger brother. He didn’t appear to be quite as tall as Matt, but his dark hair and strongly etched facial features certainly pegged him as a Ryan.

  “Mind telling me why there’s a girl in my bed, Matt?” Logan asked in a hushed and irritated voice.

  Molly jumped when she realized Matt stood behind her. Her breath caught in her throat when she turned to look at him, her racing pulse pounding even more. Half-naked as well, he wore a pair of trousers pulled on quickly, obviously too quickly since the top button was still undone. But while Logan’s nakedness merely surprised her, Matt’s completely flustered her.

  There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him anywhere, the sleek muscles in his shoulders subtly flexing from where he stood. The dark mat of hair on his chest tapered down to a vee, then disappeared beneath the open button, his stomach flat and taut. Towering over her, he stood close enough that his arm brushed hers as he lowered the gun he had drawn in obvious haste. Molly shivered from the brief contact.

  “Ma didn’t think you’d be back tonight,” Matt said, the timbre of his voice setting Molly’s nerves on edge. “This is Claire Waters. Claire, this is my brother, Logan.”

  Molly finally found her voice. “Are you all right, Claire?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “He just startled me.” Claire glanced in Logan’s direction.

  “It seems you’ve got one in your bed as well. Is this Ma’s version of matchmaking?” Logan asked, but his voice had softened as he looked at Claire again.

  “It’s a long story,” Matt replied. “Grab your bedroll. You’re on the floor with me.”

  Molly was acutely aware of Matt’s nearness. He stood too close to her, much too close. She discerned in the darkness of the hallway that Logan was at least four feet from Claire. Matt couldn’t be more than four inches from her. She found herself suddenly self-conscious of her nakedness beneath the thin shirt she wore.

  “Sorry, Claire,” Matt said. “You’d better go back to bed, Molly. I’ll explain everything to Logan.” Finally, he stepped back and she dared another glance at his face.

  The darkness couldn’t mask the speculative gleam in his eyes. At the same time, however, there was also a grim determination on his face and in his stance. Molly could sense the powerful restraint he exerted.

  He appeared dangerous in the intimate blackness of the hallway, his broad shoulders tightening as he shifted his weight slightly. Molly’s shivered and her lower body felt heavy.

  If Logan and Claire hadn’t been standing there, Molly knew she would have touched him. It still took all of her willpower not to run her fingertips lightly across his chest. She couldn’t explain it, but she was certain she could release the tension in his body.

  With an effort, Molly nodded. “Goodnight,” she whispered as she walked back into Matt’s bedroom and shut the door. The last thing she saw was his gaze fixed solely on her. It left her trembling.

  Behind the closed door, Molly’s breathing was fragmented. The entire incident rattled her. Had she imagined the way Matt looked at her? She had no idea how this had happened, how strongly attracted to Matt she’d become. He was no longer the young man of seventeen she once knew. He was older, more distant, but infinitely more compelling to her.

  His awareness of her in the hallway hadn’t been something she imagined—it had been palpable, hard to miss, filling the small space between them like a storm brewing, ready to flood the land. It stirred in her something she never knew existed, a longing that was almost painful.

  All things womanly and feminine had eluded her for the past few years. Elijah had hardly been a good role model. It definitely left her confused over how to handle the situation with Matt.

  Returning to bed, it was hardly surprising that sleep eluded her.

  * * *

  Matt walked back into the spacious parlor where he’d been trying to sleep. He put his gun back in its holster, then fell onto the couch while rubbing his eyes with the palm of his right hand. Brief contact with his cheek reminded him he needed to shave, but what he really needed was a sound dunking in a very cold creek. Too bad the Red River was ten miles to the north.

  He knew, however, that a long ride and a cold swim would never erase the image from his mind of Molly rushing from his bedroom wearing nothing but one of his shirts, her disheveled hair a dark mess that framed her strikingly feminine face.

  Her smoky eyes and husky voice had nearly undone him, but he had definitely been on the verge of throwing all his willpower to the wind when she had turned and her body’s response to him had been readily apparent beneath the thin fabric of the shirt. He could still see in his mind the dark outline of her breasts through the whiteness of the cloth. Only the fact they had an audience had stopped him from touching her…barely.

  Matt tried to conjure up an image of a nine-year-old Molly—sweet, innocent, and playful—evoking nothing but brotherly feelings. It didn’t work. All he kept seeing were long, shapely legs leading to the rest of a not-very-nine-year-old body, concealed by nothing but thin white cloth.

  “I don’t see why you get the couch.” Logan entered the room and tossed a bedroll onto the floor.

  “I got here first. So make friends with the floor. I’ll fill you in on the rest tomorrow.”

  “Like hell. You’ve got me curious now. Besides, it’s going to take me a few minutes to recover from Claire.”

  Matt frowned at his brother. “You didn’t offend her, did you?”

  Logan laughed. “Not if she didn’t mind seeing me in all my glory.”

  “Christ,” Matt said wearily. “You didn’t have any clothes on.”

  “Not a stitch.” Logan’s grin made him look much younger than his twenty-five years. “I don’t think Claire is terribly experienced with men, but she didn’t cower or faint on me, I’ll give her that. I’ve never seen a woman move so fast. She twisted her legs up and slammed me in the chest with the soles of her delicate little feet. A little lower and I probably wouldn’t be walking right now.”

  Logan settled into one of the chairs, wincing a little as he gingerly touched his upper torso.

  “Go easy on her,” Matt said. “I think she’s had a rough go of it.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I really don’t know too much about her, except that Molly found her beaten up outside of Albuquerque a few months back.”

  Logan was pensive for a moment, his demeanor changing in a heartbeat.


  “Have the bastards been caught?” Logan asked coldly.

  “I don’t know.”

  Matt watched his younger brother and knew that beneath his easy-going personality was a determined man. He had never met anyone who possessed Logan’s innate sense of justice; it was no wonder he became a lawman. Logan’s reputation was well known—he was a man who got the job done no matter what the odds. And Matt trusted Logan’s tracking skills as much as Nathan’s or his own.

  Both he and Logan had learned survival and hunting skills from Joseph Running Bear, an old crotchety Kiowa who had worked at the Ryan’s ranch when they’d first settled in Texas. Uncle Joe had taught them more about the land and the creatures on it, man included, than Matt had learned in the last ten years on his own.

  Losing the old Indian a few years ago had felt almost like losing a father. Men like him didn’t come along every day. Matt still wondered why Joe had left the Kiowa, but the old man had refused to speak of it. He suspected it was tragic in nature. Misfortune seemed to touch almost everyone at some point in these parts.

  Matt glanced at his brother again. Logan had abruptly returned from Virginia City a year ago, announcing he planned to stay on at the ranch and help out. Matt had never asked, but he suspected something had happened to cause Logan to walk away from his deputy position so easily.

  The last few months were the first time Matt had spent any time with Logan in several years. His brother could be deceptively charming, but underneath the charm was a steely resolve to work hard and not let anyone get too close to him. Matt knew he was much the same way.

  He couldn’t recall ever meeting a woman Logan was interested in. But then, he’d never brought one home either, never staying in one place long enough to form any serious attachments.

  But today he’d brought a woman home, two in fact, and one of them was definitely getting under his skin like no female had in some time. He really needed to get his head on straight because it was his job to protect Molly from men like him, not pursue her himself.

  “Who’s Molly?” Logan asked. “How did she and Claire end up here?”