Twilight in Texas Read online

  When she didn’t answer, he jerked the door open. Callie Ann jumped into his arms and scrambled to his shoulder like an organ grinder’s monkey. “The man was shooting at us,” she cried. “He tried to kill us all.”

  Wolf held her tightly. In her cotton gown, she looked even smaller than she had yesterday. “It’s going to be all right, Princess.”

  Molly stood at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair was in a long braid, and she wore only a nightgown. She held herself as calmly and regally as a queen.

  “I think the man was shooting at the bottles,” she said without emotion, slowly lowering the Navy Colt in her hand. “He wasn’t trying to harm us.”

  Wolf glanced at the shattered glass scattered across the floor. He carried Callie Ann to the stairs and set her on the third step. “Run up there and get some shoes on,” he ordered. “The trouble’s over for now.”

  Callie Ann began hopping up each step like a rabbit. “I’ll wash and comb my hair like I’m supposed to do before I come back down to breakfast.”

  She disappeared around the landing. Wolf turned to Molly. “You’ll need shoes, too,” he teased.

  When Molly turned her gaze toward him, all laughter died in his throat. Terror seemed to drown her where she stood.

  “What is it?” he demanded.

  She bolted suddenly, running across the glass-cluttered floor. “I have to check on Ephraim! Something’s wrong. He’s always ready with the rifle when there’s trouble.”

  She didn’t have to say that Ephraim should have been there. Wolf had the feeling the old soldier had been present in every crisis of her life. His absence now seemed to suck the air from the room.

  “Ephraim?” she called as she reached the curtain. “Ephraim, are you all right?”

  Wolf pulled the curtain aside and glanced around. The tiny kitchen was deserted, the stove cold.

  “He usually starts the coffee by first light,” Molly whispered, running through the room to where her friend slept in the back. “He’s always up and dressed by dawn.”

  Molly drew in a deep breath before she opened his door as if she feared it might be her last.

  Wolf stood close behind her, ready to help with whatever met them.

  For a moment, when she pushed the door wide, he saw nothing. Only lazy dust motes drifting in a beam of white sunshine shifting through the window. Then, slowly the room washed into focus like something rising to the surface from deep water.

  Ephraim lay on his side, a pool of blood circling the sheet below his mouth. His thin hands were twisted into a blanket in a last desperate clutch at life.

  Molly cried his name softly as she knelt beside him. She brushed thin gray strands of hair back from his face. “Ephraim,” she whispered, “oh, Ephraim.”

  “I can’t make formation this morning, General,” he mumbled. “I’m under the weather.”

  “Ephraim.” She blotted at his mouth with a clean corner of the sheet. “Why didn’t you tell me? You need medicine. I can fix you something for the pain.”

  The old man rolled onto his back. His eyes cleared. He stared at her. His expression seemed to ask who she was, or maybe where he was.

  A coughing fit racked his body. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and weak. “I’ve been around hospitals and dying all my life. I know when it’s time. The medicine will ease the pain, but it’ll take my mind. I’d prefer to meet my Maker with as many of my faculties working as I can muster.”

  Molly shook her head violently as if she could rid herself of the sight of him dying.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I promised your father I’d take care of you.” He lifted his hand to her cheek. “Brave little Molly, always trying to be as strong as the general. Go back home. This wild land is not for you.”

  “Only if you’ll go with me, Ephraim.” Tears ran unchecked down Molly’s face. “I’ll go back. We can live at Allen Farm with the aunts. We’ll fish for our breakfast like we used to do when I was a kid.”

  Ephraim shook his head. “I can’t go this time,” he whispered. “My tour of duty is over.”

  He coughed again. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. “Don’t spend your life alone. Promise me, Molly.”

  She was crying so hard she couldn’t speak, fighting back sobs with gulps.

  Ephraim reached for her with wrinkled fingers. His watery blue eyes closed. For a moment Molly and Wolf were quiet, waiting for the ragged breathing to start up once more. The plop of a drop of blood falling from his mouth to the sheet seemed as loud as the gunfire had been earlier.

  Silence hung stagnant in the air as the old man’s hand slid along her arm and came to rest on the bed.

  Wolf watched Molly for a long while. He wanted to touch her, comfort her, but he wasn’t sure she’d welcome him interfering in her private grief.

  Slowly, she pulled her feelings close around her. Her back straightened and her chin lifted. She’d not share her grief any more than she shared her life.

  She stood, tucking the covers around Ephraim as if he were only sleeping. “If you’ll tell Miller he has work, Captain, I’ll dress. I’ll have to ask you to watch Callie Ann while I make arrangements. There is no need for Ephraim to lie in state. No one knew him in this town. As soon as I can find a preacher and have the grave dug, we’ll have a service.”

  Most folks would have been shocked by her cool manner, but Wolf saw the general’s daughter in her once again. How many times during the war had she watched her father do what had to be done without time to allow feelings to interfere? How many times had she pushed her own needs aside to do what she had to do? She’d grown up in the hospitals of war. She’d grown up around death.

  As she turned to leave, she flinched with pain, but didn’t make a sound.

  Wolf lifted her off the ground and moved to the kitchen. “Your foot’s bleeding,” he said as he sat her on the counter. “You should have said something.”

  She watched, disinterested, as blood trickled from her foot.

  Wolf pumped enough water to dampen a towel and wrapped it around the cut. Then he stepped into the drugstore and collected all the supplies he needed. When he returned, she was still sitting on the counter.

  As tenderly as he could, he checked the sole of her foot to make sure there was no glass left in the wound. With skill he cleaned the cut, then carefully wrapped a clean dry cloth around her foot.

  Callie Ann followed him from the store and sat watching while he did his best to doctor Molly. “A man shouldn’t see a lady’s feet before they’re married,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Wolf raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

  “That’s so. My grandma told me. I think it’s a law.”

  “Sounds like a good one to me,” Wolf answered. “After all, a woman who’ll show a man her feet will show him practically anything. The next thing he knows, he’ll be staring at her elbows or knees.”

  He finished tying the bandage and glanced at Callie Ann. “You stay here. I’ll carry Molly to the stairs, then you can help me clean up the glass.”

  Callie nodded as Wolf lifted Molly. He walked carefully across the floor. When he sat her on the first step, he whispered, “Don’t worry about the child or the store. I’ll keep her busy and run off any customers who wander in.”

  Molly smiled at him. “Thanks,” she whispered as she moved away. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I have to wash Ephraim’s body and give him a shave. He wouldn’t want to meet his Maker without passing muster.”

  “I’ll help if you like.”

  Molly shook her head.

  It was afternoon when Callie Ann walked between Wolf and Molly to the cemetery at the end of Congress Avenue. A preacher read from his Bible while huge raindrops plopped atop the box, which had been constructed with little skill or patience. Molly had dressed the old soldier in his Union blues. She placed a folded Stars and Stripes beneath his arm just before Miller lowered the coffin lid.

  Three mourners, a preacher, and the und
ertaker were all who attended the service. Ephraim’s death wouldn’t even be recorded in the paper, the Statesman. He died, as he had lived, a soldier on unfriendly ground.

  When the prayers were over, Wolf lifted Callie Ann in one arm and the three of them walked back toward town. If Molly noticed the rain, she made no comment. She seemed lost in her own thoughts. Wolf wrapped his leather coat around the child and let Molly set the pace. The low clouds brought an early dusk and the drizzling rain kept folks inside, giving the town a deserted look.

  Wolf wanted to ask her what her plans were now. He knew the main reason she’d come west was for Ephraim’s health. Or at least that was what she said. He couldn’t help but wonder if there weren’t other factors. Would she be going home now? Or staying? And could he let her go without saying anything to her?

  They stopped for an almost silent meal at the cafe. Callie Ann talked to Uncle Orson, telling him all about death and dying. Since she’d been to two funerals in as many weeks, she considered herself an expert.

  It was obvious the waitress thought Callie’s chatter a game they all played with the invisible relative. She set a place for the imaginary man and offered him dessert.

  Wolf thought of putting a stop to the game but decided tonight was not the night. And if Molly didn’t come out of her silent trance, he might start talking to Uncle Orson himself.

  Twice during the meal she reached for his hand and held it between both hers as if needing to hold to the living. Wolf read her thoughts and touched her as often as he could without causing others to notice.

  Wolf paid their bill and was about to walk out when Josh rushed into the cafe. “Captain,” he almost shouted with relief. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  “What is it?” Wolf automatically lifted the child to his arm.

  “You’d better come see for yourself.” Josh whispered now that everyone in the place was staring at him.

  Wolf followed Josh to Molly’s, but when she saw the open door, Molly bolted past them and ran inside.

  Powders and medicines, creams and crystals were scattered everywhere. All the shelves had been emptied to the floor in a multicolored pile, then Molly’s book of handwritten formulas had been carefully cut into tiny pieces and ground into the mixture.

  “They must have done this during the funeral,” Josh guessed. “Miller said he thought he saw someone moving around in here when he returned, but by the time we got here, they’d gone out the back door. Who would do this kind of thing, Captain, and on this day of all days?”

  If Wolf expected Molly to cry, he would have been disappointed. She picked up a piece of her formula book and gripped it in a fist.

  “I’ve had enough.” She said the words like an oath.

  “You going back home?” He wouldn’t blame her if she did.

  Molly looked up at him with almost a smile on her face. “No, Captain, I’ve decided to fight.”

  If he’d ever thought he loved this woman, he’d been mistaken. Compared to the intensity of his love for her now, all else had been a slight infatuation.

  She tossed the scrap of book down and said calmly, “Captain Hayward, may I have a few words with you in private?”

  Wolf handed Callie Ann over to Josh, who held her away from his body as if she were poisonous.

  Molly stepped onto the porch. The rain closed out the rest of the world, making Wolf feel they were alone even though they were in the middle of town.

  “Did you mean it when you said you’d help?”

  “I did.” He wondered how many men she wanted killed.

  “We are friends and must remain friends, no matter what I now ask, or how you answer.”

  “Agreed.” He studied her closely. He could almost see her logical mind plotting what must be done.

  “You said this morning you’d never marry because all you’d have to offer was a name. Well, Captain, I’m asking for that name. There is no one to protect me while I rebuild my business. Being a ranger’s wife might offer me that protection long enough for me to become prepared. I’ll ask nothing more of you except your name for a while.”

  Wolf was wrong. She wasn’t like her father, the general. She was ten times tougher. Any other woman he knew would be crying and running, but Molly was only looking for a shelter until she had time to regroup. She wasn’t deserting, she was merely retreating to prepare to fight another day.

  He leaned his head out into the sheet of rain coming off the porch roof. When he finally pulled back, his hair was plastered to his head. Her offer still rolled around in his brain. “Are you sure you want to ask me to marry you, Molly Donivan?”

  “I am,” she said as if she’d just been sworn in during a trial. “I offer no great bargain in exchange for the use of your name. You can store your gear here when you’re gone, and on the few days you make it into town, we’ll have dinner together. I’ll redo Ephraim’s room and have a bed built that will fit your size, so you’ll have somewhere comfortable to sleep.”

  Wolf watched her pace the porch, talking more to herself than him. “Oh, I’ll never dishonor your name. Should you die in the line of your duty, I’ll see that you’re buried properly.”

  Wolf wiped his face with the dry sleeve of his shirt. “And how long do you plan to be needing my name, Miss Donivan?”

  “A few months—six at the most—but if you agree to the marriage you can set the date for it to end.”

  “All right. I agree to the marriage on those terms. I set the date for it to end.”

  She hesitated for the first time. “I’ll change clothes while you get the preacher, if it’s agreeable. I’ll not be married in black, even if the marriage is in name only.”

  Wolf smiled. “I’d better hurry. After all, I’ve already seen your feet.”

  Molly didn’t laugh as she turned and marched back into her store.

  Wolf didn’t even notice the rain as he stepped into the mud and headed for the church. After all, he was marrying his Molly for as long as he wanted. Out of the blue, she’d made the offer and he had no intention of giving her time to change her mind.

  SEVEN

  WOLF FELT HE WAS PLOWING UPSTREAM IN TEN FEET of water as he fought the rain, trying to get back to Molly’s place. He’d had to wake up three preachers before he found one who’d brave the weather for a wedding. Reverend Ford was Baptist. He should be used to services under water, Wolf laughed to himself. Ford probably figured he could count this as both a wedding and a baptism at the same time.

  “You all right?” Wolf yelled to the thin man at his side. The preacher’s clothes flapped like sails in the wind.

  “March on, Brother Hayward. March on.” Ford looked like a man who’d never let a little storm slow him from doing the Lord’s work. Or collecting the ten-dollar fee he charged for unplanned weddings after dark.

  Wolf smiled. He enjoyed preachers. He considered himself kin to the McLain family his sister, Nichole, married into after the war. One of the McLains was a preacher. Daniel McLain, the kindest man he’d ever met. Who knows, if Molly agreed, he might take her to meet Daniel’s little family. Daniel taught at a college not more than a hard day’s ride from Austin. His wife, Karlee, had just given birth to the second set of McLain twins.

  Wolf had always considered his sister, Nichole, his only kin. But that was before he met the McLain brothers. Adam, Wes, and Daniel had sworn him into their family, and he knew he’d always be thought of as blood related.

  When he had time, Wolf would set Molly down and tell her about them. She’d understand Adam with his skilled, healing hands. And Wes would charm her as soon as she got past his scarred face. She’d like the McLain women, too. They were all strong like his Molly. Nichole had strapped on a gun belt more than once to stand beside her husband in a fight.

  Wolf smiled, thinking of the children, some adopted, some born into the McLains. They made family get-togethers ring with laughter.

  The thought of him and Molly not having any children made Wolf forget the rain.
She might have done the asking, but she’d made it plain she didn’t want anything but his name. She wasn’t offering her bed. All she needed was a temporary solution to a serious problem.

  She probably wouldn’t be around long enough to even meet the friends he thought of as family. There’d be no children, no holidays in a marriage measured in weeks.

  He told himself he didn’t care. He’d take his Molly on whatever terms she offered. He told himself nothing mattered but keeping her safe. No one would dare bother her while she wore his ring.

  His ring! Damn, he didn’t have a ring.

  “You want to slow down some?” Reverend Ford yelled. “I ain’t never seen a man in such a hurry to get married.”

  Wolf stopped so suddenly, the preacher ran into him.

  “I forgot the ring!” he yelled over the storm.

  Before the preacher could stop him, Wolf waded across the street, now floating a foot deep in mud. “I’ll be right back!” he yelled as he glanced back to see Ford huddle underneath a tin awning over a law office window. The rain wasn’t cold, just wet. Which made it all the more bothersome, to Wolf’s way of thinking. A man would have sense enough to come in out of a cold rain, but a rain like this didn’t stop anyone.

  Three businesses down the street, he found a mercantile advertising everything from feed to spectacles. He pounded on the door until the owner answered. Ten minutes later, with a ring in his pocket and mud caked halfway up his legs, Wolf rejoined the pastor.

  They continued down the street without a word until they reached Molly’s place.

  When Wolf stomped into the drugstore, shedding water like a fully primed pump, she didn’t say a word. She stood at the foot of the stairs in parade dress. Her tailored red jacket and matching gloves could have been a uniform, for there was no softness of lace or gathering. She wore a hat that reminded Wolf of a drawing he saw once of Napoleon. She looked a general’s daughter from the top of her head to the shine on her black boots. He wasn’t sure whether she planned to wed or go to war.