Love on the Range (Brothers in Arms #3)(69)

Wyatt touched her shoulder. She ducked away. His hand followed and rested on her as she shook. The strength of it might hold her together when she seemed about to fall apart.

“He killed her. And you walked in on it?”

Nodding, she didn’t think more words could come free.

“And you’ve never told anyone? Kevin had to know.” His hand, steady and strong.

Kevin, her big brother. Her kind brother who’d done everything he could to protect her. “I wanted to tell him. I knew I should go to the sheriff and confess. But Kevin’s need to protect me was so strong I was afraid he might insist he’d pulled the trigger. He might convince the sheriff to arrest him instead of me. He might’ve been the one to hang. He might’ve laid down his life.”

“No greater love, that sounds like Kevin.” Wyatt hung on to her but not so tight she couldn’t talk.

“He came running in from outside only seconds after it happened. He’d heard the shot. I was standing there, holding the gun. Pa dead next to Ma. I didn’t know she was dead then, but Kevin checked.” Inhaling a jagged breath, she said, “He said, ‘I’ll bury them. Don’t let Andy see this.’ And then he dragged them outside. I heard Andy and rushed to him to keep him in bed. Kevin loaded Ma and Pa over two horses and rode away. I never saw them again. Once Andy settled back to sleep, I cleaned up the blood, and that was the end of it.”

“Kevin never asked about what happened? And he never told you where they were buried?”

Shaking her head, she said, “He had to guess I’d shot Pa, but it was like those bodies. We buried it. We never spoke of it. No one missed them or asked after either of them. Ma never went to town. Pa was hated and feared because he rode with the night riders. No one even knew they were gone.” Molly slid her hands into her hair. “It’s too much like the story of Hawkins’s parents. And we’re talking about hanging him.”

Wyatt’s arms closed around her, and it brought her back from the ugly past. She couldn’t decide if he wanted her still, or if he was comforting her before he said goodbye. If he didn’t say it, she would.





Twenty-Nine




Molly, I—” Wyatt started but then shoved her away.

He took one second to see she was devastated, but there was no time to explain. He heard hooves on the trail, but not the one right near them. The sound came from the side of the cabin. “Hush, someone’s coming.”

He got on his knees behind the boulder and saw Cheyenne across from him down the trail a ways, just before the clearing.

Their eyes met. She nodded and jerked her head toward the cabin to tell him she heard the riders, too. Then they both ducked out of sight.

Molly had a gun. He now knew she was familiar with them. Shuddering, he wondered what it did to a woman to carry that kind of secret for so many years. He wondered if she was capable of loving a husband.

She was on her knees, gun drawn, well below the top of the boulder. Her eyes open, ears listening, but staying out of sight to any riders.

The clopping of horses, two critters, Wyatt was sure. Two? How did Hawkins find someone to partner up with? One brother, Clovis, dead. The other, Randall, locked up. Wyatt slipped sideways to peer between the thick but leafless bushes, then gasped and jerked his head back. He clapped his hand over Molly’s mouth when she looked at him in wild confusion. He shook his head and touched the muzzle of his gun to his lips, then released Molly’s mouth. As if she were the one who’d made a noise.

The horses came on. Wyatt stayed down. He’d considering jumping out as they rode into the clearing, getting the drop on them, trusting Cheyenne to do the same. But that was before he’d seen who it was.

Four people.

Two of them Win and Rachel. Though Hawkins and Kingston rode easy, they both had a gun in hand. And no threat of “stop or I’ll shoot” would be believed when that put Win and Rachel in the cross fire.

The horses came around to the hitching post at the front of the house. Wyatt peeked out on the side of the boulder toward the clearing. He just didn’t know what to do. He should have attacked. He should have shot both of them in the back once they’d turned their horses to hitch them. The bullet probably wouldn’t go through them to hit the women who rode in front of them.

Shooting someone in the back was the act of a coward. But he should have done something.

He could have charged out of the woods and sprinted across that clearing while they faced away, jumped up, and pulled one man off his horse, left the other to Cheyenne. Tough as she was, he didn’t like the idea of her tangling with an armed killer. But Win might’ve helped. Rachel appeared to be unconscious.

Where were Falcon, John, and Sheriff Corly? Then it hit him—where was Kevin? He’d been in town. Was he dead? He had to be, or these two would’ve never gotten the women away from him.

Wyatt had thought Falcon was dead the day Falcon, Kevin, Molly, and Andy had descended on the ranch. Then for a time Kevin and Win had been missing, and they’d feared the worst.

Now Wyatt’s stomach twisted with the fear that Kevin might’ve been shot in what had to be a jailbreak.

Wyatt was sick of all this trouble. He wanted to go back to busting broncs and dodging angry bulls. That’s the kind of peaceful, quiet life he loved.

With the men’s backs to them, dismounting, dragging their prisoners down, Wyatt stepped out from behind the boulder, his grip unshakeable on Molly’s arm, and darted across the trail to Cheyenne’s side.