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“Stubborn as ever.” Molly managed a weak smile.

“That’s a good sign.” Naomi handed the bowl to Elijah and took Molly’s hand. “This will taste awful, but it’ll help. Doctor Wainwright knows his stuff.”

Elijah held the bowl to Molly’s lips. She hesitated, then drank the thick, green mixture in a single, desperate gulp. Her face contorted in disgust.

“Poison would be sweeter,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Naomi laughed. “If you can complain, you’re on the mend. Now rest. We’ll take care of everything.” Naomi shot a look at her son before leaving the room while Elijah lingered.

“Elijah,” Molly said, stopping him as he turned to go. “My equipment… and the wagon and horses…”

He paused, facing her. “Cody and a few men will head to the mountains tomorrow morning. The trail should be cooled off enough for them to search.”

“Thank you. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“It’s no trouble. Don’t worry about the horses. If they’re on the mountain, Cody will find them.”

She watched him leave, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, then turned her gaze to the ceiling. She didn’t believe him, but it was nice to hear all the same.

The days passed with a slow, aching monotony. Molly’s strength began to return, bit by bit. She started taking small steps around the room, then the hallway, always with someone from the Beckett clan nearby. Elijah was the most constant, though Jolene and Naomi made sure she was never alone.

On the fifth day, Grayson and Jolene entered the house after a trip to town, her face flushed with excitement. As usual, his features were unreadable. Molly was seated at the kitchen table, picking at a bowl of broth.

“We’ve retrieved your belongings,” Jolene announced, holding up a familiar satchel. “And you’ll never guess what we found.”

Grayson held up a newspaper.

“You’re famous.” Jolene grinned.

Molly’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

Grayson handed the paper to Jolene. “It’s the Mystic Gazette,” she said. “There’s an article about you and your photographs. Says you’re a pioneering artist who’s documenting her westward journey.”

Molly’s heart quickened. “Let me see!”

Jolene held it just out of Molly’s reach. “We should wait for Elijah. He’ll want to hear this.”

Molly sank back in her chair, crossing her arms. “You lot are worse than my sisters.”

Jolene shrugged, unrepentant. “We’re a curious bunch.”

Elijah walked in, wiping his hands on a rag. “What’s all the yelling?”

Jolene thrust the newspaper at him. “Read this. It’s about Molly.”

He took the paper, his expression unreadable as he scanned the article. The room fell silent, all eyes on him. After a long moment, he looked up at Molly.

Molly’s eyes burned with curiosity. “What is it? What does it say?”

Elijah cleared his throat, his gaze flickering over the newspaper before settling on Molly.

“Mystic’s Unexpected Luminary: The Remarkable Miss O’Sullivan.” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Molly’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. “Me? But…”

Elijah continued, his deep voice filling the room. “In an unexpected turn of events, our humble town of Mystic has found itself host to a rising star in the world of photography. Miss Molly O’Sullivan, whose breathtaking images of the American West have gained recognition in publications from Montana to Chicago.”

He glanced up, noting the flush of color in Molly’s cheeks. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of embarrassment and pride.