Page 10 of Wild Spirit Revival (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #1)

Molly carefully adjusted her tripod early in the morning two days later. Bending, she looked through the lens of her camera, poised to capture the essence of the boys’ lives.

“All right, Samuel,” Molly called out. “Stand there by the barn door. Yes. That’s good.”

He shifted from foot to foot. “Miss Molly, I’ve never had my picture taken.”

Straightening away from her camera, she offered him a reassuring smile. “There’s nothing to worry about. Tell me, what’s your favorite part of working on the ranch?”

As Samuel’s face lit up, Molly quickly bent down again to look through the lens, capturing the genuine enthusiasm on the boy’s face.

“I guess it’s working with the horses,” he replied, his posture relaxing. “There’s this one mare, Starlight. She’s got a fierce temper, but she’s startin’ to warm up to me.”

Molly quickly exchanged plates and took another image. “That’s wonderful. How did you manage to gain her trust?”

As he launched into his tale, Molly changed plates and took one more photograph, her keen eye catching the subtle shift in his expression. When developed, she knew the image would show the pride in his accomplishments, as well as the lingering uncertainty of a boy forced to grow up too fast.

“You know, Miss Molly, before I came here, I never thought I’d amount to much. My pa, he…” His voice trailed off, eyes clouding with painful memories.

She gave him her full attention. “It’s all right, Samuel. You don’t have to share anything you’re not comfortable with.”

He swallowed hard. “Pa always said I was good for nothing. But here, with the Becketts and the other boys, I’m startin’ to think maybe he was wrong.”

Molly felt a lump form in her throat, touched by the boy’s vulnerability. “I want you to know something. The way you’ve connected with Starlight takes patience and kindness. Those are rare qualities, and they make you very special indeed.”

Over the next few hours, Molly worked her way through the ranch, photographing and interviewing each of the boys. With every story she heard, her admiration for these resilient young souls grew. Each boy had a unique tale, a testament to their strength and the second chance Wild Spirit Ranch had given them.

Later in the afternoon, Molly developed the plates in a room with only one small window, which she covered with a thick blanket. As the images came to life, she felt a tear running down her cheek. She’d captured the heart of each boy.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Molly found herself sitting on the porch steps with Elijah. In her hand, she held images of each boy. One at a time, she handed them to Elijah.

He studied each one. “These are good, Molly.” Going through them again, he handed them back. “You did good by them.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity.” Her voice was filled with genuine gratitude. “These boys, their stories… they’re incredible.”

He nodded, his expression softened by the fading light. “They’re good boys, all of them. They just needed a chance to prove it.”

“Elijah, how do you do it? Carry the weight of all their pasts, their hopes?”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains. “Truth is, some days, I wonder if we’re doing a good job.”

“You and your family are doing more than you realize. Those boys deserve a decent chance in life, and you’re providing it. Don’t ever doubt how much the boys appreciate what they have here.”

Late the next afternoon, Elijah shoveled loose hay into the press used to make small bales. Parker helped by pulling out the finished bales and stacking them. It was a process, and it strained their muscles. The reward came when all the bales were stacked and easier to move by wagon to far reaches of the ranch.

From Elijah’s vantage point, he could see Molly seated on a weathered wooden crate, listening to one of young Gavin’s animated tales.

Pausing, he swiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He’d been skeptical of Molly’s project at first, but watching her now, he couldn’t deny the genuine interest in her eyes. She nodded, encouraging Gavin as he spoke.

“Sounds to me you showed the ornery steer who’s boss, didn’t you?” Her laughter carried on the evening breeze, warm and infectious.

Gavin beamed, chest puffing with pride. “Yes, ma’am. Elijah says I’m a natural with the lasso now.”

Elijah’s lips twitched in a rare smile. He’d never seen the boys so eager to share their stories. Molly had a way of drawing them out, making them feel heard and valued.

As if sensing his gaze, Molly glanced up, meeting Elijah’s gaze. She offered a slight wave, and he found himself nodding in acknowledgment before returning to his task.

“Eli!” Joshua’s voice rang out as he approached on horseback early the following morning. “I’m heading into town to meet with Miss Goodell. Need anything while I’m there?”

Elijah shook his head. “We’re set here. How long will you be?”

Joshua dismounted, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Oh, I expect I’ll be back before supper. Just need to discuss the rustler incident and the Fourth of July plans.”

“Right.” Elijah eyed his brother. “And I’m sure Faith doesn’t play a part in your trip.”

Joshua’s cheeks reddened. “Now, Eli, you know it’s not like that. Faith—Miss Goodell, I mean—she’s just… we’re just…”

Elijah clasped his brother on the shoulder. “Go on. Don’t keep the lady waiting.”

As Joshua rode off toward Mystic, Elijah found his gaze drifting back to Molly. She was sitting next to Little Joe, her hand on the boy’s shoulder. Something stirred in Elijah’s chest, a feeling he couldn’t quite define. It stayed with him the rest of the day and into supper, where he stared across the table to watch her.

After lunch, Elijah walked alongside Molly as the sun rose high above the western mountains. Taking a path around the corrals, their hands brushed together, and for an instant, he almost laced his fingers with hers.

“I never thought I’d say this,” Elijah admitted, breaking the silence. “I’m starting to understand why you’re so keen on capturing these boys’ stories.”

“Oh? And what brought about this change of heart?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains. “Seeing you with them. You’ve got a way of seeing past the surface, I suppose. And you listen well. Sometimes, the boys just need someone to hear them out. You get them to feel good about themselves.”

“That’s the heart of photography. It’s not only about what you see but what you feel. How the subject feels.”

They walked on, the silence between them comfortable. As they continued around the barn, Elijah spoke again. “What made you want to become a photographer?”

Her pace slowed, her expression thoughtful. “I’ve always been fascinated by stories. Everyone has tales to tell and tales they keep hidden. Photography somehow peels away the layers. It’s a way to preserve special moments, truths that might otherwise be lost.”

He nodded, surprising himself with his genuine interest. “And your family? They support this unconventional path?”

A shadow passed over Molly’s face. “Not entirely. My sisters have more traditional aspirations. And my parents…” She trailed off, then squared her shoulders. “But this is my dream, and I intend to see it through.”

As they turned back toward the ranch house, Elijah found himself seeing Miss Molly O’Sullivan in a new light. Her determination and passion were qualities he couldn’t help admiring, even if he’d never admit it aloud.

Joshua pushed open the door to the Mystic Gazette office, the scent of paper and ink filling his nostrils. His heart quickened at the sight of Faith Goodell, bent over her desk, golden hair twisted into a braid and falling down her back to her waist.

“Evening, Faith,” Joshua said, tipping his hat.

She looked up, her stomach fluttering as a smile spread across her face. “Joshua. What a pleasant surprise. I’m finishing up an article on the opening of the apothecary.”

“I heard about it. I have another story you might consider printing.” Placing his hat on a table, he pulled a chair closer to the desk where she worked.

“So, tell me your idea.”

“Rustlers hit us and Tripp Lassiter’s ranch. Took about fifty head from each of us and rode to Flatrock.”

“In Black Canyon?”

He nodded. “Eli, Nathan, and I rode with Tripp and two of his men. We found the cattle holed up in a pasture surrounded by cliffs not far from Flatrock. They had guards posted. Tripp drew their attention while the rest of us drove off the herd.”

“Do you think the rustlers will return?”

Shrugging, he shifted closer to rest his arms on her desk. “I’d bet on it.”

Faith pursed her lips, nodding. “It’s a great story. I have enough space to put it right on the first page.”

“It’s important the town and other ranchers know about the threat to them and their cattle.”

“Give me a minute to review my notes.”

As she wrote, his gaze wandered over her, as drawn to her now as when they’d sat next to each other in the schoolhouse. He’d known her forever, yet still got a thrill when he saw her.

“So, about a hundred head of cattle?”

“Yep.”

“Any idea how many rustlers?”

“We don’t know. My guess is about a dozen.”

“All right. I have what I need. Thanks for riding into town to tell me what happened.” She looked away for a moment before looking back at him. “It’s good to see you, Josh.”

Standing, he leaned his hip against her desk. “I should’ve ridden in sooner. The truth is, I was hoping we might discuss the upcoming Fourth of July celebration. I thought perhaps—”

The office door swung open, cutting off Joshua’s words. Attorney Braxton Reed strode in, his crisp suit a stark contrast to Joshua’s dusty ranch wear.

“Faith,” Braxton said, barely acknowledging Joshua’s presence. “I’ve finalized our plans for the Fourth. I’ve reserved the best seats for the fireworks display. And I put our names in for a table where we can eat. I hate tossing out blankets and sitting on the ground.”

Joshua’s stomach dropped, his invitation dying on his lips. Faith’s eyes darted between the two men, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—crossing her features.

“That’s wonderful, Braxton,” she said, her voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. She turned to Joshua, her expression apologetic. “Josh. I’m sorry, you were saying?”

He straightened, forcing a polite smile. “It’s nothing important, Faith. I should be getting back to the ranch. Good evening to you both.”

As Joshua stepped out into the cooling evening air, he couldn’t shake the weight of disappointment settling in his chest. He mounted his horse, casting one last glance at the newspaper office before turning toward home.

Molly O’Sullivan stood on the porch of Wild Spirit Ranch not long after sunup. Her camera and equipment were already packed and loaded onto the buggy, along with her personal belongings. She gazed out at the sprawling landscape, committing every detail to memory.

“It’s time,” Elijah’s gruff voice came from behind her.

She turned, her eyes meeting his. “I suppose it is,” she said softly, a hint of regret in her tone. “I can’t thank you enough, Elijah. Your help has been invaluable.”

He shifted, unused to praise. “I’m glad you came. Glad you spoke with the boys,” he muttered.

As they walked toward the barn where the boys were gathered, Molly’s mind filled with memories of her time at the ranch. She’d come seeking a story and found so much more.

“Boys,” Elijah called out, his voice carrying across the yard. “Miss O’Sullivan is ready to leave.”

The young ranch hands gathered around, their faces a mix of emotions. Molly felt a lump form in her throat as she looked at each of them in turn.

“I want you all to know how grateful I am,” she began, her voice wavering. “Your stories, your strength, touched me more than I can say.”

Gavin stepped forward. “Will you come back, Miss Molly?”

“I hope so, Gavin. When I do, I’ll bring the photographs for all of you.”

Looking away, she caught Elijah watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, their eyes locked, and Molly felt a flutter in her chest.

“Your horse is saddled, Eli,” Little Joe said, swiping a tear away.

“Thought I’d ride with you to the boundary.” His voice was gruff, but his eyes were softer than usual.

As they set off, a comfortable silence settled between them. The rhythmic clop of hooves and creak of the buggy’s wheels filled the air.

After a while, Molly spoke. “I never thought I’d say this, Elijah, but I’m going to miss this place.”

His lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “The ranch will miss you, too, Miss Molly O’Sullivan.”

They reached the northern boundary, marked by an old, gnarled oak tree. Molly pulled the buggy to a stop, her heart heavy.

“Well,” Elijah said, dismounting. “This is where we part ways.”

Molly climbed down from the buggy, standing face to face with the taciturn rancher. “Thank you, Elijah. For everything.”

For a moment, it seemed as though Elijah might say something more. Instead, he nodded, his gaze intense. “Safe travels, Molly.”

Climbing back into the buggy, she slapped the reins. Heading toward Mystic, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was leaving a piece of herself behind at Wild Spirit Ranch.

Elijah watched the buggy disappear over the horizon, his expression belying the turmoil within. He turned his horse back toward Wild Spirit Ranch, the vast expanse of Montana stretching before him.

As he rode, Elijah’s thoughts drifted to Molly. Her vibrant presence had stirred something in him, something he’d long thought dormant. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts.

“No use dwelling on it,” he muttered to himself, urging his horse along the trail.