Page 13 of Wild Spirit Revival (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #1)

Elijah stood abruptly, then caught himself, remembering his manners. “I’m sorry, Molly. I don’t mean to cut our time short, but… I need to ask Ma about the letter.”

She waved off his apology with a smile. “I understand. Family comes first.”

Before leaving the Golden Griddle, he stopped at his sister’s table, whispering in her ear. Annalee glanced across the table at Brodie before nodding.

Outside, they walked toward the Mystic Hotel. Elijah found himself sharing his worries about Cody with Molly.

“He’s been out there alone for so long.” His voice sounded rougher than usual. “Chasing ghosts and living with his anger. I just hope…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Molly, sensing his distress, did something that surprised them both. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Elijah looked down at their joined hands, feeling a warmth spread through him. For a moment, the worry about Cody faded, replaced by a connection he hadn’t expected to feel with this city girl who’d stumbled into his life.

As they approached the hotel, Elijah realized he didn’t want to let go. As much as he felt the pull to stay longer, he had to get back to the ranch and talk to his mother about Cody’s letter. With reluctance, he released her hand.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Molly smiled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Anytime, Elijah. I hope you’re able to learn more about your brother.”

Elijah paused at the entrance of the hotel. He turned to Molly, his eyes softening as he gazed at her.

“I appreciate your company today.” He touched the brim of his hat, his voice low and sincere. “It was… unexpected, but mighty welcome.”

Molly’s lips curved into a smile. “I enjoyed it, too. More than I thought I would, truth be told.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Elijah’s stony features. As he walked away, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about Cody, the letter, and unexpectedly, about the feel of Molly O’Sullivan’s hand in his own.

As Elijah rode back to Wild Spirit Ranch with Annalee, the rhythmic clip-clop of their horses’ hooves provided a steady backdrop to his swirling thoughts. The vast expanse of Mystic Valley stretched out before them, but Elijah didn’t notice the familiar beauty.

“You’re awfully quiet, Eli,” Annalee remarked, breaking the silence. “More so than usual, I mean.”

He grunted, shifting in his saddle. “Just thinking.” It wasn’t only Cody occupying his thoughts. An image of Molly, her eyes sparkling with laughter, kept pushing its way to the forefront of his mind.

“And?” Annalee pressed, sensing there was more.

“Did you know Ma got a letter from Cody?”

“What? No. She never said anything to me.”

“Molly told me Nathan was given a letter to deliver to Ma. Nathan told Molly it was from Cody.”

She shook her head. “That can’t be right. Ma would’ve told us.”

“Unless Cody asked her not to.”

Digesting this, they rode on for several minutes before Annalee questioned him again. “What else is weighing on your mind?”

Elijah sighed, knowing his sister wouldn’t let up. “Miss O’Sullivan.”

Her eyebrows shot up, surprised he’d admit his fascination for the photographer from Chicago. “I thought you couldn’t stand her.”

“So did I,” he muttered, more to himself than to Annalee. He fell silent again, pondering why this city girl had gotten under his skin. She was everything he tried to avoid. Talkative, stubborn, and far too independent for his liking. And yet he couldn’t shove her from his mind.

“There’s something about her,” he found himself saying. “Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Annalee smiled. “Never thought I’d see the day when Elijah Beckett was captivated by a woman.”

Elijah scowled at his sister, but there was no real heat behind it. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

As they approached the ranch, he couldn’t shake the feeling his future had shifted. Whether it was the mysterious letter from Cody or his unexpected connection with Molly, Elijah sensed change was coming to Mystic Valley. And for once, the prospect didn’t displease him.

As they rode past the familiar boulders indicating the entrance to Wild Spirit Ranch, the familiar scent of sage and horses filled the air. The evening light painted shadows across the weathered buildings and corrals of their homestead.

As they approached the house, she broke the silence. “You gonna ask Ma about Cody’s letter?”

His jaw tightened. “I’ve been thinking about it. Reckon I will.”

They dismounted, and as he led his horse to the barn, he spotted a familiar figure emerging from the house. Naomi Beckett, her brown hair streaked with gray, strode toward them.

“There you are,” she called out, her voice carrying a hint of worry. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d decided to move to town permanently.”

Elijah couldn’t help smiling. “No chance of that, Ma. We had some business to attend to.”

Naomi’s keen eyes studied her son’s face. “And did this business have anything to do with that photographer from Chicago?”

Annalee snickered, earning a sharp look from Elijah. He turned back to his mother. “Partly. There’s something else we need to discuss.”

Naomi’s expression grew serious. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “It’s about Cody. I understand he sent you a letter.”

She stared at him, not showing a trace of guilt. “You heard right.”

“Were you planning to share the news with the rest of the family?”

“I hadn’t decided.”

The knot in Elijah’s stomach tightened. “Ma… don’t you think we’d like to know where he is, if he’s safe, and if he’s coming home?”

“I can tell you he’s safe. Cody also located the men who killed Miriam and Sophia.”

Annalee stepped closer. “Did he kill them?”

“He didn’t say.”

“What about coming home?” Annalee persisted.

Naomi sighed. “The letter wasn’t clear. He knows how much we want him to return. The boy has to decide for himself.”

As they walked up the steps to the house, a distant rumble of thunder echoed across the valley. Elijah glanced at the darkening sky, a chill running down his spine. Whatever storm was brewing, he had a sinking feeling it was about more than the weather.

Molly stood at the edge of Mystic at sunrise, her camera forgotten as she gazed out at the vast expanse of the Montana frontier. She’d pulled her strawberry blonde hair into a braid, yet the wind whipped errant strands across her face. Brushing them away, she inhaled the pleasant scent of prairie grass mixed with sage.

She’d planned this for the last week. Her idea was to take pictures of July Fourth, starting with the sunrise and ending with the fireworks. Looking out at the endless horizon, her doubts returned.

“What am I doing here?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the rustling grass. The question had been gnawing at her for days, growing louder with each passing moment. She’d left behind the comforts of Chicago, the security of her family’s home, and the familiarity of city life. For what? A dream of adventure? The allure of the unknown?

Molly set her hand on the stand holding her camera, the familiar wood frame a stark reminder of her purpose. Yet, as she looked out at the untamed wilderness before her, doubt crept in like a shadow.

“I don’t belong here,” she muttered, her words tinged with a mix of frustration and longing. “This isn’t my world. I’m not cut out for this life.”

Images of Chicago’s bustling streets and elegant parties flashed through her mind, a stark contrast to the rugged simplicity of Mystic. She could almost hear her mother’s voice gently chiding her for this foolish adventure.

“Maybe I should go back,” Molly said, her voice wavering. “Back to civilization, back to where I understand the rules.”

But even as the words left her lips, something inside her rebelled against the idea. She thought of the photographs she’d taken, the raw beauty she’d captured through her lens. The frontier had a wildness, a freedom that both terrified and exhilarated her.

Her thoughts drifted to Elijah Beckett, and her heart quickened. His forceful presence and quiet strength had drawn her in, despite her best efforts to maintain her independence.

“Oh, Elijah,” she sighed. “Why do you have to complicate things?”

The mere thought of him sent a shiver down her spine, a confusing blend of attraction and apprehension. Molly closed her eyes, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions.

“I can’t let myself fall for him,” she said firmly, as if speaking the words aloud would make them true. “I came here to be independent, to make my own way. Not to… not to…”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. The idea of a relationship with Elijah thrilled her one moment and terrified her the next. He represented everything she’d learned about this new world. Rugged, unpredictable, drawing her in with intense passion.

“But what if I’m not strong enough for this life? What if I’m not cut out to be a frontier woman?”

The sun rose over the horizon, signaling the time had come to pack away her camera and make her way back to the hotel. Elijah would be arriving soon, and she wanted to be ready.

Molly stood there, caught between two worlds, her heart torn between the familiar comforts of her past and the wild promise of her future. The Montana wind swirled around her, as if urging her to make a choice, to embrace the unknown or retreat to safety.

Molly O’Sullivan stood on the precipice of decision, her life balanced on the edge of a new frontier.

Her fingers tightened into fists at her sides. She took a deep breath, the crisp Montana air filling her lungs and steeling her resolve.

“No,” she said aloud, her voice firm. “I didn’t come all this way to turn back now.”

With renewed determination, Molly returned to the hotel, carrying her camera box with both hands. She stopped at the front desk and asked to see their map of the Pacific Northwest. Her eyes traced the route of the railroad to Seattle, her mind already composing the shots she’d capture along the way. The rugged Cascades and the misty shores of Puget Sound. Each image would be a testament to her growth and bravery.

I’ll prove I belong out here, she thought, plotting her journey. To everyone else and to myself.

Satisfied, she lugged her camera upstairs to her room. Changing her clothes, she redid her braid. A knock at her door startled her from her planning. She opened it to find Elijah Beckett, his tall frame filling the doorway.

“Molly,” he said, his voice clipped but not unkind. “The celebrations are starting soon.”

Her heart skipped. “I’m ready. Thank you for offering to escort me today.”

Elijah picked up her camera case, motioning for her to precede him down the stairs. As they walked toward Mystic’s main square, Molly found herself stealing glances at Elijah. His strong profile was illuminated by the rising sun, and she itched to capture it on film.

“You seem different today,” Elijah observed, breaking the silence.

She smiled. “I’ve made some decisions. About my future.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I’m continuing on to Seattle after I photograph Yellowstone,” she explained, her voice gaining confidence with each word. “This journey is important to me. I need to see it through.”

“It’s an admirable goal. Takes guts to forge your own path. Especially out here, where danger is always close by.”

As they neared the festivities, the air filled with laughter and music. Molly felt a warmth spread through her chest, realizing she was genuinely looking forward to celebrating with these people. And with Elijah.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For understanding.”

Elijah’s hand brushed hers, sending a jolt through her. “Reckon we’re not so different, you and I,” he murmured. “Both of us trying to carve out our place in this wild country.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the celebration faded away. In their shared glance, she saw a glimpse of a future she hadn’t dared to imagine. Perhaps a future where her independence and her growing feelings for Elijah might coexist.