Page 17 of Wild Spirit Revival (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #1)

The Beckett family gathered around the weathered oak table, plates piled high with steaming stew and fresh-baked biscuits. Laughter filled the air, punctuated by the clink of silverware against ceramic. Molly sat between Elijah’s sisters, her eyes glistening as she regaled them with tales of past newspaper articles.

“And then,” Molly said, barely containing her mirth, “the mayor’s prize pig escaped right in the middle of his speech.”

The table erupted in laughter. Even Elijah joined in with a deep chuckle. He found his gaze drawn to Molly, marveling at how she fit with his family. Her presence seemed to soften the rough edges of their frontier life.

“Molly, dear,” Naomi said. “You must write about this for the Mystic Gazette. I’m sure Faith would love to publish it.”

Elijah nodded in agreement. “You’ve got a real talent for storytelling, Molly. I’m sure Faith will recognize it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Elijah tensed, worried he’d revealed too much. Busying himself with his plate of stew, he stole glances at Molly from beneath his lashes. The candlelight caught the gold in her hair, and he found himself wanting to slide his fingers through each strand.

“Elijah Beckett,” Molly teased, her eyes twinkling. “Was that almost a compliment?”

He cleared his throat, fighting the urge to reach across the table and take her hand. “Just stating facts, Miss O’Sullivan. No need to get a big head about it.”

His siblings snickered, and Elijah felt a flush creeping up his neck. He’d never been one for flowery words or grand gestures, but something about Molly made him want to try.

As the meal progressed, he found himself leaning in whenever Molly spoke, hanging on her every word. He caught himself pushing the last biscuit onto her plate, earning a raised eyebrow from his observant mother.

“Molly, how long do you plan on staying in Mystic?” Grayson asked.

The question hung in the air, and Elijah felt his heart skip a beat. He held his breath, waiting for her answer, all the while scolding himself for caring so much.

Molly’s eyes met Elijah’s across the table, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. “Well, I’m finding I quite like it here. I might stick around for a while.”

As the family dispersed after supper, Elijah found himself wandering out to the porch, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. The evening air was cool against his skin, carrying the scent of grass and distant pine. He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the darkening horizon.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Molly’s voice startled him from his reverie.

Elijah turned, drinking in the sight of her silhouetted against the light spilling from the house. “Might not be worth much,” he replied, his tone gruff.

She stepped closer, her skirts rustling softly. “Oh, I doubt that. You Becketts are full of surprises.”

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “That so?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, joining him at the railing. “For instance, I never pegged you for a biscuit thief.”

He felt heat creep up his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” She bumped her shoulder against his.

The casual touch sent a jolt through him, and he found himself wrestling with a surge of longing. He wanted to pull her close, to tell her how she’d upended his carefully ordered world. Instead, he gripped the railing tighter, his knuckles white.

“Molly,” he began, his voice rough with emotion, “what you said at supper… about staying…”

She turned to face him, her expression serious. “I meant it. I know I came here just to take photographs, but…” She paused, searching his face. “There’s something about this place. About the people.”

His heart thundered in his chest. “The people, huh?”

Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Some more than others.”

They stood there, the air between them charged with unspoken possibilities. He found himself leaning in, drawn by an irresistible force. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath catching.

“Eli!” The screen door banged open. “Ma needs help with the—” Annalee’s voice cut off abruptly. “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Elijah straightened, clearing his throat. “You didn’t,” he answered, even as his pulse raced. He glanced at Molly, saw the flush on her cheeks, the slight tremble of her hand as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I should go help your mother,” Molly murmured.

As she brushed past him, her fingers grazed his arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Elijah watched her go, a mix of frustration and hope surging through him. He turned back to the darkening land, his future suddenly seeming as vast and full of possibility as the Montana sky.

Elijah’s gaze lingered on the horizon, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The ranch stretched before him, a reminder of his responsibilities and the life he’d always known. Yet Molly’s presence had awakened something in him, a yearning for more than the familiar rhythms of ranch life.

He turned back to the house, his steps carrying him inside. Laughter drifted from the kitchen, Molly’s melodious voice blending with his mother’s and Annalee’s. The sound tugged at something deep within him.

He paused in the doorway, drinking in the scene. Molly stood at the sink, her sleeves rolled up, hands submerged in soapy water. She glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye, and a smile bloomed on her face.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Naomi chided. “Come make yourself useful, Elijah.”

He moved to Molly’s side, reaching for a dishtowel. “Yes, ma’am.”

As they worked side by side, Elijah found himself hyper-aware of Molly’s every movement. The brush of her arm against his sent sparks through his body. He struggled to keep his focus on the task at hand.

“Your mother’s cooking puts even the finest Chicago restaurants to shame,” Molly said, putting a few inches of distance between her and Elijah.

“Ma has always had a way with a skillet. Though I reckon you’ve eaten at fancier establishments than our humble ranch kitchen.”

She laughed. “Oh, you’d be surprised. I’ve eaten at all kinds of places during my life.”

His lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. He found himself oddly at ease in Molly’s presence, despite his usual aversion to talkative folk. There was something refreshing about her candor, her ability to fill the silence without making it feel forced.

As he reached for another dish, he couldn’t help noticing the way Molly’s hands moved with practiced efficiency. For all her big city upbringing, she wasn’t afraid of a little hard work. It was admirable.

“You handle those dishes like a pro,” he observed.

“I’ll have you know, even Chicago debutantes can roll up their sleeves when the occasion calls for it.”

Before he could respond, the kitchen door swung open, and Naomi Beckett strode in. “Elijah.” Her voice carried the no-nonsense tone that had kept the Beckett clan in line for decades. “I’ve made up the guest room. Molly will be staying the night.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction, but he kept his surprise in check. “That so?” he asked, glancing at Molly.

She nodded, a hint of color rising to her cheeks. “If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs. Beckett. I’d hate to impose.”

“Nonsense,” Naomi replied, waving away the concern. “It’s too late for a lady to be riding back to town alone.”

Elijah dried his hands on a nearby towel, his mind working through this unexpected development. Something in his chest tightened at the thought.

“Well then, how about we take a walk before turning in, Molly? If you’re amenable.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Elijah caught his mother’s knowing look as they left the kitchen. He straightened his shoulders, determined not to let her see how Molly’s presence affected him. As they stepped outside, Elijah couldn’t shake the feeling something significant was going on between them.

They made their way toward the new corral. Elijah’s boots crunched on the packed earth, while beside him, Molly’s shorter steps matched his pace, her presence a warm counterpoint to the cool night air.

Clearing his throat, he broke the comfortable silence. “What was it like, growing up in Chicago?”

“It was certainly different from Montana. The city is always alive, always moving. Nothing like the peace out here.”

Elijah nodded, trying to picture the bustling city. He’d grown up on the ranch, never traveling more than a few hundred miles away to drive their cattle to market.

Approaching the corral, he found himself wanting to know more. It was an unfamiliar feeling for the taciturn rancher.

“Tell me more about Chicago,” he said.

Molly’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm as she began to describe her beloved hometown. “The energy there is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You should see the lumberyards along the river. Stacks of timber as far as the eye can see.”

“Sounds like quite a sight.”

“The Union Stockyard is enormous,” Molly said, her voice filled with a mix of awe and nostalgia. “Father told me the stockyard was over four hundred acres, and covered with pens, railroad chutes, and office buildings. It’s impressive.”

Watching the horses inside the corral, he found himself captivated by her descriptions. He’d never given much thought to city life, knowing he’d never want to live in one. Her words did paint a vivid picture. “What about the wheat farming around Chicago? I heard it’s big business back there.”

“The grain elevators are enormous, Elijah. Father said Chicago’s become the wheat capital of the world. It’s incredible to see the ships and trains coming and going, all laden with golden grain.”

He nodded, impressed by the scale of it all. He was about to ask another question when her excitement seemed to surge anew.

“Oh! And have you ever heard of Montgomery Ward?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he admitted.

“It’s this amazing mail-order catalog,” she explained, her words tumbling out faster now. “You can order almost anything you can imagine. Clothes, tools, kitchen tables. Even ranch equipment!”

Elijah tilted his head, skeptical. “Ranch equipment? Through the mail?”

“Yes. They come in pieces, and you assemble them yourself. But that’s not all…”

As she launched into a detailed list of the catalog’s offerings, he found himself torn between amusement at her excitement and a growing sense of interest in the world beyond his ranch.

“They even offer some new-fangled bicycles.” Her cheeks were flushed with enthusiasm. “Can you imagine riding one of those out here on the prairie?”

“I think I’ll stick to my horse.”

He leaned against the fence, his mind whirling with all the information Molly had shared. His hard disposition began to crack at her genuine pleasure in sharing information about her hometown. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and he found himself smiling despite his usual reserved nature. The way her eyes lit up as she spoke stirred something within him, a curiosity about the world beyond Wild Spirit Ranch he’d rarely allowed himself to indulge.

“Chicago also has some truly magnificent museums and art galleries.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Art galleries? I can’t say I’ve ever been to one of those.”

Her face brightened. “They’re wonderful. There’s so much to see, it can take a full day.”

Elijah marveled at how easy their conversation had become. He’d never been one for idle chatter, but with Molly, the words seemed to flow naturally. It was a strange feeling.

She nudged his arm. “You know, Elijah Beckett, you simply must visit Chicago someday. It would be quite the adventure.”

“And what would a rancher do in a big city like Chicago?”

“There’s so much. The architecture alone would leave you breathless. And the restaurants. You wouldn’t be bored.”

As they turned from the corral, he found himself considering the possibility. He’d never been one for travel, content with the vast expanse of his ranch. Something about the way she described it made him curious.

“Sounds like you miss it.”

Her steps slowed. “I suppose. In some ways. The energy of the city, the constant bustle and excitement. It’s quite different from Mystic.”

He nodded, waiting for her to continue, sensing there was more she wanted to say.

“But there are things I don’t miss. The expectations, the endless social engagements, the…” She trailed off, hesitating.

“The what?”

Molly sighed, a rueful smile crossing her face. “The suitors my father encourages. Due to my father’s efforts, I had no shortage of men vying for my attention. None of them interested me.”

Elijah felt a strange tightness in his chest at her words. “Were the suitors the reason you came out here?”

She shook her head. “Not to escape, exactly. More to find something real. Something genuine. What about you, Elijah? Have there been any women in your past?”

His jaw tightened. He hadn’t expected the conversation to turn in this direction, and he found himself caught off guard. “There was one.”