Page 21 of Wild Spirit Revival (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #1)

Molly took a deep breath, steadying herself against the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. With determination, she turned and entered the Mystic Hotel, her mind whirling with doubt.

As she walked toward the stairs, Faith Goodell’s vibrant voice caught her attention. “Molly! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

She plastered on a smile, pushing thoughts of Elijah to the back of her mind. “Faith, what a pleasant surprise. Is everything all right?”

Faith’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “More than all right. I’ve received a telegram from the editor of the Helena Independent. They’re interested in your photographs and stories.”

“How did they know about my work?” Molly’s earlier disappointment was forgotten.

“I’m friends with the owner, Don Field. I hope you don’t mind, but I sent him one of your photographs and the titles of the articles you mentioned to me. He’s always interested in good work from new people. Don wants to feature your work in a special edition about life in the Montana Territory.” Faith’s words tumbled out in a rush. “This could be a wonderful opportunity for you. Don has contacts in Seattle and along the Pacific coast.”

Molly thought of the possibilities unfurling before her. “I don’t know what to say. You’re right. This could be an excellent opportunity.”

Faith grabbed Molly’s hands, squeezing them. “Say yes! Pack your bags and take the train out of Bozeman to Helena next week. You can meet with the editor and decide if this is a good fit for you.”

As excitement washed over her, Molly couldn’t help picturing Elijah’s lukewarm enthusiasm about her ambitions. She hesitated, torn between her dreams and the pull of her heart.

“I need to think about it,” Molly said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Faith’s eyes showed her confusion. “Think about it? Molly, opportunities like this don’t come along every day. What’s holding you back?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to go just yet,” she answered.

Faith leaned forward, her gaze searching Molly’s face. “Is everything all right? I thought you’d be excited about the opportunity with the Helena Independent.”

She released a slow breath. “I am. There’s something keeping me here in Mystic.”

“Or someone?” A knowing smile tugged at Faith’s lips.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s experienced what you have. It’s Elijah Beckett, isn’t it?”

Molly nodded. “I think I’m in love with him, Faith. But I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Molly shook her head. “How can I? He’s so closed up and hard to read. What if I’m misreading everything?”

Faith reached out, squeezing her hand. “Elijah’s not one for grand gestures. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Hope bloomed in Molly’s chest, but her doubt overshadowed it. “Even if he does feel something, would he ever act on it? He’s so focused on the ranch, on his family.”

“You’re not exactly the type to sit around waiting for a man to make a move,” Faith pointed out with a wry smile.

She laughed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “You’re right.” She glanced outside before looking back at Faith. “This is different. I don’t want to push him if he’s not ready.”

“So, what are you going to do about Helena?”

Molly straightened in her chair, her resolve strengthening. “I think I’ll send a telegram to Don Field at the Helena Independent. I can make arrangements for a visit without committing to anything long-term.”

“A sound plan,” Faith agreed. “It’ll give you more time to figure things out with Elijah, too.”

Molly stood. “I’ll head over to the telegraph office. Thank you, Faith. For listening, and for understanding.”

As she reached for the door, Faith’s voice stopped her. “Molly? Whatever happens, don’t let fear hold you back. You’re too talented, too full of life to let uncertainty keep you from pursuing your dreams.”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob. Turning back to Faith, a mixture of gratitude and determination shone in her eyes. “You’re right. I won’t let it. For now, I’ll take it one step at a time.”

Molly knew her future hung in the balance. Between her growing feelings for Elijah and the promise of continuing her adventure, she struggled with what to do next.

“Molly?”

She turned back with a look of concern. “Yes?”

Faith released a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I understand more than you know about your situation.”

Molly’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She returned to her seat, reaching out to clasp Faith’s hand. “What do you mean?”

“It’s Joshua,” Faith whispered. “I’ve loved him for a long time.” She shook her head. “He’s never seen me as anything more than a friend.”

“Oh, Faith. I had no idea. How long have you felt this way?”

Faith’s gaze drifted to the window, lost in memories. “Since we were children, really. It wasn’t until we grew older that I realized what those feelings meant. And now it feels like it’s too late.”

“It’s never too late.” Molly’s heart ached for her friend. “Have you ever told him how you feel?”

Faith shook her head, a rueful smile playing on her lips. “I’ve never had the courage. And now, after such a long time, I don’t know if I ever will.”

She leaned back, considering her friend’s words. “You know, we’re not so different, you and I. Both of us pining for men who might never return our feelings. At least we have each other to confide in.”

“You’re right. It helps knowing I’m not alone in this. Thank you for listening, Molly.”

“What else are friends for?” Molly’s eyes lit up with sudden enthusiasm. “Before I leave for Helena, I want to capture one last photograph of the mountains. Would you like to come with me?”

Faith’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I’d love to. Unfortunately, I have too much to finish before the next edition of the Mystic Gazette.”

Molly’s face glowed with passion. “Someday, I want you to see them through a camera lens. The way the light plays on the peaks, the shadows in the valleys. It’s like capturing a piece of heaven on earth. And who knows when I’ll have another chance to photograph them.”

The first rays of dawn peaked over the eastern mountains when Molly stepped out of the Mystic Hotel, her arms laden with equipment. She paused for a moment, savoring the crisp morning air. The town was still quiet, save for the distant crow of a rooster and the soft clopping of her boots on the wooden boardwalk.

As she approached the wagon she’d borrowed from Casper Jennings, her heart quickened with anticipation. She placed her camera and equipment next to the crate of dry plates, nestling them between blankets for the rough journey ahead.

Molly checked and double-checked her supplies, her fingers dancing over each item, as if performing a ritual. Satisfied everything was in order, she climbed onto the wagon seat and reached for the map Casper had drawn for her.

Unfolding the parchment, Molly studied the rough sketches and scribbled notes. Her gaze narrowed in concentration as she traced the path with her finger.

As she memorized the landmarks Casper had indicated, she felt a familiar thrill coursing through her veins. It was the same excitement that had driven her to leave Chicago, to seek out the untamed beauty of the West.

Molly folded the map and tucked it into her satchel. She gathered the reins, her hands steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

As she urged the wagon forward, the first golden rays of sunlight crested the horizon, promising a day filled with beauty, challenges, and perhaps a touch of danger.

Little did Molly know just how prophetic the thought would prove to be.

As the sun climbed higher, Molly guided her wagon to a halt at the base of the mountains. The journey had been arduous, but the vista made every jolt and bump worthwhile. She climbed down from the wagon, her legs and back stiff from the ride.

“Oh, my. It’s even more magnificent than I imagined.”

She reached for the canteen and took a long, refreshing drink. The cool water was a balm to her parched throat. Settling herself on a nearby boulder, Molly retrieved the biscuits the hotel had packed for her.

As she ate, Molly’s gaze roamed over the landscape. Towering peaks stretched toward the heavens, their snowcapped summits piercing the clouds. Lush forests cloaked the lower slopes, a tapestry of greens punctuated by the occasional flash of summer wildflowers.

She brushed the crumbs from her skirt and stood. There was work to be done, and the light wouldn’t wait for her musings.

With practiced efficiency, Molly guided the wagon higher up the mountain trail. Each turn revealed new wonders, and she itched to capture them all. After another hour, she found the perfect spot. A plateau offering an unobstructed view of the valley below, and the majestic peaks above stretched before her.

Molly set about unloading her equipment. She’d done this countless times before, but never in such a breathtaking location. As she assembled her camera, she found herself talking aloud, a habit born of long hours spent working alone.

“Now, let’s see,” she mused, adjusting the camera.

The world around her faded away, her entire focus narrowed to the view through her lens. Molly lost herself in her work, moving from one image to the next with single-minded determination.

As the sun arced across the sky, Molly continued to work. She didn’t notice the passage of time, so engrossed in her art. The horses whinnied and danced around, but she ignored them. Only when she reached for another dry plate and discovered her supply was depleted did she realize how long she’d been at it.

Straightening, she looked around. Her eyes widened as she scanned the horizon, her heart suddenly racing. A massive plume of smoke billowed up from the base of the mountains, its dark tendrils reaching ominously toward the sky.

She gasped. “Fire!”

Panic threatened to overwhelm her for a moment before her innate survival instincts kicked in. With swift, decisive movements, she packed up her equipment. Her fingers flew over latches and straps, securing her precious camera and plates.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, glancing anxiously at the approaching smoke. The acrid scent was growing stronger by the second.

As she worked, she tried to form a plan, a way out. The trail she’d taken up the mountain was likely already engulfed in flames. Her only option was to go higher, to find a safe haven above the fire line.

With the last of her gear stowed, Molly climbed onto the wagon. She grabbed, then slapped the reins, her knuckles white with tension.

The wagon lurched forward as she urged the horses up the steep incline. The path was treacherous, littered with loose rocks and deep ruts. Every jolt threatened to unseat her, but Molly clung on with grim determination.

“Just a little farther.”

The heat at her back intensified, driving her onward. Sweat beaded on her brow, a mixture of exertion and fear. The smoke thickened, making it harder to see and breathe.

She coughed, her eyes watering. “Oh, Elijah,” she whispered, her thoughts turning to the rugged rancher.

A loud crack split the air, followed by a thunderous crash. Molly whipped her head around to see a burning tree collapse across the path behind her.

She gasped, turning back to the trail ahead. “Just a bit more.”

The wagon wheels caught on a deep rut, rocking the wagon into a precarious position. Her heart lodged in her throat as she fought to maintain control.

“No, no, no,” she pleaded, and pulled hard on the reins.