Page 22 of Wild Spirit Revival (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #1)
The news of the wildfire spread through Mystic like a spark through dry tinder. Casper Jennings burst through the doors of the sheriff’s office, his normally placid face etched with worry.
“Sheriff! It’s Miss O’Sullivan. She’s up in the mountains!”
Brodie Gaines looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing. “What’s this about Miss O’Sullivan?”
Casper leaned against the doorframe, panting. “The fire. It’s raging at the base of the mountains. I gave her a map of the area. She rented a wagon and headed there this morning. She’s up there, taking photographs.”
Brodie stood, his chair almost toppling over in his haste. “You’re certain?”
“As sure as I’m standing here.” Casper nodded vigorously. “Said she wanted to capture the mountains before leaving for Helena.”
Brodie’s jaw clenched, his mind racing. “She’s in real danger if the fire’s as bad as I’ve been hearing.”
“It is, Sheriff,” Casper insisted. “I rode out toward the Beckett place. I’ve never seen anything like it. The smoke…” He shook his head.
Brodie grabbed his hat, striding toward the door. “I’m heading to Wild Spirit Ranch. Elijah needs to know.”
As he mounted his horse, Brodie’s thoughts turned to Molly. The spirited photographer had become a friend to many in Mystic, himself included. The idea of her alone, facing such danger, made his stomach churn.
“Hyah!” he called, spurring his horse into a gallop. The wind whipped at his face as he tore down the road toward Wild Spirit Ranch, each thundering hoofbeat matching the pounding of his heart.
“Hold on, Molly,” he muttered. “We’re coming for you.”
Elijah Beckett stood in the yard of Wild Spirit Ranch, his gaze scanning the horizon as Brodie’s urgent message sank in. Without hesitation, he turned to his brothers and the young cowboys gathered around him.
“Molly’s out there,” he said. “We need to move fast.”
Cody, his older brother, stepped forward. “How do you want to do this, Eli?”
His mind began formulating a strategy. “We’ll split into three groups. Cody, you take the east slope with two of the hands. Joshua, you’re with me on the central path. Nathan, take a group up the western trail with Parker and two more of the hands. The rest of the hands will stay here.”
The men nodded, their faces grim with determination.
“What about us?” Annalee, his younger sister, called out, Lilian at her side.
Elijah shook his head. “You stay here. We need someone to prepare for when we bring her back.”
“But—” Annalee started to protest.
“No arguments,” Elijah cut her off, his tone brooking no dissent. “Time’s wasting. Gear up, everyone. Bandanas, canteens, rope. We don’t know what we’re riding into.”
As the group dispersed to gather supplies, Joshua approached Elijah. “You think we’ll find her in time?”
Elijah’s jaw clenched. “We have to.” The thought of Molly, alone and in danger, made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to examine.
Within minutes, the search party was mounted and ready. Elijah surveyed the men, his gaze steady. “Remember, the smoke will be thick. Stay together, watch each other’s backs. If you find her, fire three shots in the air. Let’s ride!”
The thundering of hooves filled the air as they set off, dust billowing behind them. As they approached the foothills, the acrid smell of smoke grew stronger, and dark clouds loomed ominously ahead.
Elijah’s group pressed on, the terrain growing steeper and more treacherous. Sweat beaded on his brow, not just from the increasing heat. “Molly!” he called out, his voice echoing off the rocks. “Molly O’Sullivan!”
Joshua coughed beside him, pulling his water-soaked bandana higher. “Eli, this smoke’s getting worse. How much farther do you reckon we can go?”
Elijah’s eyes narrowed, scanning the haze-shrouded landscape. “As far as it takes,” he growled, urging his horse forward. “I’m not leaving without her.”
A loud crack split the air. Elijah’s horse reared, nearly throwing him.
“Look out!” Samuel, one of the young cowboys, yelled. A burning tree crashed down not far from them, sending embers flying and horses dancing to get away.
Elijah’s voice remained steady. “Stay calm. We keep moving. Molly’s counting on us.”
As they pressed on, fighting through the smoke and dodging falling debris, Elijah couldn’t shake the image of Molly’s vibrant eyes, her determined smile. He’d never met a woman quite like her—infuriating and captivating in equal measure.
“Hold on, Molly,” he muttered under his breath, sweat streaking down his face. “Just hold on.”
A deafening crack of thunder shook the air, and suddenly, the heavens opened. Rain poured down in sheets, hissing as it met the smoldering earth. Elijah blinked against the onslaught, relief and urgency warring within him.
“Thank you, God,” Joshua shouted over the downpour.
Elijah’s gaze scanned the smoky terrain. The rain was a blessing, though it cut down the visibility.
“Spread out,” he shouted.
They fanned out, calling Molly’s name. Elijah’s heart hammered inside his chest, knowing each second was critical to their search. Then, through a gap in the smoke, he spotted a flash of color.
“There!” he yelled, spurring his horse forward. As he drew closer, his breath caught in his throat. Molly lay motionless on the ground, her camera equipment scattered around her.
Elijah jumped off his horse, closing the distance in long strides at the same time Joshua fired off three shots. Elijah dropped to his knees beside her, gently turning her over.
“Molly,” he said, his usual stoicism cracking. “Molly, can you hear me?”
She didn’t respond, her face pale beneath the soot. Elijah pressed his fingers to her neck, exhaling sharply when he felt a pulse. He looked at Joshua. “She’s alive. We need to get her down the mountain and to the ranch.”
Without hesitation, Elijah scooped Molly into his arms. Her head lolled against his chest, and a fierce protectiveness surged through him.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, rising to his feet. Elijah handed her off to Joshua before mounting his horse and taking her back into his arms.
The descent was treacherous. Rain-slicked rocks threatened to send them tumbling with each step. Elijah refused to slow down, knowing how urgent it was to get medical help.
“Careful, Eli,” Joshua cautioned as Elijah navigated a particularly steep section.
Elijah didn’t respond, his entire focus on the precious burden in his arms and his horse. He had complete confidence in Twitch, his sure-footed Appaloosa gelding. Molly stirred slightly, a moan escaping her lips.
“Stay with me,” Elijah urged, his voice low and intense.
As they descended, the air began to clear.
“Almost there,” he told her. “Hold on a little longer. I’m not letting you go.” Reaching the base of the mountain, he shouted at Joshua. “I’m taking her to the ranch. Ride to town and get the doctor.”
Without waiting for a response, he spurred Twitch into action. The horse responded as if sensing the gravity of the situation. They tore across the rain-soaked landscape, the world blurring around them.
His arms ached from holding her, but he refused to loosen his grip. Her head rested against his shoulder, and he could feel her shallow breaths against his neck.
“Stay with me, Molly.”
As they raced toward Wild Spirit Ranch, his mind whirled with a mix of emotions he wasn’t accustomed to dealing with. Fear, hope, and a fierce protectiveness warred within him.
“I should’ve known you’d go chasing one more photograph,” he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Always pushing boundaries, aren’t you?”
Twitch’s hooves thundered across a wooden bridge spanning Moon River. The ranch was close now, and he urged his mount on, continuing to talk next to her ear.
“We’re almost there. When you wake up, I’ve got a few things to say to you about running off into danger.”
As the familiar buildings of the ranch came into view, he allowed himself a moment of relief. But he knew the real fight was still ahead.
Grayson burst out of the house as his brother reined to a stop. “Eli! Is she—”
“Alive.” Elijah’s urgent voice cut him off. “Joshua is riding for the doctor.”
Grayson held out his arms. “Hand her down to me.”
Elijah complied, then held out his arms again.
“You’ve done your share,” Grayson said as he rushed up the steps. “I’ll carry her inside.”
Jolene appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening at the sight of Molly’s limp form. “Bring her in, quickly! Take her into the downstairs guest room.”
As Grayson placed Molly on the bed, Elijah found himself reluctant to let go. He stared down at her while Jolene checked her breathing and pulse.
“Eli,” Jolene said softly, “she’s running a temperature. Would you mind getting me a cool bowl of water and clean cloths?”
He hesitated, his gaze never leaving Molly’s face. “I can’t—” he started, then swallowed hard. “I can’t lose her, Jolene.”
Jolene’s expression softened. “I know. Go get what I need. Let me do what I can until the doctor arrives.”
Elijah rushed from the room, his normally impassive face a mask of worry and frustration. Grabbing a bowl, he filled it with cool water, lifting a stack of clean cloths from a cabinet before returning. Setting everything down, he dipped a cloth in the water. Wringing it out, he handed it to Jolene.
“She’s got soot in her lungs,” Jolene murmured, wiping Molly’s face with the damp cloth. “We need to prop her up, help her breathe easier.”
As they worked to make Molly more comfortable, the sound of approaching hoofbeats echoed from outside. Elijah rushed out of the room to the front door, hope surging in his chest.