Page 23 of Wild Spirit Revival (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #1)

Elijah sat by Molly’s bedside, her small hand engulfed in his calloused palm. He hummed a low, soothing tune, something his mother used to sing, and watched her sleep. Propped up with pillows, her breathing was still labored but steadier since Doctor Wainwright’s last visit. Her fever-flushed face had receded to a healthier hue, though her eyes remained dull with exhaustion when open. Now, with her eyes closed, she looked almost peaceful.

A sudden, wrenching cough burst from Molly’s chest, waking her with a start. She winced, clutching her ribs as Elijah helped her sit up.

“Breathe slow,” he instructed, his voice a deep, calming anchor. “In and out, nice and easy.”

She gasped for air, each breath a painful endeavor. Elijah poured a glass of water and held it to her lips. She sipped a little, then pushed it away, her hand lingering on his.

“Thank you,” she rasped, her voice a shadow of its usual confident self. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, releasing her hand gently and standing. “I’ll get Ma. She’ll mix the herbs.”

She sank back against the pillows, closing her eyes. The heat from the fire, the acrid taste of smoke, the panic—all of it rushed back to her in vivid flashes. She remembered strong arms lifting her against his chest, the long ride on a horse.

Elijah returned with his mother, Naomi. As usual, she exuded innate confidence mixed with maternal warmth. She carried a small wooden bowl and pestle, the scent of crushed leaves rising in a fragrant cloud.

“How’s our patient?” Naomi asked, though her eyes were already assessing Molly.

“Stubborn as ever.” Molly managed a weak smile.

“That’s a good sign.” Naomi handed the bowl to Elijah and took Molly’s hand. “This will taste awful, but it’ll help. Doctor Wainwright knows his stuff.”

Elijah held the bowl to Molly’s lips. She hesitated, then drank the thick, green mixture in a single, desperate gulp. Her face contorted in disgust.

“Poison would be sweeter,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Naomi laughed. “If you can complain, you’re on the mend. Now rest. We’ll take care of everything.” Naomi shot a look at her son before leaving the room while Elijah lingered.

“Elijah,” Molly said, stopping him as he turned to go. “My equipment… and the wagon and horses…”

He paused, facing her. “Cody and a few men will head to the mountains tomorrow morning. The trail should be cooled off enough for them to search.”

“Thank you. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“It’s no trouble. Don’t worry about the horses. If they’re on the mountain, Cody will find them.”

She watched him leave, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, then turned her gaze to the ceiling. She didn’t believe him, but it was nice to hear all the same.

The days passed with a slow, aching monotony. Molly’s strength began to return, bit by bit. She started taking small steps around the room, then the hallway, always with someone from the Beckett clan nearby. Elijah was the most constant, though Jolene and Naomi made sure she was never alone.

On the fifth day, Grayson and Jolene entered the house after a trip to town, her face flushed with excitement. As usual, his features were unreadable. Molly was seated at the kitchen table, picking at a bowl of broth.

“We’ve retrieved your belongings,” Jolene announced, holding up a familiar satchel. “And you’ll never guess what we found.”

Grayson held up a newspaper.

“You’re famous.” Jolene grinned.

Molly’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

Grayson handed the paper to Jolene. “It’s the Mystic Gazette,” she said. “There’s an article about you and your photographs. Says you’re a pioneering artist who’s documenting her westward journey.”

Molly’s heart quickened. “Let me see!”

Jolene held it just out of Molly’s reach. “We should wait for Elijah. He’ll want to hear this.”

Molly sank back in her chair, crossing her arms. “You lot are worse than my sisters.”

Jolene shrugged, unrepentant. “We’re a curious bunch.”

Elijah walked in, wiping his hands on a rag. “What’s all the yelling?”

Jolene thrust the newspaper at him. “Read this. It’s about Molly.”

He took the paper, his expression unreadable as he scanned the article. The room fell silent, all eyes on him. After a long moment, he looked up at Molly.

Molly’s eyes burned with curiosity. “What is it? What does it say?”

Elijah cleared his throat, his gaze flickering over the newspaper before settling on Molly.

“Mystic’s Unexpected Luminary: The Remarkable Miss O’Sullivan.” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Molly’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. “Me? But…”

Elijah continued, his deep voice filling the room. “In an unexpected turn of events, our humble town of Mystic has found itself host to a rising star in the world of photography. Miss Molly O’Sullivan, whose breathtaking images of the American West have gained recognition in publications from Montana to Chicago.”

He glanced up, noting the flush of color in Molly’s cheeks. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

“There’s more.” Elijah’s tone softened. “Miss O’Sullivan’s ability to blend the raw, untamed nature of the frontier with the growing civilization of the West showcases a talent beyond her years. What our readers recently learned was how Miss O’Sullivan narrowly escaped tragedy in a wildfire in Mystic Valley while photographing the magnificent landscape.”

Molly sat in stunned silence. “I had no idea Faith planned to run an article about me and my work,” she murmured.

Elijah folded the paper, his gaze lingering on her. “Seems you’ve made quite a name for yourself,” he said, a note of respect in his voice. “You should be proud. It’s a good article.”

Two weeks passed, each day bringing Molly closer to full health. After supper one evening, as the sun began its slow descent, Elijah invited Molly to take a short walk with him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his eyes scanning the horizon out of habit.

Molly took a deep breath, thankful for the crisp mountain air. “Much better, thanks to you and your family.”

Elijah offered a slow grin, a comfortable silence falling between them. After a moment, he spoke again. “Have you given any thought to your plans? Will you still be heading to Seattle?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Molly’s steps faltered for a moment.

“Yes, I intend to continue to Seattle,” she said, her voice firm. “But…” She hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. “I was hoping you might consider accompanying me.”

Elijah’s eyebrows shot up, surprise etched across his rugged features. He hadn’t expected this independent woman to seek his company. “You want me to go with you?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Molly nodded, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “I’ve come to value your friendship, Elijah. And I think having a guide who knows the territory would be invaluable.”

He considered the implications of her request. The ranch needed him, though not as much with Cody’s return. The thought of traveling to Seattle with Molly stirred something deep within him. Grayson had seen much of the country, as had Cody.

Perhaps it was time for him to venture outside the ranch, bring back stories to entertain the family. He gazed out at the vast expanse of Mystic Valley, his internal struggle playing out across his face.

“I’ll go.” His gaze locked with hers. “Under one condition.”

Molly tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “And what’s that?”

Elijah took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “That you agree to marry me.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with possibility and the promise of a future neither had anticipated when they first met.

Molly’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she stood frozen, the only sound the distant lowing of cattle and the gentle rustle of wind through the prairie grass.

“Marry you?” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elijah stepped closer. “I know it’s sudden. These past weeks, getting to know you… they’ve changed everything. I love you, Molly. Your strength, your spirit, your kindness. I want to spend my life with you, if you’ll have me.”

His hand reached for hers, enveloping it in a gentle grip. Her heart beat an almost painful rhythm as she considered his words. She’d come to Montana seeking adventure and independence, not expecting to find love.

“Elijah, I…” she started, her voice trembling. “I never thought I’d want to marry. My photography, my career…”

“I’m not asking you to give anything up. I want to support your dreams while I’m free to fulfill mine. We’d be partners.”

She searched his face, seeing the sincerity there. Memories of their time together flashed through her mind. His quiet strength during the fire, his unwavering support as she recovered, and the way he listened to her ideas with genuine interest had intensified the love she already held for him.

“I love you, too,” she admitted, a smile breaking across her face. “Yes, Elijah Beckett. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

His usual restraint crumbled as he pulled her into a fierce embrace. Their lips met for a slow, tender kiss declaring their promise of a future together. When they pulled apart, Molly felt a warmth the cold night couldn’t touch.