Nan Ryan (22 page)

His hand turned over and enclosed hers. “Don’t be, child. It was a long time ago and long since healed.”

“But you must have—”

“It’s very late, dear. Time you were in bed. You’ve had a busy day.”

“Yes, I … I’ll go up.” She rose to her feet, her eyes fixed on the kind man who had spent all his life in love with a woman he could never have—her own mother. Impulsively, Mollie leaned down, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Professor. I love you almost as much as I loved Papa and Mama.”

“And I love you as if you were my own daughter. Good night, child.”

Teeth clenched, muttering oaths beneath his breath, Lew rode away from the Manzanita Avenue mansion and Mollie. As he rode he slapped the long reins against his mount’s flanks and cursed the blond temptress responsible for his deep frustration.

A man could only stand so much, and he had just about reached his boiling point. His nerves were stretched and frayed. His entire body was tense with unspent sexual energy. He willed himself to relax, commanded his muscles to be still.

But even with desert winds whipping against his face and cooling his burning skin, his blood surged, rushed, and scalded through his veins.

He wanted this woman.

He wanted her with a white-hot desire that had nothing to do with required seduction. Try as he might to find her repugnant, it was impossible. It did no good to constantly remind himself who she was. Not when her sweet, warm lips were moving beneath his and her soft arms were around his neck.

Lew drew in a long, deep gulp of the clean night air.

No. He didn’t really want
her
, for Christ’s sake! He wanted a woman. It was as simple as that. He had been spending all his nights holding hands, behaving like a gentleman, keeping his desire in check when what he needed was a few satisfying hours in bed with a beautiful, passionate woman. Any woman.

Lew started grinning.

Out of the blue Mary Beth McCalister’s highly appealing invitation came back to him. It had been on the fringes of his mind all evening. The erotic images she had evoked of chilled champagne and fur coverlets and bare bodies had brought on this aching arousal. Not Mollie. Mollie’s parted lips on his bare belly had only stirred the passion sparked by the beautiful Mary Beth with her provocative promises of melting ice on heated flesh.

That was it. He wanted the daring divorcée. And he could have her within the hour and the devil take the hindermost! It would be worth the risk. Besides, who’d ever know? It was past two in the morning, and the McCalister mansion was on a secluded spread three miles south of town.

He pulled up, wheeled the stallion around in a tight semicircle, then urged the big steed into a ground-eating gallop. Laughing in the wind, Lew raced straight toward Mary Beth and ecstasy.

The long, hot days of summer continued to slide lazily by as July’s end approached. With each passing day, Mollie became more confident of Lew’s growing affection for her.

So did the professor.

He had seen Lew put to a test most men would not have passed. The invitation to share Mary Beth McCalister’s bed. The professor knew what had happened the night of the dance. He had heard Mary Beth proposition Lew, and he knew, as well, that Lew had almost succumbed to temptation.

The report he had received the next morning had been clear and concise. After bringing Mollie home, Lew had not headed to the Willard ranch, but out to the McCalister mansion.

The journey was never completed.

Lew had ridden to a rise within sight of Mary Beth’s home. There he had pulled up, sat in his saddle unmoving for a good fifteen minutes, staring at the well-lighted house. Then he had turned away and ridden home. After hearing the news, the professor was convinced that Lew was either a man who possessed superhuman willpower or else he was in love.

He felt only a little guilty about having Lew followed. Sarah’s child was in his care and he meant to protect her. He had to be sure Lew Taylor was trustworthy, sincere in his feelings for Mollie, would not break her trusting heart.

Now, as he sat behind his desk above the bank on this hot July morning, the professor was completely comfortable with the idea of leaving Mollie behind when he went to California.

Lew would take good care of her.

He sighed with satisfaction, rose from his chair, and crossed to a window fronting onto Main Street. He raised the shade, looked down on the street, and began to smile.

A tall, slim boy was leisurely escorting a small, lovely girl toward the plaza. John Distant Star and Margarita Rios were holding hands and laughing, their high spirits unhampered by the wilting July heat.

Mollie’s remarks came back to him as he watched the happy youngsters go by.
“Isn’t it grand, Professor? Already John and Margarita are inseparable, and John’s completely over his schoolboy crush on me. He’s so good and sweet; I want him to be as happy as I am.”

The professor was still smiling when he returned to his chair. Shrugging out of his buff-colored suit coat, he untied his brown cravat and loosened his tight shirt collar. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

All was well with his world.

Lew was in love with Mollie. John Distant Star and Margarita Rios had discovered each other, thanks to Mollie. Next week he could leave for California without worrying about any of them.

All was well.

At nine
A.M.
on Sunday, August fourth, the
professor loaded his luggage into the stage boot, shook hands with Lew, then swept Mollie into his arms.

Against her ear, he said, “I’ll miss you, child. I hate leaving you alone.”

She kissed his cheek and whispered, “I’m not alone. I have Lew.”

He nodded as the stage driver called out, “All aboard.”

The last one to board, the professor finally swung up into the coach, closed the door, and immediately felt the wheels begin turning beneath him.

Leaning out the window, he waved long and hard, watching as the tall, imposing man and pretty blond girl at his side grew smaller and smaller. In minutes all he could make out was the brilliant rose hue of Mollie’s new dress and her gleaming golden hair.

He pulled his head inside, realizing with surprise that a mysterious lump had formed in his throat. He berated himself for his foolish sentimentality. He was behaving like a nervous new parent leaving his baby girl for the first time.

He sighed, smiled, leaned back and laced his fingers together in his lap. There was no cause for worry. Mollie would be fine. Just fine.

Lew would take care of her.

Mollie and Lew went directly from the stage station to the First Methodist Church. Mary Beth McCalister, seated directly across the aisle, kept casting wistful glances at Lew throughout the service. Nodding to Mary Beth, Mollie possessively wrapped her hand around Lew’s arm and smiled smugly, thinking that the bold divorcée was a beautiful, flirtatious spider who hadn’t managed to draw Lew into her snaring web. Thank heaven.

Mollie glanced up at Lew’s handsome face and felt a shiver of exhilaration rush through her. This was going to be such a lovely day. And night. For weeks she and Lew had planned this day—a day that would be theirs and theirs alone.

After church they were to have lunch at the Nueva Sol. Then, in the hottest part of the afternoon, she would rest at the Manzanita Avenue mansion while Lew relaxed out at the Willard ranch. At sundown he would return to town and they would share a romantic candlelight dinner prepared by Louise. After dinner came the best part. A moonlight ride up into Cholla Canyon, a blanket spread on the grass, and … and …

Mollie felt herself flushing as she realized that she was sitting in church thinking about kissing Lew while from the pulpit the preacher was shouting out his fiery sermon about the wages of sin being everlasting punishment in a lake of fire and brimstone.

Impassioned, the red-faced minister slammed a beefy fist down on the podium and thundered, “Brothers and sisters, yield not to temptation! The lust of the flesh can send your souls to eternal damnation! Don’t let that evil old Satan ever get ahold of you!”

Satan won’t get ahold of me
, Mollie thought irreverently,
unless he happens to have blue eyes and black hair
.

“You’re not supposed to smile in church,” Lew leaned close and whispered, a teasing gleam in his summer blue eyes.

Mollie’s playful response was, “Are you Satan, Lew?”

At six that afternoon Mollie awakened with a start from a deep slumber. She bolted up, trembling. Her silk chemise was drenched with perspiration, and damp hair clung to her face and neck. Lunging anxiously from the bed, she raced across the room to throw open the double doors to the balcony, instantly flooding the room with afternoon sunlight.

She stood there in the doorway, her heart pounding, breath short, fighting the illogical fear that gripped her. Shivering in the fierce August heat, she hugged herself and tried to blot out the too-real nightmare that had awakened her.

The dream had begun beautifully.

It was her wedding day and she was dressed in a shimmering white gown. She was walking down the aisle to Lew. He waited there, tall and handsome, his hand held out to her.

Eager to reach him, she tried to hurry, to rush to his arms. But her feet had grown very heavy. She could hardly lift them. Her billowing wedding gown and long train weighed her down. Her progress was so slow she became frightened that Lew would grow impatient. Terrified that he might leave, she tried harder to reach him.

Finally she did, and he was so glad that she had come to him, he swept her up into his arms, mindless of the preacher and the wedding guests. But as his lips descended to hers, he changed into someone else. Someone bigger and stockier and not handsome at all. He no longer had beautiful blue eyes and midnight black hair. He had eyes of slate gray and dark brown hair.

And a beard. A thick, bushy, ill-kept beard that scratched her face and suffocated her.

The Kid!

Mollie, trembling now in the brilliant sunlight, felt terror rising up to choke her. She hadn’t thought of the Kid in months. Why was she dreaming of him now? What did it mean? Had he learned where she was? Was he coming after her?

No. No, she told herself. That was impossible. It had been more than a year since that day down in Mexico when she had stabbed him. In all that time he hadn’t come for her; he wasn’t coming for her. She had killed him. He was dead.

The Kid was dead.

Commanding her tensed muscles to relax, Mollie walked into her dressing room, stripping off her perspiration-soaked underwear as she went.

It had been a terrible nightmare, nothing more. A bad, bad dream. She was in no danger.

In the deserted bunkhouse at the Willard ranch on that hot Sunday afternoon, Lew lay on his narrow bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. A sheen of perspiration covered his bare chest and long arms, but he hardly noticed the heat.

His troubled thoughts in a turmoil, he was strongly considering calling off his plans. It would be the easiest thing to do. He could leave Maya—alone—tonight. Never show up at the Manzanita Avenue mansion. Let Mollie wonder what had happened to him. Ride back to New Mexico and leave her in the professor’s care. Just let the whole thing pass. Let it go.

No! Damn it, no!

If not for that fact that he had “let it go” when his father was murdered, Teresa and Dan Nighthorse would be alive today. Lew hardened his heart. He would
not
let it go this time. If this girl was Mollie Rogers—and he was going to find out tonight—then she would damned well pay for her part in the crimes. He would force her to tell him what had happened to her father, and if Rogers
was
still alive, he would pay, too.

Lew’s mind was made up. He would proceed with his plans. He’d take Mollie directly to Denver, turn her over to the Pinks, and he didn’t care if she rotted in prison for the rest of her life.

Feeling oddly cold despite the rivulets of sweat trickling down his bare belly, Lew rose from the bunk. He went to the piñon chest where he kept his personal possessions. He was alone in the bunkhouse, so he unlocked the chest, pushed aside some shirts and underwear, drew out a half-blackened gold cross, gazed at it fondly, and put it around his neck.