Sweet Silken Bondage (36 page)

"What are you going to do about it?"

"There's not much I can do. I've got a friend
named Clay who's trying to help get me free, but
for the time being, all I can do is sit and wait and
hope that a trial will prove me out."

"Molly must think you're innocent or she would
never have brought you home with her," he stated
blundy.

"I'm glad she has faith in me. What about you,
Jimmy? What do you think?"

Jimmy was thoughtful for a moment, then spoke
with a child's clear and uncluttered honesty. "If
Molly says you're innocent, then I guess I think you
are, too. You're not going to try to run away or
anything, are you?"

"No, I'm not going to run. If I ran, people would
really think I was guilty," Dev said fiercely. He
wanted his freedom, but not at the expense of his
reputation. He did not want to go through life a
wanted man.

Jimmy listened attentively, judging the man not
by an adult's logical standards but by a child's
standards of the heart. Dev was nothing like what
he thought a killer would be. He looked him in the
eye and talked to him man to man. He was nice,
and he was certainly brave if he wasn't going to try
to escape like a regular bad guy would. Jimmy was
convinced.

"Don't worry," the boy assured him. "I won't tell
anybody you're here. I promised Molly, and I never
break promises."

Having straightened things out in his own mind,
Jimmy returned to his mother's side.

It was late when Molly finally finished work.
Bertha had been particularly mean and demanding,
and Molly had had to work twice as hard just to
stay even with her vicious, nitpicking ways. She was
exhausted as she made the trek to the small house,
but she knew the night was far from over. She still
had her mother to worry about. She was torn
between the fear that she was worse and the hope
that she was better. That, along with her concern
about Dev, was taking its toll.

Molly had told Jimmy to lock the door from the
inside when she'd left, and she was pleased to find
that it was still firmly barred when she returned.
She knocked lightly.

"Jimmy ...it's me, Molly." She called out very
softly, not wanting to disturb her mother, should she
be sleeping. After only a moment, Molly heard the
lock turn. When the door swung slowly open, she
found herself face to face with Dev.

Molly was startled by the surge of heartfelt love
that rocketed through her at the sight of him. He
looked so tall, powerful, and handsome that her
breath caught in her throat. She wondered distractedly how it was that he'd come to mean so much to
her in such a short period of time.

Dev was glad that she was back. He didn't realize
just how much he'd missed her until he saw her
again. Stepping quickly aside to allow her to enter,
he breathed her name in an almost aching sigh,
.

Mesmerized by his nearness, Molly had to force herself to action. Giving herself a mental shake, she
hurried inside and shut and locked the door behind
her. Trying to maintain her equilibrium, she diverted her own attention, asking, "Did everything go
all right? How's my mother?"

"Everything's been quiet. Jimmy's stayed in with
your mother all evening. I offered to relieve him
several times, but he wanted to be with her. Last
time I checked, she was resting peacefully."

"Thank goodness. I've been so worried about her
...and about you."

"You have?"

"Yes." Ever since Bertha had remarked about Dev
being strung up, Molly had been tormented by the
thought. She knew without a doubt that Dev was a
good, decent man. He had come to mean a great
deal to her, and she couldn't bear the thought of
anything ever happening to him.

Their eyes locked, and Dev saw in the depths of
her gaze all the turbulent emotions she was feeling
for him. There was a hungry desperation to the
moment as they stood there in silence. But Dev put
an end to it, letting his gaze slide away from hers,
breaking that intimate contact.

The misery of his situation was almost too much
for him to bear. Not too long before, his life with
Clay had ambled on in relative contentment. He
hadn't needed anyone or anything. Then this trouble over Santana had engulfed him, and he'd been
trapped. Only Molly's presence had gotten him
through the last long days and nights, He'd come to
love her even before he'd laid a hand on her.

Now, though, he was afraid of what her contact
with him would do to her. He had nothing to give
her-nothing, not even his good name. He had to
put an end to this madness before it got started. He
had to keep his distance from her for fear that he
wouldn't be able to control his own volatile emo tions. He wanted her. He ached to hold her close,
kiss her and keep that look in her eyes. He knew it
would be so easy, too, for she was a warm, loving
and giving person. Yet he knew it was impossible.

Dev suddenly had to get away. She was much too
wonderful, and he needed her too badly. He moved
away from her and didn't stop until he was at the
door, one hand resting on the knob. He paused as
he glanced back over his shoulder.

"I need to go outside for a while."

Molly was stunned by the sudden change in Dev.
Just moments before they had almost embraced,
and now he was being cold and elusive. "All right,"
she answered, not knowing what else to say.

"And Molly..."

"Yes?"

He could see the confusion and hurt in her
expression, but he thought it was far better that he
stop what was happening between them now. "I just
want you to know that I'm grateful for everything
you've done for me. You've given me far too much
already." With that, he opened the door and left the
house.

There had been something so grim and so final
about his words that they chilled Molly. She stared
sifter him in dismay, realizing that it wasn't his
gratitude she wanted. She wanted his love.

Charley, Rex, and Bucky all sat at a table in the
Golden Horseshoe trying to figure out who had
gone ahead to warn the sheriff that they were coming. Charley's mean-eyed gaze surveyed the men at
the bar as he wondered which one had ruined his
plan to kill O'Keefe.

"Who didn't go along with us?" Charley asked,
unable to pick the one man who might have betrayed them.

"I'm not sure." Bucky was indecisive. "I thought
most everybody joined us"

"What about that old coot there in the back?"
Rex pointed to where Wily stood at the end of the
bar. "I remember seeing him when we were first
startin' to talk it up, but I didn't see him anywhere
in the crowd."

Charley's eyes narrowed as he studied the old
man. Almost as if he'd felt his gaze upon him, Wily
looked up in his direction. For just an instant, they
glared at each other, staring each other down. Wily's expression was tinged with defiance, and he
didn't flinch before Charley's intimidating look.

All three men read Wily's expression correctly
and exchanged knowing looks.

"It was him, all right," Bucky spoke up.

"If the sheriff talks to that old man, he's gonna
find out everything that went on in here tonight,"
Charley said slowly, calculating his next move.

"Then get rid of him" Bucky suggested casually.

"Yeah, why don't you just shoot the old geezer
and be done with it?" Rex suggested with drunken
casualness. "There wouldn't be anybody missin' him,
that's for sure."

"What are you two, idiots? All I'd need is another
body to worry about," Charley growled at his companions, not believing their stupidity. "His kind's
weak and scares real easy. It won't take much to
chase him off. Watch..."

Charley slid his chair back noisily from the table.
Taking his beer with him, he stalked toward Wily.

Wily watched him approach and knew he faced
danger. As Charley drew closer, he directed his
attention back to his tumbler of whiskey in hopes
that the trouble would just pass him by. But it was
not to be.

"Old man," he called out to him derogatorily.

Wily looked up again, his expression wary and frightened. "You want somethin'?"

"Yeah. I want to know where you were tonight
during all the excitement?"

"I don't believe in all that rabble-rousin' foolishness. I got out of the way," he responded, downing
the rest of his drink with a shaking hand, then
pushing the glass forward toward the barkeep for a
refill.

"I'll just bet you did. Well, you know what? Me
and the boys were just talkin', and we got a feelin'
that somebody went to the sheriff and told him that
were were comin' to string O'Keefe up. What do
you think about that?"

"I don't think nothing about it. Why're you tellin'
me this?"

"I was just thinkin'." Charley lowered his tone as
he braced one elbow against the bar next to Wily
and leaned real close.

"You were, eh?" Wily didn't look up. He kept his
gaze focused on his glass. He wanted to tell him
that the thought of him thinking was an amazing
thing, but he knew better. His life wouldn't be
worth a plug nickel if he pushed this man too far.

"Yeah, old man, I was, and I came to the conclusion that you might have been the one who told
the sheriff what we were plannin'. You know, if
that's the case, it might be real healthy for you to
make yourself scarce, maybe even get out of town.
You understand me?"

Wily wanted to face him down, but he didn't.
Years ago, he might have been fast enough on the
draw to beat him, but these days he was just too
blamed old. This Stevens fella was a cold one. He
could feel it, and he wasn't about to rile him up
any more than he already had. "I hear ya."

"Good." Charley turned and walked back to his
own table, his stride confident and cocky.

Wily remained at the bar, shaken by his un spoken threat.

The barkeep leaned close to give him some sage
advice. "If I were you, I'd do what he says. That
man is one mean hombre."

Wily finished off the refill the bartender had
given him and then quickly departed the saloon. He
never glanced back in Charley's direction.

Charley was smug as he rejoined his friends.
"Didn't I tell you the man was a coward? I'm a
good judge of a man's character," he bragged.

"Except for Santana," Rex added, and he was
rewarded with a vicious look.

"I thought the bastard would just give us the
money without much of a fuss. I sure as hell didn't
think I was going to have to shoot him, but he
made me mad." Charley scowled as he remembered
his encounter with the rancher.

"So what axe we going to do now?" Bucky asked.

"Nothing," came his curt reply. He was still
annoyed that his plan had been thwarted. "There
ain't a damned thing we can do, now that the
sheriffs expecting trouble. We'll just have to sit tight
and hope O'Keefe is found guilty."

"And if he ain't? What if they let him go and
start lookin' again?" Bucky asked fearfully.

"We'll worry about that later."

Sheriff Macauley was sitting slumped at his desk,
his loaded shotgun laid out ready before him, a
single, low-burning lamp turning the darkness of
the office to a semi-gloom. Though he was physically weary, there was nothing slow or tired about
his thoughts as he contemplated the events of the
evening. He'd been running this town for years now,
and had never had anything like this happen before.

This unexpected frenzy to see O'Keefe hang
didn't make much sense to him. O'Keefe had been locked up for weeks now, and there had hardly been
a word said. Then all of a sudden tonight, the
public was worked up about it and wanted to see
immediate justice done.

Macauley wondered what the reasons were behind
this avid interest. He had a nagging feeling that
there was something more to this than just an
angry mob of citizens out for vigilante justice, that
there was someone out there who, for some as yet
unknown reason, wanted O'Keefe dead. Since he
always followed his instincts, he knew this bore
looking into. He had a suspicion that if he found
out who'd started it all, he might uncover a connection to Santana's real murderer.

Macauley tried to remember if there had been an
instigator in the crowd, but no one person stood
out in his mind. Certainly when he'd backed them
down, no one had come forth and tried to rally
them against him. He knew there had to be somebody behind it all, though, and he made a mental
note to locate Wily in the morning and find out
from him exactly who had been stirring things up
in the saloon.

"Jimmy, I'm going to go outside for a few minutes. I'll be right back," Molly told him softly as he
kept the vigil in the chair at their mother's bedside.

"All right," he answered sleepily. "I'll keep watch."

Molly smiled softly at his determination to stay
awake. He was tired, but he was also as stubborn
as they came. He had no intention of going to bed
yet. He wanted to remain right where he was, just
in case their mother awoke and needed anything.