Sweet Silken Bondage (38 page)

Molly had trouble falling asleep, too. The memory of Dev's kisses and caresses, followed by his
rejection left her feeling strangely restless and
empty. She knew that he'd meant it when he'd said
there could be nothing between them, and she knew
that the threat of his hanging was very real. But she
was not one to give up easily. She would be patient
and hope for the best. She did love him, and she
fully intended for them to be together. Holding that
hope in her heart, she finally drifted off to sleep
and dreams of Dev.

"Molly! Hurry!"

Jimmy's call startled her from a deep sleep, and
she rushed from the bedroom to see what was
wrong. Dev had heard him, too, and hurried from
the bed. They came face to face, Molly clad only in her floor-length gown and Dev wearing just his
pants.

Dev saw her sleep-flushed cheeks and the demure
style of her nightgown that emphasized her innocence and thought she was the most beautiful
woman in the world. Molly saw the wide strength
of his chest and the powerful, corded muscles of his
shoulders and arms and knew he was the most
virile man she'd ever seen. A shock of sensual
awareness shook them both, but they had little time
to think about it.

"What is it?" he asked, forcing himself to get
tough. There might be trouble on his account, and
he had to be ready. He had to be thinking sharply.

It took Molly only an instant to realize her
brother had called, her from their mother's room.

"It's Mother," she muttered nervously, then hurried in to see how she was.

"Molly," Eileen Magee managed a weak smile as
she saw her daughter coming toward her, and she
lifted a hand toward her in welcome.

"She's better!" Jimmy declared, his eyes alight
with relief and love for his mother.

"How do you feel?" she asked tenderly, thrilled to
see a look of sanity in her eyes as she dropped to
her knees next to the bed and took her mother's
hand.

"Awful, but judging from your reaction, I must
be better than I was," she said, sounding tired.
"Have I been sick very long?"

"A few days. We were worried, but the doctor
came last night and left some medicine. It looks like
it's working"

"You had the doctor in?" Eileen looked worried
for she knew they had no money. "But I told you-"

"Don't worry, Dr. Rivers was wonderful and very understanding. Everything's going to be fine," she
told her earnestly.

She nodded slowly, then frowned slightly. "Did I
hear a man's voice in the other room?"

"Oh," Molly knew she had to think quickly. "Yes.
That was Dev."

"Dev?" Eileen gave her daughter a questioning
look.

"Sheriff Macauley sent him. A prisoner got out of
jail, and the sheriff thought there might be some
trouble. He sent Dev here to make sure things are
all right." Molly was very much conscious of Jimmy's eyes upon her as she related the story, but she
didn't flinch as she told only part of the truth.
There was no point in upsetting her too much right
now. She would tell her the whole story when she
was feeling stronger.

"Oh," she sighed heavily. "There's no danger, is
there?"

"Not with Dev here. I'm sure it will all be
straightened out real soon."

Eileen thought it a bit strange that Sheriff Macauley would send someone out to their home in
particular, but she said nothing more. She was too
exhausted right now to worry about it. Molly
seemed to have everything under control, and she'd
always been a good girl.

"Are you tired? Do you want to rest some more?"

"I think I'd better," she agreed.

"Let me get you one more dose of your medicine,
and then you can sleep."

Leaving Jimmy there merrily chatting away,
Molly went to mix the potion the doctor had left.
She found Dev waiting anxiously for her return.

"How is she?" Dev's concern was evident in the
seriousness of his expression. He'd had no idea
whether Jimmy's urgent call had been one of horror
or one of happiness.

"She's awake, and she seems to be getting better,
finally," Molly said smiling.

"I'm happy for you, Molly," he told her honestly,
ignoring the compelling urge he felt to hug her.

"It's all because of you and your help paying the
doctor," she responded.

"It was only money, Molly. I don't take any of the
credit for her recovery." Dev denied any heroic
claim. He had only wanted to help Molly any way
he could.

"If it hadn't been for you, who knows how she
would have been this morning," Molly looked up at
Dev, her eyes shining with love for him.

He felt a constriction in his chest. "I'm glad I was
able to do it for you," he answered, growing uncomfortable with the emotions that were plaguing him.

"She heard your voice and asked about you," she
told him as she moved off to get the medicine.

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth, or at least part of it. I told her you
were sent out here from the sheriffs office."

"That's all?"

"For now. I'll tell her the rest tomorrow, when
she's stronger."

He nodded, wondering silently how the older
woman was going to react to his presence in her
home.

Molly sensed his unease. "Don't worry, she'll understand. Now, I'd better get back in there with
this." She held up the medicine for him to see.

"If you need anything, if I can do anything for
you, I'll be right here."

She gave him a bright smile as she returned to
her mother, and Dev went back into her room and
settled on the bed, to wait and see what the rest of
the day would bring.

Macauley strode into the Golden Horseshoe
shortly before noon the following day. He knew it
was too early for the place to be crowded, and that
was fine with him. He was looking for Wily, and he
wanted to talk with him in private.

"Morning' Sheriff," Abel, the bartender, called out
from where he stood behind the bar. He'd been
expecting the lawman to pay him a visit, and he'd
been worrying about what to tell him, should he
ask about last night. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for Wily Andrews. Is he around?"

"Nope, not this morning."

"He was here last night, though, right?"

"Yes, sir, but he left some time after midnight. I
haven't seen him since."

Macauley nodded as he let his gaze sweep the
room. "Tell me, Abel, what went on in here last
night?"

Abel didn't want to get in trouble with the sheriff,
but then again he didn't want Stevens and his
friends mad at him either. He knew how mean
those three could be, and he had no intention of
having them come in here and bust up his place.
Besides, he justified what he was about to say, what
did it matter anyway? No one had been hurt or
killed. The prisoner was still safe. Everything had turned out fine. The furor had died down, and life
was back to normal.

Abel tried to sound casual as he answered, "Well,
a bunch of the boys got drunk, and one thing led
to another, I guess."

"How'd it all get started? Who got them all riled
up?"

"I don't rightly know that there was any one man
who started it," he replied. "I went in the backroom
for a few minutes to get something, and when I
came back out the whole place was in an uproar.
They were all talking hot and heavy about `seeing
justice done."'

Macauley's look was knowing. "You don't remember anybody in particular making the most noise?"

"No, I sure don't, sheriff. But I'll be glad to ask
around for you and see what I can find out," he
offered, knowing damn good and well that he wasn't
going to tell him a thing.

"You do that, Abel, and if Wily comes in before
I get a chance to talk to him, tell him that I want
to see him over at the jail."

"Yes, sir."

The sheriff left the saloon, even more convinced
than ever that something was going on. He knew
Wily was the key to everything, so he headed for
the boarding house where he knew the old man
kept a room. Mrs. Johnson, the gray-haired, heavyset widow-woman who ran it, was happy to help,
and she guided him upstairs to his room.

"I don't know if he's still sleeping or not. I didn't
hear him come in last night, but that's not unusual,
he's always very late. He does love his liquor," she
told him primly, as if not approving of her boarder's
drinking habits.

"Here we are," she said good-naturedly as she
knocked at the door. "Wily? The sheriffs here to see
you." When there was no reply, she looked puzzled. "My, now that's strange." She knocked again, and
when once more there was no answer, she looked
questioningly at Macauley. "Shall I open it for you?"

"Yes, please. I won't disturb anything. Let's just
make sure he's all right." He had a sickening feeling
that the old man might be lying in there dead,
murdered for telling him about the lynch mob, and
if he was...

Mrs. Johnson fumbled with her ring of keys and
then finding the right one, opened the door for the
sheriff.

Macauiey entered slowly, looking carefully
around. He wasn't sure whether it was a relief or
an aggravation to find that Wily and most of his
things were gone.

"My, now that's strange," the landlady said in
confusion.

"What is?"

"Well, Wily just paid me last week for the whole
month. It isn't like him to just take off like this -
and without a word."

Macauley quickly thanked her for her time. "If
you hear from him, let me know."

"Oh, I will, Sheriff, you can be sure of it."

Blocked in his attempt to find Wily and with him
the truth, he headed back for the office in frustration.

The news of the vigilante attack reached Rancho
Alvarez quickly, along with a rumor being spread
by the owner of one of the restaurants in town that
Devlin O'Keefe had disappeared from the jail. The
minute Luis heard about it he dropped what he was
doing and raced into Monterey to find out the
truth.

The stories alarmed and angered Luis for he
couldn't afford to have anything happen to O'Keefe. Santana had been a mildly popular man in town,
but hardly the kind of citizen whose murder would
inspire such an outraged show of devotion. He
himself had only used the idea of a mob as a threat
to blackmail Cordell into taking up the hunt for
Reina. He had never believed that it might really
happen.

Luis was worried as he stormed into the sheriffs
office. If O'Keefe had had the misfortune to fall
prey to a mob of law-abiding citizens, he was afraid
Cordell would make him answer for his fate. The
sight of the lawman sitting calmly at his desk reassured him somewhat. Surely, if his prisoner had
been strung up, Macauley wouldn't be so at ease.

"What the hell is going on, Macauley?" Luis
demanded haughtily as he marched up to the desk
and glared down at him.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Alvarez,"
the sheriff replied coolly.

"I want to know what happened here yesterday."

"I'm not so sure that's any of your business," he
said caustically.

"As a concerned citizen, it most certainly is my
business. There were all kinds of terrible rumors
reaching the ranch, and I want to know the truth.
Where's O'Keefe? Did they get to him and lynch
him?"

"Since when are you so interested in what happens to O'Keefe?" Macauley asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied the old Californio, wondering at
his concern.

"Santana was a friend of mine," Luis said, stiffening at the implied insult. "I want to know what's
happened to the man who was accused of his murder!"

"O'Keefe's not here," he answered bluntly.

Luis stared aghast at Sheriff Macauley. "Then it's
true..."

"What's true? What have you heard?"

"That vigilantes stormed the jail and O'Keefe
disappeared."

"That's the way it happened, to a point," the
lawman snapped at the meddlesome rancher.

"The vigilantes didn't hang him, did they?" he
voiced his greatest concern.

"No, but that's why I moved him out of here. I
want to keep him safe. There's no guarantee those
damned fools won't try again, although I'm hoping
they're smart enough not to."

"Where is he?"

"You may be one of Monterey's leading, upstanding citizens, Alvarez, but that doesn't mean I have
to tell you anything. Just suffice it to say, that
O'Keefe is safe for now. There isn't going to be any
mob justice in my town."

"You're certain he's protected?" Luis pressed.

The sheriff gave him a strange look. One minute
it seemed the old rancher wanted the prisoner dead
for his misdeeds, and the next he sounded thoroughly worried that something might happen to
him.

"He's protected, Alvarez."

Maintaining his regal bearing, Luis dictated,
"Just make sure he stays that way until the trial."

"That's my job," Macauley answered in a level
tone, though he would have liked to have thrown
him right out of his office.