The Wren by Kristy McCaffrey

Author:Kristy McCaffrey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance, western romance, cowboy romance, texas rangers, historical romance novels, kristy mccaffrey, romance and cowboys, the wren, romance western series, historical western romance ebooks
Publisher: Kristy McCaffrey

Chapter Eighteen

Matt found Molly in Pecos’ stall again, although thankfully she was awake this time. Standing near the animal’s neck, she rested her head against the friendly mare, crooning softly to her. Matt stopped before them.

Spying him, Molly said, “You look exhausted. You really ought to get some rest this afternoon.”

“I hate to admit it, but I think you’re right. Look, Molly, about Mrs. McAllister…”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“That woman has always been bigger than her britches and prejudiced beyond belief. Don’t ever get her started on the issue of slavery.” He held his hand out to Pecos, and the horse’s wet snout coated his palm. “Don’t let her get to you.”

“But there’s some truth in what she said. I’ve never really thought about it until now, but I think a part of me will always be Comanche. A part of me will never forget.”

“No one’s asking you to.”

“But people like Mrs. McAllister will never accept me, will they? Is the sentiment the same with everyone in these parts?”

Matt paused. “I can’t say for certain, but memories are long and the Comanche terrorized this area for some time. People aren’t likely to forget that.” He pushed his hat back. “Molly, I didn’t say this before, but maybe now’s the time. It’s probably best if you don’t talk much about where you’ve been the past ten years. Some folks just won’t understand.”

Molly’s stricken expression made him feel lower than dirt.

She recovered quickly, however, and nodded. “You can get on back to the house now,” she said thickly, “I’ll be all right. I think I might ride Pecos a bit. She needs to stretch her legs.”

“One of the ranch hands can ride her.” He didn’t want to leave just yet.

Molly shook her head. “I think I need to stretch my legs, too.”

“Will you play a game of chess with me tonight?” he asked in a vain hope to engage her company later.

Molly opened the stall door, forcing Matt to move aside as she led Pecos out of the stables. “I’ve been living with barbarians. When would I have learned to play chess?” she asked bitterly.

“I’ll teach you,” he said behind her.

“I’ll think about it.” She efficiently saddled her horse and was gone before Matt could catch her.

Damn his injured foot.

* * *

Molly stayed away for several hours, the freedom and solitude a balm to her spirit. The whisper of the wind, the all-encompassing blue sky, and the endless plains brought her back to her life with the Kwahadi, a life that had taken her from childhood to the beginnings of womanhood.

It had been a life of hardship—bitterly cold winters, hungry nights when food was scarce, the constant togetherness of living in a crowded teepee with Bull Runner’s family. But there had also been sweet summer days, buffalo hunts in which the women often accompanied the warriors, games and mayhem, funny stories and gossip from the older women while they ground, cut and dried the food they gathered and hunted nearly every day of their life.

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