contrast to the concern in her mother’s eyes.
Even after birthing five children, Helen Carson remained a beautiful woman. Her blond hair, streaked with silver strands, was pulled back in a serviceable bun that revealed a face nearly identical to her two daughters. Save for a few lines and wrinkles, the high cheekbones were the same, as were the straight nose, pale blue eyes and stubborn set of her chin.
“Well, I’m off to the Thorn ranch.” Molly attempted to shift around her mother.
“I’d like a word with you before you leave.”
Molly tried not to sigh. This was the reason she’d woken early: to avoid a difficult conversation with her mother.
Helen Carson was fiercely protective of all her children, and that included her oldest daughter. What she refused to understand was that Molly was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. “There is nothing you can say that will change my mind.”
Her mother’s features showed distress and something else―not censure, precisely, but close. “It’s been nearly a year since your husband’s death. George wouldn’t want you hiding from the world.”
“I’m not hiding from the world.” Molly blew out a frustrated burst of air, hating the defensive note in her voice. “I’m serving a family in need.”
George would understand. He would even encourage her. An itinerant preacher, his personal mission had been to help the less fortunate. Before he’d contracted the fever that ultimately killed him, George had shared a love of serving others side by side with Molly.
Her marriage had been a happy one. Until Molly failed to provide her husband with the one thing he wanted most—a child. She’d been bitterly disappointed over her failure as a wife. George’s resentment had only added to her shame.
If her mother knew the truth, Molly was certain she’d give her words of comfort, the kind meant to heal her troubled heart. But Molly didn’t want sympathy. She certainly didn’t want to discuss her secret shame.
Anything but that.
She stood straighter, lifted her chin and attempted a second time to step around her mother.
Helen Carson moved directly into her path. “It’s been six months since Penelope became ill and died. Surely there is someone else who can care for her daughters.”
“There is no one else.”
Besides, Molly had given her friend her word. Even if she hadn’t made a promise, the twins needed a woman’s influence in their lives. They had their father, yet even after six months he was still absorbed in his own grief. And lately, Molly had noticed him distancing himself from his daughters, barely going through the motions of being a parent.
Their uncle sometimes stepped in and filled the void. Molly admired him for that—oh, how, she admired him—but CJ had his hands full running the Triple-T ranch.
“If you won’t listen to reason,” her mother said, “then at least consider taking Daisy with you.”
“You need her here.”
Her mother opened her mouth to argue.
Molly cut her off. “Please try to understand. Until Ned marries again, or another solution presents itself, I will honor my promise to Penelope. If our roles were reversed, she would do the same for me.”
“I can’t help but think there’s something you’re not telling me, some reason you’re not sharing with me.”
“The twins need me.” What woman didn’t want to be needed, especially one who couldn’t have children of her own? “I should think that reason enough.”
“Molly, won’t you please be honest with me?”
“It’s nearly dawn.” She looked pointedly at the band of gray riding low on the horizon. “The girls will be awake soon.”
This time, when Molly made for the back door, her mother pulled her into a fierce hug. “As soon as you’re ready to tell me what’s troubling you, I’ll be here to listen.”
“There’s nothing troubling me.” She stepped out of the embrace. “Other than my concern for two small children.”
With her mother’s sigh of resignation ringing in her ears, Molly hurried out of the house. She made quick work of saddling Sadie, the ten-year-old gray mare born the same year as Molly’s youngest brother, Donny.
Halfway between her family’s large spread and the much smaller Triple-T ranch, Molly felt the tension in her shoulders melt away. A soft flutter of air stirred the leaves of the Texas oaks nestled in a small grove on her left. She breathed in, smelled the faint scents of sassafras and wild cherry.
Molly loved this time of morning, when night slowly surrendered to day and everything felt new again. When possibilities stretched before her and the future didn’t feel so hopeless.
Rolling Hills ranch was the largest cattle operation in the area. Tall, rugged bluffs peppered the landscape as far as the eye could see. The green leaves of cottonwood trees shared space with large granite and limestone rocks. The sound of water sloshing on the lakeshore near the edge of her parents’ property accompanied a bobwhite’s distinctive whistle.
A movement in the distance caught her attention. Narrowing her eyes, she watched a horse and rider race across a flat patch of land. The man’s slouched posture was at odds with the magnificence of the black stallion beneath him.
Molly’s stomach dropped.
She knew that horse, and the rider. But the two did not belong together. Why hadn’t Ned taken his own gelding? What was he doing with his brother’s horse?
No one rode Thunder but CJ. The animal was too valuable to be mishandled and…
Molly had a terrible, awful feeling about this.
Please, Lord, let me be wrong. The evidence suggested otherwise. She should have seen this coming.
Why hadn’t she put the pieces together before now?
Ned had become increasingly morose in recent weeks, muttering things under his breath such as “What’s the use?” and “I can’t keep doing this.” Molly hadn’t thoroughly understood what he meant and she certainly hadn’t wanted to overstep her bounds. After all, she was helping out the Thorn family in a temporary capacity.
Another unsettling thought occurred. Surely Ned hadn’t left the twins alone in the house.
What if he had?
Molly wrapped her arms around Sadie’s neck. “Come on, old girl.” She gave a gentle kick to the mare’s ribs. “I need you to run faster than you ever have before.”
The horse responded with a burst of speed. Once they were on Thorn land, Molly urged Sadie to a trot, guiding her past the outbuildings, around the corral and on to the main house, a simple, one-story, whitewashed clapboard structure.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed smoke coming from the bunkhouse, a sure sign Cookie had already started making breakfast for the handful of ranch hands CJ employed.
Was CJ eating with the hands, as he did every morning? Was he even aware his brother had left the main house?
Molly pulled Sadie to a halt and scrambled off the horse’s back. She hurried onto the porch she and the girls had swept clean yesterday afternoon. Without bothering to knock, she rushed inside the house.
Thick gloom closed in around her. The silence was so heavy she decided the children were surely still asleep.
The children.
Molly must get to Anna and Sarah. She must ensure they were safe. She moved deeper into the house and froze when she caught a faint whiff of whiskey. Oh, Ned.
The situation was far worse than Molly had feared, and certainly explained