Page 1 of Wild Spirit Revival

Chapter One

Montana

June 1880

Molly O’Sullivan rubbed her backside for the hundredth time, watching the miles rush by from her spot at the window on the westbound train. Since leaving her home in Chicago, she’d passed through several states and more towns than she could recall. Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, and half of Montana were now behind her.

Though expected, she jumped when the whistle sounded, signaling their approach to Bozeman. Her last stop for now.

The back door to her car opened and closed, a familiar sound after so many miles. The hard object poking behind her ear caused Molly to still. The low, hard voice turned her blood cold.

“Smile as if you know me, and put your money and jewelry into this pouch.” The man handed her a suede bag.

She stared at it, unmoving, until he poked her harder with what Molly believed was the barrel of a gun. Of all the places she could’ve sat down, why was it at the back of the car, with everyone else facing forward? Unless someone turned around, they’d never learn what was happening a few feet behind them. Reaching into a small silk purse, she extracted a roll of bills.

“This is all I have with me.” She slid it into the pouch.

“That thing you’ve got pinned to your coat. Put it in, too.”

“No.”

He tapped the barrel against her skull. “No?”

“No,” she whispered. “It was my grandmother’s. I’ll not turn it over to you.”

“Fine with me.” He reached out and ripped it off her coat.

She gasped, unable to do more before he brushed past her and rushed to the next car. The whistle blew again, shaking her from the stunned surprise, reminding her they were almost to their next stop.

Grabbing her purse, she ran toward the next car, almost falling when the engineer applied the brakes. Steadying herself, Molly moved from one car to the next, looking for the thief. As the train continued to slow, she braced herself.

She knew his face and what he was wearing. Before the train came to a complete stop, Molly jumped down, looking to the front and the back, spotting the miscreant hop off two cars in front of her.

Shouting and pointing for someone to stop the thief, she charged ahead. Running as fast as possible while wearing a long skirt and men’s boots, she could see him jerking around travelers and townsfolk, putting more distance between them.

Gritting her teeth, she continued while shouting once more for help. As she ran past them, people eyed her as if she were the criminal. Spotting him race around a corner, she followed, sure she’d lost him.

Taking the corner, she plowed into an immovable object with a gasp, bounced backward, and landed on her behind. Shaking her head, Molly glared at the man who stood over her.

“Are you all right?” He held out a hand, which she ignored, preferring to stand on her own.

She glanced around, then turned in a circle. “Did you see where he went?”

“Who?”

Eyes afire, she stared at him. “The man who ran around the corner just before me. Which way did he go?”

“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t see a man running. Just you, a second before you almost busted over me.”

She scoffed. “You’re as hard as a stone building. Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“That’s not possible. I was right behind him before he came this way.”

“No one came this way.”

“Then you’re blind as well as daft.” She puffed out a breath, her chest heaving.

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