Page 11 of Wild Spirit Revival

He started, nearly spilling his beer. “What?”

Nathan leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You sure? Because it seems you’re more interested in our new arrival than in discussing ranch business.”

“I’m just… keeping an eye on her,” Elijah muttered, his jaw clenching. “Someone’s got to make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble.”

Joshua rolled his eyes. “Right. Because a woman eating stew is such a threat to our way of life.”

Elijah scowled, drained the last of his beer, and stood. “We should head back to the ranch. Those chores won’t take care of themselves.”

They made their way to the tavern’s exit, Elijah lagging behind. As they reached the door, he couldn’t resist one last glance at Molly. To his surprise, he found her looking right back at him, her gaze challenging and curious.

For a moment, their gazes locked, and Elijah felt a jolt of… something. Displeasure? Interest? He couldn’t quite name it. He turned away, following his brothers out onto the boardwalk.

As the tavern door swung shut behind them, Molly sat alone at her table, her thoughts swirling. She’d come to Montana seeking adventure and independence. Not once had she expected to encounter a man as interesting as Elijah Beckett. His gruff exterior and apparent disdain for her presence should have been off-putting. Instead, there was something in those stolen glances, as if there was more to him than she anticipated.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. “He’s just another narrow-minded man who can’t handle a woman thinking for herself.”

As she finished her meal and prepared to leave, Molly couldn’t shake the feeling her interactions with Elijah Beckett were far from over.

Chapter Five

The sun-drenched, rolling plains of Montana stretched before Molly as she guided her rented buggy toward Wild Spirit Ranch. Her camera equipment bounced on the seat with each jolt of the wheels, a constant reminder of her purpose.

The past two days in Mystic had yielded some promising shots. She could almost hear Casper Jennings’ gravelly voice urging her to head south.

“If it’s real Montana you’re after, Miss O’Sullivan, you’ll find it at the Beckett place.”

As the sprawling ranch came into view, Molly’s heart quickened. The sheer vastness of it took her breath away. According to Casper, owner of Jennings Mercantile & Dry Goods, Wild Spirit Ranch was 150,000 acres of untamed beauty. She pulled up to the main house, a sprawling structure rising from the landscape.

A woman with chestnut hair and striking blue eyes emerged onto the porch, one hand resting on her swollen belly. “Can I help you?” Her voice carried a slight Southern drawl.

Molly climbed down from the buggy. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Molly O’Sullivan. I was hoping to take some photographs of your beautiful ranch. If you have no objection.”

The woman’s face lit up with a smile. “Oh, how delightful! I’m Jolene Beckett. Please, come in out of this heat.”

As Molly followed Jolene inside, she explained her project. “I’m capturing the essence of Montana. Its people and places. Your ranch is spectacular.”

Jolene beamed with pride. “We certainly think so. My husband, Grayson, and his brothers have poured their hearts into this land. My mother-in-law, Naomi Beckett, still lives here. She’s a widow and a force unto herself. Right now, she’s in San Francisco visiting relatives.” She paused, studying Molly. “You’re welcome to photograph around the house and outbuildings. I’d love to see Montana, and the ranch, through your eyes.”

Molly felt a rush of gratitude. “Thank you, Mrs. Beckett. Your kindness means more than you know.”

“Please, call me Jolene. Would you care for tea or coffee?”

“Thank you. I’m good, for now.”

“Then let me show you around.”

Over the next hour, Jolene and Molly walked around the extensive ranch area. Two small barns, one larger one, separate stables, numerous corrals, paddocks, and various sheds for tools underscored the longevity of the ranch.

“I hope you’ve seen some locations of interest,” Jolene said when they returned to the house.

“At least two dozen spots. I won’t be able to get it all done before leaving for town.”

“Then you’ll have to return tomorrow.” Jolene smiled.

Molly lost herself in her work, crouching low to capture the weathered grain of the barn door, the play of light across the corral, and several horses grazing in a corral. She was so engrossed in her work, she didn’t hear the approaching horses until a familiar voice boomed across the yard.

“What in tarnation is going on here?”

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