Page 57 of Wild Spirit Revival

The wagon lurched forward as she urged the horses up the steep incline. The path was treacherous, littered with loose rocks and deep ruts. Every jolt threatened to unseat her, but Molly clung on with grim determination.

“Just a little farther.”

The heat at her back intensified, driving her onward. Sweat beaded on her brow, a mixture of exertion and fear. The smoke thickened, making it harder to see and breathe.

She coughed, her eyes watering. “Oh, Elijah,” she whispered, her thoughts turning to the rugged rancher.

A loud crack split the air, followed by a thunderous crash. Molly whipped her head around to see a burning tree collapse across the path behind her.

She gasped, turning back to the trail ahead. “Just a bit more.”

The wagon wheels caught on a deep rut, rocking the wagon into a precarious position. Her heart lodged in her throat as she fought to maintain control.

“No, no, no,” she pleaded, and pulled hard on the reins.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The news of the wildfire spread through Mystic like a spark through dry tinder. Casper Jennings burst through the doors of the sheriff’s office, his normally placid face etched with worry.

“Sheriff! It’s Miss O’Sullivan. She’s up in the mountains!”

Brodie Gaines looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing. “What’s this about Miss O’Sullivan?”

Casper leaned against the doorframe, panting. “The fire. It’s raging at the base of the mountains. I gave her a map of the area. She rented a wagon and headed there this morning. She’s up there, taking photographs.”

Brodie stood, his chair almost toppling over in his haste. “You’re certain?”

“As sure as I’m standing here.” Casper nodded vigorously. “Said she wanted to capture the mountains before leaving for Helena.”

Brodie’s jaw clenched, his mind racing. “She’s in real danger if the fire’s as bad as I’ve been hearing.”

“It is, Sheriff,” Casper insisted. “I rode out toward the Beckett place. I’ve never seen anything like it. The smoke…” He shook his head.

Brodie grabbed his hat, striding toward the door. “I’m heading to Wild Spirit Ranch. Elijah needs to know.”

As he mounted his horse, Brodie’s thoughts turned to Molly. The spirited photographer had become a friend to many in Mystic, himself included. The idea of her alone, facing such danger, made his stomach churn.

“Hyah!” he called, spurring his horse into a gallop. The wind whipped at his face as he tore down the road toward Wild Spirit Ranch, each thundering hoofbeat matching the pounding of his heart.

“Hold on, Molly,” he muttered. “We’re coming for you.”

Elijah Beckett stood in the yard of Wild Spirit Ranch, his gaze scanning the horizon as Brodie’s urgent message sank in. Without hesitation, he turned to his brothers and the young cowboys gathered around him.

“Molly’s out there,” he said. “We need to move fast.”

Cody, his older brother, stepped forward. “How do you want to do this, Eli?”

His mind began formulating a strategy. “We’ll split into three groups. Cody, you take the east slope with two of the hands. Joshua, you’re with me on the central path. Nathan, take a group up the western trail with Parker and two more of the hands. The rest of the hands will stay here.”

The men nodded, their faces grim with determination.

“What about us?” Annalee, his younger sister, called out, Lilian at her side.

Elijah shook his head. “You stay here. We need someone to prepare for when we bring her back.”

“But—” Annalee started to protest.

“No arguments,” Elijah cut her off, his tone brooking no dissent. “Time’s wasting. Gear up, everyone. Bandanas, canteens, rope. We don’t know what we’re riding into.”

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