Page 36 of Wild Spirit Revival

Brodie nodded in agreement. “We’ve got extra men patrolling, and the bank’s locked up tight. Everyone is safe.”

As the sheriff moved on, Molly couldn’t shake a nagging feeling of unease. She studied Elijah’s face, noting the slight furrow in his brow. “You’re sure everything’s all right?”

His expression softened as he met her gaze. “You’re safe here with me. Now, how about we go see about getting some food before the fireworks start?”

As they made their way to the food tables, Molly pushed her concerns aside, determined to enjoy this unexpected day of joy and connection.

As Lorna Dunne, owner of the Buffalo Run Tavern, handed her a plate of carved beef and carrot salad, the crack of gunfire shattered the festive atmosphere. Molly’s heart leapt into her throat as screams erupted from the direction of the bank.

“Get down!” Elijah’s voice cut through the chaos, his strong hands pushing her toward the ground, the plate of food slipping from her hands.

Fear gripped her as she crouched behind a wooden crate. Her hand instinctively reached for her camera. Then she remembered Elijah had set it behind the table.

“What’s happening?” she gasped.

Elijah’s face was a mask of grim determination. “The bank. It’s a robbery.” His gaze met hers, fierce and protective. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

“But I can help!” Molly protested, crawling around the table toward her camera. “I can document this, show people what’s happening!”

“No. It’s too dangerous,” Elijah growled, his hand on her shoulder. “Listen to me, Molly. I can’t protect you if you’re out there.”

The sounds of panic swelled around them. Shattering glass, thundering hoofbeats, screams, and gunshots underscored his concern. Molly’s heart pounded, torn between her instinct to capture this moment of history and her fear of the very real danger.

“We need to get these people to safety.” Elijah’s gaze scanned the crowd as more gunshots sounded. He turned to a group huddled nearby. “You there! Head for the church, it’s the sturdiest building in town.”

As Elijah directed people, Molly’s thoughts whirled. This was the kind of story she’d come west to document. But the fear in people’s eyes, the children crying, stopped her from grabbing the camera box. This was more than a thrilling tale for her camera.

“Elijah! What can I do to help?”

He paused, conflict clear on his face. “Help guide people toward the church. Promise me you won’t go near the bank.”

“I promise. Be careful, Elijah.”

As he moved off to assist with thwarting the outlaws, Molly took a deep breath. This wasn’t Chicago, with its predictable streets and civilized dangers. This was the untamed West she’d dreamed of capturing. Now, faced with its reality, she realized how unprepared she truly was.

Molly crouched low, scanning the chaotic scene. The Fourth of July decorations fluttered in the breeze, mocking them. A stark contrast to the mayhem unfolding.

Spotting a group of three women and several children, she rushed to them. “You need to get to the church. Go between the buildings and follow the others.”

“Thank you,” one of the women said, her voice trembling.

“Do you need me to go with you?”

“No, we can make it.” They turned and hurried away as gunfire sounded again.

Molly turned to see a group of masked men burst from the bank, guns raised and sacks bulging with stolen cash. Their leader, a towering figure with a black bandana covering his face, fired a shot into the air.

“Nobody move!” he bellowed. His voice carried over the panicked screams.

Before he could say anything more, gunfire from the men of Mystic slammed into the outlaw’s body. One by one, the other members of the gang fell to the onslaught of bullets.

Molly’s heart raced, but her hands remained steady. If only her camera were set up. She’d capture the raw fear on people’s faces, the determined set of Sheriff Brodie’s jaw as he ducked behind a water trough, his revolver at the ready. Instead, she’d only see the images in her mind.

“Miss O’Sullivan!”

Molly turned to see Faith Goodell, owner of the Mystic Gazette, crouched behind an overturned table. When the sound of gunfire slowed, she rushed to kneel beside her.

“Are you all right, Miss Goodell?”

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