Page 37 of Wild Spirit Revival

Faith’s eyes gleamed with a mix of fear and journalistic fervor. “This’ll be the story of the year. If I survive to print it.”

“I’ll take photographs, but they’ll show the aftermath.”

“That will do,” Faith said.

A commotion near the bank drew their attention. One of the robbers had grabbed a young woman, using her as a human shield.

“Let her go!” Elijah’s voice rang out, clear and commanding. He, Brodie, and Jubal walked toward him, their guns aimed at his chest. “You’ll never make it away from here,” Elijah said. “Let her go and put down your gun.”

Molly’s breath caught in her throat. What was Elijah doing?

The robber let out a nervous laugh, a harsh, grating sound. “I’m going to ride away and take her with me.”

Elijah took another step toward him, seeing the stark fear in the young woman’s eyes. “There are at least eight guns aimed at you. You’ll never make it to your horse.”

Molly’s breath caught. She had to do something, anything to help.

As if sensing her thoughts, Faith grabbed Molly’s arm. “Don’t even think about it,” she whispered. “We document. That’s how we help.”

Molly blew out a breath, her jaw set. She might not be able to fight, but she could bear witness with her camera.

Elijah’s eyes darted to Molly, a flicker of concern thawing his stony features. In that instant, he seemed to make a decision. With deliberate slowness, he began to edge toward her, his body angled to shield her from potential gunfire.

“Let the woman go,” Brodie yelled at the outlaw. “You’ll get a fair trial. Right now, the charge is attempted robbery. Don’t make it worse.”

The outlaw seemed to consider his chance of getting away against facing a jury. “All right.” Letting go of the woman, he dropped his gun, raising his hands in the air.

With the danger gone, Molly rushed to set up her camera. Positioning it toward the bank, she took a photograph of Brodie marching the man toward her on the way to the jail. Changing plates, she took another photograph.

Her fingers tightened on the camera, positioning it to focus on Elijah. He stared straight back at her.The perfect image, she thought before capturing him in a picture Molly knew would be shown across the country.

Chapter Fifteen

The acrid smell of gunpowder lingered in the air as Elijah Beckett stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the undertaker’s wagon. Calum Post, the town’s somber-faced mortician, methodically loaded the bodies of the fallen outlaws, each thud of lifeless flesh against wood sending a shiver down Elijah’s spine. His hands, normally steady as iron, trembled with relief and gnawing concern for Molly’s safety.

Elijah clenched his fists, willing the tremors to subside. “Pull yourself together,” he muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening as he surveyed the chaotic aftermath of the shootout. His gaze darted around, searching for a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair amidst the crowd.

Finally, he spotted her. Molly O’Sullivan stood near the boardwalk, her camera box beside her, eyes wide with shock. Without hesitation, Elijah strode toward her, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

“Molly,” he called out, his hard-edged features cracking as relief flooded his voice.

“Elijah, I—”

Before she could finish, Elijah pulled her into a fierce embrace, his strong arms enveloping her smaller frame. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the faint scent of lavender mixed with sage that always clung to her, grounding himself in the reality she was safe.

“Are you all right?” Pulling back, he examined her face, his gaze searching hers.

She nodded, her chin lifting with characteristic determination. “I’m fine, Elijah. It takes more than a few bullets flying to rattle me.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Stubborn as ever, I see.”

“Would you rather me be dull and mousy?” A spark of her usual fire returned to her eyes.

His expression softened, his usual taciturn nature giving way to a moment of vulnerability. “No, I wouldn’t,” he admitted. “When I heard the shots… I thought…”

She placed a hand on his chest, her touch soothing the rapid beating of his heart. “I’m okay, truly. What about you? Are you hurt?”

Elijah shook his head, his gaze drifting back to the undertaker’s wagon. “No, I’m fine. Just… it was too close. Much too close.”

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