Open Country by Kaki Warner Read Free Book Online

his ribs, until the unending agony sent terror roaring through his mind. Teeth clenched, eyes clamped tight against the burning brightness, he lay in shivering misery and tried to endure.
    Dimly, he heard a voice. He couldn’t hear the words but recognized it as a woman’s voice . . . soft, soothing . . . with the sound of the South in the rolling cadence. He focused on it with all his mind, knowing as long as he could hear her voice, it meant he was still alive and not alone. Time ebbed and flowed, but the pain stayed constant. Only her voice kept him from drifting into the abyss.
    After a while, the voice became two voices. A man and the woman. Arguing. It made his head hurt. Damn them. He turned toward them to tell them to stop.
    And everything spun out of control.
    Dizziness swamped him. His stomach heaved. Bile burned in his throat. Swallowing convulsively, he fought back wave after wave of churning nausea and waited for the spinning to stop.
    Finally, it did. And then all that was left was the pain.
    Sweet Jesus—am I dying? Dead?
    Blackness pressed like hands against his chest, forcing him down into the smothering emptiness that was more terrible than pain. He fought it, but his strength was gone and the hands were too strong.
    No!—I’m not ready—I want to go back!
    But already he was sinking down, down in a slow, spinning fall.

Three

    EFFIE AND THE REVEREND MET MOLLY AS SHE CAME UP THE steps of their small clapboard house beside the church. It was a welcoming house, boasting fresh white paint on the rails of the porch and an abundance of ruffled curtains at the windows. The kind of house Molly would have liked had she and Papa ever stayed in one place long enough to make a home.
    “He’s talking to Mr. Harkness then he’ll see his brother,” Reverend Beckworth told Molly as he held open the door. “I said you’d wait for him in the study.”
    “You’re not leaving her alone with him?” Effie asked in surprise.
    “He might hurt her. Did you see how angry he was?”
    With a quelling look at his wife, the reverend turned to Molly. “His name is Brady Wilkins. Of Wilkins Cattle and Mining in New Mexico.”
    “Oh, my,” Effie murmured. “I didn’t realize.”
    Molly felt as if the floor had shifted beneath her feet.
    Effie rallied first. “Well, I don’t care who he is. He is a most unpleasant person, and I don’t think you should leave her alone with him, not at all.”
    Molly tried to steady her breathing. It had never occurred to her that her husband might be one of those Wilkinses. Even though she was new to the Southwest, she’d heard enough to know they were not a family to cross.
    Steering his wife toward the kitchen, the reverend gave Molly an encouraging smile. “Call if you need us.”
    With a feeling of dread, Molly went to the study. Standing at the window, she watched the children play in the side yard and wondered what she would say to Brady Wilkins. Should she tell the truth? Try to gain his sympathy? Lie? She was a poor liar. Over the years, to ease a patient’s anxiety she had learned to shade the truth a bit, but she had never outright lied. Until now.
    She had no choice. She needed that money. The children had no one to protect them but her. That justification sounded a lot better than it felt.
    Suddenly the door flew open. Molly whirled.
    He loomed in the doorway, nearly as tall as his brother but leaner. Dressed for travel, he wore a dusty black Stetson, a sheepskin jacket over faded Levi Strauss trousers, and a large revolver in a holster on his right hip. His eyes had all the warmth of a cloudless winter sky and contrasted starkly against his weathered skin and dark stubble. She couldn’t see his mouth beneath the black mustache, but judging by the furrow between his dark brows, she guessed he wasn’t smiling.
    “You must be Henry’s brother,” she said, striving for a friendly tone.
    Those icy blue eyes flicked over her, a purely masculine assessment that hit all