Beyond This Moment (5 page)

He slid the knife beneath the rope. "When I cut this, Charlie"-his breath would hardly come-"we're going to shift back toward the road, but we won't have long. You're going to have to-"

"I know what I gotta do, Sheriff. And I'll do it! I make my oath on it."

With a single cut, James sliced the rope and sent the luggage plummeting. As gravity dictated and as he'd banked on, the stage shifted back toward the mountain. Only not as far as he'd estimated. Or for as long. He scrambled back, trying to make it in time. But momentum stalled as the stage angled back toward the mountain for the final time.

He saw Lewis and Tolliver straining to hold on to the rope and felt Charlie Daggett's grip go viselike around his wrist. But nowherenowhere-did he see Molly.

And oddly enough, hers was the face he would've liked to have seen again. Just one last time.

4

olly dug in her heels and pulled hard on the mare's harness. "Come on, girl! Move!" she screamed, but the animal was slow to obey. Overlong reins trailed the muddy ground. Lewis and Tolliver yelled, and Molly turned to see the stagecoach dipping back toward the mountain.

Fear spurred her courage, and she swung onto the horse and gripped the harness-in time to see the stage slide off into the ravine. She sank her heels into the mare's flank.

It wasn't but twenty feet to where Lewis and Tolliver stood, gripping the rope, their bodies braced against the weight of Charlie Daggett-who lay hanging off the edge of the cliff, belly down, holding on to James McPherson one-handed.

Growling as he tried, Charlie strained to pull him up but couldn't.

"Hold on, Charlie!" Molly slid from the mare and led her as close to the cliff and to Charlie Daggett as the animal would go.

The horse reared, but Molly's instincts kicked in, sharpened by years of riding, and she held her steady.

"Mr. Lewis!" she called, and found him already there.

"Daggett! Grab hold of this!" Lewis yelled, tossing him the rein.

His shirt slick with sweat, Daggett reached for the rein behind him, finally grabbing hold. With surprising speed, he looped it around his thick wrist. One, two, three times. Then Lewis smacked the mare's rear, and the animal dug a slow path up the incline, protesting the load.

Unable to see James's face, Molly kept her attention glued to the wrist locked tight in Charlie Daggett's grip. Inch by inch, the mare pulled Charlie forward. But not until James lay on the ground beside him, panting and laughing, did Molly allow herself to breathe.

The men's whoops and hollers carried over the canyon and echoed back. And though she shared their relief, she couldn't share their laughter. Her legs barely supporting her, she turned away, not wanting them to see her tears.

The reality of what had almost happened to her-to them all-left her bone-chilled and shaking. She'd thought her life was over. Staring down into that ravine had been the closest to death she'd ever come, and she despised how it had felt, and the dark disturbing restlessness it awakened inside her. That throbbed in her bones even now.

Tears slid down her cheeks. She tried to gain her breath. Death was a thief, an intruder. Unwelcome and abrupt. And that it would seek her-and nearly find her-out here ...

She shivered, numb inside, recalling the undeniable knowledge that she hadn't been ready to meet her Maker face-to-face. That she still wasn't. And what of the child in her belly?

Renewed guilt and shame washed over her as thoughts of Jeremy Fowler forced themselves back in. Following their one-and only-night together, his affections for her had cooled. And that was putting it mildly. Devastated, humiliated, she'd done her best to continue instructing her classes, but it had become increasingly difficult to concentrate, and her teaching had suffered.

One morning in early July, President Northrop had summoned her to his office to discuss her poor performance and to question her propriety on the rumor that her reputation had been sullied. She'd asked him to reveal his source, but he'd refused. Days later, when she'd read in the newspaper about Jeremy's engagement to Maria Elena Patterson, daughter of the college's largest donor, she'd found her question answered. And later that week when another article reported a record donation to Franklin College by Jeremy's future father-in-law, her humiliation had been complete.

By then, she knew she was with child, and though that didn't ease the betrayal, it had made her leaving her hometown more palatable. In the article that announced the donation, President Northrop had been quoted as saying, "This generous gift from the Patterson family marks an important day in the history of Franklin College, and its bright and promising future:'

Molly drew in a shaky breath. And it had marked the end of hers.

She twisted the wedding band on her left hand. It looked so odd and out of place, with good reason. She'd been so foolish, so trusting. And she was paying the price.

She glanced back at the men and saw James standing, brushing off his clothes. She'd recognized his last name when Charlie had used it earlier, from a telegram she'd received, confirming receipt of President Northrop's letter of recommendation.

In his letter, President Northrop had stated one of the reasons for her resigning her professorship was because she wanted to see the western frontier before it was tamed and settled and vanished into history. Such foolishness ...

But apparently, the council in Timber Ridge had believed it. Because in the same telegram, which came from a Sheriff McPherson, they'd offered her the job. Turning away, Molly clenched her hands tight to ease their shaking. The teaching position had been hers for the taking. And, in his own way, Northrop had made sure she'd taken it. She'd accepted, via telegram, and was scheduled to sign the contract upon her arrival.

"Molly?"

Hearing James's voice behind her, she patted her cheeks and put on a brave face before turning.

Dirt smeared his chin and forehead, only adding to his rugged appeal. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, noting how kind a look was in his eyes and how striking their blue. "I'm fine, Sheriff McPherson:"

A smile tipped one side of his mouth, giving him a boyish look. "If it's all the same to you, ma'am, I'd prefer we stick with our given names:"

She nodded. "I'm fine ... James;' she said softly.

He looked her over. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

"My nerves are a bit worse for the wear" She touched the back of her head, coercing a smile. `And my head promises to remind me of this tomorrow, but I'm fine:' Or would be. She motioned beyond him. "You were quite ... heroic just now."

He raked a hand through his hair. "You wouldn't be saying that if you could've felt my heart pounding. I saw that ravine rushing up to meet me and-" He blew out a breath, grinning. "Let's just say my thoughts weren't all that brave:"

She laughed softly. Courageous and humble. That was a combination she didn't come across often.

He stared at her for a moment-that same patient, assessing look he'd given her in town earlier, and she did nothing to dissuade him. "You showed a lot of gumption just now, Molly. I hope you'll take this the right way, but ... I'm real impressed by how you did:"

Her emotions threatened to surface again, but Molly held them under. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tolliver approaching.

"Say, Sheriff. . " Tolliver moved in close. The gash on his forehead was crusted in blood, and his shirt was stained with it. He briefly glanced over his shoulder at Lewis and Daggett. "What do you aim to do about all that luggage you just sent over the edge?"

The warmth in James's eyes cooled. "That I just sent over the edge? You mean, to save a man's life?"

Tolliver stiffened, and Molly sensed something pass between the two men. Something beyond what had just happened.

"I'm not saying what you did wasn't justified, Sheriff, on some level. I'm simply asking what you intend to do about it:"

"I intend to leave that luggage right where it is, Tolliver. At the bottom of the ravine, at least for now. Unless you want to scramble on down there before nightfall and haul it up."

Tolliver's smile was a tight curve. "You're right, of course, Sheriff. It'll be dark soon. I'll drop by your office this week and we can discuss it then:" False gentility shaded his tone. He turned in her direction. "It's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am. Though I wish it had been under different circumstances, Dr. Whitcomb" He said it with a raised brow, as though they shared some private joke.

Molly refrained from offering her hand as she'd done before, glad to see him walk away. She recalled the image of him looking down at her and Charlie Daggett one last time before he climbed out of the carriage. It was a look that said, "Better you than me" The more she observed Brandon Tolliver, the less she liked him.

"Dr. Whitcomb? From Athens, Georgia?"

James's question pulled her back, and Molly nodded. "Yes. I'm the new-

"Schoolteacher in Timber Ridge" He eyed her. "I sent you a telegram."

"Yes, you did:"

That same wry smile eased up one corner of his mouth. "Seems fate gave us a jump on introductions back in Sulfur Falls:"

"Yes, I think it did. It's nice to finally make your acquaintance, James." She offered a slight curtsey. "My instructions were to stop by your office when I arrived in town:"

"Yes, ma'am. And, actually, I planned to meet your train in Sulfur Falls. But you're a few days ahead of schedule:"

She nodded, trying not to stare at the pieces of sagebrush in his hair. "I sent a wire yesterday morning, but-"

"The telegraph's down due to rain:" He smiled again. "Unfortunately, that happens a lot up here. We've got men out there right now trying to fix it. The folks of Timber Ridge are eager for your arrival, ma'am."

"And I'm looking forward to meeting the people of Timber Ridge;' she countered, feeling a check in her spirit. Earlier during the day that statement would have been false. But in light of what had just happened, and now that the numbness was fading, life suddenly seemed more precious. Even hers.

She caught the sideways look James was giving her. "What?" She looked down, smoothing a hand over her skirt. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am. Nothing's wrong. It's just that the letter of recommendation and the telegram said Dr. Whitcomb. And you're not exactly what comes to mind when I picture a female college professor:"

Responding to his grin, she raised a brow, inviting him to explain.

He shrugged. "Let's just say you're a mite more ... stylish than most of us had envisioned. In a good way, though;' he added quickly. His gaze took in her vest and lace jabot. "Don't hear me complaining. You're just not what I was expecting, that's all:"

His comment was an honest one, and while she sensed approval in his demeanor, Molly also felt a prick of guilt, considering the underlying truth of his statement.

"Sheriff, we're ready to head on, if you are:" Lewis approached, leading two horses. "It'll be dark soon:" He glanced toward the ledge where the carriage had gone over, defeat lining his features. "I'll come back tomorrow, see what can be salvaged from the wreckage. For what it's worth, Sheriff, you did the right thing ... cutting that luggage loose. However much it's gonna cost me:'

James put his hand on Lewis's shoulder, and Molly was struck by how natural a gesture it seemed coming from him. Even though, judging from appearances, Lewis was the older man.

"How heavy was that carriage loaded, Lewis?" James's gaze was steady.

"Too heavy, Sheriff." Lewis looked away. "I already had a full load when Tolliv-" He shook his head and glanced back to where Tolliver and Daggett sat astride the other two horses. "In the end, sir, it was my fault. And I'm sorry." He looked at Molly. "I ask your pardon, ma'am, for puttin' you in danger like I did. For puttin' us all in danger. It was foolish and it won't happen again."

Molly nodded her acceptance of his apology, finding words unfitting for the moment. She thought of her satchel and its contents at the bottom of the ravine-some clothing and personal items, the magazine she'd saved. But the loss paled when compared to what it could have been, and she was glad now that her trunks hadn't been on board.

Lewis gestured. "One of the mares has a bruised fetlock and ain't fit to ride. I'm wondering if Mrs. Whitcomb here might ride with you, sir?"

James's gaze swung from Lewis back to her. "Mrs. Whitcomb?" His eyes clouded. "You're married, ma'am?"

Molly froze inside. She briefly looked down at the ring on her left hand, then found James doing the same. And she glimpsed herself through his eyes-hardly acting the part of a grieving widow-and the open, attentive quality she'd considered so attractive in the man suddenly set her ill at ease.

Her guard rose. "Yes, I ... I mean, no, I'm not. . " She couldn't maintain his gaze, nor that of Mr. Lewis. "Actually, Sheriff, I'm a ... recent widow." She barely managed the words, and they sounded false, even to her. Oh, God, please help me....

But realizing what she was asking God to help her do, Molly knew she was on her own.