“Let’s head on.” Rachel seemed determined to interrupt Wyatt’s proposal. “We’ll leave one more horse for Cheyenne and Falcon, they’re supposed to come back with Kevin’s. Let’s catch up to the others.”

Wyatt swung up on horseback just as Molly did. Then Rachel. He probably should have boosted Rachel up. She looked a little shaky. But she made it. They caught up with the others in a few minutes, then Falcon and Cheyenne came along soon after. All of them with their problems finally solved.

Wyatt could only hope.

Thirty

And then I shot him.” Molly had insisted on talking to the sheriff before she’d agree to a wedding. A hanging right after she said “I do” would be upsetting for everyone, that is . . . even more upsetting than being hanged.

And it was hard for something to be more upsetting but just in case.

Her heart pounded like a drum. Her face was so hot she had to believe she was seconds from having flames shoot out of the top of her head.

And not the heat of embarrassment. That was too mild an emotion. The heat of guilt. The heat of knowing what she faced, suspecting what she deserved.

“A clear case of self-defense, Miss Garner. Don’t you worry about it.” Sheriff Corly patted her on the shoulder. Almost in a fatherly way.

“No, I hated him. I wanted him dead. I wanted to shoot him.” Now that she’d started talking, she couldn’t seem to shut up. She’d explained her anger. Explained her intent. She didn’t think self-defense quite covered it.

“Most folks that shoot someone in self-defense have such feelings, miss. I ain’t arresting you for it.”

“Are you sure you get to make that decision, shouldn’t a jury decide?” She didn’t want to walk out of here free and have them change their minds after a stretch of consideration. That would be something else hanging over her.

“Molly”—Wyatt dragged her back a few steps from the lawman—“hush now. No sense begging the man to arrest you.”