“And his wife.” Ida Brownley gave Molly a pointed look. Neither one of them was budging. Almost like they knew she wanted them to leave.

“I have a job. I’m sure you were going to ask soon.”

“We heard the last schoolmarm got hitched.” Falcon kept chomping away. “But we can’t spare you. You’re keeping us alive, and you’re the best cook I ever heard tell of, and that’s sayin’ something because my first wife, Patsy, was a wonder with possum stew.”

Molly had never eaten possum, nor did she want to. But she tried to keep the disgust off her face. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Win is a good cook, and Cheyenne, well, she works so hard outside it stands to reason she wouldn’t have developed cooking skills, but you won’t starve.”

“No,” Falcon said, grinning. “But we might want to.”

Ida Brownley snatched up her pretty white cloth napkin and used it to cover her face. She tried to make it sound like she was coughing, but Molly was sure the woman was laughing.

“She’s your wife.” The parson was rubbing his mouth rather vigorously. “You might want to be more positive in your—your—comments about her cooking.”

“She’s the best wife a man ever had.” For the first time that evening, Falcon seemed upset. “Whether she’s a cook or not ain’t nuthin’ that I’d ever judge her on.”

The parson nodded, and Kevin went on. “We know you got hired, because we asked around town while we were looking for you, and we also learned that school doesn’t start until next Monday.”

“Looked high and low. Figured you’d been taken away by some outlaw.” Wyatt sounded grim.

“So please, Molly, please . . .” Kevin drew the word out for several seconds, “come home with us. We’d like your company until you start school.”

“We honestly want you back to stay,” Falcon said. “Can you make that custard again tomorrow?”

Molly balled up her napkin but refrained from throwing it at him. Falcon smirked, almost like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Wyatt added, “Your brother is asking nicely, but you are going home tonight.”

“I don’t like seeing you all pressuring her.” Mrs. Brownley lost all trace of humor.

Wyatt looked at Mrs. Brownley. “We all feel mighty bad that we weren’t kind enough to her so that now she wants to leave us. It’s me especially. I’ve been ailin’, and all the work doctoring me fell to her.”

He looked across the table at Molly. “Did I ever thank you?”

Molly heard the guilt in his voice. Saw the sincerity in his eyes. She felt herself weakening, blast it all.

“I’ve been so impatient to be well. I’m sure I snapped and snarled like a cur dog by way of letting you know you saved my life.”