“I don’t see how finding out about his finances leads me to proving him a murderer, but it will be interesting.” Molly felt a cold chill of anger at Hawkins. A deep desire to avenge the deaths of women who’d been harmed by him. A deep desire to turn over every slimy rock that came near Oliver Hawkins and see what kind of worm crawled out.

They fell silent as they rode toward the Hawkins Ranch. Molly, lost in thought, planning what she’d say to get the job. Wyatt might be doing the same thing.

“Molly, about kissing you—”

“There’ll be no more of that, Wyatt.” Her hands tightened on the reins so suddenly her horse slowed and tossed its head.

Wyatt reached out quick as a rattler and grabbed the reins. He slowed the horse and gave Molly a few seconds to get ahold of herself.

Molly’s chin came up, but she didn’t look at Wyatt. Instead, she stared straight ahead. “It was a mistake. I have no plans to marry. Because of that, I shouldn’t behave as if I have an interest in a man. It’s unfair of me. Sinful even.”

“A kiss isn’t sinful, not when it ends so soon.”

Molly remembered the kiss, and it had gone on far too long. “It’s sinful if I have no proper intentions toward you. You started that kiss, Wyatt, but I should’ve called a halt to it immediately. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m not so sure.”

Molly didn’t respond to that.

“I remember waking up with you in my arms, Molly. I think about it. Often. I’m not likely to forget how nice it felt to hold you close.”

He looked at her, heat in his eyes. Molly only knew he looked because she looked at him. And she couldn’t look away. It was long minutes before Wyatt released her reins, and they rode on.

The trail curved around a steep bluff, and the ranch lay before them. Molly saw the house and gasped. “Who built that?”

Wyatt turned to look, then shook his head. “Like everything else, Hawkins hired someone to do the work. And remember, this was nearly twenty years ago. There was no train. There was no sawmill, so no boards. He had the wood shipped in from a lumber mill somewhere. He hired men out of Omaha to travel with the fancy work, the doorknobs, and glass. There are marble fireplaces inside, all sorts of outrageous flounces. When you see it, you’ll wonder if Hawkins is a fool or a madman.”

“He could be both. If he’s killed women, then he’s a monster on top of it.”

“Be careful in there, Molly. You packed a gun, didn’t you?”

“And a knife.”

“I’m just a shout or a shot away.”