On the couch, Molly'd gone pale, her eyes huge in her face. He couldn't forget how she'd told him the police in Austin had let the guy get close enough to hurt her.
How could she not feel like it was happening all over again?
"What about trespassing?" Cord demanded.
The sheriff was already shaking his head.
He'd known it was a long shot as the words left his mouth. Somebody who would be careful enough to stay out of the protective order's radius would be careful enough to stay on the state-owned side of the culvert.
"Look, son—"
"You're telling me that he can sit on the road and intimidate her as much and as long as he wants, and your hands are tied?” Cord slapped his hands on both thighs. “That's not good enough."
What if the jerk decided to come onto the No Name? Come after her? The sheriff had taken his sweet time to arrive—too long. Cord could only imagine the damage someone could do with his fists in five minutes. And what if Toby had a weapon?
Molly stood. Even from here, Cord could see her hands trembling. "Thank you for coming," she whispered. To Cord, "I'm going to lie down. I need…" She didn't finish, just left her words hanging.
She was terrified, and with good reason.
The sheriff headed for the door. As he opened it, Cord could hear an engine coming up the drive.
"Looks like you got company, son."
Rick. He recognized the logo of the hardware store painted onto the side of the truck.
The truck slowed, and the window rolled down as Rick spoke to the deputy who was hoofing it back toward the patrol car.
The sheriff and his deputy loaded up, heading out without a good-bye.
He stood on the porch, hatless, cold air swirling around him. The law was going to let Molly down.
How was he supposed to help her?
Rick got out of his truck and approached. "Problems?"
Cord shifted his feet. He wished the guy hadn't even shown up. "My… girlfriend"—he didn't know what to call her—"is in trouble. Somebody's making trouble for her," he amended. No need for vicious rumors to get started around town.
"Sorry to hear that." Rick rounded the back of his pickup and hefted a cardboard box. Another one waited, and Cord went after it. They put the boxes on the porch.
When Rick stood straight, he said, "Anything I can do?"
His offer of help was unexpected, and, after the nothing he'd gotten from the sheriff's department, Cord felt a rush of unexpected emotion.
This was what Sutter's Hollow could have been, if he hadn't ruined everything all those years ago.
“I don’t know yet,” he said. He was worried about Molly, so he shook Rick’s hand and sent him off with a quick reassurance that he’d let him know if they needed anything.
16
Cord didn't leave the house all day.
There'd been no saving Molly's dough, which had risen in a giant, misshapen lump on the counter. He'd tossed it.
He'd brewed a pot of coffee and grimaced when it didn't have any kind of special spice in it. How could he miss something he hadn’t even liked?
He'd scorched her soup but eaten two bowls of it anyway. She'd made it for him, after all.
She didn't come out of her room. And by nightfall, he'd started to get a little scared.
He stood in the hall, Hound Dog by his feet, listening to her move around the room through the closed door.
What was she doing in there?
His phone pinged a message, and he walked down the hall to play it back. The bank manager's voice came from the speaker.
"Checking in on the payment. You've got until Monday to clear the overdue amount."
He punched off the app, his temper spiking. Who cared about the mortgage when Molly's life was in danger?
Not him.
It was eye-opening, the depths of his feelings for her. He stood with one hand braced against the wall.
He hadn't meant to, but he'd fallen for her anyway. Couldn't help it. If he lost No Name to foreclosure, if he had to start all over from scratch with no credit, none of that mattered.
He needed Molly to be okay.
When he couldn't stand it any longer, he went back to her door and knocked softly. "Molly? It's me."
She didn't answer.
"Can I come in?"
The door cracked. She walked away even as the portal opened.
She had a duffel bag open on the bed, spilling over with clothes.
"What're you doing?" The words came out though it was obvious she was packing. The frantic motion as she tried to stuff a pair of tennis shoes into the top of the bag worried him.
"I can't… I can't stay here."
The tremble in her voice betrayed her.
"Sure, you can."
She shook her head as she brushed past him. He stood in her room, listening to the pad of her feet to the bathroom and back. She was holding her toothbrush and hairbrush and started stuffing them in the bag, too.
He looked down at the dog, who sat next to his feet. Hound looked up at him, doggie tongue lolling. Do something, he told the dog, raising his eyebrows.
The dog hopped up on the bed, curling into a ball and putting its chin on the open duffel bag.
Seriously? He glared at the animal behind Molly's back.
Molly froze. It was small, and she quickly gathered herself and reached for a T-shirt lying across the edge of the bed, but he'd seen it. She'd reacted to the dog.
"Don't go." He reached out and touched her wrist, hoping to still her manic movements. She jumped and whirled on him.
Her eyes were wild again.
He held up his hands, surrender-style.
"You can't keep running," he said gently. "It didn't work the last time."
"I can't just stay here and wait for… wait for…" She sucked in a breath but couldn't get more words past her chattering teeth.
"He isn't going to get close to you. I promise."
She shook her head, her hair flying around her face. "You can't promise that."
He'd never shot anything bigger than a squirrel, but a
