The Marshal Takes a Bride

“Thanks for—” Katherine cocked her head toward the back of the house “—taking my side out there today.”

Laney’s amber eyes crinkled at the corners. “Think nothing of it. Trey may be Marc’s family, but in all the ways that count you’re mine.”

Katherine didn’t have the words to express her love for this woman, her sister in the faith. She had given Katherine far more than a home on that horrible night two years ago. Her friend had given her an opportunity to start over and had provided a place in the world where Katherine could exist without shame. “I…well, I just want to say thank you for supporting me.”

“Always.” Laney regarded her with a kind, patient look. “And we both know it goes both ways. I wouldn’t have Charity House if it weren’t for your help.”

Year-old memories pushed to the front of Katherine’s mind. Laney had nearly lost Charity House to a shady banker when he’d called in the loan six months earlier than the agreed-upon date.

Yet Katherine had never blamed her friend for her rash actions in trying to save their home. How could she? Laney had given her a safe haven when she’d been attacked by one of her mother’s former customers. Even when the townspeople had blamed her, rather than the man who had forced himself on her, Laney had taken Katherine in and had given her a job—one that had allowed her to give back to Charity House.

Katherine might be tainted forever, but God had blessed her. By being given Laney and the Charity House orphans, Katherine had learned she was not without worth. Thus, it was with a cheerful heart that she had helped her friend raise the money needed to save the orphanage. In the process, the other woman had found the love of her life in Marc, and because of his help, they all still had a home.

“Even if you had lost Charity House, I’d have never blamed you, Laney. You helped save my life, you—”

The sound of hiccuping sobs cut her off.

“This isn’t the time to look backward.” Her friend slid a glance toward the closed bathroom door. “Right now, you need to focus on your sister.”

“You’re absolutely correct.”

Laney squeezed her shoulder. “Hold firm, Katherine. Remember who’s in charge.”

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Oh, heavenly Father, please give me the wisdom and strength to face this challenge. Make me a good sister to Molly.

With renewed strength, Katherine turned the doorknob. No matter what else happened today, big sister would prevail over little sister. And once she was finished with Molly, she’d turn her attention to a United States marshal who thought he could disrupt her orderly life by pitting one Taylor female against the other.

There was a lesson to be learned here today. And Trey Scott was going to learn it.

Still stinging from his unprecedented defeat, Trey stared out the window of Marc’s study, where he’d spent plenty of hours whenever his duties brought him to Denver. The former prairie town had grown since Trey first pinned on a badge, becoming a city that lured people with its promises of riches and opportunity. Unless, of course, the one seeking said opportunity was a five-year-old child with a rigid schoolmarm for a big sister.

Feeling his temper rising, Trey inhaled a slow breath and slid his glance along the rooftops peppering the nearby horizon. It struck him as somehow fitting and yet also ironic that a home for orphans sat in the middle of a neighborhood designed for the supremely wealthy. A few of the snobbier neighbors still filed complaints, always unfounded and always thrown out of court. In the end Charity House was here to stay.

Although Marc had always made him welcome here, Trey’s trips had gotten decidedly less restful since Katherine Taylor had taken on the role of zealous protector to her troubled little sister.

As he watched the Charity House orphans play a game of tag in the backyard, dark, angry thoughts formed into one bitter reality. He’d failed little Molly Taylor.

“You through brooding yet?”

Trey spun around and nailed Marc with a hard glare.

“Blast you, your wife and that woman she put in charge of the Charity House School.” He slashed his hand in the direction of the window, unwilling to dig deeper into the reasons for his dark mood. “After everything that child’s been through, she should be playing.”

Hitching a hip onto his oak desk, Marc considered Trey for a long moment. “Perhaps. But one bath does not make an unhappy child. I think she’ll survive the disappointment.”

Trey paced to the opposite end of the room. Leaning against the mantel, he dug his toe at the stones in the hearth. “What possessed that woman to turn a bath into grounds for war?”

Lifting an ironic eyebrow, Marc angled his head. “I think she had some help.”

“The poor girl just wanted to stay outside and play with the other children.”

“Katherine is pretty rigid about schedules.”

Trey made a face. “Boards are more pliant.”

Obviously finding some dark humor in the situation, Marc chuckled. “You realize, don’t you, that you’re in for it now? Katherine won’t let this one drop.”

Trey was well aware that the prissy schoolmarm was gunning for him. In the cold aftermath of their battle, he actually relished the ensuing confrontation. It was long past time he set the woman straight on a few things, like the value of putting the priorities of a five-year-old child ahead of an unreasonable schedule.

After striding back across the room, Trey sank into a dark blue wing chair opposite his friend. The smell of rich mahogany paneling did nothing to soothe his temper. A vision of Katherine Taylor in the role of avenging big sister scooted frustration deeper. For well over a year now, ever since Marc had married Laney, Trey had found himself on the opposing side of every argument with the schoolmarm. It had only gotten worse with Molly’s arrival.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he said, “I don’t understand why that woman treats me like I’m evil incarnate.”

“I’d say you give her good reason.”

Trey opened his mouth to deny his friend’s accusation but shut it without speaking. Looking back, he realized that in his misguided attempt to defend the girl, Molly had ended up hurt.

Guilt gnawed at him, making him jerk out of his chair and start pacing again. Quite frankly, now that the emotion of the moment was gone, he was ashamed of how he’d behaved today.

“Why’d you take it so far, Trey?”

Ah, the real question at hand, and one he couldn’t fully explain. “Something about Molly gets to me. Has ever since her sister brought her to live at Charity House with all of you.”

“Granted, no child should have to lose both her mother and father at such a young age, or suffer the ridicule of her mother’s profession. But there are forty other…orphans in this home with similar stories. Why Molly?”

Trey stopped, turned and then dropped slowly into the chair he’d occupied earlier. “I can’t explain it.”

Marc kept his gaze focused and direct, looking at Trey with a quiet intensity that warned him he wouldn’t like what was coming next. “Why do I get the sense that your dedication to Molly has to do with your need to avenge the loss of your wife and child?”

Caught off guard by the unwanted reminder of his dead wife and the baby she’d carried, Trey clenched his fist. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Everything you do is about your quest for vengeance. Let’s see. How old would your child be now? About Molly’s age?”

Bitterness nearly choked him, the emotion so strong, Trey hadn’t realized how deep it ran until this moment. But now that the subject was broached, he couldn’t let it pass. “You know I can’t stand by passively and allow Ike Hayes to run free. His killing has to stop. No matter what it takes.”

Marc leaned forward, a perceptive look blazing in his eyes. “And because he murdered your wife and unborn child, you’re now the God-appointed agent for justice, is that it?”

Trey swallowed an angry retort. As far as he was concerned, God had nothing to do with his quest. “I will take Ike down.”

“It won’t bring Laurette or your baby back.”

Trey squeezed his eyes shut. “I know that.”

How many nights had he lain awake, alone? Always alone, always grieving. Only for a few brief moments, when he was championing little Molly Taylor, had he felt a little less empty. It wasn’t something he could put into words. It just…was.

As if his friend could read the direction of Trey’s thoughts, he said, “Well, singling out Molly won’t bring her parents back, either.”

Trey struggled to find his breath, his control. His reasoning. “I can’t explain how I know this, but Molly needs me more than the others do. And for the first time since I failed Laurette, the fact that another human being requires my protection doesn’t scare me half to death.”

Leaning back in his chair, his friend steepled his fingers under his chin. “Want to know what I think?”

“No.”

Marc continued as though Trey hadn’t spoken. “I think it’s time you moved past this poisonous need for vengeance. Start over. Begin a family of your own.”

Rebellion swept through him, and Trey had to swallow the fresh agony rising out of his grief. He couldn’t start over. Not yet. Not ever. The memory of his wife and unborn child deserved his total devotion, his complete concentration. And until Ike Hayes was made to pay for murdering Trey’s family, there could be no talk of starting over. “It’s too soon.”

“It’s been four years.”

Trey grimaced. Had it been that long since he’d held his wife in his arms, since he’d smelled the fresh scent of her hair? Four years since the soft lilt of her laughter filled his home? “I still miss her.”

“Me, too.” Marc’s face softened, and Trey knew his friend was remembering his sister, the one he’d entrusted to Trey’s care. The one Trey had failed.

“No one can replace Laurette,” Trey said, his voice thick with familiar emotion. “She was sweet, innocent, compassionate. Gentle, through and through.”

“Careful, Trey. Don’t rewrite history with the prejudice of your guilt. As her big brother, I agree that Laurette was special. But she was human, too, a woman with flaws.”

“I don’t remember any.”

“Maybe you should.”

Trey’s chest ached too much to respond. Even after four years, he couldn’t think of his wife without his mind filling with the image of the last time he’d held her in his arms, pregnant and dying from a bullet that should have found him.

At Laurette’s funeral, several members of his church had spoken of God’s will. They’d told him Laurette was in a better place, free from the pain and sorrow of this world.

Trey hadn’t believed their words for a minute. He would never accept that his wife’s senseless murder was part of some divine plan for his own life. And with every additional murder he had to investigate, the chasm between him and God widened.

Settling his head into the cushioned softness of the chair, he tried desperately to free his mind of the painful memories. But intense longing for what he could never have again tightened in his throat. The ugly role he’d played in Laurette’s death waged a battle inside him, choking the breath out of him. “If only I had been there to protect her and the baby she carried, maybe then—”

He broke off, unable to put into words the self-condemnation that haunted him still.

As though sensing his inability to continue, Marc changed the subject. “How long will you be in Denver this time?”

Thankful for the reprieve, Trey lifted his head and focused his thoughts on the present. “At least a month, maybe two. I don’t plan to leave until the trial is over.”

“You think you’ll get a conviction?”

Uncompromising resolve spread through him. A month ago, Trey had caught Ike’s younger brother, Drew, and had brought him in for trial. With one Hayes in custody, it was only a matter of time before Trey captured the other.

“I’ll get the conviction and I’ll find Ike,” he said. Laurette deserved nothing less from him. “They don’t call me ‘Beelzebub’s cousin’ for nothing.”

Marc’s lips twitched. “Oh, you’re dangerous—except when you’re up against a ferocious schoolteacher.”

“I can handle Molly’s big sister.”

“Like you did today?” Marc’s expression was too innocent, deceptively so.

Trey ground his teeth together and dug his heels into the rug. “Yeah, well, she got lucky.”

As if she’d planned her entrance for effect, the object of their discussion marched into the room, arms wrapped around her waist. Her glare pinned Trey in his chair.

Well, now. If that’s the way she wanted to play it. His earlier feelings of shame at sparring with this woman instantly disappeared. Perhaps it was time to put Miss Rigid-Rule-Setter on the defensive for a change.

With deliberate slowness, he took in her appearance, concentrating on the streaks of dirt on her cheek, the smudges on her once-crisp white blouse.

So Molly had fought to the end.

Good girl.

As he linked his gaze with Katherine’s again, he noted the sudden flicker of uncertainty flashing in her eyes before she covered it with her usual prissy determination.

Interesting.

She squared her shoulders. “I’d like that word with you, Marshal Scott. Now.”

Trey didn’t like her attitude, nor was he overly fond of the riot of emotion spinning in his gut. “I’m not in the mood for a discussion.”

“Perfect, because I plan to do all the talking.”

Marc rose and slapped Trey on the knee. “Go get her, Beelzebub’s cousin.”

Chapter Three

By the time Marc left the study, Katherine’s frustration threatened to steal the remaining scraps of her composure. Trey Scott, with his challenging stare and unyielding presence, didn’t help matters. He looked too masculine, too intimidating for someone who had just championed a five-year-old over a bath.

With the arrogance only a lawman could pull off, he lifted a single eyebrow, relaxed back into his chair then propped a foot on his knee. “So talk.”

His attitude made Katherine forget all the reasons why this big, hard man alarmed her. “Marshal Scott, you are a disreputable, ill-mannered disturber of the peace.”

There. Very pleasant under the circumstances.

He returned his foot to the floor, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Don’t hold back, Miss Taylor. Tell me how you really feel.”

His gray eyes regarded her without a sliver of amusement, while the rich Southern drawl rumbled across her tight nerves.

“Oh, I’ve only just begun,” she said, allowing her growing resentment to take hold. She found it much easier to deal with the large, dangerous lawman when she thought of him as nothing more than a disruptive troublemaker.

Unraveling his hulking frame from the chair, he rose and began striding toward her. “By all means, go ahead and give it to me.”

Guard what has been entrusted to your care.…

The Scripture from 1 Timothy gave her the courage to hold her ground as he approached. For Molly’s sake, she had to stand firm. “Stay away from my sister.”

Thankfully, her words stopped his pursuit, and two matching black brows slammed together. “Why? What is it you have against me?”

Katherine ignored the twist of unease in her stomach and concentrated on an image of Molly’s tearstained cheeks. “Must you ask after your behavior this afternoon?”

“I didn’t work alone out there.” He pulled his lips into a sarcastic grin. “Or don’t you remember that part?”

Swamped with regret over her own role in Molly’s distress, Katherine slapped her hands onto her hips. “Molly has been through too much trauma already. When our mother became ill, instead of contacting me, she sent the poor child to live with her father in a remote mining camp. From all accounts, he did his best, but he still died in an accident, which left Molly all alone.”

A wave of regret pressed inside her chest. Katherine hadn’t even known of Molly’s existence until the letter from the mine’s foreman had arrived at Charity House. Why her mother hadn’t told her about her baby sister was a mystery that would never be solved. And by the time Katherine had rescued Molly from the mining camp, the little girl had been on her own for two weeks.

After all her losses, will the child ever believe I’m here to stay?

Katherine shoved the worry aside. If Marshal Scott kept undermining her efforts, it would only destroy the fragile bond she had with Molly. “I don’t want my sister hurt further.”

Genuine shock rippled across his features. “You think I’d intentionally harm that child?”

Surprised by his vehemence, Katherine shook her head. “Not intentionally, no. But singling her out from the rest of the children will only make her feel different from the group.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit overprotective?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Molly is too timid, too closed off from the others for a normal five-year-old. The child needs shaking up.”

Katherine didn’t like how he summed up her sister’s problem so accurately, nor did she trust the look of genuine distress she saw in his eyes. Finding common ground with this man, especially where her sister was concerned, brought matters to a dangerously personal level. And that simply would not do.

She had to remember he was her adversary. “And you’re the man to do the shaking up, is that it?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Why not me?”

Oh, she could give him several reasons, but she focused on the main one. “You treat her like a toy you can play with whenever the mood strikes, and then off you go, back to your…marshaling.”

“You mean off I go, pursuing men who kill innocent women and children.”

And therein lay the real issue between them. Trey Scott’s drive for vengeance was in direct conflict with Katherine’s need to forgive, even—no, especially—the unforgivable.

“Your actions send the wrong message,” she said. “They teach her that it’s acceptable to trust in her own power instead of relying on God’s.”

He gave her a mutinous expression. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad lesson.”

“I don’t want her to think revenge is the answer. Because of her circumstances, it would be too easy for her to hate. I want her to learn God’s healing power of forgiveness.” Katherine knew better than most just how hard that lesson was to learn, but she also knew the peace that came with offering absolution where it wasn’t deserved.

“There is no forgiveness for senseless murder and violence,” he said. His expression hardened as he spoke, but not before Katherine caught a glimpse of real pain just below the surface.

In that moment, she realized he would never understand her point, not with his own grief still so raw. Overwhelmed with emotion and consumed with compassion for his terrible loss, Katherine reached out and touched his arm. “What happened to your wife was horrendous. If only you could learn to let God—”

He jerked away from her and strode to the window. “This isn’t about me.”

“Yes, it is. At least, partly.”

He paced to the desk on the opposite end of the room but didn’t meet her gaze. “How do you figure that?”

“Ever since Marc married Laney, you’ve been coming around here a lot.” She lifted her chin at him. “Of course, you would. In fact, I think you should. You’re Marc’s brother-in-law. Nevertheless, I won’t stand by and watch you give my sister the wrong message every time you go after another outlaw for your own personal reasons.”

He clenched his hand into a fist. “You know nothing about what drives me.”

“Oh, but I do.”

He locked his gaze with hers and studied her with his hawklike eyes. The day-old growth of stubble on his jaw added a sinister look to his already hardened expression.

Katherine swallowed her own trepidation and dropped her gaze to the tin star pinned to his shirt. “Try to understand, I don’t want Molly to suffer another loss. Even if I were able to put aside the reasons why you hunt those criminals, one day you will leave and never come back. And the fonder she is of you, the more it will hurt.”

His eyes turned sad, haunted. “One day we all leave and never come back.”

She knew he was still thinking of his wife. “That’s not what I meant.”

His expression cleared into a blank, unreadable glare. “You certainly seem to know a lot about what you don’t mean.”

Struggling for control, Katherine whirled away. How could she explain the pain she had suffered as a child and subsequently as an adult without baring her soul? He wasn’t the only one who’d known suffering.

When she was Molly’s age, her own father had died a dedicated lawman, killed by an outlaw’s bullet. He’d left his family penniless, and as a result, Katherine’s mother had looked to a life of prostitution for her answers. Even after Sadie Taylor’s death, men still came looking for the infamous madam. Two years ago, one mean-spirited ranch hand had found Katherine instead.

In a rational moment, she knew linking her attack back to her father’s murder was defective thinking at best. However, she couldn’t deny that her father’s death had been the first in a long line of other tragedies in her life.

“Men who wear badges die. That is—” She broke off, swallowed. “Just stay away from Molly.”

He pushed away from the desk, his gaze dark and serious.

She fought the urge to turn tail and run. “I’m warning you…”

He halted several feet in front of her and waited for her to finish her threat.

As the silence grew heavy between them, Katherine’s heartbeat picked up speed, and she dropped her gaze to her toes. “Please, Marshal Scott, don’t champion my sister anymore.”

She hated the desperation in her voice. But now that she had Molly with her, all Katherine wanted for them both was a safe, orderly life that honored God.

Why was that so hard for him to understand?

He closed the distance between them until he was towering over her. “Look at me, Miss Taylor.”

Katherine jerked her gaze back to his. The sight of his inky-black hair, day-old growth of beard and fierce gray eyes sent a wave of fear through her.

“You’re standing too close,” she whispered.

“Is this really about Molly?” he asked as his hard, callused hand closed over hers.

His touch was surprisingly gentle. And…and…terrifying. She yanked her hand free, flinched two full steps back when he tried to touch her again.

“Of course it’s about Molly,” she said.

“You don’t think it’s about you? Me? Us?” He took a slow, careful step in her direction. “And the antagonism you have toward me?”

“Please.” A shudder shot through her. “D-d-don’t come any closer.” She had to squeeze her hands together to keep them from trembling.

He froze in midstep, dropped his gaze to her clasped fingers and then quickly moved away from her. “I’m sorry, Miss Taylor. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to frighten you. That was never my intention.”

Why was it always like this between them? Why couldn’t she simply talk to Marshal Scott like a reasonable, well-adjusted woman spoke with a friend? Why did she have to be such a coward around him?

Frustration at him, fury at her own fears, and disappointment at them both made her voice come out harsher than usual. “I…I know you didn’t mean any harm,” she said.

He pulled a deep, audible breath into his lungs. “Regardless, I only wanted to—”

“Mr. Trey, Mr. Trey, you gotta come see.” Molly chose that moment to skip into the room. “Laney’s talking bird said my name. Twice. He—”

As though sensing the tension in the room, she broke off and shifted her large, rounded gaze from Trey to Katherine and back to Trey again. “You wanna come see?”

Molly’s devoted expression reminded Katherine just why this man was so dangerous. He held too much power over them both. In a purely protective gesture, Katherine gently pulled her sister against her. “No, Moll, Marshal Scott was just leaving.”