Читать книгу The Marshal Takes a Bride - Renee Ryan - Страница 10

With her resolve firmly in place, Katherine marched up the back stairs of the twenty-year-old mansion turned orphanage, tugging a reluctant little girl along with her. The moment her gaze landed on Molly’s tear-streaked face, Katherine’s determination turned into heart-wrenching guilt.

By engaging in that senseless battle with Marshal Scott, she’d hurt the very person she’d set out to protect.

What kind of big sister did that make her? Usually, she turned to God to help her with the overwhelming task of raising her newfound sister.

Today she’d allowed emotion to get the best of her.

Sighing, she caressed Molly’s hair and steered her into the recently refurbished bathroom, where Marc had installed multiple basins for the home’s many children to wash up for the evening. On the outside, Charity House looked identical to the rest of the fancy homes on Larimer Street. But inside, the mansion had been perfectly altered to house forty special children and the adults who cared for them.

“Come on, Moll.” Katherine clicked the door shut behind them. “Let’s get you out of those filthy clothes.”

Molly crossed her tiny arms over her chest. “I was having fun, Katherine.”

Inhaling a deep, calming breath, Katherine knelt on the floor and cupped the child’s cheek. “I know you were. And you can go back outside—”

Molly darted away from the claw-foot tub, but Katherine caught her by the sleeve. “After we get you cleaned up.”

“But Mr. Trey said playtime was more important than a bath.”

“I just bet he did.” Frustration speared Katherine’s previous remorse into something deeper, darker. Uglier…

Take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ.

Katherine swallowed back her rising annoyance and forced her voice into an even tone. “Let’s leave Marshal Scott out of this for now.”

Molly scrunched her face into a frown, her expression reminiscent of one Katherine had seen in her own mirror often enough before she’d made peace with her past, the same one permanently stuck on their mother’s face every day before she’d finally succumbed to tuberculosis.

“Don’t you like Mr. Trey?” Molly asked.

Katherine’s throat tightened. Her feelings for the U.S. marshal could never be classified as something so benign as “like.” Explosive, precarious, frightening—those were far better descriptions for the disturbing emotions the man brought out in her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Perhaps he’d had good intentions at first. But there was no question in her mind that Marshal Scott was a difficult man, with his own personal demons to battle. Katherine knew, to devastating ends, what such a man was capable of doing when a woman let down her guard. She absently touched the top button of her blouse, made sure it was fastened.

Truth be told, Trey Scott was too dangerous. Too bold. Too everything to trust. He simply had to go. Especially now that God had given Katherine the gift of finding the little sister she hadn’t known existed until six months ago.

Straightening her shoulders, Katherine turned her attention back to Molly. “Let’s get you into the tub, pumpkin.”

Molly arranged her face in an expression identical to the one Trey had leveled on her just moments ago on the back porch. “Don’t wanna.”

Katherine was long past being amused. “Well, sometimes we have to do things we don’t want.”

“That’s not fair to me.”

“Life’s not fair,” Katherine said, with a sigh.

A heart-wrenching sob flew out of Molly. “I wish you’d never come for me. I hate you.”

Holding back a sob of her own, Katherine prayed for the right words to ease Molly’s resentment. The set of the child’s jaw was so similar to the look on her face the day Katherine had found her in that bleak mining camp, with only a threadbare blanket on a dirt floor as her bed. The child had been so quiet, so…alone and scared, having been left to fend for herself after her father’s fatal accident in the mine.

Katherine pushed a lock of hair off her sister’s forehead, praying she could offer her sister a good life here at Charity House. “I know you think you hate me now, but I’ll always love you, Molly. You’re my sister.”

The five-year-old responded with a hiccuping sigh.

To keep from speaking out in anger, Katherine bit down on her lower lip. The realization that her sister blamed her for what had happened today wounded her far more than the child’s hurtful words. Before Trey Scott had entered their lives, Molly had never openly challenged her authority.

As though sensing her misery, Laney chose that moment to duck her head into the room. “Want me to take over?”

Katherine peered at her friend. The sympathy she saw staring back at her clogged the air in her throat, reminding her of the dark night when Laney had wrapped Katherine in her arms and held her until the tears had eventually stopped flowing.

Her friend had made things easier for Katherine then, and she wished she could give in to the offer of help now. “I have to do this myself.”

Angling her head to the side, Laney looked at Molly’s mutinous expression. “Are you sure?”

Katherine focused on her little sister. The childish rebellion brewing in her gaze warned Katherine the fight wasn’t over yet. Perhaps taking a moment to strengthen her resolve would do them both some good.

“Molly, I’m going to step in the hall with Laney for a few minutes. When I return, I want to see you completely undressed and sitting in that tub.”

The little girl opened her mouth to protest.

Katherine stopped her with a warning look.

The angry child paused, made a face and then stomped her foot. Hard.

“Molly. Grace. Taylor. That’s enough. Get undressed, now,” ordered Katherine.

Two scrawny shoulders hunched forward, and tears began pouring down the dirt-smudged cheeks. Sniffing loudly between sobs, Molly plopped onto the floor and started tugging off her shoes.

Katherine winced at the pitiful sight her sister made, but she wouldn’t give in to the tantrum. Molly needed to learn respect for the new life she had at Charity House. How could Katherine explain to the child just how blessed they were to be living at the orphanage, instead of above some filthy saloon? Or worse.

With unshed tears burning in her own eyes, Katherine motioned Laney into the long hallway that led to five bedrooms and a sitting chamber, then shut the door behind them.

As Katherine turned to look at her ally, her heart swelled with renewed gratitude for Laney’s kindness. The woman had virtually saved Katherine from the life that could have been her legacy as the daughter of the most notorious madam in town.

She opened her mouth to speak but Laney beat her to it. “That is one upset little girl in there. Are you sure you don’t want me to help you?”

Katherine shook her head. “Molly and I are still trying to get used to one another. I have to put an end to this blatant disobedience, before it goes any further.”

“I understand.” Laney headed toward the stairs, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “If you change your mind, I’ll be in the kitchen, helping Mrs. Smythe with supper.”

“Laney, wait.”

She pivoted around, her eyebrows lifting in inquiry. “Yes?”

While trying to gather her swirling thoughts, Katherine studied her friend. Even at eight months pregnant, her thick mahogany hair and creamy skin glowed with good health. Inside that beautiful exterior, Laney O’Connor Dupree carried a fiercely loyal heart. And Katherine never took that blessing for granted.

“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.”