Читать книгу The Marshal Takes a Bride - Renee Ryan - Страница 11

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.”

“You are?” asked Molly.

As though the past five minutes had never happened, he slid Katherine a challenging look before smiling down at Molly. “Of course not, kitten. I wouldn’t disappoint my favorite five-year-old.”

Several hours after his confrontation with the prissy schoolmarm, Trey left the orphanage and headed back to his room at Miss Martha’s boardinghouse. Out of habit, he surveyed his surroundings, hunting for potential danger hidden in the shadows. All he found was a kaleidoscope of yellows and gold that spilled from the streetlamps and mansion windows into a patchwork of sporadic light along the lane.

Taking a deep breath of the crisp night air, he crammed his hat onto his head and increased his pace. Various wagon-wheel tracks pointed the way toward the center of town. After passing several mansions nearly identical to Charity House, Trey eventually turned onto Sixteenth Street. A few blocks later the two-story homes became three- and four-story businesses, and Trey found his mind returning to the events of the night.

He knew he shouldn’t have stayed at Charity House as long as he had, but Molly’s eager devotion had torn at his heart, making him set aside his own conflicting emotions concerning her sister. The child made him want to right the wrongs done to her.

He tried to tell himself his present restlessness was due to his concern for the kid, but Trey knew Molly wasn’t the real source of his agitation.

It was her sister.

He’d known there was going to be trouble the moment Miss Taylor had sauntered into Marc’s study, with her self-righteousness wrapped around her like a winter cloak. She’d spoken of forgiveness. Then flinched from his touch.

The woman had genuinely been afraid of him. The shock of it still sat heavy in his chest. Once he’d recognized her terror—terror of him—all he’d wanted to do was ease her worry.

Trey knew her past; Marc had told him what she’d endured. Hot anger rose inside him. Considering her terrible trauma, she had every right to be afraid of men.

Yet, beneath her fear, there was a real innocence about her. She truly believed there was healing after unspeakable pain and violence. With such a naive view of life, Miss Taylor could never understand what drove Trey.

How could she? In his experience, people who spoke of forgiveness had already done their forgiving. Well, he would never forgive Ike Hayes. He couldn’t allow Laurette’s killer off that easily.

Laurette.

At the thought of his wife a swift, unrelenting wave of guilt whipped through him. He’d nearly betrayed the memory of her tonight, all because he’d wanted to ease another woman’s fears.

Ripping off his hat, Trey slammed it against his thigh. He’d like to think he’d been drawn to Katherine tonight because he’d wanted to show her that all men weren’t like the one who had attacked her, but he knew better. Something about the woman dug past his well-built defenses and made him want to be a better man.

A man worthy of trust.

It must have been all that talk of “moving on” he’d had with Marc prior to their confrontation over Molly. He’d been missing Laurette so much, he’d ached inside.

Still shaken from the encounter, Trey desperately tried to call forth memories of the only woman he’d allowed in his heart since childhood. Instead, images of a beautiful, spitting-mad schoolteacher defeated his efforts.

Laurette’s memory deserved his total devotion. He had to get Katherine Taylor out of his head.

But how?

What he needed was a diversion, something that would put his mind back on important issues.

Like the whereabouts of Ike Hayes.

Changing course, he crossed over to Fifteenth Street and headed toward the jail where Ike’s brother, Drew, awaited trial. It was time to focus on serving justice the only way Trey knew how.

By his own hands.