Читать книгу The Marshal Takes a Bride - Renee Ryan - Страница 12

Drew Hayes’s rotund body lay sprawled haphazardly across the lone bed in the back of the jail cell. With his jowls slack from sleep and his face full of belligerent beard, the outlaw looked like the animal Trey knew him to be.

A jolt of anger came fast and hard, filling Trey with such hatred, his throat burned from it. This man, this outlaw, had played a leading role in the murder of Trey’s wife and child. The reminder brought a driving need to lash out, to end the life of the man who had stolen what was so precious to Trey. He had to brace himself against a nearby wall to keep from taking action.

Breathing hard and trying urgently to gain control over his turbulent emotions, Trey forced his attention to the window above Drew’s bed. The rising moon glittered through the rusty metal bars, casting a thin ray of light that led from the cell door to the foot of Drew’s bed.

Trey wanted to follow that path, and end the battle with a single bullet. But as he struggled inside the blinding haze of his hate, he knew he wouldn’t do it. Drew Hayes didn’t deserve such an easy out.

Motioning to the deputy on duty to join him, Trey lifted the keys off the hook and then turned to enter Hayes’s cell. Once inside, he tossed the keys and a warning look at the other lawman.

“Stay close,” he said. “And keep your ears open. I may need your testimony, if he talks.”

The deputy nodded.

Forcing aside all emotion except uncompromising resolve, Trey moved deeper into the cell, kicked the leg of the bed. “Wake up.”

The body stirred under the blanket.

Trey waited, watched, gauged.

Although the man had fifty pounds on him, without his brother, Ike, by his side, Drew Hayes was a coward. He’d proven that well enough when Trey had found him in Mattie Silks’s brothel on Market Street. A few threats and a cocked pistol were all it had taken to bring the man into custody without a fight.

The easy arrest hadn’t been the only surprise. Trey had expected a simple admission of guilt and a full disclosure of his brother’s whereabouts. Drew hadn’t talked.

“I want a word with you.” Trey yanked the blanket to the ground. “Now.”

The outlaw lifted his head. “I ain’t talkin’ to no law dog.”

Leaning against the wall, Trey folded his arms across his chest and clung to the last scraps of his humanity. He forced all thought of Laurette out of his mind and focused only on the most recent murders, the ones he could pin on Drew with or without an admission. “About the night of the twenty-third, on the McCaulley ranch…”

“I ain’t answering none of your questions,” Drew snarled, then launched into a string of obscenities.

Trey ignored the foul language and continued. “Was it only you and your brother that day?”

Snorting, Drew sat up, swung his beefy feet to the ground. “What do you care? It was just a woman and some snot-nosed kids.”

A dark rage swept over Trey, one he hadn’t felt since that night in Colorado Springs when he’d found the twisted bodies of Mrs. McCaulley and her boys. The unforgettable images of blood and brutal death were still clean and sharp in his mind. The fact that the Hayes brothers had done the same thing to Trey’s wife and child added fuel to his fury.

In that moment, Trey knew that Marc was dead wrong. Trey didn’t seek vengeance only for his own behalf. He sought justice for all the innocent victims murdered by the Hayes brothers.

“I’m gonna see you hang for what you’ve done,” Trey said.

“I ain’t afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

Drew vaulted off the bed.

In a heartbeat, Trey drew his gun and pressed it against the man’s temple. Death was gunning for Drew Hayes. And in that moment it didn’t matter to Trey how it came about, just that it came swiftly.

“All I need is a reason.” His finger itched to pull the trigger. “Just one.”

Palms facing forward, Drew inched two paces back toward the bed. “I don’t want no trouble.”

“Then start talking.”

The outlaw’s small, deep-set eyes narrowed into calculating slits. “I know your kind, Marshal. You ain’t no better than me.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Trey said, holstering his gun to punctuate his point.

“You enjoy killing, Marshal.” Drew dropped to the bed, and a sinister grin glinted behind the dirty beard. “Same as me.”

Black crept across his vision as Trey yanked Drew off the bed and wrapped his fingers around the outlaw’s throat. “You and I aren’t anything alike.”

“Turn him loose, Marshal. You…”

Trey couldn’t hear the rest of the deputy’s plea over the sound of his own pulse drumming loudly in his ears. Nor did he pay much attention to the metal click of a key turning in the lock.

“Marshal Scott.”

Trey squeezed tighter, and Drew’s eyes began to bulge.

“Marshal. Stop.”

The urgent yank on his arm finally got through to Trey. Slowly, deliberately, he loosened his grip from around Drew’s neck, then launched the outlaw to the floor.

Drew flopped around like a dying fish, clutching his throat and wheezing in between coughs.

“Don’t you ever compare yourself to me again.” Trey turned his attention to the deputy. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Make sure he’s in a more talkative mood by then.”

The deputy flattened his lips into a grim line. “You can count on it, Marshal.”

Without looking back, Trey walked out of the jail. Once he was on the street, a burst of cold mountain air punched through his black mood.

He felt dirty. Contemptible.

Vile.

Was Drew Hayes right? Was Trey more like the outlaw than he wanted to admit?

No. The need to protect, especially women and children, was deeply ingrained in him—as much a part of the reason why he’d accepted President Grant’s appointment to the U.S. marshal post as to avenge Laurette’s death.

All Trey had to do was think back over the events earlier in the day with five-year-old Molly Taylor. No matter how silly and foolish, he’d set out to defend a little girl who’d simply wanted a few more hours of play.

Didn’t that make him better than the Hayes brothers?

Perhaps. But now, with the distance of time, Trey’s reasoning told him that he’d chosen the wrong path to demonstrate his loyalty to the child.

Marc’s accusations suddenly shot through his mind. Had Trey silently made a promise to champion Molly Taylor for his own purposes, even knowing he couldn’t give false guarantees where the future was concerned?

At least he could right that particular wrong. First thing in the morning, he would set matters straight with Molly and Miss Taylor. Perhaps with the schoolmarm’s forgiveness, Trey could erase some of the ugliness from his recent encounter with Drew Hayes.

Once she’d helped settle the other children and said all their evening prayers, Katherine returned to her sister’s bed for a final good-night kiss. Pulling the blanket up to the child’s chin, she tucked the corners underneath her tiny shoulders. “Pleasant dreams, sweetheart.”

Big round eyes filled with childlike worry looked up at her. “You still angry at me, Katherine?”

Katherine dragged her sister into a fierce hug. “I was never angry at you, Molly. I was only upset with your behavior. I didn’t set out to ruin your fun, but rules are rules.”

The little girl rubbed a wet cheek into her shoulder. “I don’t really hate you, you know.”

Tightening her hold, Katherine dropped a kiss onto her sister’s forehead. “I know.”

Oh, Lord, make me worthy of raising this child. Help me to show her Your unconditional love so she’ll turn to You when times get tough, or when I fail her.

With gentle movements, Katherine lowered Molly back to the bed. “No more worries, pumpkin. All’s forgotten.”

Molly swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. “Really?”

“Really. We’re family. And now that God has brought us together, I won’t ever leave you or let you go.”

As Molly grinned through her tears, devotion brimmed in her eyes. “You’re the best sister ever.”

Katherine reached out and tweaked the upturned nose. “So are you, Molly.”

“Night, Katherine.”

Smiling, she leaned over and blew out the bedside lantern. “Night, Molly. I love you.”

“Me, too.”

Katherine quietly edged out of the room, then shut the door behind her. Tiptoeing toward the back staircase that led to the kitchen below, she offered up a silent prayer of gratitude to God. She and Molly had stumbled today, but they’d avoided any permanent rift.

No thanks to Trey Scott.

The U.S. marshal had gotten in the middle of a situation where he quite simply hadn’t belonged. Perhaps his intentions had been honorable, but in the end he’d caused far more harm than good.

And not just in Molly’s case.

Katherine stifled a shudder as unwanted memories of their latest encounter crept into her thoughts. If only he’d agreed to leave her sister alone, Katherine might have been able to keep her precarious emotions under control during their argument.

But he’d pushed and demanded explanations that weren’t easily voiced. Then he’d stood too close. And she’d become unreasonably terrified.

During a moment of clarity, Katherine knew the man would never hurt her. Not in the way her attacker had. Then why was she so afraid of him? Why did she always feel the need to run whenever Marshal Scott got too close?

Even now, hours later, the humiliation of her panicky reaction dug deep.

Collapsing against the wall, Katherine shut her eyes against the shame that still burned in her. No. She wouldn’t take the blame this time. Her uncomfortable reaction to Trey’s nearness wasn’t her fault. It was the legacy of her past. Nothing more.

In fact, her fear of Marc’s friend was a small annoyance compared to the importance of maintaining stability in her life. Especially now that she had Molly’s welfare to consider.

With renewed determination, Katherine marched down the stairs, then pushed through the door leading into the kitchen.

The sight of Mrs. Smythe washing dishes at the sink improved Katherine’s mood considerably. Tall, broad-shouldered and gray-haired, Mrs. Smythe was the perfect adopted grandmother for forty orphans—and one grown woman in need of a friendly face. Arranging a smile on her lips, Katherine greeted the other woman. “Good evening, Mrs. Smythe.”

The older woman turned, her smoke-gray eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Hello, dear.”

The housekeeper’s affectionate reception warmed Katherine’s heart, but after the events of the day, she found she wasn’t in the mood for company, after all. “Why don’t you go on home? I can finish the washing.”

Mrs. Smythe’s face cracked into a wide smile. “Are you sure? I certainly don’t mind staying until I’m through.”

Katherine nodded. “I feel like cleaning tonight.”

Wiping her hands on the front of her skirt, the older woman let out a hearty chuckle. “Well, then, I won’t ask again.”

Mrs. Smythe hurried around the chopping block in the center of the kitchen, then gathered her belongings out of the supply closet. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

“Night,” Katherine said.

Just as the door shut with a bang, Laney waddled into the kitchen, carrying an armload of dishes. Avoiding her friend’s eyes, Katherine took the stack of plates and set them in the soapy water. “I sent Mrs. Smythe home.”

“I see that.”

“Why don’t you go rest, enjoy some time alone with Marc?”

Laney blew out a sigh of gratitude. “My feet are hurting, and I certainly won’t turn down a quiet moment with my husband. I’ll just bring in the rest of the dishes before I head upstairs.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

All argued out, Katherine relented. “That would be a great help, thank you.”

As Laney trudged back to the dining room, Katherine picked up a plate from the soapy water, grabbed a rag and began scrubbing. She tried to empty her mind of all thought, but images of Trey’s stricken expression when he’d realized how frightened she was of him kept flashing through her mind.

Just thinking of the genuine remorse flickering in his eyes made her feel so…so…guilty.

Why did she feel as though she’d hurt him when she’d flinched from his touch?

“You’re going to wipe the pattern right off that china.”

Katherine jerked at the sound of Laney’s voice. Looking over her shoulder, she let her gaze unite with her friend’s worried expression.

“Are you all right?” Laney asked.

Sniffing, Katherine flicked the water off her fingers. “Perfect.”

“You don’t look perfect,” Laney said, her gaze sharp and assessing.

Katherine took the stack of dirty dishes, then set them on the counter next to the sink, with a thud. “I’ve never been better.”

Returning to work, she yanked another dish out of the water, spraying soapsuds into the air.

Laney wiped a bubble off Katherine’s cheek, then laid a hand on her arm. “Did you argue with Trey again?”

Katherine increased the vigor of her scrubbing, her erratic movements sloshing water and bubbles onto the floor. “Trey and I always argue.”

“Over Molly?”

“I told him to stay away from her.”

Sliding a look from beneath her lashes, Laney fiddled with the dishes, stacking them largest to smallest. “He’s good with her, you know. And with the rest of the children, for that matter.”

Perhaps. Maybe. Okay, yes, he was good with the orphans.

It changed nothing. “Ever since he started hanging around here, he’s disrupted my, I mean, our lives. Molly never defied me before today.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later. She’s a child, after all.”

Katherine knew Laney was right—to a point—but she also knew that her concerns over Trey’s impact on her sister’s well-being were valid as well. “He’s too bitter. And his anger at God is tangible. I don’t want the man’s influence to result in Molly’s unbelief.”

Laney abandoned all pretense of helping and turned her full attention to Katherine. “I’ll admit Trey can seem hard on the surface, but deep down he’s a good man. And none of his anger shows when he’s with the children.”

Katherine swung around to glare at her friend. “Are you defending him?”

Throwing a palm in the air between them, Laney shook her head. “No. No. It’s just that he’s—”

“A U.S. marshal.”

“Yes, that’s right. And although he’s not exactly godly, he is a man of high morals, sworn to protect the citizens of this country. All things considered, he’s an acceptable example for the children, including Molly.”

Katherine dismissed the notion with a flick of her wrist. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I do.” Laney lowered her hand, sighed. “It’s his job to hunt down criminals, Katherine, including the men who murdered his wife and child. Maybe instead of condemning him, you could try understanding him better.”

Clenching tense fingers around a plate, Katherine set her jaw. “Let’s say I do find compassion for his lethal quest. What if he’s killed in the process?”

“Oh, honey.” Laney’s eyes softened. “Not every lawman dies.”

Katherine shook her head, refusing to let her mind go in that direction. “Trey Scott is the embodiment of instability. I don’t want Molly getting attached to him.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, she already is.”

Katherine cringed over the statement, seriously concerned Molly wasn’t the only one growing attached to the man. “Well, it’s not too late to prevent any further harm. As long as he stays away from her, everything will be fine.”

“Aren’t you being a bit overprotective?”

Trey had used similar words against her. The accusation hadn’t sat well with Katherine then, and it didn’t sit well with her now. “Isn’t that the role of a big sister?”

Laney gently pried the plate out of Katherine’s grip. Steering her to a stool, she forced her to sit. “I’m worried about you. You’ve been on edge a lot lately, and I think it has more to do with a certain U.S. marshal than your struggle to find your way as Molly’s guardian.”

Katherine tried to rise, but Laney placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “It’s time we talked about what’s really bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me except my concern over Marshal Scott’s damaging influence over Molly’s life.”

Laney pressed her nose inches from Katherine’s. “Why don’t we get to the real problem? Shall we?”

“And here I thought we had.”

A shrewd look filled Laney’s gaze. “I think you should admit you have strong feelings for Trey Scott, ones that have nothing to do with your little sister.”

Katherine shot off the stool. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Correction.” Laney pointed a finger at her. “Very strong feelings.”