The Marshal Takes a Bride

by Renee Ryan

  Katherine swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. A shiver slithered up her spine, and her hands started to shake.

  Oh, please, Lord, not again.

  Her prayer went unanswered. As one, the ladies lifted their regal noses in the air, snorted—they actually snorted!—and all but scrambled across the street in their haste to get to the other side.

  Stunned, Katherine’s eyes began to sting, and she had to fight a wave of hysteria as their pointed whispers lifted in the air.

  “Tramp,” one said to the other, menace dripping in her voice. “She’s just like her mother.”

  “I heard she led that man on,” came the harsh reply.

  At that comment the women turned back and stared at Katherine from over their shoulders. From the measuring glint in their eyes, it was obvious they thought very little of her.

  Katherine had experienced this sort of shunning often enough before, but the pain and humiliation were still sharp, like burning shards stabbing into her heart. For several heartbeats, Katherine stood with her head high and her breath stuck in her throat.

  On her left, the Charity House School stood like a sentinel, offering sanctuary. Giving in to her humiliation, Katherine rushed up the steps and quickly fit the key into the lock.

  Once inside the safety of the building, she leaned back against the shut door and gulped for air. Blinking away the tears in her eyes, she swallowed hard, again and again and again, until she had her emotions under control. Katherine would not allow those cruel women’s barbs to hit their mark. Not today. Not ever.

  At last her breathing evened out, and she wandered aimlessly through the rooms of the school. Unfortunately, and against her best efforts, Katherine’s thoughts kept circling back to what the women had said on the street.

  She’d led that man on.…

  No. It wasn’t true. Katherine hadn’t asked to be forced like that. All her life she’d kept her distance from men. They’d always scared her, a legacy from the ugly side of their nature, which she’d witnessed often enough in her mother’s brothel.

  And no matter what people claimed about her, Katherine would never have relations with a man, not willingly. Which made Laney’s accusations about her feelings for Trey Scott all the more absurd. The man was too intense, too dangerous, and…and…Katherine had worked too hard to achieve normalcy in her life to give any man—especially a lawman with a death wish—the power to hurt her again.

  With her head thick and heavy from her troubling thoughts, Katherine prayed for focus. O Lord, be not silent. Do not be far from me.

  She looked around her and studied the safe world she’d created out of an incomplete education and necessity.

  No man could hurt her here.

  This was her territory. Her home. The one place where she had complete control. Each desk, book and writing tablet had been chosen with care. She and Laney had turned the two-story brick building into a reputable school for the children banished from all the others in town.

  She and the orphans might be outcasts in the community, but they had a place of belonging here.

  Katherine crossed to her desk and straightened a stack of papers that didn’t need straightening. The fresh smell of soap and furniture polish told her Mrs. Smythe had indulged in some deep cleaning earlier this morning.

  Strolling through her domain, Katherine released a sigh. Every detail reflected her taste for precision and order.

  Admit you have strong feelings for Trey Scott…

  Laney’s words from the night before echoed through Katherine’s thoughts. Taunting her. Mocking her. Far worse than any whispered attempts at hurting her with untrue accusations.

  Frantic for some relief, she wove her way between the desks and trekked toward the supply closet in the back of the building. After lighting a lantern, she carried it with her into the dark, tiny room.

  Katherine’s trademark military-style order was reflected here as well. Inkwells, writing tablets and fresh sticks of chalk marched in straight rows along the lower two shelves on her left. More writing tablets were stacked on the upper shelves, along with rulers and other miscellaneous supplies.

  Katherine set down the lantern and breathed in the comforting scent of books and paper. She ran her fingertip across the cold inkwells, and then along the smooth book spines. But even here, in her favorite refuge, thoughts of Trey Scott threatened her peace of mind.

  What if she hadn’t flinched from his touch? Would such a man ever be able to give her the genuine caring and devotion she secretly craved, in spite of what others thought of her?

  She was only kidding herself with dreams of the impossible. No man would give her the love and respect that another, untainted woman deserved. Her attacker, and the subsequent response from the townspeople, had shown Katherine exactly what her value was in this world.

  Anyone who trusts God will never be put to shame.

  The verse from Romans swept through her mind, giving her the reassurance she sought. Ever since that dark night, Katherine had turned to God as her salvation. And she’d always found peace in His shelter.

  His opinion was all that mattered. Today would be no exception. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she would take a quick inventory of her supplies.

  She focused her attention of the rows of Michel’s Geography and The Pilgrim’s Progress on her right. Looking forward to the mind-numbing task, she dropped to the floor and began counting the books on the bottom shelves first. She had to bend all the way over in order to reach the books nudged in the farthest back corner.

  “Ten, eleven, twelve.” She jabbed at the last one. “That makes thirteen. I’ll definitely have to order more this week.”

  “Well, now.” The familiar drawl dropped through the stuffy air and skidded down the back of Katherine’s neck. “This is by far the most interesting sight I’ve seen all morning.”

  Katherine jerked upward and promptly thumped her head against the shelf above her. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

  A masculine chuckle was Trey’s only response.

  She tried twisting around but only managed to bang her head on the shelf again.

  “Careful now.”

  She quickly flipped over, sat up and hugged her knees against her chest. Huddled in a tight ball, she had to look up—and up farther still—in order to bestow her indignation upon the man.

  “Ma’am.” He whipped off his hat and bowed. “Always a pleasure.”

  From her vantage point, the brute appeared more mountain than man. “Isn’t there a rule or code or something against sneaking up on unsuspecting women?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Probably. But I think I skipped that day at lawman’s school.”

  “You are a mule-headed—”

  “Stubborn pig.” A touch of mischief danced in his eyes. “Or so I’ve been told a time or two.”

  In this lighthearted mood, with his face clean-shaven and his hair damp on the ends, Trey Scott was far more dangerous than he had been the day before.

  This time, however, she would not give in to her fear of him. She would not. The neighbor ladies had caught her at a weak moment this morning. Trey Scott would not be given the same chance. “You’ve only heard that once or twice?”

  He laughed, the gesture swiping ten years off his features. She didn’t like the way her stomach twisted in response. But from dread, or something else entirely? Disturbed by the direction of her thoughts, she dropped her gaze and instantly noticed he hadn’t worn his guns.

  Come to think of it, he never wore the six-shooters when he came around the children. The consideration for their safety made him infinitely more likable.

  The big, heartless brute.

  It was so much easier to control her emotions around him when he acted like the mule-headed, stubborn pig he claimed to be. But Trey Scott had hidden depths that Katherine was only beginning to notice after their yearlong, precarious acquaintance.

  Oh, Lord, what now?

  “Are you going to sit
down there all day?” he asked.

  “Are you going to prove yourself a gentleman and help me up?”

  The aggravating grin on his face widened as he flipped his hat onto one of the desks behind him. “Ask nicely.”

  What gave Trey Scott the right to look so vital and handsome, like he was a hero out of a ridiculous dime novel? “Would you stop staring at me like…like…that?”

  He rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you taking a tone with me, Miss Taylor?”

  His outrageous remark pushed her to stand on her own, but her foot tangled in her skirts, and she fell back down. “Oh, now look at what you’ve done.”

  He angled his head at her. “For a good Christian woman, you have a pretty mean temper.”

  “How absurd. Christian women get angry, too.”

  “Obviously.”

  She didn’t like this teasing side of him. What had happened to the Trey Scott who couldn’t go three sentences without arguing with her? That man she could handle.

  “You can save the snide remarks, Marshal. And. Help. Me. Up.”

  The light from the lantern flickered off the watch fob dangling from one of his vest buttons, blinding her for a moment.

  “I wish you’d turn around again.” He drew out a long, dramatic sigh. “The other end didn’t bite.”

  A seed of rebellion took hold of her. “Don’t forget, a bee keeps her stinger in her behind.”

  His lips twitched. “Miss Taylor, I’m shocked!”

  Panicked he might start laughing, and then get her started as well, she gave him her let’s-get-down-to-business look. “Marshal Scott—”

  “Right, right. Help you up.”

  Pushing from the wall, he reached out to her. Palm met palm, and…nothing. No fear. No terror. Just a pleasant warmth.

  Then, when he shifted his hold slightly, all she felt in response was…

  Contentment?

  At that odd thought, a riot of confusion shot through her already addled brain, and she pulled on her hand. “Either help me up or let go.”

  “Right.” With a flick of his wrist, he yanked her to her feet.

  Quickly dropping her hand to her side, she took a careful step back and then straightened to her full height. Feeling remarkably out of her depth, she resorted to the one tactic that kept her on an even footing with the man. Antagonism.

  “I don’t know why you’re here, but I refuse to continue trading insults with you today,” she said.

  He had the nerve to look shocked by her words. “Is that what we’re doing? I thought we were getting on rather well. For us.”

  She took a deep breath. “Step back please. So I can pass.”

  His expression turned serious, concerned even, and he quickly did as she asked. “Of course.”

  Right. Now he had to be heroic and honor her fears, like he had the day before in Marc’s study. Did he know that when he acted like this, with such careful consideration of her feelings, his closeness didn’t frighten her so much?

  But, if that were truly the case, why were her hands shaking?

  In an effort to hide her trembling fingers, she busied herself with brushing off her skirt.

  “I’d be happy to assist.” He peered around the side of her. “Unless, of course, you brought your stinger with you.”

  “You, sir, are outrageous.” And the more he talked with that smooth Southern drawl, the more her uncertainty increased. “Maybe you should be on your way now.”

  “Don’t you want to know why I searched you out?”

  “Not particularly.” But curiosity poked through her wish to be rid of him. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I stopped at Charity House first. Laney told me where to find you.”

  She couldn’t stop a small jolt of surprise from spreading into something more tangible, more pleasant. But reality set in just as quickly. Had the two ladies from her earlier encounter seen Trey enter the building? Would they think Katherine had set up a secret rendezvous?

  No, she was being oversensitive because of their rudeness. Surely they’d been long gone by the time Trey had arrived. “You came looking for me?” she asked at last, suspicion digging deep. “Why?”

  “I want to talk to you about Molly.” As he spoke, everything about him turned serious—his expression, his body language, even his tone.

  Surprised by the change in him, and her intrigued reaction in response, she focused on ending their discussion as quickly as possible. “There’s nothing more to discuss. In fact, it’s all very simple—”

  “Is it? I was under the impression it was—” he blew out a slow breath “—complicated.”

  She started to push around him, but he evened out his weight, barring the exit. He seemed to fill every available space.

  He looked too big, too casual, and for a brief moment, she feared he would attack. But instead of making her shake, or even tremble, the notion made her temper flare.

  Finally, an emotion she understood. “Get out of my way.”

  A troubled look pooled in his gaze, and he scrubbed a hand through his hair. He shifted to one side, leaving a small opening for her, but he didn’t move completely away. “Not until I’ve said my piece.”

  After his earlier consideration of her fears, she knew she owed him that much. “Go ahead then. Say what you came to say.”

  He nodded. “I was wrong to get between you and your sister yesterday.”

  “You admit it?” Katherine could hardly believe her ears.

  “Yes.”

  Blinking at this newest change in him, she didn’t know what to think. Trey Scott had just given her what she wanted.

  So why didn’t she feel any satisfaction?

  “It’s not personal, you know,” she said, the truth finally hitting her. “It’s simply that you can’t offer Molly the stability she needs, especially now.”

  “You’re correct. I can’t make promises.”

  She suddenly wished he would. Because she sensed, all the way down to the last hair on her head, that if Trey Scott made a promise, he would keep it.

  “I won’t come around the orphanage anymore,” he said.

  Her stomach bounced to her toes. Now that he’d given her exactly what she wanted, she realized she wasn’t sure she wanted it anymore.

  In truth, she couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again. “What about Marc?”

  “I can visit with him during school hours.”

  He looked so sad, troubled, and she found herself no longer concerned about her own fears.

  She reached to him and touched his sleeve.

  It was his turn to shrug her off.

  “Molly’s your sister. Your word stands. I won’t interfere anymore. However—” he commanded her gaze with a hard, unrelenting look “—you should know that I will not stop hunting Ike Hayes until I find him and bring him to justice.”

  Katherine sighed, realizing he’d missed the crucial point in all her arguments. Didn’t he understand that it wasn’t the hunt she feared, but rather Trey’s motivation? “Seeking vengeance won’t—”

  “That is not up for discussion.” His closed-off expression couldn’t hide his pain.

  Katherine shook her head, feeling as though she’d failed him and unsure why that thought hurt so much.

  She didn’t want him to walk away. Not like this. With nothing really settled between them.

  But before she could plead with him to hear her out, he said, “You were right all along.”

  “I…I was?”

  His eyes clouded over. “Men with badges die.”

  Chapter Six

  Unable to sort through his chaotic thoughts, Trey shoved his own turmoil aside and studied the myriad of emotions that swept across Katherine’s face at his declaration. Dread. Pain. Sorrow.

  He wanted to offer her words of reassurance, to promise her they’d figure everything out for Molly’s sake, as well their own.

  But he couldn’t lie to her now that they were
starting to have an honest conversation.

  “That’s all I had to say.” He reached for his hat.

  “Stay.” She gripped his arm. “Please. This isn’t right. Can’t we find another way?”

  He shook his head at her. “You want me to forgive murderers, while I never can.”

  “Maybe not on your own.” She dropped her hand and sighed. “But with God’s help…”

  “Don’t you understand, Katherine? I don’t believe in turning the other cheek. I’m Old Testament. An eye for an eye.”

  “Seeking revenge only hurts you, Trey, not—”

  “Tell that to my wife, and all the others Ike Hayes has killed. Good, decent people.”

  Katherine lowered her gaze to her toes. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of your loss.”

  “I know.”

  Now was the time he should walk away, but the unmistakable sadness in Katherine’s eyes—sadness for him—touched the part of his soul he’d thought he’d buried with Laurette. Vengeance still burned in his gut, probably always would until he captured Ike, yet Trey didn’t want to walk away without attempting to assure Katherine his anger wasn’t directed at her.

  With unsteady fingers, he touched her cheek, dropped his hand at her flinch. Why couldn’t she trust him, even a little? “I know I argued the point yesterday, but like you, I don’t want to put Molly through another loss.”

  She blinked at him but didn’t respond.

  He took a step closer, determined to set aside his own bitterness for a moment so he could help her understand. Katherine was courageous and good. She deserved a future free of the fear that still gripped her, the same fear that still held her captive after two years of living in the safety of Charity House.

  With slow, careful movements he shifted the long black braid off her shoulder and sent it tumbling down her back. He couldn’t help but notice how her skin stood pale against the slash of her arched eyebrows. “I don’t want to hurt Molly any more than you do. In spite of what my actions might have said yesterday, I only want what’s best for her.”

  An emotion he couldn’t read wavered in her eyes before she covered it with a scowl. “Then we’re in agreement. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”