The Marshal Takes a Bride

by Renee Ryan

  Increasing his pace to a significant clip, Trey avoided eye contact with the various politicians, lawyers and other civil servants he passed along the wood-paneled corridors. At last, he entered his makeshift office at the back of the building and slammed the door shut with a bang.

  Thin rays of light slipped through the seams of the windows, creating little pockets of warmth in the otherwise austere room. One desk, one chair, countless stacks of papers and a thick layer of dust spoke of the respect Trey had given to his administrative duties of late.

  Determined to keep his mind on business, he gathered the nearest pile of papers. But as he glanced down at the writing, the black script drifted into one unreadable blur.

  Accepting defeat, he tossed the stack aside and gave his chaotic thoughts full rein. What had possessed him to confront Katherine Taylor this morning, alone, in the school’s supply closet no less? It was bad enough two impressionable teenagers had witnessed their impromptu meeting. Anyone could have seen him enter the building alone and then exit after Katherine.

  If they were looking.

  Trey knew that some of Charity House’s neighbors weren’t exactly overjoyed at the notion of the unique orphanage in their high-class neighborhood. Several had filed complaints about excessive noise and other ridiculous offensives.

  What would they do with a meaty scandal, unfounded or not?

  He’d acted without a thought to the consequences. But there had been repercussions, in the form of two fifteen-year-olds who thought they’d seen more than they had. And nosy neighbors or not, if word got past those Charity House children, the town gossips would have more ammunition in their battle to destroy Katherine’s already tenuous reputation. Would they go so far as to try to shut down the school?

  What would happen to Katherine then?

  Why hadn’t Trey forced the issue of marriage, instead of allowing the mule-headed woman to walk away with nothing resolved between them?

  You’re still in love with your wife…

  Trey’s heart weighed heavy in his chest. Even after Katherine had brought up Laurette, Trey had been more concerned over the stricken expression on the schoolmarm’s face than the momentary betrayal of his wife’s memory.

  Given the opportunity again, would he attempt to offer comfort to Katherine and alleviate her fears?

  Yes. Yes, he would, because what had happened between them in that supply closet had nothing to do with Laurette or Trey’s search for Ike Hayes. For a brief moment, and he assured himself it had been brief, Trey had allowed himself to forget his hate. He’d wanted to give Katherine a reason to trust again, and to help free her from the dark legacy of her attack.

  His motives had started out pure enough, yet he’d hurt Katherine anyway. He probably always would. She needed a man unsullied of heart, less broken and certainly not consumed with hate. A man who loved and trusted God as much as she did. Trey, on the other hand, hadn’t stepped inside a church since Laurette’s funeral.

  With that thought, he circled around his desk and dropped into the lone chair in the room. The leather and wood protested under his weight in the form of a succession of creaks and groans.

  He tried to call forth memories of his wife, but his mind kept straying back to a prissy, frightened schoolmarm who hadn’t been quite so afraid this morning.

  A jolt of satisfaction passed through him. For once, Katherine Taylor hadn’t flinched from his touch.

  As soon as the thought came, guilt and regret lashed into one another. Katherine’s reputation could be irreparably damaged. If the neighbors had seen them, had put two and two together, there could be more trouble for her than a damaged reputation. Why wasn’t she more concerned?

  For one dark, dangerous moment, Trey considered charging back to the orphanage and shaking some sense into the woman. Of course, he still had the obstacle of a three-inch tin star to overcome.

  Yes, he wore a badge. Yes, he could be killed in the line of duty, just like Katherine’s father. But his usual, day-today duties were far from dangerous. The biggest problem besetting him this week was the accounting of monies he’d used in the past six months to run the courts.

  He would much rather be out on the trail, pursuing bank robbers and other outlaws—men like Ike Hayes—but a small army of accountants at the Justice Department had started auditing his every expenditure. They’d gone so far as to deny his last request for additional funds to run his trials properly. Hence Drew Hayes’s far too lengthy stay in the Denver jail.

  So here he sat, keeping track of the money used by the court, instead of enforcing the law of the land. The biggest threat to him right now was a paper cut.

  Loud, insistent knocking at the door ripped Trey out of his thoughts. “Go away.”

  Ignoring the command, Logan Mitchell pushed into the room, hat in hand, a wary look on his face. Trey scowled at his deputy. With his blond hair matted to his head, the man looked more like a greenhorn rancher than a seasoned lawman. Trey knew better than to believe the deception. Logan was fast and accurate with a pistol. He was also smart, discerning and mean as a snake when it came to serving justice. The younger man reminded Trey of…himself.

  “What do you want?” Trey asked.

  “You got a visitor over at the jail, Marshal.”

  Trey picked up a random piece of paper and studied it intently. “I’m busy.”

  With his lips curling in distaste, Logan shifted his gaze to the papers scattered on the desk. “The audit?”

  Trey bared his teeth in response.

  Logan lifted a shoulder. “All right, I get the hint. I’m leaving. But I think you’ll want to see this particular visitor.”

  Trey placed the paper on the desk, picked up a ledger and flipped open the front cover. Running his finger down one of the columns, he pretended grave interest in the declining numbers. “I doubt it.”

  “She asked to see Mr. Trey.”

  The ledger crashed to the floor as Trey hurled himself out of his chair. He was around the desk in the same amount of time it took his heart to take a single beat. “You left her alone? With Drew Hayes in there?”

  Logan took a step back, palms in the air, his eyes wary. “I’m not stupid. She’s playing checkers with Sheriff Lassiter.”

  Nursing his anger at the thought of Drew Hayes within fifty feet of Molly, even if thick bars did separate them, he growled. “She’s inside the jailhouse?”

  “They’re on the covered walkway out front. The sheriff set up two chairs with a crate in between.”

  Regardless of this new information, Trey’s temper prowled like a hungry lion seeking to devour anything in its path. Right now, that meant Logan Mitchell. To keep from taking out the other man for the sheer pleasure of it, Trey clenched his jaw until his teeth started to ache. “She say what she wanted?”

  “Nope.”

  Shoving his hat on his head, Trey headed toward the hallway.

  Logan dropped a weary look onto the open ledger. “I guess this means you’ll want me to stay here and work on balancing those numbers for you.”

  Already out the door, Trey looked back over his shoulder. “The bean counters in Washington can wait until I get around to it.”

  Logan grinned as he fell into step beside him, and the two wound their way through the maze of hallways. “I like the way you think, Marshal.”

  Deciding his temper needed an outlet after all, Trey sliced a glare at the other man. “Where are you going?”

  “With you.”

  “You’re not coming with me.”

  “I’m not?”

  Trey held the pause for effect, then pulled his lips into a sarcastic grin. “You’re going over to Mattie Silks’s place to question her again about the night we found Drew Hayes in her brothel.”

  Logan’s expression darkened. “We both know it’s a waste of time.”

  Trey shrugged in response, increasing his speed once they were outside the courthouse and heading toward the jail. When Logan continued to walk alongsid
e him, he pointed to his left. “Market Street is that way.”

  “I know where it is.”

  “Then why are you still following me?”

  For the first time since he’d sworn the man in, Logan looked uncertain. “Come on, Marshal. That woman won’t tell me any more than she has the past fifteen times we’ve questioned her. She’ll probably start talking in circles again.” He tipped his hat back and rubbed his forehead. “It makes my head hurt just thinking about it.”

  “Eventually, she’s going to talk herself into a corner and reveal what we want to know. And one of us is going to be the man to get her there. Why not you?”

  “Are you forgetting that Mattie hates me almost as much as she hates you?”

  The frustration in Logan’s voice was exactly the reaction Trey had expected, but he refused to relent now that the idea had taken hold.

  “She likes you just fine.” Trey slapped the younger man on the back. “Except when you’re asking her questions about the Hayes brothers.”

  A defeated hiss whipped out of Logan. “You know, Marshal, what they say about you is true. You really are Beelzebub’s cousin.”

  Trey’s grin turned into a genuine smile. “Just be glad we’re on the same side.”

  “Yeah, well, I have my doubts about that.”

  Ignoring the activity around him, Trey strode purposely down the busy streets of Denver’s business district, en route to the jail. A steady stream of people meandered alongside him, their murmurs indistinguishable from one another. Determined to make good time, Trey clenched his jaw and bit into some of the grit kicked up from a passing carriage. A few unsavory types made an especially wide berth for him to pass. Sometimes a badge had its advantages, he thought, with a smile.

  Still grinning, he swung around to his left and crossed the street. A group of well-dressed ladies stopped in conversation and simply stared at him in a gesture just short of rude. Undaunted, he tipped his hat as he drew near. They quickly looked away, whispered among themselves and then hurried off in the opposite direction.

  Although Trey thought their behavior odd, his mind was too focused on other, more important matters to be overly concerned with the particulars of the brief encounter. Logan had assured him Molly was safely outside the jail; nevertheless, Trey increased his pace. Relief speared through him the moment he turned the last corner and caught sight of two heads bent over a checkerboard.

  Slowing, he focused on the little girl in the crisp green dress. Her pitch-black hair gleamed almost blue in the sun, and one long braid hung down her back. She looked too young, too innocent, for the harsh setting of the jailhouse behind her.

  Trey couldn’t deny the truth any longer. Molly Taylor deserved every bit of the stability her sister wanted for her. The sudden craving to be the man to make that happen nearly brought him to his knees.

  He wondered when he’d gotten in so deep. In his none-too-subtle way, Marc had recently claimed that Trey’s affection for the kid was directly connected to his loss of Laurette and their unborn child. Granted, his friend might have been on the right track, but Trey’s paternal feelings for Molly Taylor had grown separate and distinct in the past few weeks. A reprieve, of sorts, from his feelings of hate and anger.

  Unable to catch a decent breath, he continued to watch as Molly considered her next move. She chewed on her lower lip, then picked up a black checker. Grinning up at the sheriff, she slammed her wooden playing chip on an empty square in front of him. “King me.”

  The grizzled old man shook his head and lifted his palms in the air. “I’m all out. Looks like you win again.”

  “Well, ’course I did. It’s ’cause I’s good.”

  “Won’t argue with that.” A twinkle danced in the sheriff’s eyes. “Molly Taylor, you play a mean game of checkers.”

  Trey could only marvel at the change in Sheriff Lassiter. What had happened to the nasty curmudgeon, known throughout the West for his lack of tolerance of anything frivolous? Right now, his hard eyes actually looked…kind.

  Closing the distance, Trey called out. “Molly? You wanted to see me?”

  At the sound of her name, the little girl lifted her head. The moment her gaze connected with Trey’s, her face broke into her hallmark gap-toothed grin.

  “Mr. Trey!” She vaulted off her chair and, with a leap, launched herself into his arms.

  Unable to deny the momentary pleasure he got from her childish devotion, Trey shoved aside the ugly emotions that usually resided in him and allowed the kid’s glee to fill his heart. He wrapped her tightly in his embrace and breathed in her goodness. She smelled of soap and little girl and everything innocent. A swell of protective instincts, abrupt and violent, rose inside him.

  She giggled, then pulled back. “Hi.”

  He smiled in return, wanting very much to be the man he saw shining in her eyes. “Hello, kitten.”

  Giggling again, she kissed him on the cheek, then squirmed out of his arms.

  “I hurted my finger.” Standing tall, she thrust her hand toward him. “See?”

  Trey squinted. Taking her small hand, he arranged his face into a look of genuine concern and examined the tiny slit. “Looks like it hurts real bad.”

  “It don’t really hurt no more.”

  Trey kept his expression serious, intent. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  Little worry lines dug between her arched brows as she toed the wooden slats beneath her feet. “I have a loose tooth, too.”

  Trey had seen his share of stalling tactics to know when he was in the midst of some of the best. He stamped down his impatience and continued to play her game. “No kidding?”

  She wiggled one of her remaining two front teeth with her thumb. “See?”

  “I do, indeed.”

  Suddenly realizing there weren’t any other Charity House children in the general area, he took a quick, covert glance down the street. “Are you alone, Molly?”

  Skinny shoulders hunched forward. “Maybe.”

  Trey’s gut flipped inside itself. If her trembling lips were anything to go by, trouble lay ahead. And there was going to be one ornery schoolmarm at the other end of it. “Does your sister know where you are?”

  “No.” She gave him a pleading look that tore at his defenses.

  “But I gotta talk to you, Mr. Trey. Really, really bad. Katherine said I couldn’t come see you.” Molly sighed, then puffed out her chest. “But I came anyway.”

  A wisp of regret expanded into soul-deep guilt. Because of him, Molly had defied her sister. Again. He had to put a stop to it. Now. “Let’s get you back to Charity House.”

  “But I came to—”

  “You can tell me why you’re here on the way back to the orphanage.”

  She looked ready to argue, but Lassiter chose that moment to break into the conversation. Clearing his throat, he cocked his head toward the jail and said, “Well, I’m heading back inside.”

  Molly shoved her hand forward. “Good game.”

  The grown-up, manly gesture had the older man’s lip twitching. Taking her hand in his, he pumped it up and down. “It was. But next time you won’t be so lucky.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  Lassiter patted her head. “I like your conviction, kid.” He glanced to Trey. “Are we gonna finalize that date on Hayes’s trial soon?”

  Trey shared a look with the sheriff as he spun Molly toward the direction of her home. “I’ll be back in an hour. We’ll discuss it then.”

  “Right.”

  Molly slipped a wave over her shoulder. “Bye, Sheriff, see ya.”

  “See ya, kid.”

  Once Trey had Molly heading reluctantly down the street, he nudged her onto the planked sidewalk and pointed her in the direction of Charity House.

  She scuffed her feet, digging the tips of her shoes into a wooden seam every third plank. “Mr. Trey?” she said, keeping her gaze focused on her feet.

  He ignored the foreboding skipping along the base of his spine. “Yes?�
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  “Will you—” She broke off and sighed. “Will you…”

  “Will I what?”

  Throwing back her shoulders, she jutted her chin toward the sky and turned to look at him straight in the eye. “Will you be my daddy?”

  Trey’s heart lifted, then dropped. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stopped walking and turned to look at her.

  She shifted from foot to foot but held his stare, with a hopeful plea in her eyes. For a long moment, a cloak of silence enveloped them, broken only by the sounds of the people and horses milling about.

  For one glorious second, he wanted to tell her that of course he would be her daddy, but he hadn’t settled the particulars with Katherine yet. He still had to make the woman understand that this was more than a mere discussion of stability versus her reputation.

  He was afraid talk had already begun. If an unsavory scandal was brewing, Trey knew it could affect far more than himself and Katherine.

  Something had to be done. Soon.

  “Ah, Molly,” he said. “I’d like nothing better than—”

  “Good.” She threaded her fingers with his and grinned up at him. “’Cause I need two parents. And I want you most of all.”

  Her look of absolute hero worship frightened him more than her request. What if he let this child down? What if she came to harm because of him?

  And what if he hurt Katherine in the process as well?

  He hadn’t been able to protect Laurette. What made him think it would be any different with Molly and her sister? “You have Katherine as your big sister. That’s almost like a parent.”

  “No.” She stamped her foot. “That’s not good enough. She can be my momma. And you get to be my daddy.”

  “Kitten…”

  Mutiny swept across her features. “Well, if you don’t wanna, then I’ll get Dr. Shane to do it. He likes Katherine. I know, ’cause he’s always around the house and he smiles at her a lot and he said so when I asked.”

  Trey’s heart rebelled at the notion of the good doctor marrying Katherine, sharing her smiles, her future. Her life.