by Renee Ryan
How he dreaded that conversation, especially since he knew his departure would work against him in his bid to win her hand in marriage. Why couldn’t Katherine accept his need to settle the past in the only language Ike Hayes understood? Violence for violence.
The end was drawing near at last. Trey felt it deep in his bones. And he would rather have Katherine on his side than fighting him every step of the way. Resisting the urge to charge over to Charity House half-cocked, he concentrated on thinking up a new plan.
Unfortunately, nothing came immediately to mind. Going to Marc for help was out of the question. The man was Katherine’s friend. And Laurette’s brother.
Laurette. Trey sank into a chair behind him and spread his thumb and forefinger across his brow. After knowing what marriage to Katherine would mean to Laurette’s memory, he’d been so consumed with devising a plan to get the schoolmarm to marry him, he hadn’t thought of his wife nearly often enough.
Even now, when he tried to visualize her in his mind, the image blurred fuzzier than before, wavering further out of his reach.
He didn’t want to forget Laurette. As though to torture him further, a vivid memory of her wrapped in his arms and bleeding to death emerged out of the previously foggy images. Would he always be haunted by the memory of the day he’d found her alone, shot and frightened?
Familiar guilt reared. If he could relive that last day, he’d handle events differently. He would never have left her with only two hired hands to protect her. It was small comfort that he’d balked at leaving her, but she’d been eight months with child. He couldn’t have taken her with him, and he couldn’t have stayed. The snow was coming, and they’d needed supplies for the winter.
While Trey had been gone, Ike and his brother had come looking for horses or money to steal. They had found neither and had killed for the sport of it.
Blinding rage overwhelmed him. Trey rose and slammed his fist into the railing. Welcoming the shards of pain that spread up his arm, he tried to clear his mind of the painful images of that day four years ago, but the memory wouldn’t let him go.
The moment Laurette had died, Trey had vowed to find Ike Hayes and make him pay. Four years had passed, and Trey still hadn’t extracted justice. Nothing would change the fact that he had failed to protect his wife. For that, he would never forgive himself. Not until Ike Hayes paid with his life. And whether Katherine understood his quest, whether she married him or not, Trey would hunt the outlaw.
The pounding of footsteps yanked him brutally out of his thoughts. “Marshal Scott, you gotta come quick.”
Trey dropped his gaze onto one of the older Charity House orphans. “What?” A dark, ugly fear knotted into a hard ball of panic. “Is it Katherine? Molly?”
“No.” Bending at the waist, Johnny slapped his hands on his knees and sucked in gulps of air. “They’re fine.”
Trey exhaled. However, before he could fully settle into his relief, Johnny’s next words sent soul-gripping dread through him. “It’s Laney. She’s having her baby.”
“It’s a month too early.”
Johnny nodded. “I know. Dr. Shane told me to come get you right away.”
“Is she—”
Apprehension filled the kid’s expression. “It’s Marc. Every time Laney screams, he goes for Doc’s throat—” Johnny broke off, took several deep breaths, then stood upright. “We need you to help us hold him off.”
Knowing how much Marc loved his wife, Trey could only imagine the battle waging at Charity House. “You were right to come get me.”
As Trey started for the stable, Johnny sent him a quick, impatient look. “No time for saddling horses. We gotta go now.”
“Right.” Trey slammed his hat on his head and broke out in a run for the orphanage.
Johnny followed hard on his heels.
As his feet conquered the distance between the jail and the orphanage, Trey silently prepared himself for chaos at the end of his destination. Rounding the last corner, he nearly barreled over a woman walking her tiny dog. Muttering a quick “Pardon me,” Trey rushed up the front steps and burst into the front parlor of Charity House.
The deadly stillness struck him first.
Afraid to consider what the silence meant, he counted almost forty boys and girls of various ages sitting throughout the room. Their unnatural calm knotted a greater sense of dread in his gut.
Was it over then?
Molly broke from the pack and rushed to him. “Mr. Trey, don’t let Laney die like my momma did.”
Her fear was palpable, glittering in her eyes and throbbing in her voice.
Quiet moans of agreement hummed from the rest of the kids.
Forcing assurance into his voice, Trey picked up Molly, kissed her tearstained cheek, then said, “Nothing’s going to happen to her with Dr. Shane here.”
“But it’s taking too long,” said Molly.
Trey hugged Molly tightly against him, then caught Johnny’s gaze. “How long?”
“Hours.”
The declaration seemed to shake the rest of the kids out of their grim silence. Forty voices rose with questions, their words coming fast and incomprehensible.
Hoisting Molly onto his hip, Trey attempted to speak over their clamor. “Everybody, calm yourselves. She’s just having a baby.”
One of the orphans poked at him. “But that’s how my momma died.”
Another one added, “Yeah, mine, too.”
Trey wanted to alleviate their fears and tell them they were speaking nonsense, but death in childbirth was a reality even he couldn’t deny.
Molly placed a palm on each side of his face and forced him to look at her. “Whattaya gonna do to stop it, Mr. Trey?”
Her unrelenting assurance that he could actually make a difference shook him into action. “Don’t worry, kitten. Dr. Shane is the best in town. He’ll take good care of our Laney.”
A loud crash came from the upstairs, followed by a string of oaths that threatened to blister the wallpaper right off the walls.
Trey set Molly to the floor.
“I think I better make sure the doctor can do his job.” He planted an emphatic smile on his face, then looked at each of the children. “I’ll find out what’s happening. Then I’ll be back.”
Taking the stairs three at a time, Trey charged toward the back room where the swearing grew louder, more pronounced. Unsure what he would find, he swallowed his uneasiness, then rushed into the room without knocking.
The heat hit him first, followed by the smell of sweat and fear. Concern lay heavy and thick in the air, wrapping around his throat and squeezing like a noose. Gasping through a deep breath, Trey circled his gaze around the room until he found the doctor and Marc in a contest of wills. The young doctor, Shane Bartlett, had his sleeves rolled up and was trying to push Marc away from him.
Marc pushed back, his chest puffed out, his eyes wild and unfocused. “I’m warning you, Bartlett. Don’t let her suffer anymore.”
The doctor’s tired, red-rimmed eyes flickered with frustration. “Then move aside and let me work without obstruction.”
Marc settled into a wide, feet-planted stance. “You leave my woman alone.”
“I’m trying to help her!”
Knowing far too well what that stubborn look on his friend’s face meant, Trey raised his voice. “What can I do to help?”
Marc answered for them both. “Stay out of this, Trey. Unless you want a fight, too.”
Ignoring the threat, Trey looked around the rest of the room. Careful to avoid glancing at the bed, he focused on Katherine as she stood off to one side, turning a wet cloth over and over in her hands.
Her hair had come loose from its braid, cascading in a black curtain around her face. Lines of fatigue rimmed her eyes, but she managed to smile at him. The simple gesture transformed her face, making her look as though she were actually happy to see him. His heart warmed at the thought, but then she angled her head toward Marc and mouthed the words, “Do s
omething.”
Trey took a step forward, but then his gaze landed on Laney, lying in the bed. He’d purposely avoided looking at her, and now he knew why. Sweat poured down her face, her eyes glazed over in pain. Instant fear rose in his throat, and he took a quick, reflexive step back.
Was God going to take another woman he loved today?
Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he cared for Laney. She was like the sister he’d never had, and he didn’t want her to die. Yet he knew there was nothing he could do to help her at this point.
He shot her an apologetic grimace.
Laney gave him a watery smile in return, then buckled over. “Give me one of your guns, Trey.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea right now,” he said, surprised his voice came out as steady as it did.
She panted through what looked like a spasm of pain. Grinding her teeth together, she leaned back into the pillows and growled, “I said give me a gun.”
Diverted from his fight with the doctor, Marc rushed to his wife’s side and knelt beside the bed. Brushing her hair away from her face, he tried to soothe her with words. “It’s gonna be all right, honey.”
“Take your hands off me, Dupree.” She took a deep breath, then angled a glare at Trey. “I mean it, Marshal. Give me your weapon. Now.”
Marc shared a look with Trey, then turned back to the bed.
“What do you want it for, baby?” Marc’s voice wavered with concern.
She sneered at her husband. “To shoot you, of course.”
Marc visibly cringed. “I’m sorry, Laney. I’ll never touch you again.”
Doubling over in agony, she let out a pain-filled holler. “No, you won’t.”
She ground out more words of condemnation between pants and screeches.
Feeling utterly helpless, Trey turned to Katherine for guidance. But she wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her eyes were on her friend as she moved forward, lowered her voice and began whispering instructions into the other woman’s ear. “Come on, Laney,” she urged. “You have to breathe. Slowly, now.”
“Leave me alone,” Laney moaned. “I don’t want to breathe. Arr.”
Katherine shuddered, but her voice came low and even. “That’s it. Breathe through the pain.”
Laney screamed instead.
Katherine knelt beside the bed and began praying in a soft, convicted voice. Didn’t she know her efforts were useless? God couldn’t possibly be listening.
But a part of him, the part that still had a shred of hope left, wanted to join Katherine in prayer. Or at least believe her efforts weren’t in vain.
Paralyzed into immobility by his conflicting thoughts, Trey could only admire Katherine’s calm strength. With each of Laney’s pants, she continued to soothe her friend while praying for peace and relief.
“Laney, let me help you,” Marc said, his eyes glazed over with a panic Trey felt as well.
“You’ve done enough already,” Laney yelled at him.
Letting out a hiss of frustration, Marc jumped up and gripped the doctor by the neck. “Make it stop, Bartlett.”
Dr. Bartlett swung a pleading look to Trey. “Get him out of here, will ya?”
Laney chose that moment to scream again.
Marc released the doctor and whipped back around. But before he made it to the bed, Trey reached for him and physically yanked on his shirt collar. “Let’s go, my friend. This isn’t a place for either of us.”
Dr. Bartlett let out a quick, agitated sigh. “Thanks, Marshal.”
Just before Trey turned to go, Katherine looked up and gave him a grateful smile. Within her eyes resided all the words neither had been able to say to one another. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this woman’s smiles, her softness. How much he needed the comfort he always felt around her. Warming to the notion, he pushed his lips into an answering smile, and a moment of quiet understanding passed between them.
As though sensing Trey’s lack of concentration, Marc twisted and broke free of his grip. He rushed back toward the bed, but Trey moved faster. He grabbed his friend by the arm and clenched him with the force of a man used to dragging unwilling criminals into custody. “You need a break, old man.”
“I’m not leaving my wife,” Marc growled.
“Yes. You are.”
Marc struggled, using his strength against Trey’s. Normally, they’d be evenly matched, but Trey was fresher and less emotional. After only a moment of pushes and tugs, Trey won the battle and shoved his friend toward the door. Before he left the room, he caught a glimpse of Katherine and Dr. Bartlett leaning over a basin together. The two worked without speaking, but there was a silent accord between them, a meshing of movements that indicated years of working side by side in a sickroom.
Trey shut his mind to the sudden urge to slug the good doctor and focused on maneuvering Marc out of the room. This was not a time to remember Molly’s suggestion—or rather, threat—that she would ask Dr. Bartlett to marry her sister if Trey would not. Nor was it a time for…Was that jealousy he was feeling? Or was it envy for the camaraderie the two shared?
Either way, Trey wasn’t going to explore the shocking emotion any further. At least, not while he had an unreasonable, panicked father-to-be literally thrashing in his grip.
By the time he’d wrestled Marc to the bottom of the stairs, the fight had left the other man completely. Satisfied he’d won the war, Trey released his hold. But then Laney let out a scream, and Marc’s muscles bunched. He made it up two steps before Trey caught him again and yanked him back down. Tired of the game, Trey slammed his friend against the wall and pinned him there, with a restraining hand against his chest.
“Calm down, Marc. You aren’t helping anyone with this behavior. The kids are petrified.”
Marc jerked forward, but Trey hurled him back into the wall. Shifting his gaze up the stairs, Marc sighed. “Yeah, well, I know the feeling.”
Trey took his friend by the shoulders and shook him. “Get hold of yourself. The children need to see everything’s going to be all right.”
Marc stared at him with an empty expression but stopped fighting.
Trey blew out a hard breath, then called out over his shoulder. “Hey, Johnny, I need you to come out here.”
Johnny sped around the corner, nearly clipping his shoulder on the wall.
“Take Marc into his study. I’ll be right behind you.”
With his face draining of all color, Johnny looked at Marc, then back to Trey. “Not a chance.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll cooperate. If he doesn’t—” Trey glared hard at his friend “—I’ll knock him out.”
Another scream from the second floor sliced through the air. With the strength of three men, Marc broke out of Trey’s grip. Down to his last tactic, Trey wrapped his fingers around his friend’s throat. “Take another step and I’ll make sure you’re out cold for the rest of the day.”
Marc glared back at him. Trey kept his feet poised, prepared to stare down his friend for however long it took to communicate his message.
“I think you mean it,” Marc grunted.
Curving his lips into a fixed smile, Trey nodded. “I do. And at this point, Laney would congratulate me for it.”
Marc glanced up the stairs.
“She’s in good hands,” Trey reminded him. “Let Katherine and Bartlett take care of your wife.”
Trey shut his mind against the fact that Katherine was in that room with the young, handsome doctor, the two working side by side, sharing the miracle of birth…
No, he was being absurd. He had to focus on his friend, not some petty, selfish jealousy that didn’t have any place here.
With his shoulders slumped, Marc bared his teeth. “When this is over, I’m taking you out.”
Trey grinned. “You’re welcome to try.”
Mumbling that it would be his pleasure, Marc stomped off toward his study. With a nudge from Trey, Johnny followed at a good distance behind.
> Chapter Twelve
Trey waited until Marc rounded the corner before letting out the breath he’d been holding. After taking several more gulps, he turned in the opposite direction and entered the large parlor. Forty pairs of eyes locked with his. The look of solemn despair he saw staring back at him cut through the thin fabric of his confidence.
These children recognized the yells coming from upstairs for what they were—the sounds of a woman in the grip of a dangerous, perhaps even deadly, situation.
Molly tore herself out of one of the other girls’ laps. “Is she gonna live?”
Trey lifted the little girl into his arms. “She’s doing just fine. A little tired, but she’s tough.”
A bloodcurdling scream nearly lifted the roof off its rafters. Molly buried her face in Trey’s neck. “She don’t sound so very tough.”
Trey patted her on the back, smiled at the others. “The hollering is a good sign. Means the baby’s healthy.”
At least, he hoped so.
Realizing he had to get all of their minds off what was happening upstairs, he looked to the oldest girl. “Megan, why don’t you take everyone outside and organize a game of—”
“Baseball. That’s Laney’s favorite.”
“Excellent idea. Choose up teams, and I’ll see if I can get Marc to join you outside.”
Trey tried to set Molly down, but she wrapped her spindly arms around his neck in a tight grip and sobbed. After a few seconds of prying, he gave up. “I’ll just keep Molly with me for now.”
One by one, the kids trooped outside, looking as though they were about to face a firing squad instead of heading out to play. Their calm acceptance tore at Trey. Like him, these children had learned that life was unfair, and that loved ones often died before their time.
How could he help anyone have faith when he had so little himself? Doubt filled him, and his breathing picked up speed. Trey knew about hate, he knew about vengeance and anger, but what did he know about being a parent?