The Marshal Takes a Bride

by Renee Ryan

  His expression hardened to an unforgiving glint. “Why can’t you understand? This isn’t about Laurette. Or even Ike Hayes. It’s about justice.”

  “Your justice.”

  “A threat to justice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” The fury in his eyes cut deeper than his words. “I made a vow when I took this badge. I left ranching because this is what I’m supposed to do.”

  “God calls us to love our enemies.”

  His eyes hardened. “That’s an impossible command.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face as the truth struck like a fist. Trey wasn’t just a man who wore a badge. He was the badge. “Go catch the bad guy.”

  He wrenched her into his arms. “Katherine, stop worrying. I will come back to you. No matter how many times I leave, I’ll always come back. One day you’ll understand that.”

  She held herself rigid in his arms, daring not to relax into him for fear she’d start begging. “You seem to think highly of yourself. Didn’t you tell me I couldn’t control life and death when I wept over our baby’s death? Since when did you become immortal, the master of destiny itself?”

  He stepped back, glaring at her. “Katherine, I need you to understand.”

  Katherine dropped her gaze to the floor. “Just go.”

  “I want—”

  She clapped her hands over her ears, blocking the rest of his declaration. “I said, go.”

  He stalked to the door, tossed her one final frustrated glower, then turned and walked out of the house.

  Nursing her fears, Katherine couldn’t shake the notion that this was the last time she’d ever see her husband whole again.

  Oh, Lord, how will I survive without him?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Trey charged down the front steps of Charity House, saddened that Katherine didn’t understand why he had to stop Ike Hayes, personally—with his own hands if necessary. No matter how much he craved the freedom she spoke of, Trey couldn’t turn vengeance over to God that easily.

  How could offering mercy to the man who’d killed Laurette erase the bitterness and guilt that had driven Trey these past four years?

  “Daddy. Daddy.” Molly rushed across the yard, screaming his name repeatedly. Skidding to a stop, she favored him with a little-girl glare. “Daddy, didn’t you hear me calling you?”

  Trey forced aside thoughts of Ike Hayes, grinned down at Molly, then ruffled her hair. “Sorry, kitten. Guess I have a lot on my mind.”

  “You wanna come play baseball with me?”

  At the eager look in her eyes, regret split Trey’s heart. He hated to disappoint the child, but he needed to confront Ike, face-to-face. “I have to go to work today.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

  Although he’d expected this reaction, Trey felt trapped by Molly’s accusing stare. The worry trembling on her lips didn’t help, either. This agony was what came from caring again.

  He hadn’t wanted to love this little girl, or her sister, hadn’t wanted to start a family. But what he’d wanted and what had happened were two different matters. This child had become his daughter. Her sister had become his wife. Both were now a part of him, in his heart forever.

  For that alone, he had to serve up justice to Ike and finally put the past in the past.

  As the silence lengthened, Molly’s lips dropped into a frown. “You’re heading out again, aren’t you?”

  Unwilling to leave on an unpleasant note, Trey pushed his growing impatience aside and crouched in front of her, knuckled a braid off her shoulder. “Yes, I am.”

  The look on her face made him sick. It was somewhere between accusation and acceptance. Why was he destined to hurt and disappoint the women he loved most? “Kitten, don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”

  She nodded, her lower lip quivering harder. “I know.”

  “Do me a favor while I’m gone?”

  Her eyes turned wary, and wisdom far exceeding her five years flickered into life. “Sure. I guess so.”

  Concerned he had to leave like this—without time to make the necessary preparations—he tugged her into a tight hug. “Be especially nice to your sister.”

  Squirming, she pushed against him. “You are holding me too tight.”

  Tiny fists beat against his shoulders.

  He loosened his grip, blinked back the emotion threatening to pull tears from his eyes. “It’s ’cause I love you so much.”

  She sighed, patted him on the back. “Me, too. But I’m still angry at you for leaving again so soon.”

  “I know, baby.” Kissing the top of her head, he eased her back to arm’s length and faced the situation head-on. “But I have to catch the bad guy.”

  She stepped farther out of his reach, then slapped a hand against her chest. “The one you hate? The one that killed your wife?”

  Trey hadn’t realized Molly knew so much about his past. “Yes.”

  She looked at him with a confused expression on her face. “But Katherine says we have to forgive those who hurt us, even the mean ones we hate most.”

  A part of his soul shattered at the grown-up look on her face, the childlike stubbornness in her stance. But he’d tried Katherine’s way already. For her sake, he’d really tried to let God administer justice to Ike Hayes, only to have the snake slither back into his life. Right here in Denver, where his new family lived.

  “Say you’ll come back soon,” she said.

  He forced a smile onto his lips. “I will.”

  “Okay.” She bounced toward him again, kissed his cheek. “Bye, Daddy. Stay safe.”

  “Bye, Molly. I’ll try.”

  In the next second, she was gone, back to her world of carefree play. Her desertion left Trey with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why couldn’t he shake the notion that he was making a mistake by leaving this time?

  Because he knew, in his heart, that Katherine was right. He was seeking vengeance for selfish reasons, reasons that kept him from making Katherine and her little sister a real part of his life.

  But he also knew he’d be stuck in the grave with Laurette forever if he didn’t follow through with this perfect opportunity to dole out retribution at last.

  Either way, someone would end up hurt today. He prayed it was Ike Hayes.

  With that thought, he left the orphanage on full alert.

  When Trey arrived at the jailhouse, Logan was waiting for him outside. Relief fell across the deputy’s face. “I was just on my way to Charity House to get you.”

  The premonition he’d been trying to ignore all day settled over Trey. “You got news of Ike.”

  Logan nodded. “He’s at Mattie’s. I’m sure of it.”

  Trey’s first instinct was to charge over to the brothel and shoot the man in cold blood. But too much was at stake, and there were too many unknowns yet. He had to deal only in the givens. Or risk making a mistake.

  Swallowing his impatience, he focused on gathering the information he needed in order to make the smart move. “Did you see him?”

  “No.”

  “So you’re not sure.” Relief warred with disappointment, making his temper flare, but he held his reaction under tight control.

  “Oh, I’m sure. You see, I was doing what you told me, uh, that is, I was, uh—” He broke off, swallowed, shook his head. “Well, I was getting friendly with one of Mattie’s girls, just like you told me…”

  Trey didn’t see the need to remark on unnecessary details. “Go on.”

  “Anyway, I heard a commotion in the parlor. By the time I got there, the room was empty.”

  “Then how do you know—”

  “Because Mattie was missing, and so were all the other customers. Usually at this time of day, the brothel’s real busy, and Mattie’s in the parlor, surveying her domain like she’s the reigning queen of the world.”

  “What does this have to do with Ike?” Trey barked.

  The deputy scowled at him. “I was getting to that. From what Lizzie s
ays, only three men can get Mattie alone in her room. And only one can clear out the entire brothel.”

  “Ike.”

  “Right.” Logan gave him one solid nod. “At first, I thought I’d take him out myself, but then I remembered what you’ve always told me. ‘Never go into an unknown situation alone.’ So I was heading to get you, after I checked to make sure Drew was still behind bars.”

  Trey was impressed. The young deputy had acted on logic instead of emotion. He’d make a fine marshal one day. “You made the right decision,” he said, then cocked his head toward the jail. “Is Lassiter keeping watch over our prisoner?”

  “Yeah.”

  Satisfied he had all the information he needed, Trey said, “Let’s go.”

  Tamping down the desire to let emotion rule, he untied his horse, mounted and rode off, barely giving Logan time to get out of his way.

  The thundering of hooves followed hard behind him.

  Trey pushed his horse faster.

  Logan matched the pace.

  Side by side, they made short work of the distance between the jailhouse and Mattie’s brothel. Turning onto Market Street, Trey slowed his horse to an easy walk. Logan did the same.

  With a sweeping gaze, Trey studied the fringes of the district, then turned and focused on the center of the street. Shouts echoed across the street. A man called out to a woman waving from a window in one of the brothels. A horse whinnied in the distance. The smell of cheap perfume, trail dust and stale whiskey wafted together in the air, nearly choking him.

  Resisting the urge to cover his nose, Trey counted eleven men on foot, moving in groups of various sizes along the sidewalks. A lone horse and rider meandered down the middle of the street. Trey waited, watched. Patience was his ally now.

  A group of three men entered a brothel on Trey’s right while two men spilled out of another one on his left. Slapping one another on the back, the new arrivals staggered past a horse and carriage and then entered a well-marked saloon three doors down. Five more men followed them in.

  That left three men on foot, one man on horseback.

  “We do this right,” Trey said to his deputy while keeping his eyes on the horse and rider trotting out of sight.

  “I’ll follow your lead, Marshal.”

  “Good.” Once the street was clear of the three remaining men, Trey turned his full attention back to Logan. “No heroics today. Shoot in self-defense only.”

  Logan nodded, his gaze centered on Mattie’s brothel, ahead of them.

  Trey dismounted, drew his gun and then checked the load. “I’ll go through the front door. You come in from the back. We’ll work as a team.”

  Logan climbed off his own horse. “You can count on me.”

  While Logan moved into position, Trey focused his thoughts on Ike Hayes and what he’d done to Laurette and their unborn child.

  Trey tested the handle on the front door, huffed out a breath when it wouldn’t budge. The wood was too sturdy for an easy entry. Stepping back, he unloaded two shots into the lock. He gave the door a hard kick, and it flew inward. The force of the blow dragged Trey and a cold stream of air through the opening.

  Charging forward, gun poised at the ready, Trey took quick inventory of his surroundings. The foyer and main parlor were full of flickering candlelight but empty of human activity.

  The hurried footsteps and slamming of doors on the upper landing told Trey that Mattie’s girls knew trouble was coming.

  They were wrong.

  It was already here.

  As Trey slipped around the perimeter of the parlor, his eyes gauged, searched. Step by step, he inched in the direction of Mattie’s room. White-hot rage heightened his senses.

  The terror Ike Hayes had spread around the territory ended today.

  Trey’s breathing came fast and hard, in short, painful gasps. Creeping closer to his destination, he twisted the knob, then eased the door open a crack.

  The sick smell of death hit him hard. But before he could enter the room, Mattie Silks materialized from the other side of the door. With a hard shove, she pushed Trey back into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving a small slit.

  “I’m busy with a customer, Marshal. You’ll have to come back another time.”

  “I’m here to arrest Ike Hayes. Turn him over to me now and I’ll ignore the fact that you are harboring a wanted criminal.”

  “Well, it ain’t Ike in there.” Mattie looked at Trey with disgust. “So you can just be on your way, now.”

  “Right.” He began to walk away, then turned back and pushed past her.

  “Now see here.” She yanked on his arm hard enough to stop his pursuit.

  Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Trey shrugged her off and slowly, very slowly, pointed his gun toward the doorway.

  “You won’t need that.” Mattie sighed in defeat as she glanced at his drawn weapon. “He’s too ill to fight back.”

  Ignoring her, Trey shoved into the room. And stopped dead in his tracks.

  The pale, sickly man that lay propped in Mattie’s bed was obviously fighting for his life. Unable to reconcile his mental image of Laurette’s killer and the man before him now, Trey could only stare.

  “Are you Ike Hayes?” he asked, aiming his gun at the center of the outlaw’s chest.

  The man’s eyes remained closed, his breathing ragged.

  Mattie rushed to the end of the bed, then turned back to glare at Trey.

  “Move aside, Mattie.”

  She spread her arms out as though to shield the outlaw from Trey’s wrath. “Can’t you see this man is nearly dead from a gunshot wound already? It won’t do you any good to shoot him again.”

  Even a madam was lecturing him now. “Just how close to death is he?”

  Mattie took a step forward but kept her arms outstretched. “I don’t know.”

  “Then go fetch Shane Bartlett, and he’ll tell us for sure.”

  Mattie didn’t respond, just stood rooted to the spot as she looked around the room, like she was searching for an answer out of the empty air.

  Trey hissed out a warning. “I suggest you go now, before I lose my patience entirely.”

  Mattie’s eyes widened at the threat. She dropped a quick glance to his gun, then whipped her gaze back to him. “Maybe I will go see if I can find the doctor.”

  “You do that.”

  “Right.” She kept her unblinking stare locked on Trey’s weapon as she edged out of the room.

  Alone at last with his prey, Trey watched Ike struggle for every wheezing breath.

  How could this sickly, thin shell of a man be the murdering criminal Trey had hunted for four long years?

  Of course, evil came in many forms. Trey refused to be fooled by the pathetic picture the outlaw made.

  “Wake up, Ike. It’s judgment time.”

  Red-rimmed, faded blue eyes blinked slowly open.

  Trey was instantly struck by the oddity of the gaze staring back at him. Had Laurette looked into the same wicked, empty eyes? Had she felt terror rather than the rage racing though Trey?

  “Ike Hayes?” he asked, surprised his voice came out as steady as it did.

  “Who wants to know?” The man had the stupidity to shift toward the bedside table, where a six-shooter lay just out of his reach.

  Trey cocked his pistol. “Go for that gun and you’re dead.”

  Ike froze, his hand hovering near the weapon. Trey could see the outlaw’s mind working, eyes shifting, hand trembling as he calculated the time it would take him to reach his gun and shoot.

  “We both know you won’t make it. Not with my weapon already cocked and aimed.”

  “Maybe I want to go down fighting.”

  Trey disabused him of the notion with a single shot. The bullet hit the lamp on the bedside table and shattered glass over Ike’s entire forearm.

  Ike’s gaze turned wild, frantic, but eventually he raised his hand in the air, palm facing forward.

  “Wise
decision,” Trey said. “Now let me see your other hand.” Before Ike could move, he added, “Nice and slow.”

  “You ain’t got the guts to shoot me,” Ike snorted, his chest rising and falling with every ragged breath he took.

  The need to kill rode him hard, but Trey forced cool indifference into his heart. He had precious little time before Logan joined them. Trey could shoot the outlaw now, for Laurette and all the other innocent victims the man had killed. No one would doubt the why behind Trey’s actions.

  Liking the idea, he felt his finger quiver on the trigger, but he staved off the hunger for blood. Barely.

  Poised between past and future, Trey narrowed his choices down to two: offer mercy or administer vigilante justice.

  Which would bring freedom fastest? Which would bring the longest-lasting relief?

  As though sensing Trey’s predicament, Ike snarled, “Are you going to stand there pondering what you want to do, or you gonna have the guts to do it?”

  Trey’s hand began to shake from the control it took to remain impassive.

  What was taking Logan so long?

  Ike’s hand shifted an inch closer to the table where his gun lay. Trey stepped toward the bed. The driving need for justice overwhelmed all other thought. This man had killed Laurette. Killed her with ruthless intent, uncaring of the shattered lives he’d left in the wake of her death.

  “This situation presents an unparalleled opportunity.” Trey lifted his gun, his vision going black from hatred. “I can end both of our pain with a single shot.”

  “I must say, there’s not much to criticize about your performance.” Lacking any signs of fear, Ike laughed, then broke into a fit of hacking coughs.

  Once the coughing was under control, Trey aimed dead center of the man’s head. As he stared into Ike’s evil eyes, all hope of offering forgiveness and “turning the other cheek” washed out of Trey, leaving behind only the cold, hard need to seek vengeance with his own hands. For Laurette. For their unborn child.