The Marshal Takes a Bride

Yet Katherine had never blamed her friend for her rash actions in trying to save their home. How could she? Laney had given her a safe haven when she’d been attacked by one of her mother’s former customers. Even when the townspeople had blamed her, rather than the man who had forced himself on her, Laney had taken Katherine in and had given her a job—one that had allowed her to give back to Charity House.

Katherine might be tainted forever, but God had blessed her. By being given Laney and the Charity House orphans, Katherine had learned she was not without worth. Thus, it was with a cheerful heart that she had helped her friend raise the money needed to save the orphanage. In the process, the other woman had found the love of her life in Marc, and because of his help, they all still had a home.

“Even if you had lost Charity House, I’d have never blamed you, Laney. You helped save my life, you—”

The sound of hiccuping sobs cut her off.

“This isn’t the time to look backward.” Her friend slid a glance toward the closed bathroom door. “Right now, you need to focus on your sister.”

“You’re absolutely correct.”

Laney squeezed her shoulder. “Hold firm, Katherine. Remember who’s in charge.”

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Oh, heavenly Father, please give me the wisdom and strength to face this challenge. Make me a good sister to Molly.

With renewed strength, Katherine turned the doorknob. No matter what else happened today, big sister would prevail over little sister. And once she was finished with Molly, she’d turn her attention to a United States marshal who thought he could disrupt her orderly life by pitting one Taylor female against the other.

There was a lesson to be learned here today. And Trey Scott was going to learn it.

Still stinging from his unprecedented defeat, Trey stared out the window of Marc’s study, where he’d spent plenty of hours whenever his duties brought him to Denver. The former prairie town had grown since Trey first pinned on a badge, becoming a city that lured people with its promises of riches and opportunity. Unless, of course, the one seeking said opportunity was a five-year-old child with a rigid schoolmarm for a big sister.

Feeling his temper rising, Trey inhaled a slow breath and slid his glance along the rooftops peppering the nearby horizon. It struck him as somehow fitting and yet also ironic that a home for orphans sat in the middle of a neighborhood designed for the supremely wealthy. A few of the snobbier neighbors still filed complaints, always unfounded and always thrown out of court. In the end Charity House was here to stay.

Although Marc had always made him welcome here, Trey’s trips had gotten decidedly less restful since Katherine Taylor had taken on the role of zealous protector to her troubled little sister.

As he watched the Charity House orphans play a game of tag in the backyard, dark, angry thoughts formed into one bitter reality. He’d failed little Molly Taylor.

“You through brooding yet?”

Trey spun around and nailed Marc with a hard glare.

“Blast you, your wife and that woman she put in charge of the Charity House School.” He slashed his hand in the direction of the window, unwilling to dig deeper into the reasons for his dark mood. “After everything that child’s been through, she should be playing.”

Hitching a hip onto his oak desk, Marc considered Trey for a long moment. “Perhaps. But one bath does not make an unhappy child. I think she’ll survive the disappointment.”

Trey paced to the opposite end of the room. Leaning against the mantel, he dug his toe at the stones in the hearth. “What possessed that woman to turn a bath into grounds for war?”

Lifting an ironic eyebrow, Marc angled his head. “I think she had some help.”

“The poor girl just wanted to stay outside and play with the other children.”

“Katherine is pretty rigid about schedules.”

Trey made a face. “Boards are more pliant.”

Obviously finding some dark humor in the situation, Marc chuckled. “You realize, don’t you, that you’re in for it now? Katherine won’t let this one drop.”

Trey was well aware that the prissy schoolmarm was gunning for him. In the cold aftermath of their battle, he actually relished the ensuing confrontation. It was long past time he set the woman straight on a few things, like the value of putting the priorities of a five-year-old child ahead of an unreasonable schedule.

After striding back across the room, Trey sank into a dark blue wing chair opposite his friend. The smell of rich mahogany paneling did nothing to soothe his temper. A vision of Katherine Taylor in the role of avenging big sister scooted frustration deeper. For well over a year now, ever since Marc had married Laney, Trey had found himself on the opposing side of every argument with the schoolmarm. It had only gotten worse with Molly’s arrival.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he said, “I don’t understand why that woman treats me like I’m evil incarnate.”

“I’d say you give her good reason.”

Trey opened his mouth to deny his friend’s accusation but shut it without speaking. Looking back, he realized that in his misguided attempt to defend the girl, Molly had ended up hurt.

Guilt gnawed at him, making him jerk out of his chair and start pacing again. Quite frankly, now that the emotion of the moment was gone, he was ashamed of how he’d behaved today.

“Why’d you take it so far, Trey?”

Ah, the real question at hand, and one he couldn’t fully explain. “Something about Molly gets to me. Has ever since her sister brought her to live at Charity House with all of you.”

“Granted, no child should have to lose both her mother and father at such a young age, or suffer the ridicule of her mother’s profession. But there are forty other…orphans in this home with similar stories. Why Molly?”

Trey stopped, turned and then dropped slowly into the chair he’d occupied earlier. “I can’t explain it.”

Marc kept his gaze focused and direct, looking at Trey with a quiet intensity that warned him he wouldn’t like what was coming next. “Why do I get the sense that your dedication to Molly has to do with your need to avenge the loss of your wife and child?”

Caught off guard by the unwanted reminder of his dead wife and the baby she’d carried, Trey clenched his fist. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Everything you do is about your quest for vengeance. Let’s see. How old would your child be now? About Molly’s age?”

Bitterness nearly choked him, the emotion so strong, Trey hadn’t realized how deep it ran until this moment. But now that the subject was broached, he couldn’t let it pass. “You know I can’t stand by passively and allow Ike Hayes to run free. His killing has to stop. No matter what it takes.”

Marc leaned forward, a perceptive look blazing in his eyes. “And because he murdered your wife and unborn child, you’re now the God-appointed agent for justice, is that it?”

Trey swallowed an angry retort. As far as he was concerned, God had nothing to do with his quest. “I will take Ike down.”

“It won’t bring Laurette or your baby back.”

Trey squeezed his eyes shut. “I know that.”

How many nights had he lain awake, alone? Always alone, always grieving. Only for a few brief moments, when he was championing little Molly Taylor, had he felt a little less empty. It wasn’t something he could put into words. It just…was.

As if his friend could read the direction of Trey’s thoughts, he said, “Well, singling out Molly won’t bring her parents back, either.”

Trey struggled to find his breath, his control. His reasoning. “I can’t explain how I know this, but Molly needs me more than the others do. And for the first time since I failed Laurette, the fact that another human being requires my protection doesn’t scare me half to death.”

Leaning back in his chair, his friend steepled his fingers under his chin. “Want to know what I think?”

“No.”

Marc continued as though Trey hadn’t spoken. “I think it’s time you moved past this poisonous need for vengeance. Start over. Begin a family of your own.”

Rebellion swept through him, and Trey had to swallow the fresh agony rising out of his grief. He couldn’t start over. Not yet. Not ever. The memory of his wife and unborn child deserved his total devotion, his complete concentration. And until Ike Hayes was made to pay for murdering Trey’s family, there could be no talk of starting over. “It’s too soon.”