The Marshal Takes a Bride (11 page)

“Molly needs a father.” He shot her a triumphant grin. “And I think it should be me.”

Katherine could only stare at Trey. He wanted to become Molly’s father?
That
was the reason for his latest proposal? A strange sense of disappointment hung heavy in her chest, stealing her ability to breathe. Yet, a hidden desire kicked into life.

Oh, to have the opportunity to provide Molly with a complete family, to give her the life Katherine had never had, was tempting. Very tempting.

Needing a moment to gather her thoughts, Katherine started pacing.

“Think about it.” Trey scrubbed a hand down his face. “We could provide Molly with two parents, a mother and a father.”

She stopped midstride. “Oh, Trey. I—”

His eyes softened. “You’d make a wonderful mother.”

For a dreadful moment, as Trey stared at her with that tender expression on his face, Katherine wondered what his child would look like. Black hair, gray eyes—a hidden wild streak.

No.
No, no, no. This was the exact kind of thinking that would lead her to make a dreadful mistake. They weren’t evenly yoked. And even if Trey mended his anger at God and became a practicing Christian again, he didn’t want
her
as a wife. He loved Laurette, sought her killer with such passion, there could be no room in his heart for more.

Yes, he wanted Molly as a daughter. She didn’t doubt that for a moment, but on his terms. In the end Trey was a man who would always put revenge for his dead wife’s murder ahead of everything else. Katherine would do well to remember that part of the equation.

“I’m predicting we’ll have an early snow,” she said. “What do you think?”

He rose. “I didn’t come here to discuss the weather.”

She slid a glance over her shoulder, her breath catching in her throat again. The man looking at her now knew what he wanted. And possibly even why he wanted it.

Which made little sense. As far she could tell, the only thing Trey Scott
wanted
was vengeance. Right?

“I was giving you a chance to get this insane notion out of your head,” she said at last.

“Marry me.”

“Let’s see if I can make this simple enough for you to understand…
No.
”

“But Molly—”

“Is perfectly happy at Charity House. She’s not alone here. There are forty other children sharing this home with her.”

“You’re forgetting the moral implications in the matter.” He strode closer. “You’re the schoolmarm.”

“Yes.” She dropped her gaze to her shaking hands. “For abandoned children of prostitutes.”

His eyes narrowed, becoming more determined than ever. “All the more reason to keep your reputation clean of any more ugly talk. I find it necessary to remind you that not everyone in this neighborhood wants Charity House to thrive. They could use a scandal of this nature, as unfounded as it may be, to shut your school down.”

Her heart skipped only a beat at his words, but the sensation was sharp and fierce. “I have to trust God will protect us from such an occurrence.”

His mouth dropped open. “You can’t possibly be that naive.”

“Believing that God will provide does not make me naive. It makes me—” she poked him in the chest “—faithful.”

He simply stared at her, his eyes wide.

“It does,” she insisted.

Still staring at her with unblinking eyes, he slowly shook his head. “You were caught cavorting with a man in the supply closet of your school. At best, people will merely talk. At worst, they could try to shut down your school.”

“Oh, Trey. Laney and Marc would never let that happen.”

His chin lifted at a stubborn angle. “People will say you did things you didn’t do. I can’t live with that.”

Cupping her palm on his cheek, she gave him a patient smile. “I didn’t know you were such a prude.”

“Having a firm set of ethics and morals when it comes to how people treat you does not make me a prude.” He pressed his forehead against hers for a moment, then pulled back and took two steps away from her. “Let me make you a respectable woman. Let me give you the honor you deserve.”

The sincerity in his tone nearly had her relenting, but then she remembered his devotion to his dead wife, the passion in which he pursued her killer, and Katherine doubted his words. Besides which, marriage would solve nothing between them. “No.”

“Don’t you want to be a good example for the children? For Molly?”

“Of course, I do. But, Trey, it’s not like we were, well…you know.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “No, actually, it makes it that much more imperative that you do the right thing. You have to lead by example, Katherine, especially in the seemingly small matters.”

If only it were that simple. “In case you have forgotten, I’m the daughter of a prostitute.” This time she raised her hand to stop him from interrupting. “Though I attend church every Sunday, my faith is always in question. And I will always be Sadie Taylor’s daughter.”

He winced but continued staring at her for a long moment, measuring. Gauging. “You’re afraid.”

She swallowed back a gasp, wondered at his meaning for only a moment before denying the absurd accusation. “No, I’m realistic.”

He stepped forward, stroked his hand down her hair in an affectionate gesture. “I won’t intentionally hurt you, Katherine. Marry me, and let me show you that I know how to treat a woman like you, a woman who deserves nothing but kindness from a man.”

“I…I can’t. And you know why.” She didn’t want to bring up his dead wife again—it would hurt them both too much—but she would if he continued pressing the issue of marriage.

As though hearing her thoughts, he placed his finger on her lips. “I won’t give you words I don’t have, but I promise I will take care of you and Molly.”

Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith
…. As the Scripture from 1 Corinthians came to her mind, tears threatened. “And if you die? How will you take care of us then?”

He reached out to her, dropped his hand when she shook her head at him.

“It always comes back to that, doesn’t it? I might live for vengeance. But you live in fear. Where’s your faith?”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” she said, quickly closing her mind to the possibility that fear, and not logic, fueled her resolve.

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. And I mean anything. We can have a marriage in name only, if that’s what you want.”

His soft, understanding tone set her on edge. Why was he being so nice, so caring and thoughtful of her fears? Why couldn’t she trust in his consideration for her feelings?

Because, deep down, in a place shattered by violence, she didn’t believe she was deserving of any man’s kindness, especially this man, who only meant to offer her compassion. She was tainted, ruined. And Trey Scott deserved better.

He deserved a woman who wouldn’t shy away from his touch.

Without looking at him directly, she turned to go. “Goodbye, Trey.”

“We’re not through, Katherine,” Trey said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t leave now that we’ve come this far. Stay and fight.”

She took the coward’s way out. “I…
can’t.
”

Pivoting, she released a sob and ran from the kitchen.

O
ne week after the incident with Katherine in the Charity House kitchen, Trey stood outside the jailhouse and eyed his surroundings. The buildings lining the street cast long shadows on the pocked mud, indicating the end of another day.

As he pondered his next move with the stubborn Miss Taylor, the only outward signs of Trey’s irritation came in the fast, rhythmic ticking of his pulse and the white-knuckled grip he wrapped around the railing in front of him. Otherwise, he stood unmoving as he watched the sun sink into a long finger of reddened clouds in the distance.

A cool breeze whispered across his face but did little to soothe his frustration. The swift spasm in his gut warned him time was running out, and here he stood, contemplating the sun and the sky and the breeze. Yet as hard as he searched for possible options to the problem of Katherine Taylor, not a single solution materialized.

The stubborn, willful schoolmarm had successfully thwarted his efforts to court her this past week. How was
he supposed to honor his promise to protect her from the repercussions of ugly gossip when he couldn’t even speak to her? He certainly didn’t want her to find out from anybody but him that he was leaving town again.

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 something.”

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?