Renee Ryan - The Marshal Takes a Bride

His gray eyes regarded her without a sliver of amusement, while the rich Southern drawl rumbled across her tight nerves.

“Oh, I’ve only just begun,” she said, allowing her growing resentment to take hold. She found it much easier to deal with the large, dangerous lawman when she thought of him as nothing more than a disruptive troublemaker.

Unraveling his hulking frame from the chair, he rose and began striding toward her. “By all means, go ahead and give it to me.”

Guard what has been entrusted to your care.…

The Scripture from 1 Timothy gave her the courage to hold her ground as he approached. For Molly’s sake, she had to stand firm. “Stay away from my sister.”

Thankfully, her words stopped his pursuit, and two matching black brows slammed together. “Why? What is it you have against me?”

Katherine ignored the twist of unease in her stomach and concentrated on an image of Molly’s tearstained cheeks. “Must you ask after your behavior this afternoon?”

“I didn’t work alone out there.” He pulled his lips into a sarcastic grin. “Or don’t you remember that part?”

Swamped with regret over her own role in Molly’s distress, Katherine slapped her hands onto her hips. “Molly has been through too much trauma already. When our mother became ill, instead of contacting me, she sent the poor child to live with her father in a remote mining camp. From all accounts, he did his best, but he still died in an accident, which left Molly all alone.”

A wave of regret pressed inside her chest. Katherine hadn’t even known of Molly’s existence until the letter from the mine’s foreman had arrived at Charity House. Why her mother hadn’t told her about her baby sister was a mystery that would never be solved. And by the time Katherine had rescued Molly from the mining camp, the little girl had been on her own for two weeks.

After all her losses, will the child ever believe I’m here to stay?

Katherine shoved the worry aside. If Marshal Scott kept undermining her efforts, it would only destroy the fragile bond she had with Molly. “I don’t want my sister hurt further.”

Genuine shock rippled across his features. “You think I’d intentionally harm that child?”

Surprised by his vehemence, Katherine shook her head. “Not intentionally, no. But singling her out from the rest of the children will only make her feel different from the group.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit overprotective?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Molly is too timid, too closed off from the others for a normal five-year-old. The child needs shaking up.”

Katherine didn’t like how he summed up her sister’s problem so accurately, nor did she trust the look of genuine distress she saw in his eyes. Finding common ground with this man, especially where her sister was concerned, brought matters to a dangerously personal level. And that simply would not do.

She had to remember he was her adversary. “And you’re the man to do the shaking up, is that it?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Why not me?”

Oh, she could give him several reasons, but she focused on the main one. “You treat her like a toy you can play with whenever the mood strikes, and then off you go, back to your…marshaling.”

“You mean off I go, pursuing men who kill innocent women and children.”

And therein lay the real issue between them. Trey Scott’s drive for vengeance was in direct conflict with Katherine’s need to forgive, even—no, especially—the unforgivable.

“Your actions send the wrong message,” she said. “They teach her that it’s acceptable to trust in her own power instead of relying on God’s.”

He gave her a mutinous expression. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad lesson.”

“I don’t want her to think revenge is the answer. Because of her circumstances, it would be too easy for her to hate. I want her to learn God’s healing power of forgiveness.” Katherine knew better than most just how hard that lesson was to learn, but she also knew the peace that came with offering absolution where it wasn’t deserved.

“There is no forgiveness for senseless murder and violence,” he said. His expression hardened as he spoke, but not before Katherine caught a glimpse of real pain just below the surface.

In that moment, she realized he would never understand her point, not with his own grief still so raw. Overwhelmed with emotion and consumed with compassion for his terrible loss, Katherine reached out and touched his arm. “What happened to your wife was horrendous. If only you could learn to let God—”

He jerked away from her and strode to the window. “This isn’t about me.”

“Yes, it is. At least, partly.”

He paced to the desk on the opposite end of the room but didn’t meet her gaze. “How do you figure that?”

“Ever since Marc married Laney, you’ve been coming around here a lot.” She lifted her chin at him. “Of course, you would. In fact, I think you should. You’re Marc’s brother-in-law. Nevertheless, I won’t stand by and watch you give my sister the wrong message every time you go after another outlaw for your own personal reasons.”

He clenched his hand into a fist. “You know nothing about what drives me.”

“Oh, but I do.”

He locked his gaze with hers and studied her with his hawklike eyes. The day-old growth of stubble on his jaw added a sinister look to his already hardened expression.

Katherine swallowed her own trepidation and dropped her gaze to the tin star pinned to his shirt. “Try to understand, I don’t want Molly to suffer another loss. Even if I were able to put aside the reasons why you hunt those criminals, one day you will leave and never come back. And the fonder she is of you, the more it will hurt.”

His eyes turned sad, haunted. “One day we all leave and never come back.”

She knew he was still thinking of his wife. “That’s not what I meant.”

His expression cleared into a blank, unreadable glare. “You certainly seem to know a lot about what you don’t mean.”

Struggling for control, Katherine whirled away. How could she explain the pain she had suffered as a child and subsequently as an adult without baring her soul? He wasn’t the only one who’d known suffering.

When she was Molly’s age, her own father had died a dedicated lawman, killed by an outlaw’s bullet. He’d left his family penniless, and as a result, Katherine’s mother had looked to a life of prostitution for her answers. Even after Sadie Taylor’s death, men still came looking for the infamous madam. Two years ago, one mean-spirited ranch hand had found Katherine instead.

In a rational moment, she knew linking her attack back to her father’s murder was defective thinking at best. However, she couldn’t deny that her father’s death had been the first in a long line of other tragedies in her life.

“Men who wear badges die. That is—” She broke off, swallowed. “Just stay away from Molly.”

He pushed away from the desk, his gaze dark and serious.

She fought the urge to turn tail and run. “I’m warning you…”

He halted several feet in front of her and waited for her to finish her threat.

As the silence grew heavy between them, Katherine’s heartbeat picked up speed, and she dropped her gaze to her toes. “Please, Marshal Scott, don’t champion my sister anymore.”

She hated the desperation in her voice. But now that she had Molly with her, all Katherine wanted for them both was a safe, orderly life that honored God.

Why was that so hard for him to understand?

He closed the distance between them until he was towering over her. “Look at me, Miss Taylor.”

Katherine jerked her gaze back to his. The sight of his inky-black hair, day-old growth of beard and fierce gray eyes sent a wave of fear through her.