Renee Ryan - The Marshal Takes a Bride

“I want a word with you.” Trey yanked the blanket to the ground. “Now.”

The outlaw lifted his head. “I ain’t talkin’ to no law dog.”

Leaning against the wall, Trey folded his arms across his chest and clung to the last scraps of his humanity. He forced all thought of Laurette out of his mind and focused only on the most recent murders, the ones he could pin on Drew with or without an admission. “About the night of the twenty-third, on the McCaulley ranch…”

“I ain’t answering none of your questions,” Drew snarled, then launched into a string of obscenities.

Trey ignored the foul language and continued. “Was it only you and your brother that day?”

Snorting, Drew sat up, swung his beefy feet to the ground. “What do you care? It was just a woman and some snot-nosed kids.”

A dark rage swept over Trey, one he hadn’t felt since that night in Colorado Springs when he’d found the twisted bodies of Mrs. McCaulley and her boys. The unforgettable images of blood and brutal death were still clean and sharp in his mind. The fact that the Hayes brothers had done the same thing to Trey’s wife and child added fuel to his fury.

In that moment, Trey knew that Marc was dead wrong. Trey didn’t seek vengeance only for his own behalf. He sought justice for all the innocent victims murdered by the Hayes brothers.

“I’m gonna see you hang for what you’ve done,” Trey said.

“I ain’t afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

Drew vaulted off the bed.

In a heartbeat, Trey drew his gun and pressed it against the man’s temple. Death was gunning for Drew Hayes. And in that moment it didn’t matter to Trey how it came about, just that it came swiftly.

“All I need is a reason.” His finger itched to pull the trigger. “Just one.”

Palms facing forward, Drew inched two paces back toward the bed. “I don’t want no trouble.”

“Then start talking.”

The outlaw’s small, deep-set eyes narrowed into calculating slits. “I know your kind, Marshal. You ain’t no better than me.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Trey said, holstering his gun to punctuate his point.

“You enjoy killing, Marshal.” Drew dropped to the bed, and a sinister grin glinted behind the dirty beard. “Same as me.”

Black crept across his vision as Trey yanked Drew off the bed and wrapped his fingers around the outlaw’s throat. “You and I aren’t anything alike.”

“Turn him loose, Marshal. You…”

Trey couldn’t hear the rest of the deputy’s plea over the sound of his own pulse drumming loudly in his ears. Nor did he pay much attention to the metal click of a key turning in the lock.

“Marshal Scott.”

Trey squeezed tighter, and Drew’s eyes began to bulge.

“Marshal. Stop.”

The urgent yank on his arm finally got through to Trey. Slowly, deliberately, he loosened his grip from around Drew’s neck, then launched the outlaw to the floor.

Drew flopped around like a dying fish, clutching his throat and wheezing in between coughs.

“Don’t you ever compare yourself to me again.” Trey turned his attention to the deputy. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Make sure he’s in a more talkative mood by then.”

The deputy flattened his lips into a grim line. “You can count on it, Marshal.”

Without looking back, Trey walked out of the jail. Once he was on the street, a burst of cold mountain air punched through his black mood.

He felt dirty. Contemptible.

Vile.

Was Drew Hayes right? Was Trey more like the outlaw than he wanted to admit?

No. The need to protect, especially women and children, was deeply ingrained in him—as much a part of the reason why he’d accepted President Grant’s appointment to the U.S. marshal post as to avenge Laurette’s death.

All Trey had to do was think back over the events earlier in the day with five-year-old Molly Taylor. No matter how silly and foolish, he’d set out to defend a little girl who’d simply wanted a few more hours of play.

Didn’t that make him better than the Hayes brothers?

Perhaps. But now, with the distance of time, Trey’s reasoning told him that he’d chosen the wrong path to demonstrate his loyalty to the child.

Marc’s accusations suddenly shot through his mind. Had Trey silently made a promise to champion Molly Taylor for his own purposes, even knowing he couldn’t give false guarantees where the future was concerned?

At least he could right that particular wrong. First thing in the morning, he would set matters straight with Molly and Miss Taylor. Perhaps with the schoolmarm’s forgiveness, Trey could erase some of the ugliness from his recent encounter with Drew Hayes.

Once she’d helped settle the other children and said all their evening prayers, Katherine returned to her sister’s bed for a final good-night kiss. Pulling the blanket up to the child’s chin, she tucked the corners underneath her tiny shoulders. “Pleasant dreams, sweetheart.”

Big round eyes filled with childlike worry looked up at her. “You still angry at me, Katherine?”

Katherine dragged her sister into a fierce hug. “I was never angry at you, Molly. I was only upset with your behavior. I didn’t set out to ruin your fun, but rules are rules.”

The little girl rubbed a wet cheek into her shoulder. “I don’t really hate you, you know.”

Tightening her hold, Katherine dropped a kiss onto her sister’s forehead. “I know.”

Oh, Lord, make me worthy of raising this child. Help me to show her Your unconditional love so she’ll turn to You when times get tough, or when I fail her.

With gentle movements, Katherine lowered Molly back to the bed. “No more worries, pumpkin. All’s forgotten.”

Molly swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. “Really?”

“Really. We’re family. And now that God has brought us together, I won’t ever leave you or let you go.”

As Molly grinned through her tears, devotion brimmed in her eyes. “You’re the best sister ever.”

Katherine reached out and tweaked the upturned nose. “So are you, Molly.”

“Night, Katherine.”

Smiling, she leaned over and blew out the bedside lantern. “Night, Molly. I love you.”

“Me, too.”

Katherine quietly edged out of the room, then shut the door behind her. Tiptoeing toward the back staircase that led to the kitchen below, she offered up a silent prayer of gratitude to God. She and Molly had stumbled today, but they’d avoided any permanent rift.

No thanks to Trey Scott.

The U.S. marshal had gotten in the middle of a situation where he quite simply hadn’t belonged. Perhaps his intentions had been honorable, but in the end he’d caused far more harm than good.

And not just in Molly’s case.

Katherine stifled a shudder as unwanted memories of their latest encounter crept into her thoughts. If only he’d agreed to leave her sister alone, Katherine might have been able to keep her precarious emotions under control during their argument.

But he’d pushed and demanded explanations that weren’t easily voiced. Then he’d stood too close. And she’d become unreasonably terrified.

During a moment of clarity, Katherine knew the man would never hurt her. Not in the way her attacker had. Then why was she so afraid of him? Why did she always feel the need to run whenever Marshal Scott got too close?

Even now, hours later, the humiliation of her panicky reaction dug deep.

Collapsing against the wall, Katherine shut her eyes against the shame that still burned in her. No. She wouldn’t take the blame this time. Her uncomfortable reaction to Trey’s nearness wasn’t her fault. It was the legacy of her past. Nothing more.

In fact, her fear of Marc’s friend was a small annoyance compared to the importance of maintaining stability in her life. Especially now that she had Molly’s welfare to consider.