The Marshal Takes a Bride (7 page)

“Don’t apologize.”

He clamped his lips shut, but his unspoken remorse hung between them.

As the silence grew, a burning throb of shame knotted in her throat. For one blinding moment, Katherine had actually wanted him to hold her. Was she leading him on?

Why hadn’t she tried to stop him?

As though hearing her silent chagrin, Trey looked deep into her eyes, winced. “Let me make this right for you.”

She fought the disparaging echo in her head. Too late. Too late. Too,
too
late. A blast of sunlight chose that moment to spill into the room, blinding Katherine as it chased away the dark.

She started forward, but Trey’s voice, melodious and smooth, stopped her. “Marry me.”

Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone
. Even as Paul’s words to the Colossians echoed through her head, Katherine could only stare at Trey, a blank, lifeless sense of doom fisting around her heart. “No.”

For the first time that day, he actually looked angry, as though she’d finally pushed him past his limit. “Why not?”

Refusing to allow his bad manners to intimidate her, she stepped back, stopping his approach by shoving her palms hard against his chest. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself after everything we’ve discussed. I won’t marry a man—”

“Who wears a badge?”

She let her hands drift to her sides. “That’s only part of it.”

He raked a tender gaze across her face, but he didn’t come any closer. “I’m not like the man who attacked you, Katherine. I
won’t
hurt you.”

As a slice of yearning clung to the edges of her resolve, her heart hammered out her words. “I know that.”

“Do you?” he asked, gripping her shoulders again.

She slapped his hands away. “I don’t think I’ll let you paw at me anymore today.”

He stepped back and waited until her eyes locked with his. “Marriage is the only way out of this. If we go to Charity House and tell the children we’re engaged, word will get out quickly. If I was seen coming here, alone, all will be forgotten with the news of our impending marriage.”

At the sight of the turbulent emotions in his eyes, a spasm of longing threatened her resolve. But nothing had changed between them, and although his argument had some merit, she wouldn’t marry a man simply to stave off the mere possibility of trouble.

“We did nothing wrong,” she said. “But you’re right about one thing. We don’t need any additional talk. If we’re seen leaving together, the neighbors might not be kind in their estimation of the situation. You go first, out the back door, and I’ll follow out the front after a considerable amount of time has passed.”

His expression turned into stone. “I won’t allow you to walk into Charity House with rumors flying among the children. You suffer enough of that in town.”

“So this is some sort of misguided sense of gallantry? U.S. marshal Trey Scott saves the day?”

“No.” He paused, hissed. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I hear how they speak about you and Molly.”

“They?”

“You know who I mean. The gossipmongers.” His gaze softened. “You and Molly deserve better than inaccurate rumors and nasty hearsay.”

“They’re words without substance. Anyone who knows me will know the truth of who I am and what I stand for.”

“Some claim you’re Molly’s mother.”

For a dreadful moment, Katherine’s heart skipped a beat, and another. She’d suspected this but hadn’t known for sure until now. Although Trey meant well, his desire to protect her through marriage was misguided at best. It wouldn’t change the reality of what others chose to say about her or her connection to her sister.

“I’ve never worried about talk before. I won’t start now. A marriage license would change nothing. I’m still the daughter of the most notorious madam in Denver next to Mattie Silks, and I’ll always be a ruined woman in the eyes of the town.”

He stiffened at her blunt words. “What about Molly? Do you want to teach her that cavorting in supply closets is acceptable behavior for an unmarried woman?”

His point hit its mark. For a moment, Katherine wavered on the edge of relenting, but then reality burst through the shield of her other emotions. “I’ll simply explain the truth to her.”

He speared his fingers through his hair. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“And you’re suddenly the voice of logic here? You’re offering marriage on the off chance someone sees us leaving together and will ultimately file a complaint with nothing more than conjecture to base it on. I won’t stand here and hypothesize about a situation that may never happen.” She shoved at him again. “Now let me pass.”

His expression dropped into a frown as he shifted to his left and waved her forward. Tilting her nose at a regal angle, she sailed past him. But he caught her by the sleeve.

“Let me go.”

“Not yet. You throw around words like
off chance
and
conjecture,
but you know I have a point. Give me one good reason why you won’t marry me.” Turning her to face him, he added, “Other than my profession, and I’ll leave this alone until we know for sure if there will be any consequences over this meeting of ours.”

Although his words were spoken in a firm tone, the masculine confusion that blazed out of Trey touched a hidden corner of her soul.

Katherine had a sudden urge to ignore her own fears and take a crazy chance with this man. But she had someone to consider besides herself. And Molly deserved to know that a woman never had to settle for being second best, not even one with a ruined reputation.

“I can’t marry you, Trey.” Katherine swallowed hard.

“Because…?” he prompted.

She met his gaze without wavering. “
Because
you’re still in love with your wife.”

L
ater that afternoon, Trey decided to use work to rid himself of the painful emotions Katherine had awakened in him. How could she speak so boldly of forgiveness given the tragedies she’d suffered?

Where did that strength of faith come from?

And why did he admire her for it?

Disturbed by his train of thoughts, he charged up the steps of the newly completed Arapahoe County Courthouse. The smell of fresh varnish hit him as he entered the building. Italian marble floors reminiscent of the Capitol in Washington gleamed white and pristine in the late morning light.

The three-story building, by its regal existence alone, changed the look of Denver from a prairie town to an up-and-coming city. Important business occurred in this building, carried out by important people. The same important people Trey didn’t especially want to see at the moment.

Increasing his pace to a significant clip, Trey avoided eye contact with the various politicians, lawyers and other
civil servants he passed along the wood-paneled corridors. At last, he entered his makeshift office at the back of the building and slammed the door shut with a bang.

Thin rays of light slipped through the seams of the windows, creating little pockets of warmth in the otherwise austere room. One desk, one chair, countless stacks of papers and a thick layer of dust spoke of the respect Trey had given to his administrative duties of late.

Determined to keep his mind on business, he gathered the nearest pile of papers. But as he glanced down at the writing, the black script drifted into one unreadable blur.

Accepting defeat, he tossed the stack aside and gave his chaotic thoughts full rein. What had possessed him to confront Katherine Taylor this morning, alone, in the school’s supply closet no less? It was bad enough two impressionable teenagers had witnessed their impromptu meeting. Anyone could have seen him enter the building alone and then exit after Katherine.

If they were looking.

Trey knew that some of Charity House’s neighbors weren’t exactly overjoyed at the notion of the unique orphanage in their high-class neighborhood. Several had filed complaints about excessive noise and other ridiculous offensives.

What would they do with a meaty scandal, unfounded or not?

He’d acted without a thought to the consequences. But there had been repercussions, in the form of two fifteen-year-olds who thought they’d seen more than they had. And nosy neighbors or not, if word got past those Charity House children, the town gossips would have more ammu
nition in their battle to destroy Katherine’s already tenuous reputation. Would they go so far as to try to shut down the school?

What would happen to Katherine then?

Why hadn’t Trey forced the issue of marriage, instead of allowing the mule-headed woman to walk away with nothing resolved between them?

You’re still in love with your wife…

Trey’s heart weighed heavy in his chest. Even after Katherine had brought up Laurette, Trey had been more concerned over the stricken expression on the schoolmarm’s face than the momentary betrayal of his wife’s memory.

Given the opportunity again, would he attempt to offer comfort to Katherine and alleviate her fears?

Yes.
Yes, he would, because what had happened between them in that supply closet had nothing to do with Laurette or Trey’s search for Ike Hayes. For a brief moment, and he assured himself it had been brief, Trey had allowed himself to forget his hate. He’d wanted to give Katherine a reason to trust again, and to help free her from the dark legacy of her attack.

His motives had started out pure enough, yet he’d hurt Katherine anyway. He probably always would. She needed a man unsullied of heart, less broken and certainly not consumed with hate. A man who loved and trusted God as much as she did. Trey, on the other hand, hadn’t stepped inside a church since Laurette’s funeral.

With that thought, he circled around his desk and dropped into the lone chair in the room. The leather and wood protested under his weight in the form of a succession of creaks and groans.

He tried to call forth memories of his wife, but his mind kept straying back to a prissy, frightened schoolmarm who hadn’t been quite so afraid this morning.

A jolt of satisfaction passed through him. For once, Katherine Taylor hadn’t flinched from his touch.

As soon as the thought came, guilt and regret lashed into one another. Katherine’s reputation could be irreparably damaged. If the neighbors had seen them, had put two and two together, there could be more trouble for her than a damaged reputation. Why wasn’t she more concerned?

For one dark, dangerous moment, Trey considered charging back to the orphanage and shaking some sense into the woman. Of course, he still had the obstacle of a three-inch tin star to overcome.

Yes, he wore a badge. Yes, he could be killed in the line of duty, just like Katherine’s father. But his usual, day-today duties were far from dangerous. The biggest problem besetting him this week was the accounting of monies he’d used in the past six months to run the courts.

He would much rather be out on the trail, pursuing bank robbers and other outlaws—men like Ike Hayes—but a small army of accountants at the Justice Department had started auditing his every expenditure. They’d gone so far as to deny his last request for additional funds to run his trials properly. Hence Drew Hayes’s far too lengthy stay in the Denver jail.

So here he sat, keeping track of the money used by the court, instead of enforcing the law of the land. The biggest threat to him right now was a paper cut.

Loud, insistent knocking at the door ripped Trey out of his thoughts. “Go away.”

Ignoring the command, Logan Mitchell pushed into the room, hat in hand, a wary look on his face. Trey scowled at his deputy. With his blond hair matted to his head, the man looked more like a greenhorn rancher than a seasoned lawman. Trey knew better than to believe the deception. Logan was fast and accurate with a pistol. He was also smart, discerning and mean as a snake when it came to serving justice. The younger man reminded Trey of…himself.

“What do you want?” Trey asked.

“You got a visitor over at the jail, Marshal.”

Trey picked up a random piece of paper and studied it intently. “I’m busy.”

With his lips curling in distaste, Logan shifted his gaze to the papers scattered on the desk. “The audit?”

Trey bared his teeth in response.

Logan lifted a shoulder. “All right, I get the hint. I’m leaving. But I think you’ll want to see this particular visitor.”

Trey placed the paper on the desk, picked up a ledger and flipped open the front cover. Running his finger down one of the columns, he pretended grave interest in the declining numbers. “I doubt it.”

“She asked to see
Mr. Trey
.”

The ledger crashed to the floor as Trey hurled himself out of his chair. He was around the desk in the same amount of time it took his heart to take a single beat. “You left her alone? With Drew Hayes in there?”

Logan took a step back, palms in the air, his eyes wary. “I’m not stupid. She’s playing checkers with Sheriff Lassiter.”

Nursing his anger at the thought of Drew Hayes within fifty feet of Molly, even if thick bars did separate them, he growled. “She’s inside the jailhouse?”

“They’re on the covered walkway out front. The sheriff set up two chairs with a crate in between.”

Regardless of this new information, Trey’s temper prowled like a hungry lion seeking to devour anything in its path. Right now, that meant Logan Mitchell. To keep from taking out the other man for the sheer pleasure of it, Trey clenched his jaw until his teeth started to ache. “She say what she wanted?”

“Nope.”

Shoving his hat on his head, Trey headed toward the hallway.

Logan dropped a weary look onto the open ledger. “I guess this means you’ll want me to stay here and work on balancing those numbers for you.”

Already out the door, Trey looked back over his shoulder. “The bean counters in Washington can wait until I get around to it.”

Logan grinned as he fell into step beside him, and the two wound their way through the maze of hallways. “I like the way you think, Marshal.”

Deciding his temper needed an outlet after all, Trey sliced a glare at the other man. “Where are you going?”

“With you.”

“You’re not coming with me.”

“I’m not?”

Trey held the pause for effect, then pulled his lips into a sarcastic grin. “You’re going over to Mattie Silks’s place to question her again about the night we found Drew Hayes in her brothel.”

Logan’s expression darkened. “We both know it’s a waste of time.”

Trey shrugged in response, increasing his speed once they were outside the courthouse and heading toward the jail. When Logan continued to walk alongside him, he pointed to his left. “Market Street is that way.”

“I know where it is.”

“Then why are you still following me?”

For the first time since he’d sworn the man in, Logan looked uncertain. “Come on, Marshal. That woman won’t tell me any more than she has the past fifteen times we’ve questioned her. She’ll probably start talking in circles again.” He tipped his hat back and rubbed his forehead. “It makes my head hurt just thinking about it.”

“Eventually, she’s going to talk herself into a corner and reveal what we want to know. And one of us is going to be the man to get her there. Why not you?”

“Are you forgetting that Mattie hates me almost as much as she hates you?”

The frustration in Logan’s voice was exactly the reaction Trey had expected, but he refused to relent now that the idea had taken hold.

“She likes you just fine.” Trey slapped the younger man on the back. “Except when you’re asking her questions about the Hayes brothers.”

A defeated hiss whipped out of Logan. “You know, Marshal, what they say about you is true. You really are Beelzebub’s cousin.”

Trey’s grin turned into a genuine smile. “Just be glad we’re on the same side.”

“Yeah, well, I have my doubts about that.”

Ignoring the activity around him, Trey strode purposely down the busy streets of Denver’s business district, en route to the jail. A steady stream of people meandered alongside him, their murmurs indistinguishable from one another. Determined to make good time, Trey clenched his jaw and bit into some of the grit kicked up from a passing carriage. A few unsavory types made an especially wide berth for him to pass. Sometimes a badge had its advantages, he thought, with a smile.

Still grinning, he swung around to his left and crossed the street. A group of well-dressed ladies stopped in conversation and simply stared at him in a gesture just short of rude. Undaunted, he tipped his hat as he drew near. They quickly looked away, whispered among themselves and then hurried off in the opposite direction.

Although Trey thought their behavior odd, his mind was too focused on other, more important matters to be overly concerned with the particulars of the brief encounter. Logan had assured him Molly was safely outside the jail; nevertheless, Trey increased his pace. Relief speared through him the moment he turned the last corner and caught sight of two heads bent over a checkerboard.

Slowing, he focused on the little girl in the crisp green dress. Her pitch-black hair gleamed almost blue in the sun, and one long braid hung down her back. She looked too young, too innocent, for the harsh setting of the jailhouse behind her.

Trey couldn’t deny the truth any longer. Molly Taylor deserved every bit of the stability her sister wanted for her.
The sudden craving to be the man to make that happen nearly brought him to his knees.

He wondered when he’d gotten in so deep. In his none-too-subtle way, Marc had recently claimed that Trey’s affection for the kid was directly connected to his loss of Laurette and their unborn child. Granted, his friend might have been on the right track, but Trey’s paternal feelings for Molly Taylor had grown separate and distinct in the past few weeks. A reprieve, of sorts, from his feelings of hate and anger.

Unable to catch a decent breath, he continued to watch as Molly considered her next move. She chewed on her lower lip, then picked up a black checker. Grinning up at the sheriff, she slammed her wooden playing chip on an empty square in front of him. “King me.”

The grizzled old man shook his head and lifted his palms in the air. “I’m all out. Looks like you win again.”

“Well, ’course I did. It’s ’cause I’s good.”

“Won’t argue with that.” A twinkle danced in the sheriff’s eyes. “Molly Taylor, you play a mean game of checkers.”

Trey could only marvel at the change in Sheriff Lassiter. What had happened to the nasty curmudgeon, known throughout the West for his lack of tolerance of anything frivolous? Right now, his hard eyes actually looked…kind.

Closing the distance, Trey called out. “Molly? You wanted to see me?”

At the sound of her name, the little girl lifted her head. The moment her gaze connected with Trey’s, her face broke into her hallmark gap-toothed grin.

“Mr. Trey!” She vaulted off her chair and, with a leap, launched herself into his arms.

Unable to deny the momentary pleasure he got from her childish devotion, Trey shoved aside the ugly emotions that usually resided in him and allowed the kid’s glee to fill his heart. He wrapped her tightly in his embrace and breathed in her goodness. She smelled of soap and little girl and everything innocent. A swell of protective instincts, abrupt and violent, rose inside him.

She giggled, then pulled back. “Hi.”

He smiled in return, wanting very much to be the man he saw shining in her eyes. “Hello, kitten.”

Giggling again, she kissed him on the cheek, then squirmed out of his arms.

“I hurted my finger.” Standing tall, she thrust her hand toward him. “See?”

Trey squinted. Taking her small hand, he arranged his face into a look of genuine concern and examined the tiny slit. “Looks like it hurts real bad.”

“It don’t really hurt no more.”