by Renee Ryan
He lifted a brow, amusement replacing the sincerity. “You? At a loss for words?”
“Don’t start, Trey. Tomorrow you can scold me several times to make up for it, but not tonight.”
“I wasn’t going to scold.”
She lifted a brow in a gesture identical to his.
A grin played at the corners of his mouth, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned skin speckled with day-old beard. “All right, I was. But you’re right. This isn’t the time.”
The lines around his eyes deepened, while the shadows in his gaze darkened. “I don’t understand what happened to me in that room tonight.”
He took her hand and pressed her palm against his chest. “It hurts here.”
She was content just to stand there, silently counting each of his heartbeats as they slammed against her hand. But the look in his eyes demanded she respond to his pain.
“You had quite a night,” she said. “It’s understandable to feel a little shaken.”
“It’s more than that.”
She nodded, dropped her hand. “Yes.”
“I don’t know much about divine plans or God’s will, but the birth of this baby, no—” He broke off, swallowed. “The birth of Lau…Laurette seems important. I can’t explain why.”
His stricken, confused expression had her reaching out and placing her hand on his arm. “Oh, Trey, we can’t always know God’s ways, or why He puts us through trials. All we can do is believe that good will eventually come to those of us who are in Christ. Even when we suffer unspeakable tragedy.”
He didn’t argue with her or give her an angry denial, but his mouth curved into a frown. “It always comes down to trust, doesn’t it? Blind trust.”
“That’s what faith is, Trey. Trusting in what we can’t see or know for sure. And it’s the hardest thing we do as Christians.”
He placed a finger under her chin, applying pressure until she looked into his eyes. “Sort of like trusting me to be good to you in our marriage, and trusting that I’ll keep my promise to take care of you and Molly.”
She stiffened at his words. “We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you and your ongoing struggle with God over the loss of your wife. We’re talking about forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness. Trust in God. I don’t know much of these things anymore.” His brows drew together in a heavy frown. “But you do. Trust me, Katherine. Show me how it’s done so I can learn how to do it, too.”
“Oh, Trey, what a pair we make. You can’t trust God, and…and apparently, I can’t trust you enough, either.”
She heard the disappointment in his unspoken sigh.
“Why do you continue to fight me so?”
He asked a legitimate question. Why was she fighting him? She cared for him, and although he didn’t care for her in the same way, she knew he did care. She also knew he would eventually find his way back to God, perhaps sooner now with the birth of baby Laurette.
Why not marry him?
Because, ultimately, he would break her heart.
Trey pulled Katherine tight against him, deciding her silence meant she was coming around to his way of thinking. This time he wasn’t going to let her walk away from him before they’d settled matters between them.
He didn’t know why it was so important to him, only knew his desire to make her his wife had become more than merely accepting responsibility for her reputation.
Maybe this urgency came with the birth of Marc’s daughter. Something had happened to him in that room tonight. As he’d held the tiny child, his thinking had shifted. For the first time in years, he wanted a life free of bitterness and anger and vengeance. He wanted a future. And he wanted it with Katherine and Molly.
But he had to settle the past first. He needed to free all three of them from the violence that drove him still. “When I get back,” he said, “we’re getting married.”
She pushed out of his arms. “When you get back?”
Shock registered in her eyes, but the pain he saw flickering underneath that stunned expression warned Trey to tread softly. He’d made a mistake waiting until now to tell her. “I’m leaving in the morning.”
Her gasp sounded more like an accusation. “You’re leaving in the morning.”
“I got word—”
“You got word.”
In an attempt to lighten the mood, he made a grand show of peering around her. “Did you bring Laney’s talking bird with you?”
“You’re leaving. Going after a specific criminal, I assume?”
“I have to finish it, Katherine.”
A single sob slipped from her lips before she gathered her control. “How long have you known about this…trip?”
“A week,” he said, bracing for her reaction.
“A week.” The words came out just above a whisper. “And you just tell me now?”
Taking the defense, he puffed out his chest. “It’s my job to hunt down outlaws and bring them to justice.”
“It’s your job.”
“I’m getting real tired of you repeating everything I say.”
She jammed her hands on her hips and jerked her chin at him. “And I’m getting real tired of having this same conversation over and over with you. God tells us that vengeance is His alone. Quit trying to turn justice into your own personal quest to rid yourself of false guilt.”
Trey swallowed back an angry retort and focused solely on winning the argument. “This isn’t about guilt, false or real. I’ve sworn an oath to the president of the United States to uphold justice in this part of the country. I’m the good guy.”
She pressed her fingertips to her temples and shook her head. “Right. Of course. How could I forget? You’re a lawman, Trey. But you’re not a husband. Not mine anyway.”
“I can be both. One does not preclude the other.”
Wanting to soothe her fears, he reached to her. She took a single step back, creating a chasm between them that felt as wide as a continent.
“Are you going after your wife’s killer?” she asked in a defeated tone.
He sighed, deciding the truth was the best defense. “Yes. It’s time justice was served once and for all.”
She gasped. “Justice? This quest of yours isn’t about justice. It’s about revenge.”
“It’s the only thing I have left that I can give Laurette.”
“It won’t change anything.”
Hardening his heart to the look of disappointment in her eyes, he shoved a hand through his hair. “Even if Ike Hayes hadn’t murdered Laurette, he’s killed others. It’s my job to find him and bring him to justice. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.”
“And what if you don’t come back? What am I supposed to tell Molly? That you were killed seeking revenge?”
With his patience pushed to the snapping point, he glared down at her. “I always come back. And when I do, we’re getting married. Molly will have the family you want for her. It’s no longer up for discussion.”
Her only response was a tight-lipped grimace.
“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.”
“Good.” He gave her a single nod. “Then it’s settled.”
“Not by half. Now you hear me, Marshal.” She poked her finger at his chest. “You better make good on that promise of yours to return. Because if you hurt my little sister, I’ll make you sorry you ever chose to mess with a Taylor woman.”
With that, she spun on her heel and marched across the open field, her dignity wrapped around her like an iron cloak.
Trey stared at her retreating back, his heart clutching in his chest at her bold threat. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, honey,” he whispered after her, smiling in spite of himself. “I don’t doubt it for a minute.”
Chapter Fourteen
One month, two days and six hours after their heated argument, Trey had yet to return home. As the midday sun spread golden fingers of light through the kitchen window, Katherine tried to go about her daily chore
s as though nothing was bothering her. To little avail.
Sighing, she used her wrist to wipe her forehead and then began pressing freshly kneaded dough into a bread tin.
Perhaps today would be the day Trey returned home.
Did he miss her, she wondered, as much as she missed him? Or was he thinking about their last argument and the ultimatum she’d given him to return unharmed or else she’d make him sorry?
How she regretted those impetuous words. He’d needed her comfort that night, her understanding, as he dealt with the emotions of the past. But she’d offered only accusations and shrewish demands. That wasn’t the way she wanted him to remember her while he was gone.
In a matter of seconds, her mind skipped from worry to dread to fear and back to worry again. Furious at herself, she pounded at the dough, kneading with vicious intent.
If only she had some news of him. Was he safe? Had he caught the outlaw? Was he on his way home at last? Or—the worst of them all—was he lying dead in some hidden valley, alone and forgotten?
“I will not give in to this paralyzing fear.”
She stopped kneading, closed her eyes and quoted her favorite verse from the Gospel of John. “Jesus said, ‘Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.’”
Please, Lord, help me to have faith over my fears. Please, bring Trey home safely to Molly and me.
Her stomach clutched at the thought of never seeing him again. Stifling a moan, she flicked loose flour onto the cutting board and began kneading again.
If this sickening dread was what she had to look forward to every time Trey left to hunt an outlaw, how could she ever expect to survive marriage to him?
She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed, “Lord, give me clarity. Reveal to me what I should do.”
A movement just outside the window caught her attention.
Katherine squinted into the sunlight, her eyes focusing on the town sheriff dragging a familiar child in tow. One child. Not three. Not even two. But one!
The last time Katherine had seen Molly, the five-year-old had asked to tag along with Johnny and Megan as they headed into town to run an errand for Laney. How on earth had her sister ended up in the lawman’s care?
And where were the other children?
In an attempt to gather more information, Katherine studied her heel-scuffing, head-hanging little sister as she made her way toward the back door of the house—with her arm gripped by the sheriff’s hand.
Battling a large dose of trepidation, Katherine wiped her hands on her apron, circled around the counter and then opened the door leading into the backyard.
She stood on the top step, waiting for an explanation.
When neither spoke, Katherine bobbed her gaze from her sister to the sheriff and back again. Both held themselves unnaturally stiff, each shifting from foot to foot in an erratic, guilty rhythm.
“What’s happened?” When both continued in their silence, Katherine sighed. “Are either of you going to answer me?”
Molly squeaked out an “I’m sorry, Katherine,” but kept her head lowered and her arms wrapped around her middle.
“Sorry? For what?” asked Katherine.
Molly dug her toe into the dirt and shrugged.
Katherine turned her attention to the lawman, who seemed surprisingly…contrite?
What on earth was going on here?
“Where are Megan and Johnny?”
Two bushy white eyebrows drew together, and the sheriff shifted his hat to the back of his head. “I don’t know about any others. I only found this one in town.”
Gasping, Katherine turned her full attention to Molly. “You were in Denver, alone?”
Still gazing at the ground, Molly shrugged again. “I sort of got separated from the others.”
Something in the way her little sister refused to lift her head put Katherine on instant alert. “Look at me, Molly. Right now.”
The child slowly—very slowly—lifted her head.
“Oh, Molly.” A thick, hot blast of air escaped from Katherine’s lungs as she rushed forward and lowered herself to her knees. “Your eye. It’s swollen shut.”
Molly hunched her shoulders forward. “I kinda fell into Bobby Prescott’s fist.”
Katherine fought to keep her shock from taking control of her reason. “You kinda fell?”
The sheriff cleared his throat. “Don’t fret over it, Miss Katherine.”
“How can I not?” She shot him an exasperated glare.
His answering gaze turned direct, unwavering. The grizzled lawman was firmly in place now. “Turns out, your little sister has quite a right hook when provoked.”
“Molly! You’ve been fighting?” exclaimed Katherine. Nausea nearly overtook her. What had possessed the child to indulge in fisticuffs?
“At least she gave it to that Prescott boy but good.” Lassiter patted her on the head like a faithful pet. “She’s a scrappy little thing, your sister.”
A strong sense of chagrin left Katherine completely unsettled. “You hit a boy?”
Clearly insulted by Katherine’s tone, the five-year-old jerked her chin at an angry angle. “He said you was my mommy. I said, ‘Yeah, so?’ ’Cause, well, I want you to be my mommy, but then he called you a tramp. He said that you was slinking in closets with men for money. I was just shuttin’ him up, but good.”
Understanding dawned, and with it came the pain. The humiliation. The bitter reality. The talk had begun, and it had already circled back to Katherine’s innocent little sister. “Oh, Molly.”
Trey had been right all along. People talked. Reasonable doubt was ignored. Guilt instantly assumed.
And Molly had been the one hurt today.
This was no longer a simple matter of word getting out about a slight indiscretion in the school’s supply closet.
It was so much worse.
Katherine took a deep breath and accepted the reality of the situation. It was one thing to hear the whispers directed at her. At least those comments were unfounded. Something had to be done about the new rumors, rumors that were entrenched in a semblance of the truth.
Neither she nor Molly could continue to live in this state of indecision. First, however, Katherine had to attend to Molly’s injuries—both the physical and mental ones—and explain the right and wrong way to respond to provocation.
But not in front of a stranger.
Rising to her full height, Katherine turned her attention to the sheriff and gave him a tight smile. “Thank you for bringing my sister home. I can handle matters from here.”
Lassiter stabbed a quick glance at Molly; then his lips flattened into a determined line as he returned his stare to Katherine. “Don’t you let them town folk and their talk get to you, Miss Katherine. Anyone with sense knows you’re a fine Christian woman.”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Katherine said, shoving a shaky hand through her hair. “But why defend me? You don’t really know me.”
“I know what I know. Marshal Scott is the most honorable man in the territory. If he says you’re a good woman, well, then I say so, too.”
Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back with sheer force of will. “Trey said that about me?”
He patted her on the arm. “He’ll be home soon, and he’ll help you sort this all out.”
Her heart began to trip at the burden that lay ahead of her. Yet the man’s confidence in her was heartening. “Thank you, Sheriff, for everything.”
Laney chose that moment to materialize in the door frame. “Sheriff? Is everything all right?”
“I was just leaving. Miss Taylor can give you the sordid details.” He rustled Molly’s hair. “See ya, kid.”
He turned to go but stopped and cocked his head toward Molly. “She’s been hiding her right paw under her wing ever since we left town. That Prescott kid’s got a hard head. You might want to get the doc to check out her hand.”
&nb
sp; The words pushed Katherine to action. Ignoring the sheriff now that he was leaving, she dropped to her knees and wrestled Molly’s hand out from under her arm. “Let me see what you’ve done to yourself.”
At the sight of the bloody, swollen fingers, Katherine fought back a wave of hysteria. “Oh, Molly.”
Laney darted out of the house and knelt down next to Katherine. “You might have broken it, baby,” she declared, swiping her fingers across the child’s knuckles as she spoke.
Katherine cringed as Molly whimpered. “That hurts, Laney.”
“It’s what comes of fighting.” Laney clicked her tongue. “We’ll have to get Dr. Shane.”
Fear sprang into the child’s eyes, and then the tears started flowing freely.
Katherine smoothed Molly’s hair off her forehead. “Don’t worry, Molly. We’ll get you patched up.”
“I’m sorry, Katherine.” Sniffling hiccups came out of the little girl, and she wiped her good hand across her nose. “But Bobby was being really, really mean about you. He made it sound like you being my mommy was bad or something.”
Even though Katherine wanted to pull Molly in her arms and tell her everything would work out just fine, she also knew she had to set her little sister straight while the incident was fresh in her mind. “You can’t hit every boy who says bad things about me, or you, or anyone we care about. You need to turn the other cheek next time.”
Two black brows drew together in obvious confusion. “Huh?”
Katherine shared a look with Laney. The other woman nodded encouragingly.
Shifting to her knees, Katherine took the child’s face gently into her hands. “What I’m trying to say, Molly, is that when a boy like Bobby says something ugly to you, you have to ignore him and walk away.”
“Even when he calls you names?” squeaked Molly.
Katherine dropped her hands. “Especially then.”
Molly scrunched her face into a scowl and chewed on her lower lip. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“It is, baby. Forgiving isn’t easy, but boys like Bobby need it most from us.”
“But he was the one who wronged me.”
