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.
“You’re standing too close,” she whispered.
“Is this really about Molly?” he asked as his hard, callused hand closed over hers.
His touch was surprisingly gentle. And…and…terrifying. She yanked her hand free, flinched two full steps back when he tried to touch her again.
“Of course it’s about Molly,” she said.
“You don’t think it’s about you? Me? Us?” He took a slow, careful step in her direction. “And the antagonism you have toward me?”
“Please.” A shudder shot through her. “D-d-don’t come any closer.” She had to squeeze her hands together to keep them from trembling.
He froze in midstep, dropped his gaze to her clasped fingers and then quickly moved away from her. “I’m sorry, Miss Taylor. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to frighten you. That was never my intention.”
Why was it always like this between them? Why couldn’t she simply talk to Marshal Scott like a reasonable, well-adjusted woman spoke with a friend? Why did she have to be such a coward around him?
Frustration at him, fury at her own fears, and disappointment at them both made her voice come out harsher than usual. “I…I know you didn’t mean any harm,” she said.
He pulled a deep, audible breath into his lungs. “Regardless, I only wanted to—”
“Mr. Trey, Mr. Trey, you gotta come see.” Molly chose that moment to skip into the room. “Laney’s talking bird said my name. Twice. He—”
As though sensing the tension in the room, she broke off and shifted her large, rounded gaze from Trey to Katherine and back to Trey again. “You wanna come see?”
Molly’s devoted expression reminded Katherine just why this man was so dangerous. He held too much power over them both. In a purely protective gesture, Katherine gently pulled her sister against her. “No, Moll, Marshal Scott was just leaving.”
“You are?” asked Molly.
As though the past five minutes had never happened, he slid Katherine a challenging look before smiling down at Molly. “Of course not, kitten. I wouldn’t disappoint my favorite five-year-old.”
Several hours after his confrontation with the prissy schoolmarm, Trey left the orphanage and headed back to his room at Miss Martha’s boardinghouse. Out of habit, he surveyed his surroundings, hunting for potential danger hidden in the shadows. All he found was a kaleidoscope of yellows and gold that spilled from the streetlamps and mansion windows into a patchwork of sporadic light along the lane.
Taking a deep breath of the crisp night air, he crammed his hat onto his head and increased his pace. Various wagon-wheel tracks pointed the way toward the center of town. After passing several mansions nearly identical to Charity House, Trey eventually turned onto Sixteenth Street. A few blocks later the two-story homes became three- and four-story businesses, and Trey found his mind returning to the events of the night.
He knew he shouldn’t have stayed at Charity House as long as he had, but Molly’s eager devotion had torn at his heart, making him set aside his own conflicting emotions concerning her sister. The child made him want to right the wrongs done to her.
He tried to tell himself his present restlessness was due to his concern for the kid, but Trey knew Molly wasn’t the real source of his agitation.
It was her sister.
He’d known there was going to be trouble the moment Miss Taylor had sauntered into Marc’s study, with her self-righteousness wrapped around her like a winter cloak. She’d spoken of forgiveness. Then flinched from his touch.
The woman had genuinely been afraid of him. The shock of it still sat heavy in his chest. Once he’d recognized her terror—terror of him—all he’d wanted to do was ease her worry.
Trey knew her past; Marc had told him what she’d endured. Hot anger rose inside him. Considering her terrible trauma, she had every right to be afraid of men.
Yet, beneath her fear, there was a real innocence about her. She truly believed there was healing after unspeakable pain and violence. With such a naive view of life, Miss Taylor could never understand what drove Trey.
How could she? In his experience, people who spoke of forgiveness had already done their forgiving. Well, he would never forgive Ike Hayes. He couldn’t allow Laurette’s killer off that easily.
Laurette.
At the thought of his wife a swift, unrelenting wave of guilt whipped through him. He’d nearly betrayed the memory of her tonight, all because he’d wanted to ease another woman’s fears.
Ripping off his hat, Trey slammed it against his thigh. He’d like to think he’d been drawn to Katherine tonight because he’d wanted to show her that all men weren’t like the one who had attacked her, but he knew better. Something about the woman dug past his well-built defenses and made him want to be a better man.
A man worthy of trust.
It must have been all that talk of “moving on” he’d had with Marc prior to their confrontation over Molly. He’d been missing Laurette so much, he’d ached inside.
Still shaken from the encounter, Trey desperately tried to call forth memories of the only woman he’d allowed in his heart since childhood. Instead, images of a beautiful, spitting-mad schoolteacher defeated his efforts.
Laurette’s memory deserved his total devotion. He had to get Katherine Taylor