The Marshal Takes a Bride. Renee Ryan

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      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 out of his head.

      But how?

      What he needed was a diversion, something that would put his mind back on important issues.

      Like the whereabouts of Ike Hayes.

      Changing course, he crossed over to Fifteenth Street and headed toward the jail where Ike’s brother, Drew, awaited trial. It was time to focus on serving justice the only way Trey knew how.

      By his own hands.

      Chapter Four

      Drew Hayes’s rotund body lay sprawled haphazardly across the lone bed in the back of the jail cell. With his jowls slack from sleep and his face full of belligerent beard, the outlaw looked like the animal Trey knew him to be.

      A jolt of anger came fast and hard, filling Trey with such hatred, his throat burned from it. This man, this outlaw, had played a leading role in the murder of Trey’s wife and child. The reminder brought a driving need to lash out, to end the life of the man who had stolen what was so precious to Trey. He had to brace himself against a nearby wall to keep from taking action.

      Breathing hard and trying urgently to gain control over his turbulent emotions, Trey forced his attention to the window above Drew’s bed. The rising moon glittered through the rusty metal bars, casting a thin ray of light that led from the cell door to the foot of Drew’s bed.

      Trey wanted to follow that path, and end the battle with a single bullet. But as he struggled inside the blinding haze of his hate, he knew he wouldn’t do it. Drew Hayes didn’t deserve such an easy out.

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