Page 17 of The Marshal's Bride
The door hadn’t latched when she slammed it, so Sam pushed it open, and the sound of whimpering reached his ears. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. Blowing out a breath, he stepped over the threshold.
This was not how I thought this day was going to go.
“Justine?” He moved into the foyer and closed the door behind him, cuddling Hope close, eyes scanning for any kind of threat. “Justine, honey, where are you?”
Sam set Hope down on the floor in the living room by what he thought was her toy bin and followed the sounds to the kitchen. She was huddled on the floor, back against the counter and her head on her knees.
He knew then that Weston was right.
The idea of anyone else comforting her or taking care of her would rip him apart.
Kneeling beside her, the words came to him, but first he needed to know what had upset her. “Honey. Tell me what’s upset you.”
She couldn’t speak. Instead, she shook the letter at him between sobs, and he took it.
Skimming the words, he felt his blood chill. Someone was threatening to take Hope from her. Accusations of murder and criminal charges flowed off the page, and the image of the older woman at the platform in Grand Platte months ago rose to mind. While he’d kiboshed the idea and gotten Justine and Hope onto the stagecoach at the time, he’d still sent a wire to the sheriff in Grand Platte when they arrived; and he met with Orrin Briggs even though the former marshal was retired.
There had been no foul play in Jacob McGuthry’s death. He’d died from internal injuries presumably from a fall, and bruises in the shape of horseshoes were found all over his body. The only prints in the field were from McGuthry’s boots and the horse’s hooves when the lawmen had first arrived.
This woman, who was grieving her son, was also torturing the woman who was raising her grandchild. He wasn’t going to allow it; he would do the same for anyone else. Justine did not deserve this atrocious treatment.
“She is angry, Justine, but there is no substance there. It’s been investigated and no one is going to come and take Hope from you. Not legally.” Thoughts of what Spades Matthews had heard earlier in the week made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The threat was real, but she did not need to know that right now.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lifting her head, and wiping her eyes with the heels of her palms. “I’ve had a very odd day, and this was the icing on the cake. Now I’m a mess.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“What?”
She looked at him, and he knew then his thought had escaped his mouth. No turning back now.
His fingers reached out and pushed back a lock of hair that escaped from its pins. Tucking it behind her ear, he lifted her chin so she would look at him.
“I said you’re beautiful. You’re a good mother, a strong woman, intelligent and kind. Even tears can’t take any of that away.”
“Sam, I—”
He shook his head, cutting off her words. “I have something to ask you, but I know you’ve had a long day. It will keep.”
“Ask me.” She reached out grasping his arm, and fire flew through his veins.
His eyes roamed over her face, looking for anything to tell him this was a bad idea, but he found nothing.
“Marry me. I know you’re in mourning. I know you want to fully observe it. I won’t rush you. But by marrying me, it will give you the protection of my name. It will eliminate your hurdles at the bank, and the freedom to make your own choices.” He swallowed hard, she stared at him watchfully, not even blinking.
“Why would you do that? It doesn’t give you anything other than more burdens, at least in name.”
Taking a deep breath, he reached out snaking a hand around her neck. She didn’t fight him, or try to scoot away, still he moved slowly. “Because if I have to watch someone else do this, I’m going to shoot them.” His lips slid over hers, in what he meant to be a gentle touch of the lips. Her mouth opened under his, and he felt her fingers on his chest. They weren’t pushing him away, and he deepened the kiss a bit before pulling back, his eyes locked on hers.
“Quack.” Hope was standing in the doorway behind them, with a wide smile. “Quack, Quack.” She continued to babble, making her way to them.
Sam opened his arm, and Hope ran into the safety of his embrace. His lips brushed the top of Hope’s baby locks, before looking at Justine again. “I love this little girl, and I want her to have the best life. If you give me the chance, I could love you too, but I won’t rush you. Everything else will be on your terms.” He spoke quietly, cuddling Hope to his side, planting a kiss on top of her head.
Releasing Hope to her momma, Sam rolled back on his heels and stood in one easy motion. He gave Justine a long look before tipping his head at her. “Be good for your mama, Hope.”
Walking out the door was the hardest thing he’d had to do in a long time, but the choice was in her hands now. All he could do was hope and pray that Marmee’s success rate would hold true for him, and that God was in his corner.
He gritted his teeth and palmed the pistol on his hip. What he could do now was deal with the problem over at Marcy’s. The letter in her hand was the confirmation he needed that Flat River was going to have trouble, and Spades had most likely found the people responsible for it.
