Page 50 of Taming Lady Temperance

James dropped his hand from Noreen’s back and moved toward the door, but Noreen lunged out and caught his arm. “Wait.”

He turned, his eyes full of questions.

“What will you do when you find him?”

James’s jaw clenched. “If I catch him in the act of assaulting his wife, I’ll arrest him on the spot and throw his sorry hide in jail.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Then I’ll do my best to convince Mrs. Templeton to press charges and testify against her husband in court.”

“And if she won’t?” Noreen knew what his answer would be, what it had to be legally, but she couldn’t stop herself from pushing. Turning a blind eye toward family violence had to stop. Laws had to change. People had to change.

He let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of his regret. “I’ll do what I can, Noreen. Maybe when I rip into him about his disgraceful behavior, I’ll rile him enough that he’ll take a swing at me. It would give me an excuse to arrest him.”

“Well, don’t purposely place yourself in danger.” The last thing she wanted was for another person she cared about to be harmed today. “I expect you to come home to me in one piece.”

He smiled and tugged on the brim of his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”

Then he left, and the light in her world dimmed just a bit, causing her to shiver as she hovered over Luella and waited for the doctor’s report. Her gaze darted toward the door several times as she tried to reignite her sputtering optimism. Dark thoughts circled her mind like wolves prowling just outside the reach of the campfire. She could feel them encroaching. Old, familiar enemies released from their cages and ready to pounce the moment her light flickered out. She tried to feed her fire with hopeful thoughts and love for her friend, but as the doctor said things like “three cracked ribs,” “radial fracture of the arm,” and “possible brain contusion,” the icy water of her anger began dousing the flames one by one.

Chapter

23

James hoofed it over to the livery to claim his horse, then rode out to the Templeton place at a fast canter. His prayers bounced back and forth between petitioning the Lord to heal Luella and pleading for protection for the girl’s mother.

His jaw clenched as he leaned forward in the saddle. Husbands had a sacred duty to protect their families. Any man who not only neglected that duty but used his physical strength as a weapon against those in his care was eligible for the millstone treatment as far as James was concerned.

Images of Luella lying broken on the schoolroom floor haunted him as he urged his mount to a greater pace. A child. A brave, loving child who wanted to save her father from his own destructive impulses. She didn’t deserve this. No child did.

His heart throbbed in his chest as he thought of Noreen. Was she back in that schoolroom reliving all the times her own father had struck her?

Protect her heart, Lord.

He knew she blamed herself, and she might soon blame him if he couldn’t find legal cause to arrest the skunk responsible for Luella’s injuries. The thought of disappointing her flayed him like a barbed-wire whip. Too many people had let her down in her lifetime, and heaven help him, he didn’t want to be added to that list. She deserved a champion. Someone who always had her back. That’s who he wanted to be. Her partner. Her defender. Her . . . man.

His jaw clenched again as the realization that had been sneaking up on him for the last few days broke into the clearing of his mind. He was in love with her. In love with a woman who would complicate and disorder his life to no end. In love with a woman who might never trust a man enough to let him into her heart.

James blew out a breath and adjusted his position in the saddle. Now wasn’t the time for soft feelings or romantic contemplations. Noreen was counting on him to protect the women of this community. His gut twisted as he recalled the helpless anger that had flared in her eyes as she’d questioned him about how he planned to handle Claude. How many times had the law failed to protect her and her mother? Too many. Even one time would be too many.

Don’t let me fail this family, he prayed. Help me be your arm of justice today.

As he neared the Templeton homestead, he slowed his mount to a walk and drew his revolver. Wives rarely pressed charges against their husbands in cases like this, which meant his best chance of putting Claude behind bars entailed catching him in the act. Announcing his arrival would sabotage that endgame. So he reined in his mount near the edge of the barn, slid silently from the saddle, and hunkered below window height as he hurried toward the back of the house.

Once he reached the kitchen door, he fit his hand to the knob and eased it open a crack. He strained his ears, listening for any clues about what might be happening inside and where his suspect might be. No shouts or crashes echoed through the home. His gut knotted. Quiet didn’t bode well.

The hinges creaked as he opened the door far enough to squeeze inside. The homestead wasn’t large. Single story. Probably three bedrooms. If he remembered correctly, Luella was the youngest of four kids. The others had married and moved away one by one over the last several years.

Slinking forward on the balls of his feet to keep his heels from clicking on the floorboards, James made his way down the hall, checking each room he passed. An office stood to his right, but a quick duck of his head through the doorway proved it empty. He reached the front room next, and his mouth went dry. Overturned chairs, a broken lamp, a reddish stain in the middle of the rug. An image of Luella lying atop that rug, clutching her side, blood running from a cut on her head rose in his mind, making his chest ache.

“I told you to get out!”

James pivoted. The flash of some kind of dark cudgel snagged in his periphery. He raised an arm to block what ended up being a cast-iron skillet swinging at his skull.

The skillet swinger gasped, the sound immediately followed by the clatter of the weapon falling to the floor. “Deputy Paxton!” The horrified voice of Trudy Templeton filled the hall. “I’m so sorry. I-I thought you were . . .”

“Your husband?” James holstered his weapon, then rubbed at the dent in his forearm where the skillet had connected. He wiggled his fingers for good measure. Nothing seemed to be broken, but he’d likely sprout a prize-winning goose egg by tomorrow.