Page 59 of Taming Lady Temperance

The compassion in his gaze only twisted her guilt into a tighter knot in her stomach. He reached through the bars and extended his hand to her, palm up. Unable to resist the lure of his touch, she fit her hand to his. Physical warmth enveloped not only her hand but her heart as well. Her grip tightened, and she barely resisted the temptation to draw his fingers to her lips and press a kiss to his knuckles.

“I stopped by your mother’s house after taking statements at the saloon.” James shifted his weight, his gaze seeking and finding hers. “I thought it might be better for her to hear the facts of what happened from me before someone ambushed her with a distorted account.”

As much as she hated the idea of him telling her mother about her disgraceful behavior, she recognized the kindness inherent in such an action. Hiding the truth from her mother would be a futile effort. Noreen’s storming of the Salt Fork was far too juicy a tidbit not to be cranked through the rumor mill.

“Thank you.”

His thumb caressed the back of her hand. “She wanted to come to you the moment she heard, but your stepfather wouldn’t allow it.”

Of course not. Arthur was nothing if not consistent in his disdain for her temperance work. Her arrest had provided him the perfect justification for cutting her completely out of their lives, something he’d been trying to do for ages. Noreen knew her mother would never outwardly defy her husband, but her capitulation still hurt. Didn’t her daughter deserve some familial devotion, too?

“She penned you a note, though, and I promised to deliver it to you.” He reached into an interior coat pocket with his other hand and extended a folded sheet of paper through the bars. “I’ll leave you to read it in private, but I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m here for you, Noreen. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you want to hit something, I’ll volunteer as a punching bag.” His eyes twinkled. “My stomach’s much softer than the wall.”

She wasn’t so sure that was accurate. Nothing about James Paxton was soft. Except his eyes when he looked at her. And his touch when he stroked her hand or caressed her hair.

Needing to keep herself from thinking too much about those soft spots, she quirked a small grin of her own. “Do you offer yourself as a punching bag to all your prisoners, Deputy?”

He winked. “Only the pretty ones.”

Heat suffused her cheeks, even as delight filled her heart. Yet the delight couldn’t withstand the growing weight of her circumstances.

This was no drawing room where a gentleman might flirt with his lady of choice. This was a jail cell. A place of punishment and confinement for lawbreakers. A purgatory for those awaiting judgment. Guilt clung to its walls, her own culpability thickening the very bars that separated her from James.

Slowly, Noreen tugged her hand free of his hold and stepped backward. “Thank you for delivering the note.”

He nodded, his eyes losing a bit of their light as he withdrew his hand and shoved it into his trouser pocket. “We’ll get through this, Noreen. Don’t lose hope.”

We.

How she longed that there could be a we with this marvelous man. But some gulfs were too wide to span.

Slowly, Noreen turned her back on him and walked toward her mattress. When the sound of his boot falls finally echoed in the stairwell, the tears she’d been holding back rolled down her cheeks.

Crumpling atop the mattress, she braced her back against the wall and hugged her knees to her chest in an effort to manufacture the comfort that eluded her. Perhaps her mother’s letter would help. Taking out her embroidered handkerchief, she dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose, then opened the note.

My precious girl,

Arthur will not permit me to visit you in jail, but please know that my heart is with you. I will pray for you without ceasing until this nightmare is over. I understand better than most the burning fire of impotent rage. Watching those we care about suffer and being helpless to stop it is a torture like no other. Yet we cannot give in to that rage, for all it produces is more hurt. Forgiveness is the only thing that heals. There’s a reason the Good Book teaches us to put away all bitterness, wrath, and anger and replace it with forgiveness and kindness, and it’s not just to help folks get along together. It’s because bitterness, wrath, and anger poison the soul. Trust me, I know. My soul’s been shriveled for more years than I care to admit. It was only after I forgave your father that I started to heal. Now I must forgive Arthur as well. It’s not easy, and there are definitely days when I want to shout and break things, just as you did at the Salt Fork, but following the Lord’s wisdom always pays better dividends than following our own, so I’ll keep practicing. I pray you will, too.

Forgive Mr. Taggert for running a saloon. Forgive Mr. Templeton for beating sweet Luella. Forgive your father for hurting you. And, Noreen, forgive yourself. Guilt belongs at the foot of the cross, not locked in the secret places of your heart.

With a gasp, Noreen flung the letter onto the mattress as if it had suddenly caught fire in her hand. Mama knew? No, she couldn’t. Noreen had been so careful not to let anything slip. All these years . . . Mama had never said anything. If she had discovered the truth, wouldn’t she have said something to her . . . accused her . . . forgiven her?

The dam that had started crumbling in the saloon gave way completely. Noreen grabbed the pillow near her hip, held it to her face, and screamed into the feathers again and again until her screams morphed into sobs and left her utterly broken.

Chapter

27

James sat on the bottom stair, his forearms braced on his knees, his head in his hands. Hunger gnawed at his empty belly, but finding food held no appeal. Not with Noreen in the cell upstairs. His spitfire was sputtering, her inner light dimming right before his eyes, and he could do nothing about it. Worse, he’d contributed to the snuffing of her flame. His hand balled into a fist, and he drew it back with a violent jerk but stopped himself short of crashing his knuckles into the wall. He slammed them into his thigh instead, and pain radiated through his entire leg from the force of the blow. He welcomed the ache, wishing that increasing his own pain would somehow diminish hers. Too bad life didn’t work that way.

How do I help her when I’m the one hurting her? Show me what to do, Lord. Open my eyes—

A muffled cry echoed softly from upstairs. James straightened, his ears at full attention. The sound came again, but it was softer this time. James stealthily pushed to his feet, wincing slightly at the soreness in his right leg. He tilted his head. He couldn’t make out any words, but that didn’t hinder the message. Each faint sound reverberated with agony, despair, and grief.

His heart throbbed. He took three quick steps up the stairs, then drew to a halt. Would she want him to go to her? Or would his presence embarrass her? She was obviously trying to hide her distress, muffling the sounds against the mattress or with something covering her mouth. Perhaps preserving her privacy would be best. He retreated a step, taking pains to silence his movements so she wouldn’t know he was there. Yet even as he did so, the tone of her muted cries shifted from primal to heart-wrenching. His own heart cracked in response. No one should be alone with that kind of devastation.

Setting his jaw, he climbed the rest of the stairs. If she sent him away, so be it. But he’d give her the choice instead of trying to guess what she needed.