Page 85 of Fairest of Heart

“You’re a besotted fool, Titus Kingsley. Tell me. Who had more of a motive to steal? A world-renowned actress with a lucrative career or a penniless orphan with a reputation for impropriety?” She leaned toward Kingsley, desperate to keep his attention focused on her face instead of her hands. “I’ll see you destroyed for this, Ranger. You and your false accusations, setting up an innocent woman for a crime she didn’t commit.”

She fumbled with the purse clasp. Slid her hand inside. Wrapped her fingers around her derringer.

“Enough of the theatrics,” the marshal grumbled as he reached for her arm.

Narcissa jerked away and pulled her derringer free of her purse.

“Gun!” Victor shouted the warning from behind her. Not giving anyone a chance to react, she fired in the same moment.

Kingsley lurched sideways. Restaurant patrons screamed. Narcissa shoved past the stumbling Ranger and ran. Only to have a hand latch around her ankle.

Her foot yanked backward. She tumbled. A shriek tore from her throat.

No! She had to get away. This was not how her final act was supposed to play out.

She kicked and wriggled, but the grip on her ankle remained ironclad. Then someone straddled her, twisting her arms behind her back and forcing her face into the tile floor.

“Get off me, you fiend.” She writhed to no avail.

“I got her, Kingsley,” McHenry said. “You can let go now.”

The hand around her ankle finally loosened.

The Ranger had been the one to take her down? Impossible! She’d shot him. She was sure of it. At that close range, not even an imbecile could miss.

“Better summon a doctor,” Victor responded, voice tight. “He’s bleeding pretty bad.” His tone changed, becoming cajoling. “Hang in there, Ranger.”

Dark satisfaction curled around Narcissa’s heart as the marshal knotted a cord around her wrists. Bleed, Ranger. It’s only fair. If I don’t get my happy ending, neither should you.

36

Ten days. She hadn’t seen Titus in ten days. Penelope peered past the porch overhang toward the road, wishing she could make him appear. The broom in her hand slowed, but it didn’t really matter. She’d swept the front porch so many times this past week no speck of dirt would dare land in such inhospitable territory. It was a miracle the floorboards hadn’t splintered from the constant brushing.

Lucky lifted his head from where he’d been dozing in a sunny spot near the railing and yawned.

“Sure, it’s easy for you to relax. You don’t need him like I do.” Penelope leaned her broom against the house wall and hunkered down to rub the coonhound’s ears. “He carries my heart with him, Lucky. I won’t feel whole until he returns.”

A small, round wren fluttered down to alight on the railing near Penelope’s head. As if it had recognized her aching heart and paid a call to try to cheer her, it sang a peppy song of sweet trilling notes while its head bobbed and its feet shuffled.

A smile twitched Penelope’s lips as she watched the little encourager. “How can I possibly be glum with you around?”

The gray-brown bird trilled again, and the words of Christ seemed to slip into her soul. “Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.”

Lucky scrambled to his feet, eager to get a closer look. Startling, the wren took flight.

“Godspeed, little one,” Penelope whispered.

She pushed back up to her feet and wrapped her hand around one of the porch posts. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together, Lord. Help me to be strong and courageous.

God would never forsake her or abandon her. She believed that with all her heart. Yet that didn’t mean he would spare her from sorrow and hardship. She’d faced plenty of both during her lifetime. As had Edith, yet her adoptive mother had never let the world sour her disposition.

A childhood memory seeped into Penelope’s mind. Edith cradling the large brown bowl she always used for mixing cake batter. Her spoon whipping in a frenzied motion. “Your life ain’t gonna be easy, Penny-girl,” she had said, “but it can be good if you remember our Lord’s promise. ‘In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.’ There ain’t nothin’ you can face that he can’t overcome.”

A pang of homesickness stirred in Penelope’s breast. She missed Edith. She missed Titus. She even missed Dusty and Doc, and they’d only been gone for half a day, running to town for supplies. Mercy, but she was a mess.

“You still mopin’ around, waitin’ on that Ranger to show up?”

Penelope sniffed discreetly, then turned to see Jeb moseying up to the side of the house from the direction of the corral. She lifted a hand in greeting and painted on a smile as she reached for her discarded broom, trying to manufacture a legitimate reason to be on the porch that didn’t entail moping.