“Colt.” The quiet reprimand sent his deputy back to position, standing on guard near the window. Paul took a sip from his own cup, meanwhile watching Hennessey over the rim. “I went out to pay a visit to your wife this mornin’, sir.”
“And what could possibly cause you to head into the country, Sheriff?”
“All part of my duties, Mr. Hennessey. Just keepin’ an eye on things, and what’s goin’ on. My town, my people, my jurisdiction. Anyways, I found her in poor shape.”
The man’s mouth twisted slightly through his beard. Not a smile. A smirk. “Did you, now?”
“Ahuh. Definitely mistreated.”
“Oh. Well.” He lifted one narrow shoulder, even as the smirk broadened. “Then I must beg Molly’s forgiveness. She is such a ravishing bride that I—uh—well, I became a trifle—uh—overenthusiastic during our bed sport. Got so carried away by her beauty that I simply couldn’t help myself. You understand. If I caused her a bit of—discomfort—then I am truly—chagrined.”
“Chagrined.” Paul’s long fingers carefully straightened the few items atop his desk: the coffee mug, a pencil, several sheets of paper, a couple of books. “I don’t know what your upbringin’ has been, Mr. Hennessey, but I can tell you that men ’round here cherish their womenfolk. Ain’t nobody but a criminal ever tries to beat ’em near half to death!”
With the last sentence, surprisingly the restrained, self-contained sheriff could no longer suppress his outrage. He surged to his feet, a malevolent force gathered all in one powerful human body that had even the suspect suddenly quailing in his chair. Just what had he conjured up, anyway?
“Sheriff?” Concerned, Austin took one hesitant step forward.
Paul’s dark brown eyes blazed with heroic fire, boring into the man before his desk. He stood absolutely motionless, only the breast of his blue shirt lifting rapidly with each harsh breath.
“Sheriff.”
“Yeah, Aus. Sorry.” Folding his rangy frame back into its compact form atop the wooden seat, Paul clasped his hands together before they could inadvertently do physical damage. Just what he had warned everyone against. “You’re aware we have charges pendin’ against you.”
“Indeed? And what, pray tell, might those be?”
Just as one adversary was regaining control, the other was regaining bravado. In fact, Hennessey was getting quite ready to enjoy this confrontation in which, he was sure, he held the winning hand.
“Desertion and abandonment, for one.”
“Why, because I left Molly behind while I came here to seek some sort of gainful employment? Very few places available on a Sunday, it’s true, so I did the only thing I could think of—I got staked to a card game. Won a nice pot, too. Which, as you might guess, I was planning to use for Molly’s comfort and support. It’s hardly my fault she didn’t pay attention to what I told her about my plans.”
Talkative, suddenly, when defending his position, untenable though that was.
Paul’s mouth tightened. “I found the empty bottles on the floor of that shack you dumped her in. You got to drinkin’. Too much. Way too much.”
“And is celebrating one’s long-awaited marriage now a crime? I admit, too much liquor can release some—inhibitions... But I do believe I acquitted myself fairly well in that department, regardless.”
“Then, on top of everything else, there’s the proof of your abuse. What you’ve done to her. Your—questionable—prowess—aside, there’s your out-and-out assault on a woman you took as wife.”
“Aye, there’s the rub.” Astoundingly, shockingly, Hennessey chuckled. He swung his arms wide, and stretched the muscles, as if to flaunt how at ease he felt despite the sheriff’s questioning.
“It will be,” snapped Colton. “Once you’re convicted and put away.”
Hennessey sent that same infuriating smirk over toward the deputy. “I hardly think so. You said it yourself—I took Molly Burton as my wife. We’re legally wed.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to—“
“Ah, but it does. The lady is my property; everything she does and has is mine, including her utterly delicious little person. In other words, gentlemen, I own her. Do you understand me, all you tough and tenacious lawmen? I can do anything I want to Molly Hennessey, and you have absolutely no recourse against me.”
He was prepared with a comeback to every accusation. Snake-oil salesman, indeed.
Rising slowly, almost insultingly, he encompassed those frozen in the room with one sneering glance.
“Now. I’d appreciate your telling me where you’ve stowed her, so I can retrieve my wife and we can go home.”
Chapter Twelve
THE FIRST INDICATION of the deluge about to come was Mrs. Henrietta Blankenship’s firm knock upon the front door at ten o’clock Monday morning.