“To Mrs. Dodson.”
“A divorced woman.”
Scot met him eye to eye. “Yes, sir.”
“I don’t believe in divorces, Colonel.”
“There are divorces and divorces, Father. Do you know anything about Robert Dodson and Mollie Dodson?”
“Know ’em both. She’s a good woman. The less said about him the better, I reckon. Maybe she’s entitled to a good husband. Looks thataway to me. I’ll marry you. If it’s a sin the Lord will have to charge it against me. When do you want to be married?”
“Now. Soon as I can get a license. Meet you at her house in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be there on time, sir.”
Father Marston was waiting when Scot reached the house with the license.
Vicky came into the parlour, slim and straight as a half-grown boy. She drew her heels together and lifted a hand to her rebellious black hair. “Colonel, I have to report that the bride is ready.”