by Ginny Aiken
“Leaving you at the mercy of the likes of Theo turns my gut into knots,” she whispered as Lazy nuzzled her cheek. “But right this minute, I don’t even know how I’m going to get past this madness of his, much less protect you three. When things are sorted out again, I’ll find a way to get you back. I can work, and I will buy you three from Theo. I won’t stop until you’re all mine again.”
As long as her brother-in-law didn’t destroy them—and her—before then.
Shortly after breakfast, they set out on the trail. Mr. Bartlett and Woody insisted Faith needed a mount or a buggy, pointing out she couldn’t very well walk all the way to Bountiful. Since no one had a buggy, they walked down to the place that had once been her home, where the general store’s serviceable wagon would have to do the job. She could have ridden one of the horses, but Mr. Bartlett had insisted the lead mule was the right one for Faith to use. She’d been relieved, since Maisie was such a bright, gentle creature, and her companionship gave her comfort.
The two loggers had also insisted the other two mules should stay at the camp with Woody and Matt in charge of their care.
“That’s purely foolish,” Theo argued. “It don’t take two men to watch two mules. I tell you, we need to take ’em with us. I’m gonna be needing them soon enough.”
“Then you can come fetch them soon enough, cain’t you?” Woody had argued, his voice a low growl. “See to setting Mrs. Nolan up in a proper home in town first off, and then you can come back to the mules. I’ll take good care of them for her, seeing as how she loves them so much and they love her right back.”
Theo’s jaw jutted out. “Won’t matter how much she loves them mules after she’s in jail, will it?”
“Trial first,” Woody countered, eyes narrowed. “Right and proper, and with a judge and a jury and all, you hear? Once they declare she’s the one what killed your brother and started up that fire, if they’re all struck stupid and mad and can’t see what’s in front of their own eyes, then you can go ahead and jaw all you want about jail.”
Once they’d reached the general store and hitched Maisie to the wagon, Faith fell back to let Maisie set her own slower pace. The whole length of the trip, Faith dreaded their arrival in Bountiful, and she prayed silently for the Father to go before her, to prepare the hearts of the reverend and his wife, and those of the rest of the good folks in the town. She accepted the truth. She needed a place to go, now even more than she had three years ago. She’d been offered a number of different options, but pride and stubbornness had led her to refuse them all in favor of marriage to Roger.
Now, the thought of winding up in the jail if the Altons refused, surrounded by brawlers, drunkards, bank robbers, or worse—true killers—chilled her. She shuddered every time she thought of the iron bars over the windows of the small, squat building at the far eastern end of Bountiful’s Main Street.
“Don’t fret,” Mr. Bartlett said in a soft voice.
Faith swiveled her head. She hadn’t noticed him drop back to her side. Maisie continued her easy, rolling pace.
“This has all been so odd—oh, no. No, no. Odd is such a poor word, but I’m afraid I don’t know a better one—strange, maybe, or perhaps peculiar would do better. You must believe me, though. I’ve never hurt another soul. I could never do such a dreadful, sinful thing as…as…” She couldn’t even say it. “You should have seen Roger on the floor, blood all around him…”
“Hush. Don’t think about that now. Let’s pray the Altons are willing to take you in. I could almost assure you, even without talking to them, that’ll be the case. I’ve never known anyone kinder.”
Faith glanced sideways, met the logger’s gaze in the faint light of dusk. “I wish I could believe that as easily as you. I—they offered to take me in back when my parents were killed, but I said no. I didn’t want to impose. Then Roger offered marriage, and I accepted his proposal. I’m afraid they might feel slighted or worse, offended.”
“Doubt it. Besides, that’s all in the past now. Look to the future. You need to put all this Nolan nonsense where it belongs, in your past.”
She gave a humorless chuckle. “Wish it were nothing more than nonsense. But I’m the one who married Roger, who fed both of the brothers, who worked day after day in the general store and the cabin and…and…well, everything. None of that was nonsense, Mr. Bartlett.”
“Please, ma’am. Call me Nathan. I’m not used to being called by my last name.”
“Then you must call me Faith.” She sighed. “I would like to never be called Mrs. Nolan again, but I suppose that’s not possible.”
“That will change once you marry again.”
“Never!” She grimaced. “I’ll never do that to myself again.”
“I’m so sorry. But, Faith, you’re a young and love—er…well, yes. You’re a young woman still. I’m sure you want a family of your own?”
Tears stung her eyes, and a pang struck her deep in her heart. “It was my fondest wish, once. I’m afraid after these years of marriage, I’m not sure children are worth all the rest that comes with it.”
“The Good Book says children are a gift from God. He’s a good, merciful Father, you know. I doubt He ever left you alone all that time, nor will He fail you again.”
It took a great deal of effort to get a breath down past the lump in her throat. “For a while after Roger and I married, I was furious at God. I couldn’t understand how He could have let that happen to me.” She met Nathan’s gaze full on. “My parents had been murdered. Savages had taken their lives. How could God leave me at the mercy of another sav—”
Oh, dear. Had she really said that? She’d never told anyone, not outright. Would he be as disgusted by her weakness as she was? Would he back off and take his support away?
She didn’t know if she could bear that. As alone as she’d always felt, his acts of kindness over the past few days had become shining treasures to her. A sideways glance revealed no disgust on his face.
As long as she’d gone this far…
She squared her shoulders. “I did ask God how He could have left me at the mercy of Roger. But I never got a full answer, and with time my anger burned out. After a while, I remembered Jesus’ words to His disciples. He said He wouldn’t leave them alone, that He would send a Comforter to them. I came to know that Comforter mighty well. He was always there, giving me the strength to go on.”
A tear rolled out of each eye. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. She had no idea how she could talk so freely to this man, practically a stranger, but she felt his genuine interest in a lonely spot in her heart. As hard as it had become for her to trust, something told her she could trust him with these sad things, with her life.
She prayed the Lord wouldn’t let it come to that.
After a brief spell of quiet, while behind them the red sun continued to creep closer to the darkening, purple horizon, Nathan spoke again. “We’re almost there. I suppose you’re afraid, and it’s struck me I never even considered your feelings or opinion when I insisted on this solution.”
“What other choice did I have?” Faith shifted in her seat. Her body ached with the unaccustomed effort of driving the general store’s wagon for such a long time.
He shook his head, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Theo is one stubborn—”
“Mule.” She smiled. “That is one trait the brothers share with the animals. It’s endearing in the real mules, but it became most infuriating in those two, almost as soon as I moved into the cabin.”
The logger laughed.
Faith felt surrounded by the goodwill and understanding in that spurt of good humor. She stole a glance at Mr. Bartlett and noticed again, in a different way, a more real way, what a truly fine-looking man he was. She’d always been aware of his great height. She’d always been tall herself, which had always set her apart from other girls as far back as when she’d been in school, and even from the ladies the few times she’d gone to church since she’d married. Now, thoug
h, she noticed the line of his jaw, the angle of his cheekbone, the arch of his brow line. When he turned to face her, she blinked.
Goodness! Those features melded together to form a most attractive face. And his smile warmed a spot in her heart that had grown icy-cold since the day she wed Roger Nolan. Since the night he first brutalized her.
When she realized she’d been staring, a rapid rush of heat filled her cheeks. She turned to face east and gulped in a sharp breath. The first buildings of the town were now close. She would soon face the folks who’d pitied her once before. That possibility—probability, perhaps—didn’t sit well with her. Would they condemn her now? Would they believe Theo over her?
What about the Altons? Would they take her in?
Would they take pity on her again?
Chapter 9
As the sky turned a deep, deep navy blue on its way to a nighttime black, their small group rode right up to the church. The modest but adequate parsonage sat beside it, a bit farther back from the road than the white, steeple-topped building with lights burning bright in the windows. As they approached the hitching rail on the western side of the church, the front door opened and two women stepped out onto the stoop, clearly limned against the lamplight within. Their animated chatter rang out over the otherwise vacant street.
Faith’s stomach clenched.
Please, Lord.
She slipped out of the wagon, aided by Nathan’s hand at her elbow. Although he let her go as soon as her feet touched the ground, he stayed by her side when she paused to pat Maisie’s warm, exertion-dampened neck. When she couldn’t reasonably postpone the inevitable any further, he walked with her to the front of the pastor’s house. They joined the marshal and, of course, Theo, who’d turned the corner of the building moments before she and Nathan did.
Some small, hidden part of her had conjured up the pleasant fantasy that her brother-in-law might somehow have changed his mind during the ride to town. But, no. He hadn’t.
“Still cain’t see why you hafta put her up in some swanky house,” he groused. “There’s a perfectly good jail here in Bountiful.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Nathan asked.
Faith gaped. She couldn’t believe he’d actually said that. She wished she had that kind of courage, that daring. She couldn’t see herself ever saying something like that. Even though it was true. Many times Theo had failed to come home for the weekend, as he was expected. When he did show up, he would complain about the time he’d spent in one of Marshal Blair’s cells.
Her admiration for the lumberman grew even more.
A few steps away from the front stoop, Faith recognized the lady in the dark green wool cape with the pastor’s wife. It was Olivia Moore—well, Whitman, now. She’d married the owner of the Bank of Bountiful a number of months ago. Faith had always liked Olivia, not that she’d known her well. Their two families had lived outside of town on their farms, and aside from meeting first at school, and then occasionally at church over the years, their paths rarely had crossed.
“My goodness!” Mrs. Alton cried. “What do we have here? Jeremiah! Please come to the door. There’s a passel of folks come by right this minute, just as dear Olivia was on her way out.”
The plump lady bustled down the front steps, while Olivia stayed at the top of the stoop. “Mrs. Nolan?” the pastor’s wife continued. “You’re part of this peculiar party, too? Oh, dear, dear me. What’s happened? Are you unwell?”
Faith met Mrs. Alton’s gaze. “I’m as well as can be expected, under the circumstances.”
“Under the circumstances?” Reverend Alton said in his resonant voice, as he came from the depths of the house. “What is going on, gentlemen? And you, too, Mrs. Nolan. Is there a problem—”
Theo snorted. “She done kilt—”
“Well, Reverend,” the marshal said in a voice that drowned out Theo’s. “There’s been a fire up to the Nolan Brothers’ General store. ’Fraid the place is gone, and somehow Roger’s wound up dead. Couldn’t get a good sense as to how he’d met his Maker, seeing as how everything was more ashes and embers than much else.”
“Oh, heavens!” Mrs. Alton wrung her hands as she hurried to Faith’s side. “What’s wrong with me? Please, please do come in.” She slipped a comforting arm around Faith’s waist, and tsk-tsked as she helped her up the front steps and inside. “Here I am, babbling away like some spring-fed brook after a May shower, while you stand out here in this cold. Are you warm enough? Can I get you a cup of coffee? Or perhaps tea?”
Faith couldn’t eke out a response. She stood frozen in place, and not because of the weather outside. All she could take in was the impression of a lovely room with green curtains, a number of polished tables beside various upholstered pieces, bright kerosene lamps, a soft rug underfoot, and a crackling fire in the hearth. Bric-a-brac had been sprinkled over every flat surface, and a couple of books lay on a side table, an open leather-covered Bible on top.
This reminded her of what she’d dreamed of someday having. Instead, she’d wound up in Roger’s rough cabin, where only the most functional items found a home.
“Here.” Mrs. Alton indicated the tan velvet wing chair next to the fireplace. “This armchair is the nicest, plumpest one we have here in the parsonage, and it’s in the warmest spot, too. Please, sit, dear child. Let me fetch you that cup of something. Will you have coffee or tea?”
Arms crossed, the reverend watched his wife, a tender smile on his face. Once she’d sputtered silent, he stepped toward the lawman. “How can I help you, Marshal? Do you want to arrange for Roger’s burial? Will there be a service? How many days ago did it happen?”
Faith dropped into the chair, dizzy, queasy, her knees as firm as calf’s-foot jelly.
“Coffee or tea?” the reverend’s wife asked again.
“Coffee,” Faith answered in a shaky voice. A tremor shook her. “P—please.”
As Mrs. Alton hurried toward the parlor door, Faith felt a soft hand on her arm. “I’m so, so sorry,” Olivia Whitman said. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, but you have my sympathy. Is there anything my husband or I can do to help?”
The unexpected kindness brought tears to Faith’s eyes once again. “I can’t think of a single thing.”
“If you do, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be praying for you.”
Faith nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate your offer more than you can know.”
“…then it’s settled,” Nathan said, relief evident in his voice. “Thank you, Reverend. Your help in this matter is a godsend.”
At Faith’s side, Olivia turned to look at the logger. “Hello, Nate. I hadn’t noticed you.”
The tall lumberman smiled. “You’re doing something far more important than greeting me. Besides, you and Eli see me often enough these days. I have yet to turn down an invitation to the Whitman dining table since the two of you wed.”
Faith glanced at the banker’s wife to see her cheeks tint a pretty rose shade. “I’ll tell Cooky you said that. She’s begun to enjoy her work more since she’s heard nice things from the children. Besides, she has a soft spot for you.”
Now Nathan was the one who blushed. “I wouldn’t know.” He ran a hand through his golden-streaked brown hair, while with the other he tapped his hat against his thigh. “How are the children?”
Olivia’s face came alive when she smiled. “As challenging as ever. Well, perhaps not so much now as when they were running wild. But they do keep me busy all day.”
Mrs. Alton returned with a steaming cup in her hand. “All they needed was a loving mama, and you’re that plus plenty more, my dear.” She placed the coffee on the table to Faith’s right. “Drink up, Faith. You look near to frozen, and half scared to bits. There’s nothing to frighten you here, where I’m going to insist you stay, now that you don’t have a home. I have a perfectly good, empty bedroom upstairs. No need at all for you to fret about where you’ll go. I’d be right pleased for you to stay with us as
long as you want.”
The offer left her nearly breathless. Mrs. Alton was echoing what she’d heard Nathan agree to with the reverend. But the lady hadn’t been in the room to overhear any of what she knew he must have told her husband. She’d offered Faith a room without a qualm.
Faith didn’t think it fair to keep her hostess in the dark. “I must tell you why we’re here before I accept. It’s only right for you to know everything.”
“Everything, dear? What do you mean?”
Faith glanced at Nathan, who smiled and nodded encouragement. “We don’t know quite how Roger died. We…he and I, that is, were having a disagreement, and I fell.”
Mrs. Alton gasped. “Are you hurt?”
“Not really.” She went on to describe the events that had led to their arrival at the parsonage.
A time or two, Olivia gasped and Mrs. Alton wiped away a tear.
To Faith’s amazement, after she’d told them about Theo’s insistence on having her charged with the fire and Roger’s death, even after she said she’d likely be tried, neither woman looked disgusted. If anything, they’d come closer to her, and now stood tall as a pair of pillars at either side of her chair.
“Now that you know all the details, you don’t have to let me stay. I know it’s quite an imposition under the circumstances. I can go with the marshal.”
At Faith’s left, Olivia dropped down to her knees, her cloak pooling on the gold, cream, and black rug underfoot. “Tell me one thing, and not because I need to know, but because you need to say it. Did you do it? Did you harm your husband? Did you set the general store on fire?”
“Of course not.” Faith glanced at Theo, who began to stammer. “At least, not that I know. As I said, I fell and lost consciousness. I can’t be sure what happened during that time. I can assure you, though, that Roger was alive and well when I fell, and the general store as fine as always. There was no fire.”
