by Ginny Aiken
The road.
Since it would seem she could only think right then, Faith tried to sort out the impressions she had, to pair them with what vague memory floated into her mind. The last thing she remembered was the blow to her back, right after Mrs. Alton had tripped.
Oh, no! Had that dear lady been hurt when she tripped in the road? As for herself, what had struck her in the middle of her back? Pain radiated from the point of impact to all other parts of her being.
She moaned again, but the sound came out muffled at best. She had to stand, couldn’t remain sprawled out on the dusty surface of Main Street. She had to make sure Mrs. Alton wasn’t hurt.
Calling on all her strength, Faith placed her head cheek down, and then rolled her opposite shoulder back toward that side. Another moan ripped from her dirt-clogged throat. Even so, her lower body followed her head and chest.
On her back, she lay still, as surge after surge of pain wracked her body and her head, weak gasps past her gritty throat the only things between her and asphyxiation. As if from a great distance, she heard the murmur of what she assumed were voices. But whose voices?
She strained against her reluctant eyelids again, but her head swam at the effort. Dizziness took hold, and the black curtain behind her eyelids glowed a pulsing red again. Clearly, she was in no condition to move, not even to look around. The only way to conquer the pain in her head and stave off the queasiness was to remain as still as possible.
Moments later, she caught the murmur of voices again, this time closer, maybe. Perhaps louder.
“…She movin’ a’tall?” a man said.
“I can see she’s breathing,” a woman answered.
As she strove to corral her thoughts if not her actions, she entertained a fleeting thought. Perhaps she was on the verge of dying and the pain would end any moment now. Were the voices she’d heard those of angels greeting her in Paradise? She’d always understood from years of reading Scripture there wouldn’t be any pain in heaven.
“What’re ya thinking happened to her, Thelma? She don’t stink of spirits none,” the man said.
Outrage gave Faith a rush of determination. Who was this…this angel?
Through lids still parted a fraction, she counted a number of faces…two…three? They seemed to float at a short distance above her.
“Would you stop all that staring at her, Elmer Myers? Help us get her somewhere more comfortable. Or is looking at a pretty lady all you’re good for? I woulda thought you’d gotten past that, you being so long in the tooth. Does she have to suffer your silliness, too, after nearly getting trampled to death?”
“What about Mrs. Miriam?” the man—Elmer—shot right back.
“Miriam’s fine.” The woman’s voice had grown peevish. “Doc Chambers is with her, and I’m sure someone’s fetching the reverend.”
Hurried footsteps approached. “How’s her breathing?” the newcomer asked.
“Ah…Doc Chambers,” the woman said, relief in her words. “It’s awful good to see you. Don’t it beat all? This poor girl’s been hit by a crazed horse. I saw it myself. Right out our front window. See, Elmer? I told you I was right about putting that expensive glass in the shop. I saw all what happened out here today.”
Doc Chambers. Faith knew the name. He was Bountiful’s physician.
She hadn’t died after all.
And the strange voices weren’t angels, either. They were folks from town, even though she knew she’d never met an Elmer Myers.
“Did that horse hit Miriam Alton as well, Mrs. Myers?” The doctor’s voice betrayed his concern.
“Aw…call me Thelma, please. We’re fixing to be neighbors, now that Elmer and I are settled into our tidy little butcher shop.”
“I’ll call you Thelma, then. Did you see the horse strike Miriam or did it spare her?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t see any such thing. I looked out the window when I heard a cry. I can tell you Miriam tripped and stumbled and tried to right herself. But this girl? Poor thing, she fell on her face.” Thelma paused. “It did all happen so fast…I reckon it could have happened that way, that both of them got hit by that great wild beast.”
“Then again, maybe not,” the doctor said. “Look at her. Miriam’s faring better’n Mrs. Nolan.”
Something cool touched Faith’s forehead…her neck…her wrist.
“Can I help?” another man said.
Faith recognized that voice—Nathan Bartlett. She was most certainly alive. And rousing, though all she could remember was heading down Main Street with Mrs. Alton toward Metcalf’s Mercantile.
She knew she shouldn’t have tried to go to the society’s meeting.
Mustering her determination again, Faith managed to crack one eye open, wider still. As muted as the light of early dusk was, it nonetheless made her wince, which in turn intensified the urge to gag. She fought the pain and the nausea, as she kept her eye open a broader slice. Above her, she could now make out the features of a handful of concerned faces.
“D’ya see that, Doc?” Elmer asked. “That’s one right pretty green eye she’s got there, ain’t it? Since I can see it, it must mean she’s waking up again.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Elmer!” Mrs. Meyers said. “Why don’t you get back to the store? I’m sure you can find a haunch of meat to cut for one of our customers, or a…a…kidney to cut up for some suet. There must be something you need to do.”
“Anything to get away from your vinegar—er…honeyed words, dear.”
Faith couldn’t stop the smile. And while the pain in her head continued unabated, the queasy feeling didn’t strike as strong. She pried open her other eye.
“Wha—what happened?” she whispered. The words grated in her throat, sounded rough even to her.
Nathan knelt down beside her. “A horse got loose. He must have hit you and Mrs. Alton. You fell, and now have a bump on your forehead. But neither you nor Mrs. Alton is seriously hurt, right Doc?”
“Well, Miriam’s got herself a twisted ankle and a pair of scraped hands, and it would seem Mrs. Nolan here has herself one nasty concussion. She needs to be watched, but unless something unexpected comes up, I’d say she’ll be right as red hot pepper and twice as sassy, if I recollect her late mama right, in a couple days or so.”
“Then I’ll see to getting her back to the Altons’ home.” Nathan glanced up the street. “It looks like the marshal and the reverend are already helping Mrs. Alton there.”
With impressive ease and smooth motion, Nathan gathered Faith in his arms. He murmured, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to jostle you. You can’t stay in the street.”
Fireworks exploded before her slightly open eyes. The out-of-control blacksmith resumed his clanging inside her head, which felt as though it was about to burst into pieces. She reached up and clasped it, one hand on either side. But that left her supported only by Nathan’s arms, a somewhat precarious and wholly mortifying position in which to find herself. On the other hand, it was one that was becoming almost a habit.
“Oooh!” The off-balance sensation won out. In a reflexive gesture, she reached out and gripped the broad shoulders mere inches from her rapidly closing eyes.
“You’re safe.” His arms secured her more closely against his chest. “And we’ll be at the Alton home in a moment.”
Safe…
Not if a mere walk down the street could nearly get her killed.
Certainly not when someone could come into her home, kill her husband, and try to burn her, as well.
How could she ever be “safe?”
What had made the horse bolt?
That question buzzed without mercy in Nathan’s head. And what fool left a horse that poorly hitched on Main Street?
What if instead of tripping two grown women the horse had trampled a child? The thought didn’t bear entertaining. He’d have to make sure Marshal Blair got answers to his questions.
The way things had played out was bad enough. Mrs. Alton’s injuries w
ere minor, but Faith had been laid out cold in the middle of the road. She could have been killed. A hoof to any adult’s head would be as devastating as to a child’s.
After he helped Faith onto the sofa in the parsonage’s parlor, he went straight to the jail. The squat building looked the part. It was an unadorned box, a row of windows across each side, each covered with iron bars. Wholly unpleasant, and nowhere anyone of sound mind would want to stay.
He grimaced at the thought of Faith caged in that place.
Inside, the door to the marshal’s office was open. Since the situation was too serious to waste time on niceties that led nowhere, Nathan went straight to Adam Blair’s desk, and dispensed with any useless greeting.
“What have you learned about the horse? Whose is it? Who is the fool too careless to make sure he’d secured his horse? There must be something you can do to keep it from happening again.”
Marshal Blair raised an eyebrow. “I’ll grant you that accident was frightening, and it’s too bad Mrs. Nolan was hurt so bad, but I don’t see what a body can do to keep a horse from running off.”
Nathan felt his grip on his patience slip. He crossed his arms to keep himself from making fists. “You know we have more than enough hitching posts and rails and who knows what else for a man to tie down his horse anywhere up and down Main Street. You know it was all the fault of the horse’s careless owner.”
“Did anyone see the horse? Does anyone know whose it is?” the marshal asked. “I mean, d’you know if the new butcher and his wife saw anything that would help? I know Thelma made sure I knew she’d seen it strike Mrs. Nolan.”
Nathan shrugged. “I would ask them every question you can think of. From what I can tell, the missus is mighty keen on the goings-on outside their shop. She might be the kind that sells a pound of gossip with a Sunday roast.”
“Oh, we already know her pretty well in town. She’s a busybody, all right, but she means well. And she is awful new to town. I figger she’s lonely, and trying to learn as much as she can about the place where she’s come to live. Keeping an eye on what happens on Main Street would give her something to chat about with the other women around these parts.”
“I suppose you have a point.” Nathan’s anger had begun to burn away under the influence of the marshal’s calm manner. Now, it seemed to fizzle out completely. “Do you know where the two women were going? I think I heard something about quilting.”
“Not exactly. The Ladies’ Bible Society was about to have themselves a dressmaking bee. Looks like they want to help Mrs. Nolan.”
“That’s neighborly. Fai—er…Mrs. Nolan lost all she owned in the fire. She has nothing but the clothes she’s wearing.”
The marshal smiled. “Even if they’re busybodies like Thelma Myers, the women from the Bible Society are good folks, too.”
In spite of the anxiety he’d felt since the moment he’d heard Faith had been hurt, Nathan smiled. “I agree.”
The men fell silent. After a handful of minutes had gone by, the marshal spoke. “Are you staying in town again?”
Nathan shrugged. “It’s too late to head back out to the camp today.”
“At the hotel?”
“No. Eli and Olivia insist I stay with them. Have to admit, as decent as Folsom keeps his hotel, Olivia does run a fine home. Their extra room is clean and comfortable, and Cooky does make tasty meals. I’m not likely to pass up either luxury.”
The lawman laughed. “Can’t say as I blame you. I’d do the same if it were me.”
Nathan headed toward the door, hat in hand. “You will speak with Mrs. Myers, right?”
“Sure. I’ll see what else she has to say. Who knows? She might have seen the horse’s owner walk away from the animal. That would help us identify him, and then he and I would have us one fine chat.”
“On the matter that he can’t endanger the citizens of your fine town again.”
“Something very much like that.”
Nathan had to be satisfied with that. “I’d best let you get back to what you were doing.”
“I was fixing to head home. But first, I reckon I’ll stop by the dining room at the hotel. Can’t quite make myself eat my own cooking every day. Cookery isn’t my strongest suit.”
“You’re saying you’re better with a gun than a skillet in your hand?”
The lawman arched a brow. “I’d rather keep it in its holster.”
“Fair enough.” Nathan clapped his hat on his head. “I’ll stop by here before I leave town, see what you’ve found out.”
Adam Blair nodded, but Nathan could tell he’d turned his attention back to the papers on his desk. He walked out, closing the jailhouse door behind him. A final glance over his shoulder made him shake his head. To think Theo Nolan wanted to lock Faith up in that place.
Not that he meant the marshal any disrespect, but it was no place for a lady.
And Faith Nolan was a lady. No matter what Theo had to say.
Nathan doubted he’d ever forget how it had felt to shelter her in his arms. She’d trusted him. He hoped he always proved himself worthy of her trust.
It took three days for Faith to no longer feel the discomfort of the concussion or the sharp pains from the blows she received on her back and her forehead. Olivia had visited every day, and she’d taken it upon herself to arrange a new time for the dressmaking bee.
The members of the Bible Society were expected to arrive at the church by mid Saturday morning, where they would proceed to measure in the entry foyer, cut down the center aisle, and pin while comfortably seated on each individual seamstress’s preferred pew. All were to come together on the first two pews to apply their needles to Faith’s three new dresses-to-be to sew the patterns’ pieces together.
The nervousness she’d experienced the first time they’d tried to have the gathering returned. How would these women respond to her? She’d been involved in scandal after scandal over the last couple of weeks.
Faith was ready to end her time as Bountiful’s entertainment.
When they arrived, the women surprised her. Either they hadn’t heard Theo’s accusations, which she didn’t think was the case since he’d made no secret of them, or Mrs. Alton and Olivia were held in great regard, and their sponsorship counted an equally great deal. Whatever the reason, they welcomed her, and in no time, everyone was busy with their part of the dressmaking venture.
Olivia introduced Faith to a striking redhead, whom she identified as her dearest friend. Addie Tucker, the wife of the town’s livery owner, sat next to her, and asked every question imaginable.
After a bit, Olivia marched up to their side and waggled a finger at her friend. “For goodness’ sake, Addie Tucker, if your needle moved as fast as your tongue, you already would be done with Faith’s first dress.”
Addie laughed. “I’m just making the best of my time. Now that I’ve a little one running into trouble at all times, I’ve learned to not waste a single moment. And I’m quite impressed with how Faith managed to run that general store on the mountain.”
“Well,” Faith said, “it’s at the foot of the mountain. Our customers wouldn’t care to have to climb too high to do their shopping.”
“Who are—were—the customers?”
“There are sheep farms along the rest of the foothills, and those farmers come to us for supplies. Also, the handful of soldiers at the post a few miles south of us come in when their military shipments are delayed. Back when I first married Roger, we even had a handful of Indians come by a few times for blankets and some other items. Now that most of them have been moved to reservation lands in Idaho, I haven’t seen any for a while. Our main customer is Nath—Mr. Bartlett and his logging camp.”
While Faith had tried to catch her slip of the tongue, the looks Addie and Olivia exchanged told her she hadn’t succeeded. The two friends displayed admirable discretion when they didn’t say a word.
Mrs. Hadley, Addie’s mother, walked into the sanctuary doorway and clapped h
er hands. “Ladies, Olivia’s outstanding cook has sent us an assortment of delicacies for refreshment. I’m sure we can all stop our work for a bit, and enjoy our luncheon.”
Eight women around a laden library-type table made for a great deal of chatter. Laughter abounded, and the excellent food satisfied their appetites. But a short while later, even the happy hubbub couldn’t mask the stomping up the front steps.
Mrs. Alton, still somewhat unsteady on her twisted ankle, wobbled toward the door. “May I help—”
“I come after that woman what kilt my brother,” Theo said. “It’s been days and days, and that there marshal ain’t done one blamed thing about her. She owes me plenty for burning down my store, too.”
Faith’s breath caught in her throat. The floor beneath her feet seemed to tilt, and she felt as though the dizziness from the day of the accident had returned. All from hearing that hateful voice.
She shot glances ’round all corners of the sanctuary, the urge to run and hide more powerful than she would have expected. Where could she go? And was running the solution?
No. It wasn’t.
She’d decided to choose courage over cowardice. She had done nothing to run from. Faith squared her shoulders, held her head high, and walked into the foyer entry of the church as though she were in her Sunday best. Anna Alton Carlisle’s calico dress would, of course, have to do, and the ugly bruise on her forehead didn’t help her confidence one bit.
Stripped of all external trappings, Faith relied on God.
She waved toward Mrs. Alton. “Why have you come to bother these folks, Theo? You know the marshal said he would take care of looking into the matter of Roger’s death—”
“Don’t you go forgetting the fire.” His jaw pushed out. He thumbed his worn hat off his forehead. “It’s cost me plenty, losing all. I ain’t even got a place to sleep. Can’t sleep in the barn.”
It couldn’t have cost him anything, since she was certain he hadn’t tried to replace the cabin much less the stock at the store yet. And that barn had been good enough for her plenty of nights. But experience had taught her not to bait her brother-in-law. “Yes, the fire as well. Have you been to the jail to speak with him?”
