by Ann Shorey
Faith released Mr. Grisbee’s arm and planted her hands on her hips. “Just a robbery attempt is all.” She didn’t care if he printed the story. Maybe it would spur Sheriff Cooper to try harder.
The editor whipped a notebook from his pocket and hustled toward them, whistling when he saw the damage. “Thought I heard something last night.” He pointed at the stairs that led to his living quarters above the Noble Springs Observer. “My bedroom’s behind that corner window up there.”
“Did you see anyone?” Faith’s voice rose to an excited pitch.
He shook his head. “I opened the window and looked out, but it’s black as coal down here once the sun sets. The noise stopped, though.”
Faith and Mr. Grisbee exchanged a knowing glance. “You’re the reason he didn’t break in,” Faith said. “Thank you.”
Mr. Simpkins slipped a pencil from behind his ear. “This’ll be in today’s paper. It’s early enough to make room on the front page.”
“As long as you’re writing the story, be sure to tell the whole thing. The mercantile’s been plagued with trouble for three months. I can’t get the sheriff to take me seriously.”
The editor’s eyes brightened. “Start at the beginning.”
Sheriff Cooper marched into the mercantile late Saturday afternoon. He waved the Noble Springs Observer at Faith. “Did you tell Simpkins I’m not helping you solve the robberies?”
“Please wait a moment,” Faith said in her sweetest voice. “I’m assisting Mrs. Raines here with her purchase.” She unrolled a bolt of red calico, patterned with yellow flowers. Lifting the shears, she asked, “You said six yards, is that correct?”
Mrs. Raines nodded, then glared at the sheriff. “I think it’s disgraceful when a defenseless young woman has to turn to the community for help with her dilemma. What did we elect you for?”
His face outshone the red calico. He slapped the paper down next to Mrs. Raines and pointed to the second paragraph of the front-page story. “Citizens are asked to report any suspicious sightings to the editor of this paper,” he read in a voice tight with anger. “A vigilante committee will be formed to carry out justice in the absence of proper law enforcement.” He paused and drew several breaths. “Vigilante committee? You’re suggesting anarchy.”
Unperturbed, Faith folded Mrs. Raines’s fabric. “That will be thirty cents, please.”
She waited while the woman tucked her purchase into a carryall and left the store, then raised her eyes to meet the sheriff’s infuriated gaze. “Mr. Simpkins added the part about vigilantes. I pray things won’t come to that point.” She replaced the bolt of fabric on a shelf, aware of the sheriff steaming behind her like a kettle on the boil. “By the way, I noticed you riding out of town early this morning. Were you by any chance verifying Miss Haddon’s discovery?”
He snatched the newspaper from the countertop. “No. But rest assured, I will. Soon.”
The bell over the door jangled for several extra seconds when he slammed out of the mercantile.
“Whoo-ee,” Mr. Grisbee called from the entrance to the storeroom. “Simpkins sure lit a fire in Cooper’s tail feathers.”
Faith snickered at the image. “It needed to be done.” Then she sobered. “I do think Mr. Simpkins shouldn’t have mentioned using vigilantes, though. There’s been enough trouble in these hills without starting more.”
“Likely you’ll be gone before things come to such a pass.” Mr. Grisbee dropped the curtain. She heard him throw the bolt locking the rear entrance.
By leaving, she was locking herself away from Noble Springs’s future. The thought left her feeling bereft.
On Sunday, Royal guided the buggy under a canopy of white oaks overlooking Pioneer Lake. He jumped out to assist Faith.
“You’ve haven’t said two words since we left your house. I’m glad I’m not marrying a chatterbox.” He chuckled and took her hand. “Shall we stroll to the water’s edge?”
She gazed up at her fiancé’s handsome face. He’d removed his hat, and his black hair shone with spice-scented oil.
When he caught her eye, he smiled and squeezed her hand. “Ten more days. Before you know it, we’ll be leaving this stodgy town for Oregon. That is, once your grandpappy gets those papers signed.” He cleared his throat. “Gil Allen was asking me about them yesterday. If you wait too long, he may change his mind. There’s other properties available, you know.”
Faith removed her hand from his. “I’ve told you before. I have no control over when my grandfather decides to sign. You know how hard this is for him.” And for me. She blinked with surprise when the unbidden thought crossed her mind.
Royal led her to a fallen log and brushed leaves from the bark, then patted the cleared space. “Let’s sit and watch the ducks.” Near the edge of the lake, orange-billed waterfowl paddled in small groups. A light breeze blew from the water.
She untied her bonnet to capture the cooler air, fanning herself and sinking gratefully onto the curved surface of the log. “It’s pleasant here.”
“This is nothing compared to the lakes we’ll see in the west. I’m told some of them are miles wide.”
“So I understand.”
He moved closer to her side, slipping an arm around her waist. “I figure this Tuesday wouldn’t be too soon to start moving our supplies to Hartfield. Our wagon’s waiting. I’ll come for the first load when you close the store.”
“Tuesday,” she repeated in a faint voice.
“I have other plans for Monday,” he said, apparently misinterpreting her hesitation. “The fellow who built the wagon is getting a mite testy at having to wait for his money.”
Faith lifted her eyebrows. “You said you’d paid him.” Did he expect her grandfather to supply the means for the entire journey?
“He wouldn’t start work without cash up front.” Royal dropped a kiss on her head. “I told him we’d have the rest sometime in August.”
She slid away, leaving a gap between them. “You presumed on my grandfather’s funds? Is that why you want to marry me?” Her throat constricted. Did his choice of her over other available girls depend on who had the most money? She blinked back tears at her foolish vanity.
“Not at all.” Royal stood and drew her to her feet. Once she was standing, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. His warm breath sent tingles through her body. “I want to marry you for you.” She felt his lips shape the words on her skin. “I can’t imagine life in Oregon with anyone else.” His mouth sought hers.
For a moment, she relaxed in his arms. Royal Baxter wanted her. His lips were proof of his love, even if he didn’t say as much. But when his arms tightened, she pushed away, frightened by her body’s response. In truth, he was a cyclone, overwhelming everyone in his path.
Faith drew a shaky breath. “I’ll talk to Grandpa as soon as I return home.”
“That’s my sweetling.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
On the ride back to town, she sat with her hands clasped in her lap while her pulse returned to normal. In the clarity that followed Royal’s kisses, she knew she wouldn’t say a word to her grandfather about the sale. Then she’d see how much her fiancé’s assurances were worth.
Monday morning came with no word from the sheriff. Faith was kept busy talking with curious customers, all of whom wanted to know more details about the thefts than what had appeared in the Noble Springs Observer. Rosemary waited on the few people who had come in to make a purchase.
Sometime past noon, Mr. Wylie stomped in and, in a loud voice, volunteered to head up a vigilante committee if Sheriff Cooper failed to bring in the guilty party. Faith masked her surprise at seeing the man who had vowed never again to do business with Lindberg’s Mercantile.
“Please, no vigilantes,” she said.
“We’ll see about that. Anytime you need help, you holler, little lady. I can get a slew of fellas together in no time.” His fleshy jowls quivered. “Long as I’m here, I need a few tools fo
r my wagon shop. Where’d you put them things?”
“I’ve moved the hardware to a special section in the back. I’ll show you where it is.”
“No need. I see it now.” He clomped past the cookstoves and selected three hammers, a maul, and a splitting wedge, then scooped nails from a barrel into a cloth sack. After he dumped his purchases in front of her, he took a handful of coins from his pocket. “What do I owe you?”
She totaled his purchase and returned his change, feeling triumphant. One more customer had returned.
In the lull after Mr. Wylie left, Faith strolled to the window. Rosemary joined her, Bodie trailing in her steps.
“You should have Mr. Simpkins write an article about you every week. We’ve never been this busy on a Monday.”
“If the story prompts the sheriff to pay attention to what Cassie discovered, that’s all I ask. I’m eager to have the mercantile filled with goods and shoppers again.”
“Even though you won’t be here to see it?”
Faith closed her eyes for a moment. “I keep forgetting.”
“I’m praying for you.” Rosemary gave her a one-armed hug.
“I’m praying for myself,” Faith said. “I’m asking for open or closed—” She leaned forward, staring at the street. “Well, look at that.”
Sheriff Cooper rode past, a lead rope fastened to his saddle horn. Two horses were tied behind him. Each animal held a man with his hands bound together. As the procession clopped by, she hurried out the door to get a better view, wondering who’d been arrested, and why.
The bound men both wore dusty slouch hats low on their foreheads. In spite of their shaded faces, Faith felt a stirring of recognition. She’d seen them before, but where?
32
Once Faith locked the mercantile for the night, she hurried over to the jailhouse to ask about the men Sheriff Cooper had arrested. Were they the thieves? Their faces nagged at her. Somewhere there was a connection, but she couldn’t drag it out of her memory.
She clicked the latch on the heavy wooden door and stepped inside Sheriff Cooper’s office. His chair was empty. Perhaps he’d gone downstairs, where prisoners were held. She crossed the room to the barred door and called through one of the spaces between bars. “Sheriff? Are you down there?”
“Come and find out,” a raucous voice hollered. “Bring the key with you.”
Someone snickered. “We’ll tell him you was here.”
Faith jumped back and bolted from the building, the sound of their laughter following her across the threshold. Whatever they’d done, she was glad they were locked away.
As she neared the livery on her walk home, she kept her eyes forward. If she didn’t see Curt, she wouldn’t miss talking to him. She longed to tell him about the two men the sheriff arrested, but he’d made it clear their friendship was over.
Tears threatened. Buggies and men on horseback passed on the dusty street, but she paid little attention until a voice called, “Miss Faith.”
She swiveled to see Sheriff Cooper leaning over the saddle on his chestnut gelding. “I was on my way to call on you and the judge.” His voice held an edge. “If it’s not inconvenient, what with you organizing vigilante committees and all.”
“I told you, Mr. Simpkins was responsible for that paragraph.” They were steps away from the path to her porch. She gestured at the front door. “By all means, do come in.” Faith waited next to the hitching rail until he dismounted, then led the way into the parlor.
Using his cane, Grandpa raised himself to his feet. “What brings you here, Thaddeus?”
“I needed to talk to both of you—Miss Faith in particular.” Sheriff Cooper fingered the brim of his hat. He held a small, paper-wrapped parcel in one hand.
Faith felt a bubble of excitement. He had arrested the thieves.
“Sit down,” Grandpa said to him. He patted a copy of the Noble Springs Observer on the table next to his chair. “Been reading Aaron Simpkins’s opinions about you.”
“Less said about that, the better.” The sheriff sat on the edge of a chair facing the sofa, his long legs stretched in front of him. He balanced the parcel on one knee. “Miz Amy’s not here?”
“Yes, I am.” Amy stepped into the room, wiping her hands on an apron. Flour dusted the sleeves of her black dress. “What is it, Sheriff?”
“Brought you a couple of books. My mother liked to read novels, rest her soul. I was thinking, what with you here all day . . .” He gulped, then blurted, “You might want something to pass the time.” His face glowed crimson from his neck to his hairline.
Amy took the bundle and untied the string. “The Missing Bride and The Hills of Home,” she said, reading the titles. “Thank you. I like novels.”
“When you finish, I can bring you some more.”
Faith felt a pang at the warmth in his eyes when he looked at Amy. She’d never seen such an expression on Royal’s face.
Amy’s pink cheeks matched the flush on Sheriff Cooper’s. “I’ll send word when I’m ready.” She ducked from the room, clutching the books.
“Thought you wanted to talk to me and Faith,” Grandpa said. “If you want to call on Amy, just say so. You don’t have to dodge around.”
The sheriff rested his hands on his thighs. “Like I said, news for you and Miss Faith is what brought me here. But I figured as long as I was coming this way . . .”
“Please, Sheriff,” Faith said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you ever since I saw you bring those men into town this afternoon. Who are they?”
“You’re not going to like this. They’re friends of your intended.”
Faith rocked back on the sofa. That’s where she’d seen them. They were with Royal the first time he came to the mercantile. “Why did you arrest them?” She forced the words past the constriction building in her throat.
“Went out to that tent Bingham’s stepdaughter told me about. Sure enough, there was your firearms, like she said. Saw just about everything you named on your list, ’cept for the watches. Didn’t find a one.” The badge on his vest flashed in the late afternoon light. “Here’s where I got lucky. I’d left my horse hidden in some brush, so when I heard voices I ducked behind the tent. Didn’t have to listen long to know they was the ones who stole the goods. Sounds like they was behind everything that happened to you.”
Faith’s heartbeat threatened to choke her. “Did you . . . arrest Royal too?”
He shook his head. “They swear he had nothing to do with it. Seems they figured they’d be doing him a favor if they could scare you into selling your store. Then they’d follow him to Oregon. Least that’s their claim.”
“So Royal’s innocent.”
Grandpa huffed out a breath but didn’t say anything.
“Appears so,” Sheriff Cooper said. He tugged at a corner of his moustache. “I’ll take a wagon out there tomorrow and bring back your goods.”
Faith visualized the empty gun rack refilled and shiny boots restored to their places on a shelf. She smiled at him. “Thank you. I’m so grateful.”
“Be sure you tell that to Simpkins. I want to see another front-page story next week about how the thieves was brought to justice.”
After he left, she leaned against the door frame for a moment. Royal hadn’t said a word to her about his friends accompanying them on the journey west. What else was he hiding?
With slow steps, Faith reentered the parlor and sank down on the sofa. The sunshine that illuminated the sheriff’s badge now sent shards of light across the rug at her feet. When she raised her eyes, Grandpa was watching her.
Faith swallowed. “Your sister, Charlotte Anne. How did her story end?”
“You’ll have to discover that for yourself.” He stood, leaning on his cane, and left the room.
When Faith awoke the next morning, the first thing she saw was her wedding dress hanging from one of the open doors of her wardrobe. Brilliant jet buttons marched down the front of the gown from throat to hemline. Amy must have fi
nished the garment last night after Faith fell into an exhausted sleep.
She rolled over in bed and covered her head with the pillow. Humiliation seared through her body. How could she have been naïve enough to believe that Royal wanted her for herself? She’d seen how he looked at Marguerite.
Nelda Raines’s gossip returned to her ears. She claimed to have observed Royal in Hartfield with another woman. No doubt she was correct. If Faith married him, she’d be one of those unfortunate wives who looked the other way while their husbands made a mockery of their marriage vows.
I will not cry. She grabbed the pillow and flung it at the silken gown. The garment crumpled in a heap on the floor. Faith sprang from the bed and kicked at the lustrous fabric, stubbing her toe on a triangular-shaped wooden hanger.
Limping to the washbasin, she splashed cold water over her face. She’d asked the Lord to close the door if her plans weren’t part of his will. He’d slammed it in her face.
At breakfast, Grandpa looked as tired as she felt. “One more week,” he remarked in a dull voice. She studied the weary lines her stubborn determination had etched on his dear face. Tonight she’d have a surprise for him.
Amy placed a platter of scrambled eggs spooned over biscuits in the center of the table, then joined them for the meal, Sophia on her lap. While she fed the baby tiny bits of egg, she chattered about her day. Faith half listened, her mind on her own plans.
“ . . . and I’ll have time to start reading one of the novels.”
Faith cocked her head in Amy’s direction. “What did you say?”
“Dr. Greeley invited your grandfather to supper tonight. If Sophia doesn’t fuss, I’ll have time to read for a bit, unless you have something you want me to do.”
“Not a thing. Enjoy your book. I intend to be busy arranging the merchandise Sheriff Cooper promised to return.”
Color rose in Amy’s face. “He’s nice, isn’t he?”
“He likes you too.” Faith patted Amy’s shoulder, wondering how Curt would feel about having a rival.
