It was useless. She would not be sleeping tonight. Rising from her cozy bed, she donned slippers and robe and sat at the writing desk in her room. Lighting the glass lamp, she pulled out the center drawer and withdrew her sketchpad and pencils. And then she began to draw.
She shaded and molded the lead lines until an image began to form. After about an hour, the picture was complete. She had captured her window, the lace curtains fluttering in the night breeze framing the painted window. And through the window, a silver moon with the faintest hint of a face. A human face. Liam’s face.
The grandfather clock at the end of the hall struck the hour, two a.m. The chimes carried both comfort and anxiety. Comfort to know she no longer had to sleep with a pistol nearby and furniture pushed against the door to keep unwanted suitors away. Anxiety, because in a few hours, she would once again be face to face with a man who hated her because of what she represented to him—a people she had never known.
Faith put her sketchpad back in the drawer and padded on slippered feet to the wash basin. Splashing cool water on her face helped her refocus. But only a little bit.
Liam was never very far from her thoughts. She didn’t know when it had happened. She only knew that through the course of preparing for her trial, she had fallen hopelessly in love with the handsome attorney.
Pain stabbed deep in her chest. He would never see her for the person she was because the image of his murdered family would forever taint his opinion of her.
She blew out the lamp and forced herself back into bed, snuggling deep in the warmth of her goose down comforter. A far cry from the scratchy wool blanket that covered her straw mattress in Kansas City. She drifted off to sleep where thoughts of a blue-eyed Irishman morphed into sensual dreams and desires. Her body wanted things. She reached into the dreamy darkness and somewhere between enticing her imaginary lover and unfulfilled ecstasy, morning made its appearance, teasing her awake.
The faint glow of dawn peeked over the horizon. She might as well get an early start on the day. She washed and dressed, taking special care with her appearance. After all, she would be spending the day in close proximity with the man who haunted her dreams at night.
Sarah could probably use help in the kitchen now that she was cooking for five instead of only Hiram and Aggie.
Faith knew she would get through this day like every other day in her life. One foot in front of the other. And she would do her best to stay out of the way of Liam O’Brien.
6
Liam watched the early morning activity of Creede out his office window. Freight wagons rumbled up and down the dirt streets. He could see Mrs. Fletcher walking up the sidewalk on the other side of the street with her brood of half a dozen children, an egg basket draped over her arm and a happy smile on her face. He wondered what it would be like to be happy. Carefree. Content.
The thought irritated him. But what else was new. He rose from his leather chair, comforted by the familiar creaks. The smell of fresh coffee on the wood stove in the corner gave him comfort too. This was home now. The only one he’d known since—
He would give anything to wipe out the images of that day. How long had it been? Fifteen, sixteen years? Did it really matter?
The bell over the office’s front door jingled, signaling a client had arrived. He quickly flipped his legal pad open. He didn’t have any early morning clients scheduled. Puzzled who might have need of legal services this early in the day, he walked out into the main salon to greet his visitor.
Liam rounded the corner with a smile on his face and a ready handshake. But he stopped short. Faith No-Name. He hadn’t forgotten her sentence requirements to work in the law office; he just had no idea she would be up and about so early.
“What are you doing here?” He blurted the words out before he had a chance to rein them in. The woman’s face went from anxious to outright fear. It irked him. She had no reason to be afraid of him. It was the other way around. Wasn’t it?
The awkward silence permeated the well-appointed law office. He might as well get everything out in the open. After all, it was going to be a long year if he didn’t.
“Look, Miss No-Name, I can’t keep calling you that. The people of Creede—” He hesitated. Perhaps there was a kinder way to say what he needed to say. His timid visitor surprised him by providing the words.
“I understand, Mr. O’Brien. If it pleases you, you can call me whatever you wish. It doesn’t matter much to me.”
Her response angered him. “Well, it should matter. What people think of you, that is.”
She looked at him with those soulful eyes of hers. He could see her hurt mirrored in them. “Why?”
He had not been expecting that question. He supposed he should have. After all, what would an uncivilized Indian know about polite society?
“What people think of you is...important because...” For the life of him he couldn’t think of one reason. “It just is, that’s all.”
She nodded as if she understood, but he could tell by the look on her face she wasn’t really interested in what he was trying to get at. She bowed her head in that subservient way that made him want to punch something.
“As I said, Mr. O’Brien, you can call me whatever you wish and the good people of Creede will call me whatever they see fit. But if you think it will help everyone accept who I am, or rather what I am, then by all means, pick something.”
Liam was surprised by the string of words this woman had uttered. And it puzzled him. Through the months of preparation before her trial, she had been so demur and timid. She barely spoke above a whisper, as if she wanted to be invisible, a handkerchief always present to dab away the tears that were never far away.
He realized he had been standing motionless for longer than socially acceptable. But then again, this wasn’t a social situation. This was a court-mandated working relationship.
“Right. Well, I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if we settled on a last name for you. After all, you are a grown woman of legal age.”
During her trial, he and Hiram tried to find some record of Faith’s family and the date of her birth. The best they could come up with were the records from the orphanage’s patron, Reverend Baker. She was around twenty-six.
The caretaker of the orphanage Faith and her sisters grew up in had sent a box of items left with Faith when she was deposited at the orphanage.
There was nothing really of notable consequence in the box. A note asking the orphanage to take the unfortunate child in and an explanation her caretaker had fallen ill and died. He thought that an odd turn of phrase—caretaker. Not mother? He hadn’t had time to dwell on it during the trial. Perhaps now—
“If you must assign me a label so the people of Creede will be more accepting of a convicted murderer in their midst, and who just happens to be an Indian, then you choose what name I shall go by. As I said, it doesn’t matter to me. What you call me will never change what people see.”
Again with the words. Liam was surprised since that was more words at one speaking than she had said through most of her trial. Liam watched her remove her gloves but clutch her shawl tighter about her shoulders. It was then he noticed her trembling fingers. So, her bravery came at a cost. She’s scared to death. Of me?
At a loss how to continue this conversation, it occurred to him how early she was up and present.
“What are you doing here?” The fear on her face was evident. He tempered his rudeness with an addendum to his outburst. “I mean, so early. The sun is barely up. We don’t open until nine unless we have a special client appointment.”
“I had trouble sleeping so I thought I could get an early start. But I can come back if you would be more comfortable.”
Liam watched her trembling fingers fumble with her shawl. This is ridiculous.
“That won’t be necessary, Miss—. Look, how about if I call you by your first name for now. Will that be acceptable to you until we can figure something out?”
&nbs
p; Liam watched the woman stuff her gloves into her reticule hanging by the drawstring from her arm as she turned to him. “Of course, Mr. O’Brien. Whatever makes you—“
“I know, comfortable.” Liam was anything but comfortable as she waited. So she had trouble sleeping through her nightmares. That was one for the “something-in-common” column.
“Can I help you with your wrap?” Liam offered.
He watched her clutch it tighter about her shoulders if that was possible. “No, thank you. I’ll keep it on.”
“Okay. Well, I guess the first thing we need to do is get you set up with a place to work. Since Hiram…uh, Mr. Hanover and I have the only two private offices in the building and the main area is where we greet our clients, you will work from the library, between my office and Hiram’s. He and I both spend a lot of time at the large table researching through our tomes of law books. Come. I’ll show you.”
He turned and walked out of the main parlor, past his open office door, and into another room. He knew he was being rude. He had left her to follow instead of being a gentleman and escorting her, his hand on the crook of her arm. But this wasn’t a social situation. This was a working relationship so he didn’t feel he had to afford her any of the usual niceties expected between men and women. A twinge of guilt poked him in the chest. He brushed it aside.
He entered the library and lit the lamps to illuminate the space.
“This is a wonderful room. Look at these amazing books. The leather bindings. The smell is pure bliss. And the gold lettering. So beautiful.” Faith sighed.
Liam was caught off guard by her appreciation of her new work space. He looked around to make certain they were seeing the same thing. Was the woman delusional?
“Well, it is a little cramped but once we get you organized—”
“I love it! The smell of books. And oiled furniture. This is a marvelous place to spend my days. Thank you and Mr. Hanover so very much. I don’t deserve your generosity. Where shall I sit? I would like to get started.”
Her enthusiasm must have loosened her tongue even more. Good to know. And the woman liked books. Reading was his favorite pastime. He would love to know what books she had read—he shook his head. He would not discuss his love of books with this woman. Working. Relationship. Only. But another item for the common column. He changed the subject.
“Well, I thought I would move that desk in the corner over by that window.” He pointed toward a lone window at the back of the room. “It’s nice to have some natural light to read by, especially in the winter months when the sun goes down so early. Pouring over legal books can get a bit tedious at times.”
“Is that what I will be doing? Researching in those beautiful books?”
“I think that will be part of your duties. That is, if you are able to read on that level.”
The words were out of his mouth before he even knew they were coming. The hurt in Faith’s eyes made him want to apologize. He never got the chance.
“Yes, Mr. O’Brien. I have been reading since before I was deposited at the orphanage. I don’t know where or when I learned to read, but apparently, my parents were the exception to the rule. They were literate heathens.”
“I meant no harm, Miss—Faith.” He watched her shoulder sag in resignation.
“No one ever does, Mr. O’Brien. Besides, what does it matter if you did? I’m of no value to anyone. The only reason I’m here is because you were forced to put me to work. Why don’t we make it easy on the both of us and let’s get started. Shall we?”
Liam watched her unpin her hat and place it on the table. She walked over to the desk in the corner and began to tug it toward the window he had referred to earlier.
Moving to help her, she stopped him. “No, Mr. O’Brien. Contrary to everyone’s opinion of me, I’m not as helpless as I seem. Please. Don’t worry yourself another moment on my behalf. I’ll set my space to rights while you take care of your work. I’m here to help. Not to be a burden.”
Without another word, she tugged and pulled the desk into place. She quit the room and returned posthaste with a satchel. Unpacking the contents, she placed a vase on the desk, filling it with summer flowers. She took out what looked like a sketchpad and pencils and tucked them away in the center drawer of her desk. Efficient and quiet, she moved about the office with an easy grace.
“Well, how did those get there?”
He watched her pull a pair of scissors out of her satchel.
“What are those for?” He was standing in the middle of the room like a mindless imbecile. Why did he care what she brought to work? Pencils. Paper. Scissors. Perhaps she liked to make memory books or something.
“I use them for sewing. I must have put them in my satchel by mistake this morning.” She placed the scissors back inside the satchel and set it on the floor next to her desk.
He should get moving. He shook his head to clear his thinking. What did he care what this woman thought of her surroundings? Or him? As bad as the thought galled his conscience, he did. Traitor.
“When you are settled in, would you please come to my office? I’d like to discuss where your efforts should be directed this morning.” Gut churning, he turned and walked out of the library.
7
Faith had been terrified of her first day of work. As it turned out, it was shaping up to be one of the best days of her life. But the day was young she reminded herself. Don’t let your guard down. Trouble usually follows.
She was so happy when she saw her working space. Books. Lots and lots of books. She loved books. She was a voracious reader. Voltaire. Holmes. Tennyson. It was as if the words on the pages transported her to a different time. A different place. To someone else’s life. And she was glad to be in anyone’s shoes but her own.
And yet, when Mr. O’Brien, Liam, asked her to come to his office and discuss her duties, she was happy to be in her own shoes for once. She was so looking forward to having a purpose. One that could have an impact on someone else’s life much the way Mr. Hanover and Liam saved her from a certain death in a hangman’s noose.
Nervously, she approached Liam’s open door and knocked.
“Come in, Faith. Please sit.” He motioned her to the chair in front of his desk reserved for clients.
She did as he requested and sat across from the man who had stolen her heart without even knowing it. She had to be very careful not to let her guard down where Liam O’Brien was concerned. She could never let him know how she felt about him. It would be too humiliating.
Her nervous fingers twisted the handkerchief in her lap.
“Tell me what skills you possess so I am able to assign your duties correctly.”
Suddenly, she couldn’t remember a single detail about her life before Creede. She was tongue-tied. Finally her memory cleared and she could articulate what she needed to say. “I’m not educated, Mr. O’Brien. At least by book learning standards. I truly am not.”
She watched the handsome man across the desk nod his understanding.
“But you said you can read. What other skills do you possess?”
“I am a very good organizer. Of things and facts. I’ve been told I have a talent for that sort of thing.”
“Of things, I understand. Explain more about organizing facts. What does that mean?”
Encouraged, Faith leaned forward in her chair. Her heart beat a little bit faster in her chest when she thought about the thrill of arranging facts into an organized chronological order. “I’ve been told I have a strange propensity for that sort of thing. I can give you an example.”
Liam nodded.
“Charity is a very smart girl when it comes to numbers,” she began, pausing when Liam’s eyebrows raised in disbelief. “I know she seems very disorderly and all over the place, but my sister really is good with numbers. She kept Rosie’s business records in such good order, I was able to look at the numbers and see patterns, as well as disruptions in the patterns. I was able to report to Rosie that the bartende
r and one of the card dealers were stealing bottles of whiskey and selling them out the back door.”
Was that a look of interest on Liam’s face? Or disbelief? She couldn’t tell.
“Are you saying you can organize facts in a way that irregularities can be spotted?”
A brief knock at the door announced they had a visitor.
“Liam. Are you here? Liam?”
Faith jumped out of her chair and turned toward the door just as a woman with golden hair and porcelain skin enter Liam’s office. She was dressed in the most gorgeous dress Faith had ever seen. And the woman was stunning.
The woman stopped short of the door as if assessing the situation. By the haughty look on her face, it hadn’t taken the woman long to decide Faith was no one of importance. She raised her chin and looked down her nose at Faith as if dismissing an inferior from her royal presence.
The woman floated into the room and Liam met her at the door.
“Mrs. Markham. I wasn’t aware we had an appointment this morning. Are you here to see Hiram? He isn’t here yet.” He grasped her extended gloved hand and planted a chaste kiss on the top of it.
“No. I’m here to see you. Who is this?”
Faith thought the woman rather blunt, but Liam didn’t seem to take exception to her behavior. He led the woman to where Faith stood. “Lavinia Markham. This is Faith—”
Faith noticed he faltered when he came to her last name again. She really needed to choose a last name, even if it was a pretend one. She didn’t mind not having a name but other people seemed bothered by it.
“Faith. This is Lavinia Markham. She is the wife of Mr. Travis Markham. One of Creede’s most prosperous business owners.”
The look she gave Liam left no doubt the woman had more than a legal consult on her mind. Then the woman turned to her and smiled, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Faith, is it? Are you a friend of Liam’s?”
Faith wasn’t certain how to reply. Luckily, Liam answered for her. “Faith is our new employee. She will be helping with research and other tasks as required.”
Faith Page 4
