The explosion rocked Faith’s front porch, splintering wood and rattling glass. She took a step back at the same time Joshua dropped his hand.
“Get inside!” he barked, his voice cutting through the stunned silence following the blast. She hesitated, eyes wide, then ducked through the front door as Joshua pulled his revolver from its holster. The weight of the iron was a familiar comfort in his hand.
He scanned the small town of Mystic, his gaze sharp as an eagle’s. Townsfolk emerged from shops and homes, their faces masks of confusion and fear. A plume of smoke curled from the direction of the explosion.
Joshua’s heart thudded in his chest. He thought of the people he’d come to care for, sending up a prayer no one had been hurt.
He took off at a dead run, boots pounding on the hardpack street. Energy surged through him, making the world around him feel both sharp and dreamlike.
The air was thick with dust as Joshua slowed, taking in the scene. Sheriff Brodie Gaines stood with his hands on his hips. Beside him, Deputy Nash Beaumont shifted restlessly from foot to foot.
Joshua sidled up to the lawmen. He kept his revolver in hand, the barrel pointed at the ground but ready, as he surveyed the large hole in the bank’s outside wall. “Heck of an opening.”
“Looks worse than it is,” Brodie said. “As far as we can tell, no one was hurt.”
Nash squinted into the debris-covered bank interior. “Yet.”
The hole in the wall was massive, a jagged maw exposing the building’s insides. Smoke and dust wafted through the air. Joshua’s eyes traced the outline of the breach, noting the splintered wood and brick. His gut tightened.
“Dynamite,” Joshua said. “More than they needed.”
Brodie grunted in agreement. “Darned fools could’ve brought the whole building down. We’re lucky it held.”
Joshua looked around, searching for faces in the growing crowd. “Any idea who’s behind it?”
“Not yet,” Brodie said. “But we’ll find out. Artemus is checking the safe now.”
The bank president had been in Mystic for years. He was a man who could be trusted, and was often called upon to help settle disputes between the locals.
Brodie turned to Nash. “You see anything?”
The deputy shook his head. “I was doing rounds. Heard the blast and came running. Must’ve just missed whoever did this.”
Joshua took a step toward the ruined wall, peering inside.
The bank’s interior was in shambles, furniture overturned and papers strewn about.
He saw the outline of a large iron safe against the back wall, the door open.
Other than being covered in dust, it showed no damage.
Artemus walked toward them, shaking his head.
“Most of the money is gone,” he said to no one in particular. “I don’t know how anyone could’ve blown the wall out, gotten into the safe, stolen the money, and ridden away before any of us got here.”
“I arrived not more than a minute after the explosion,” Brodie said.
Joshua walked around the perimeter of the bank, eyes scanning the ground for anything out of place. He spotted fragments of a wooden crate, the remnants of a fuse, boot prints in the dirt. His mind worked quickly, piecing together a rough picture of what may have happened.
“They knew there wouldn’t be much time between the explosion and when you’d arrive, Brodie,” Joshua said. “Could be the money was already waiting for them.”
“What do you mean?” Artemus asked.
“Someone had the money packed up and ready to go. All the robbers had to do was get into the bank and take it.”
“What are you saying, Beckett? You think one of my employees or I was in on this?” Artemus Graham looked around, once again assessing the scene, this time using Joshua’s input.
Brodie stroked his chin. “It could’ve happened that way. Anyone know the combination other than you?”
Artemus looked at him, then sighed. “Just one person. But he’s been with me since the bank opened.” He didn’t have to say more for them to know he referred to the head clerk, a rotund man with a restrained personality and cherubic face.
Joshua shrugged. “If someone’s desperate enough, they can do almost anything.”
Brodie turned to face him. “You’re saying William Flock packed up the money for the robbers? If so, why the explosion?”
“Could be Mr. Flock already took the money with him. The explosion was theatrics.”
Brodie nodded. “Guess I should find out if Flock is still in town.”
The sound of a galloping horse drew the attention of the assembled townsfolk. A tall, lean figure dismounted with the ease of a man born to the saddle. Deputy Jubal Whitton tied off his horse and strode toward the bank, his face unreadable beneath the brim of his hat.
“Jubal,” Brodie acknowledged. The deputy often patrolled the outskirts of town, a job he often took upon himself.
“What’s the damage?” Jubal asked, his eyes taking in the scene with a slow, deliberate sweep.
“Big hole, lots of smoke,” Brodie said. “No one hurt.” He filled Jubal in on Joshua’s theory.
Jubal nodded, then looked to Joshua. “Makes sense. Anyone check on Flock?”
“Not yet. I was about ready to head to Butterman’s Boardinghouse,” Brodie answered.
Jubal considered this, then spoke in his usual measured tones. “I’ll check on him. Sure hope you’re wrong, Beckett.” Adjusting the gunbelt around his hips, he walked toward the boardinghouse.
Artemus watched the deputy leave, not offering to go with him. Instead, he headed back inside the bank.
The crowd had begun to disperse, the initial excitement giving way to wary resignation.
In a town like Mystic, where life was often hard and unpredictable, the people were accustomed to occasional bursts of trouble.
They returned to their daily routines, though Joshua noted more than one head turning back toward the bank with lingering concern. One familiar face caught his attention.
Joshua’s heart skipped when he recognized Faith. She held a notepad in one hand, a pencil in the other, as she walked toward them.
“Brodie, Joshua,” she said, nodding to each man in turn. Her eyes were bright, almost feverish. “What happened?”
Joshua opened his mouth to speak, but Brodie cut him off. “We don’t know for certain, Faith. There are a lot of questions and few answers.”
She frowned. “The town has a right to know. If there’s a threat—”
“We’ll handle it,” Brodie said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The last thing we need is panic.”
Faith looked to Joshua, who shifted uncomfortably. He understood the sheriff’s position, but he also knew Faith wouldn’t be dissuaded so easily. Her father built the Mystic Gazette from nothing, and she continued his passion to find the truth and share it with the town.
“Brodie will tell you what he can, Faith,” Joshua said. “Let him get the facts straight first.”
Faith’s eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue. “Fine,” she said after a moment. “I’ll wait.” She stepped aside as the three men entered the bank.
The interior was a wreck, with bits of ceiling and wall strewn across the floor. Artemus Graham stood near the open safe. He held a ledger in one hand, clutching it as if it were a life preserver.
“Artemus,” Brodie said. “Talk to us.”
The bank president looked up, his face pale. “It’s all here,” he said, waving the ledger. “The accounts, the balances. Several thousand dollars, gone.”
Joshua studied the man. Artemus had the look of a frightened rabbit, eyes darting between Brodie, Nash, and him. He wondered if the bank president was telling them everything.
The bank president muttered something, then turned back to the safe. The lawmen and Joshua made their way outside, where Faith still waited.
“Anything?” she asked.
Joshua started to speak, but a glare from Brodie silenced him. “Like Beckett said, I’ll tell you what we can. Later.”
The sheriff and his deputies walked off, leaving Joshua with Faith. She looked up at him, expectancy written in the lines of her face. He sighed.
“Stay out of the bank, Faith. It’s not safe.”
She huffed. “I can take care of myself, Joshua.”
“I know. But this is different.”
She twirled the pencil in her fingers. “I just want to know what’s going on. For the paper.”
“For the town, you mean.”
She smiled. “The paper is the town.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, conflicted. “Talk to Brodie. He’ll have to answer your questions. When he’s ready.”
“Why not just tell me yourself?”
Because he was torn between his duty to Brodie and his desire to help Faith. “Brodie’s already made it clear he’ll give you more details when he has them.”
Straightening her back, she gave a curt nod. “All right.”
She walked off, leaving Joshua to ponder the explosion, the empty safe, and the woman who was never far from his thoughts. He watched as Faith made her way down the street, the determination in her stride unmistakable.
Artemus Graham emerged from the bank, along with the two lawmen. Brodie stopped next to Joshua.
“Appears whoever robbed the bank got away with over three thousand dollars. Artemus can cover the loss, but I want to find the money.”
Jubal rushed up. “Flock is gone. Clothes and everything. Rosamund Butter didn’t know he’d left.”
Artemus’s shoulders sagged at the news. “I just can’t believe William was a part of this.”
Even though no one else was around, Brodie lowered his voice. “Maybe he’s not. His quick departure does make him look guilty.”
“I understand.” The beleaguered bank president stalked off.
“Joshua!” Faith’s voice cut through his thoughts. She stood on the boardwalk in front of the general store, her notepad in hand. He sighed and walked over to her.
Excitement mingled with worry shone in her eyes. “Casper Jennings thinks the payroll for the ranch hands in the area was in the bank. Including your family’s money.”
“Faith.” Joshua’s voice indicated his frustration. He already realized the Beckett money was part of what was stolen. “You need to let the law handle this.”
She stared at him, her expression a mix of hurt and defiance. “I’m not trying to play detective. But people need to know what’s happening. If the bank fails—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “It isn’t going to fail. Sometimes knowing too much makes things worse.”
She was silent for a moment, weighing his words. “What aren’t you telling me?”
When he didn’t answer, she continued. “I saw you talking to Brodie. He must know more than he’s saying.”
“He’s the sheriff,” Joshua said. “I’m just a guest. We need to trust the people in charge.”
She took a step back, as if he’d slapped her. “You think I don’t trust Brodie?”
“I think you want answers faster than they can be given. Sometimes, patience is—”
“Is what?” she shot back. “A virtue? You sound like my father.”
“Maybe he was right.”
She glared at him, the kind of glare that could melt glass, then turned on her heel and started to walk away. Joshua reached out, wanting to stop her, to apologize, then reconsidered. Sometimes leaving Faith to her own thoughts turned out to be for the best.
He watched as she made her way down the street, the determination in her stride now mingled with something heavier, more burdened. He respected her, admired her for the way she’d continued the Gazette on her own.
Joshua thought about what Brodie had said. About him telling Faith what he could when he could. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy her. His attention shifted to Brodie and his deputies. They were forming a posse, and he wanted to be a part of it. He looked back at Faith’s retreating form.
She reached the corner and paused, turning back for a brief moment. Joshua thought she might wave or shout something. She simply stared. He couldn’t read the look in her eyes from this distance, but he imagined it was the same mixture of hope and frustration he felt.
She disappeared around the bend, and Joshua’s shoulders slumped.
Faith kept walking, not sure where she was headed. The hole in the bank’s wall loomed large in her peripheral vision. An explosion like this didn’t just disrupt a bank. It jolted through the entire community.
Halfway down the block, she stopped and looked back.
Brodie, Nash, Jubal, and Joshua were talking again, their postures more relaxed.
She considered going back, demanding the answers she knew they were withholding.
But what would be the point? Maybe they didn’t know anything more or have a suspicion of who might have robbed the bank.
Her eyes drifted to the horizon, where the mountains stood tall and unyielding. The moon was climbing higher, indicating it was much later than she thought.
She looked down at her notepad, flipping through the scribbles.
Her instincts had kicked in from the moment of the explosion, but now a heavy fatigue set in.
How many times had she been in this position, balancing the need for truth against the potential for harm?
Too many to count, yet each instance felt as acute as the first.
It was then Faith realized she was entirely alone. The sense of isolation struck her odd, given the main street was close by. A tingling sense of danger washed over her, setting the hairs on her neck upright.
Before she could react, a rough hand clamped over her mouth, and a strong arm wrapped around her waist. She was yanked backward with such force her feet left the ground. She kicked and thrashed, trying to break free, but her assailant was too strong.
She was dragged into a dark alley. Faith managed to elbow her captor in the ribs, earning a grunt, but he only tightened the grip around her waist. In a swift, practiced motion, the assailant stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth, silencing her cries.
Panic set in as she took stock of her situation. The alley was narrow, the kind of place where sounds were swallowed whole. She recognized the back entrances to a few businesses, but no one was in sight. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a ticking clock counting down her last moments.
Her captor hoisted her up with ease, throwing her over the lap of a waiting rider.
She struggled to lift her head, to see who was beneath the wide brimmed hat, but the rider’s hand pushed her down, crushing her chest. The world tilted and swayed as the rider maneuvered the horse out of the alley and onto the street.
Faith’s thoughts were a jumble, though one image stuck in her head. Joshua, his gaze following her down the street.