Faith woke with a start, the dull throb in her left shoulder immediately yanking her from the comforting fog of sleep.
She blinked at the morning light filtering through the lace curtains of her bedroom, then tried to stretch, only to wince and bite her lip.
The sling on the bedside chair was a stark reminder of the previous night’s chaos.
The rough hands dragging her from the street, of Joshua’s timely rescue, and of his unexpected confession.
“Faith, you mean more to me than just a friend.”
She sat up slowly, her good hand pushing against the feather mattress.
Her head swam with a thousand thoughts, none of them bringing the clarity she needed.
Did she love Joshua the way he loved her?
The way he claimed to, anyway. Their friendship had always been the one constant in her tumultuous life.
Was she ready to risk it for something more?
Slipping into the sling, her fingers traced the fabric, remembering how Joshua had gently adjusted it for her, his hands sure, despite the storm in his eyes. He’d saved her, yes. Now, she felt more endangered than ever. Not for her life, but by her own heart.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. The room tilted. Catching herself on the bedpost, she took a moment to calm her breathing. The ache in her shoulder was nothing compared to the gnawing uncertainty in her chest.
Slowly, she crossed to the vanity and looked at the woman in the mirror. Dark circles smudged beneath her eyes, and her hair was a wild tangle of blonde vines. She ran a brush through it, then shrugged. No amount of grooming could tame the hurricane of emotions whirling inside her.
Walking across the room, she opened her wardrobe with her good hand and surveyed the contents. Each dress and blouse was a memory—of her father, of her growing up, of the times she and Joshua had spent together.
Chiding herself for putting it on before dressing, she removed the sling. She pulled out a simple dark blue dress and slipped it on, the motion awkward with her injured shoulder. The fabric was soft and familiar, like an old friend. Like Joshua.
Her mind drifted to the future. Could she really see them as a couple? Walking hand in hand through Mystic, sharing kisses behind the livery, stealing moments in the very kitchen where she now sat alone? Yes, she decided, she could. It all seemed so idyllic, yet so terrifyingly real.
Then there was the ranch. The Becketts had always supported her, taking her in when her house grew too lonely, and she needed to be around friends. If things went wrong with Joshua, where would the loss leave her?
She bit her lip, a habit she’d never quite shaken, and remembered the spark she’d felt when Joshua held her close after the ordeal. It wasn’t just gratitude. It was something more. A great deal more.
With a sigh, she walked to the window. The town of Mystic was waking, the first tendrils of smoke rising from chimneys, the faint sounds of activity trickling in on the cool morning air. This was her world, her life, and Joshua had been at the center of it for as long as she could remember.
Turning from the window, she returned to the vanity, where a small photograph sat in a silver frame. Taken by Molly Beckett, it was of her and Joshua at the ranch, both of them grinning like fools. It was only two months ago, yet now it seemed a lifetime.
Taking the photo in her hand, she traced their faces with a fingertip. How easy things had been then, how simple. She longed for that simplicity, for the untroubled camaraderie they once had.
Setting the photo down gently, as if afraid to break the fragile memory it held, she picked up the sling.
Her left shoulder throbbed in time with her pulse, each beat a reminder of her vulnerability.
She didn’t like feeling helpless, and she didn’t like being in debt, not even to Joshua.
Even so, here she was, owing him her life and so much more.
Slipping the sling over her shoulder, she winced again and took a deep breath. The day stretched out before her, full of uncertainties and decisions she wasn’t ready to make.
The rumbling in her stomach reminded Faith to eat breakfast before leaving for the newspaper office. Heading downstairs, she stoked the kitchen’s cooling stove. She set a cast iron skillet on it before fixing coffee. Within minutes, the stove radiated enough warmth to heat the room.
Faith sat at her kitchen table, the wood stove battling the morning chill. A plate of eggs and a cup of coffee steamed in front of her, but she only picked at the food. The quiet of the house seeped into her bones, providing a comforting moment of reflection.
She remembered the first time she and Joshua met. It had been in the schoolhouse soon after Faith turned six. Joshua had been seven, with a broad smile and kind nature. He’d protected her when an older boy tried to steal her lunch.
From then on, he’d taken her under his wing, teaching her to ride and, eventually, how to shoot. They were inseparable, like brother and sister, except now she had to wonder if he’d always seen their friendship as something more.
Her eyes drifted to the small bookshelf in the corner of the kitchen. On the top shelf sat a book Joshua had given her for her twelfth birthday. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott had consumed all of Faith’s time. What she loved the most was his inscription on the inside cover.
For Faith, my very best friend. Joshua Beckett.
Now, she saw the gesture in a different light. How many other signs had she missed?
The eggs grew cold, the coffee lukewarm, as she turned these thoughts over and over in her mind. Outside, the sun struggled to make headway against a leaden sky, and light snow began to fall, its flakes dancing on the wind.
With a slow, deliberate motion, she cleared her plate and cup, then put on her heavy wool coat, hat, and gloves.
She glanced around the kitchen, taking in every detail, as if committing it to memory.
Home had always been a sanctuary for her, but the events of last night had shaken her sense of safety.
Faith stepped out of her house, the crisp autumn air nipping at her cheeks.
The snow had stopped, though the biting chill remained.
Her eyes darted left and right, scanning the quiet street of Mystic.
The sling on her left arm felt like a constant reminder of the recent ordeal, and her heart quickened as she caught sight of a shadow moving behind a nearby tree.
Faith reminded herself she had to be careful. The outlaws who’d tried to kidnap her were still out there. Mystic was a small town with limited resources. Until they were caught, she needed to stay vigilant.
“Stay calm,” she whispered to herself, her free hand instinctively reaching for the small Derringer hidden in her skirt pocket. The weight of the weapon provided little comfort as she began her walk toward the Mystic Gazette office.
Every step felt calculated, her senses heightened to an almost painful degree. The familiar sounds now seemed ominous and foreign.
As she passed Jennings Mercantile & Dry Goods. Casper Jennings glanced up as he swept the boardwalk. “Mornin’, Faith. Heard about what happened. How’s your arm?”
She forced a smile. “On the mend, Mr. Jennings. Thank you for asking.”
“You take care now,” he replied, his brow furrowing with concern.
She quickened her pace, her mind torn between the lingering fear from the kidnapping attempt and the memory of Joshua’s confession. ‘I love you, Faith.’ The words echoed in her mind, bringing a flush to her cheeks.
As she approached the bank, the sight of the boarded-up hole from the explosion stopped her in her tracks. Debris had been cleared away, leaving only a few stray splinters scattered on the ground.
A hand-painted sign hung proudly on the front door. “Mystic Bank. Open for Business.”
Faith’s lips curved into a small smile at the resiliency of her small town. The moment was short-lived as she caught sight of Sheriff Brodie Gaines approaching, his face grim.
“Faith,” he greeted, tipping his hat. “How are you faring?”
Straightening her shoulders, she met his gaze. “I’m managing. Any news on the outlaws?”
His gaze darted to the boarded-up hole before returning to Faith. “Not so far.”
She nodded, her journalist’s instincts taking over. “And the bank? Will it be secure enough until proper repairs can be made?”
“Mr. Graham has men working ’round the clock,” he assured her. Glancing around, he fixed his gaze on her. “I’d feel better if you’d consider staying with someone for a few days. Maybe the Becketts—”
“I appreciate your concern,” she interrupted. “But I’m going to stay in town. I have a newspaper to run, and I’m going to focus on getting the next issue printed.”
“You’re one stubborn woman. Promise me you’ll stay alert?”
“Of course,” she replied, her hand brushing against the hidden Derringer.
“I need to ride out to the Beckett ranch. Take care, Faith.”
As Brodie walked away, Faith turned back to the bank, her eyes tracing the jagged edges of the boarded-up hole. With a deep breath, she continued her walk to the Gazette office, her steps more purposeful now.
The town of Mystic had weathered this storm, and so would she. Joshua’s confession was a storm of a different kind, one she’d spend a good deal of time reflecting on.
Joshua Beckett took a swallow from his canteen, his eyes squinting against the late morning sun. The barn’s roof had taken a beating during the last storm, and winter was coming on fast. He hammered another nail into place, the rhythmic sound echoing across the sprawling ranch.
“Jupiter,” he called down to his dapple-gray Quarter Horse, who stood in the corral below. “Reckon I’ll have this done before sundown?”
The gelding nickered softly in response, and Joshua chuckled. “Yeah, I thought so, too.”
As he worked, his mind drifted to Faith. The memory of her face when he’d confessed his feelings was imprinted on his mind. Had he made a mistake? The friendship they’d shared since childhood was precious to him, and the thought of losing it twisted his gut worse than any wild mustang ever had.
“Darn fool,” he muttered to himself, driving another nail with perhaps more force than necessary.
Even as doubt gnawed at him, Joshua couldn’t bring himself to regret his words. Faith was strong-willed and curious, with a heart as big as Montana itself. He’d been in love with her for longer than he cared to admit, even to himself.
A sudden gust of wind caught him off guard, nearly sending him sliding off the roof. Joshua caught himself, his heart pounding.
“Focus, Beckett,” he breathed. “Won’t do Faith any good if you break your neck falling off a barn roof.”
As he resumed his work, Joshua’s thoughts turned to the recent troubles in Mystic. His jaw clenched at the memory of the botched kidnapping attempt. If anything had happened to her…
The sun inched across the sky as he continued to work, his muscles aching but his resolve strengthening with each passing moment. Whatever came next with Faith, with the outlaws, he’d face it. After all, the Becketts didn’t back down from a challenge.