Faith descended the porch steps with the grace of someone on a mission. Joshua waited at the gate, his posture relaxed yet wary. Without a word, she linked her arm through his, and they set off down the main street.
The town of Mystic showed little activity on this Sunday afternoon. A shopkeeper swept the boardwalk with no intention of opening his store on a clear, crisp day. A mother herded children toward the family’s wagon.
Joshua and Faith made an imposing pair, the slender woman and the tall rancher, striding with purpose.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, breaking the silence.
“I wasn’t planning on it until I saw the group of men standing outside your house,” Joshua replied.
They walked at a relaxed pace. Faith glanced up at Joshua, searching his face. He met her gaze, and for a moment, it seemed he might say something more. Instead, he simply nodded, and she understood. Whatever his thoughts, he was here for her.
“Miss Goodell,” called a stout man from the doorway of the hardware store. “You reckon a library will put food on folks’ tables?”
Faith slowed, but Joshua urged her onward with a gentle tug. “Guess we’ll find out when the library opens, Mr. Harkins,” she called back, not missing a step.
“Balance,” Joshua murmured. “That’s the tricky part.”
She shot him a sidelong glance. “You think it’s impossible?”
“I think it’s hard,” he said. “Hard isn’t the same as impossible.”
They passed the closed clinic, where a cluster of men eyed Faith with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. One of them hollered after them. “How’s the voting issue going, Faith? Ever think about what your pa would say about what you’re stirring up?”
Faith’s grip on Joshua’s arm tightened. He could feel the tension radiating from her, the conflict between her fiery spirit and the calculated restraint she knew was needed.
“We’re making progress,” she stated, more to herself than to the man who now stood behind them.
Joshua remained silent, his thoughts unreadable. Faith wondered if he agreed with the skeptics or if he believed in her cause but not in her ability to see it through. Yet he walked with her, and that meant something.
Each doubt cast her way was meant to be a gust of wind trying to snuff out a candle. Instead, it made Faith’s flame dance higher.
They turned a corner, where the trees lining the road had begun to shed their autumn colors. Leaves swirled around their feet like a playful dog’s tail.
“The meeting went better than I expected,” Faith said. “I’m proud of how the women came together. A library is something tangible, a benefit to everyone.”
Joshua nodded. “It’s a sensible compromise. How do you plan to run it?”
“Donations at first. Books, money, whatever people can spare. We hope the Alliance members will volunteer their time to keep it open several days a week.”
“Hope?” Joshua raised an eyebrow.
“Expect,” she corrected herself, then sighed. “It’s a lot to ask. These women have families and businesses. It will be difficult for them to carve out more time to volunteer in the library.”
“They wouldn’t be part of the Alliance if they didn’t believe in what you’re doing.”
Faith considered this. “Belief is one thing. Sacrifice is another.”
They walked in silence for a moment, the sound of fall leaves crunching underfoot filling the space between them. Faith unlinked her arm from Joshua’s and crossed her arms over her chest as if hugging herself against an unseen chill.
“We’re setting the foundation for something lasting,” she said, her voice full of conviction. “I just hope the future cares to build on it.”
They neared the edge of town, where buildings gave way to open fields.
“Doyle Shaw,” he said, breaking the quiet. “Why was he at the meeting?”
She unclasped her arms and let them swing freely at her sides. “He wanted to hear our ideas firsthand. He’s been supportive.”
“Supportive,” Joshua repeated, his tone neutral.
“He dispersed the group of men who were loitering outside, remember? Those men weren’t there to cheer us on. Doyle’s a businessman. He knows which way the wind is blowing.”
“So, you think his support isn’t genuine?”
“I think it’s pragmatic.”
They reached a small park where a few children played on makeshift swings. An older boy ran barefoot, a kite trailing behind him like a conquered dragon. Faith slowed, then stopped, causing Joshua to turn and face her.
“We need all the allies we can get,” she said.
He held her gaze for a long moment. “Be careful who you trust.”
He started walking again. Faith hesitated, then hurried to catch up, her mind whirring with the implications of Joshua’s words. Allies, trust, pragmatism. She weighed each concept like a reporter sifting through facts for a story.
Joshua slowed his pace, and Faith matched him, their strides becoming more deliberate.
“You know,” he began, “attending the open council meetings would be a good start. Listening, learning. It might make the men more comfortable with the idea of you having a say.”
“We don’t just want to listen, Joshua. We want to participate.”
“And you will, in time. Look at Grayson. He didn’t just walk in and take a seat. He attended meetings from the time he returned to the ranch, got to know the issues, the people. Now, he’s in a position where he can influence things, such as the proposed tax for the schoolhouse addition.”
Faith’s interest piqued. “A schoolhouse tax?”
“The council is split. Some think the business tax is necessary. Others believe it’ll be too much of a burden. Grayson suggested gathering donations and volunteers to build the addition instead. It’s more work, but it won’t strain anyone’s purse.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“It is. And the kind of approach that wins people over. Reasonable, gradual. If the women start showing up, expressing your concerns, you’ll begin to sway opinions.”
Faith considered his words. “So, you think we should put our efforts into attending meetings instead of pushing for the vote directly?”
“Starting with the meetings shows you’re serious and you understand the process. It’ll make your eventual issue of voting mean more.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, each lost in thought. A wagon trundled past, its driver tipping his hat to the pair.
“One step at a time, Faith,” Joshua said. “Be patient. You’ll get there.”
They circled back toward her house, the crisp air tinged with the scent of wood smoke from early afternoon hearths.
“Grayson’s approach makes sense,” Faith said. “People are more willing to give when they see where their contributions are going. It creates a sense of ownership, of community.”
“Exactly. The council isn’t against the addition. They need to find a way to do it without hurting the people they’re trying to help. Sometimes, the simplest solution isn’t the best one.”
Faith pondered this. “So, you think the women should oppose the tax?”
“I think you should support solutions that achieve the same goal without creating more problems. If you stand with Grayson on this, it shows you’re thinking beyond your own immediate needs.”
“Alliances,” Faith said, more to herself than to Joshua. She was beginning to see the larger picture, the intricate web of relationships and interests governing the town.
“Attend the next open meeting. Bring as many women as you can and state your preference. Your presence alone will speak volumes.”
Faith stopped walking and turned to Joshua. His tall frame might intimidate some women. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she studied him, wondering if he saw her as more than his outspoken friend, if he recognized the depth of her ambition and the challenges she faced.
Faith offered a confident smile. “We’ll be there.”
They walked in companionable silence back toward her house.
“I’m glad we talked,” she said.
“So am I,” Joshua replied. “You know I want what’s best for the town. And for you.”
“For me?” Faith teased, raising an eyebrow.
“Absolutely.” A small smile played on his lips. “For all the women in Mystic. The families. Everyone.”
They reached her house, where Joshua had tied his horse, Jupiter. The dapple-gray gelding nickered softly at the sight of Joshua.
“We’ve always been friends, haven’t we?” Faith asked, taking a step back from Joshua.
“Since we started school,” he answered.
“Our friendship won’t change, will it? Even if we don’t always see eye to eye?”
He paused, then turned to face her. “Friendship isn’t about agreeing on everything, Faith. It’s about understanding. And standing by each other.”
Relief washed over her. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Joshua mounted Jupiter, the horse shifting its weight in anticipation. “Take care, Faith,” he said, tipping his hat.
“As you, Joshua.”
As Jupiter’s hooves took them toward the ranch, Faith watched them grow smaller, fainter, like the receding echoes of a heartbeat.
Faith stood for a moment longer, watching, until he was a speck in the distance. Their conversation replayed in her mind, each word and pause taking on new significance. Joshua had doubts, yes, but he’d also given her valuable insights and, most importantly, his support.
Turning toward her house, she walked up the steps to her front door.
The house loomed like a sentinel over her dreams, its weathered facade a testament to the struggles and triumphs of her parents.
Her father had fought similar battles, she reminded herself, and had often faced resistance from those who feared change.
Inside, the familiar sights welcomed her like an old friend. She walked to the desk in the parlor. Thoughts of the library, the tax, the upcoming council meeting swirled in her head.
Never one to sit idly and wait for the future to unfold, Faith pulled a sheet of stationery from a drawer and picked up a pen, tapping it thoughtfully against her chin. She began to write, the pen scratching out elegant curves and lines.
Dear Alliance Board Members,
We need to convene before the next council meeting. There are important matters to discuss, including the library and the proposed schoolhouse tax. I’ve received some insightful advice I believe could help us make a stronger case.
Let’s meet at my house on Tuesday evening. Your presence and input are crucial.
Sincerely,
Faith
She read over the letter twice, making sure her words conveyed the urgency without causing alarm. The Alliance was dedicated, but it was also fragile.
She hoped they would see the wisdom in Joshua’s suggestion and not view it as a retreat.
There was one more place Joshua needed to stop by before riding back to the ranch.
He reined in Jupiter outside the Starlight Saloon.
The building was one of the oldest in Mystic, its wooden planks bleached and cracked from years of Montana sun.
He swung a leg over the saddle, then paused, considering what he wanted to say before entering.
Pushing through the saloon doors, he was greeted by the mixed aromas of tobacco, whiskey, and sweat. As expected for a Sunday afternoon, the room was sparsely populated.
Doyle Shaw stood at the bar, his broad-shouldered frame hunched over a glass of amber liquid. He didn’t appear to be drinking heavily, content to take sips with the leisure of a man who had time to kill. His eyes tracked a group of men playing cards in the corner, but his mind seemed elsewhere.
“Doyle,” Joshua said, approaching the bar. The saloon owner turned, a smile breaking through his dark features.
“Joshua Beckett. What brings you here?”
Joshua tilted his head toward the card players. “Checking on Nathan.”
Doyle followed Joshua’s gaze. “Your brother’s holding his own.”
“Never doubted he would.”
An awkward silence settled between them. Joshua broke it first. “Need to talk to you. About Faith.”
Doyle gestured toward an empty table, but Joshua remained standing.
“What about Faith?” Doyle asked, leaning back slightly, his posture less inviting.
“She’s grateful for your support,” Joshua said. “We all are.”
“That sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
Joshua studied Doyle for a moment, weighing his words. “She needs to know your support is real and not just for show.”
Doyle’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m playing some kind of game?”
“I think you’re smart enough to understand the risks. The women are putting a lot on the line, and they need to know they can count on the people who say they’re with them.”
Doyle swirled his drink. “I grew up with strong women, Joshua. My mother, my sisters. I respect what Faith is trying to do.”
“Respect is good,” Joshua said. “Trust is better.”
The two men locked eyes, each measuring the other. Joshua broke first, turning to leave. “Just remember,” he said over his shoulder, “if you betray their trust, you’re not just crossing them. You’re crossing all of us.”