by Ginny Aiken
“Easy, Theo,” Marshal Blair said, his voice even, his expression calm. “We don’t know what we have us here, do we? All’s I know is that Josh came after me, saying Lewis had taken sick at the church. How’s that got a thing to do with your brother?”
“Lewis ain’t got nothing to do with Roger,” Theo said, “but she sure does. She’s kilt both of them, sure as sure. Now what’re ya gonna do about her?”
“For pity’s sake, Theo Nolan,” Doc Chalmers groused. “Who’s said anything ’bout this feller pushing up daisies? Lewis ain’t dead. He’s feeling mighty puny, I’ll give you that, but I’m praying he’s past the worst of it. With a coupla weeks of rest and good nursing, I’m thinking he’ll be right as frog’s fur.”
Faith glanced at Mr. Parham, who, as far as she could tell, hadn’t moved since he’d last convulsed on the floor. “But—”
Mrs. Alton’s arm tightened around her waist. “Shh…”
She clamped down on her tongue before another sound could escape. The reverend’s wife was right. The less Faith said, the better off she would be. No one seemed ready to pin Mr. Parham’s misfortune on her other than Theo, and so far, no one seemed too ready to give his wild statements much credit.
“What exactly did happen, Mrs. Nolan?” Nathan said.
His return to the use of the more formal title didn’t escape Faith’s notice. Neither did his serious expression. The slight sense of relief she’d begun to experience vanished. How could Nathan be the one who looked at her with suspicion? He knew her a bit better than the others did. How could he suddenly doubt her?
On the other hand, the man on the floor did pose an obstacle to belief in her.
She shook off her emotional response. Mr. Bartlett was no one to her, she reminded herself. He was only a former customer who’d shown her kindness during those times when they’d done business, and then after Roger’s death. She had to steel herself against trusting anyone, especially a man. Even one as appealing as Mr. Nathan Bartlett. Perhaps God had led him to ask the question to open Faith’s eyes to reality.
She squared her shoulders and related to the marshal every detail she could remember. When she was done, the silence in the sanctuary felt thick and suffocating. Marshal Blair rubbed his chin with a long, blunt finger, his gaze straying toward Mr. Parham a time or two.
As Faith felt certain she would go mad with the growing anxiety inside her, the patient let out a groan. That galvanized Doc Chambers into action. He dropped down onto one knee and closed his satchel. “It’s time to get this fella to a proper bed—his bed. I hear he’s taken a room in Widow O’Dell’s house. Is that right, Eli?”
“You know what goes on in this town better than I do,” the bank president said. “But as far as I’ve heard, yes, Lewis does rent Mrs. O’Dell’s extra room.”
The men planned the transfer of the patient as though it were a military maneuver. Josh Tucker ran out in search of a board from one of the buildings under construction a short way down Main Street. The others propped Mr. Parham into a seated position, supporting him on both sides to keep his unsteady body from flopping back onto the floor. Faith’s nerves felt stretched to the breaking point, but there wasn’t much she could do.
Before long, Mr. Tucker was back with his board. The gentlemen wrapped the long slab of wood with one of the tablecloths, and then laid the support on another cloth. Finally, with great patience and care, they helped the bank secretary down onto the makeshift litter.
The men headed out with the patient, and the women stayed behind to clean up the debris from the church’s by now mostly forgotten social event. They parted ways when they’d eliminated all evidence of the ill-fated meal. Regrettably, the memories wouldn’t fade that easily for Faith.
Neither would the memory of the odd look Nathan sent her way as he’d left the church. She couldn’t be sure what had been behind it, but she did know one thing. He harbored questions about her. He didn’t trust what she’d said.
She feared he might be succumbing to Theo’s wild accusations.
And the inexplicable happenings around her.
He might have begun to suspect her, to think she might be guilty.
To think she might have killed Roger Nolan after all.
Nathan hadn’t wanted to believe a single one of Theo’s accusations. He hadn’t thought a woman as gentle, hardworking, and appealing as Faith Nolan could be capable of such a heinous crime. Had he been foolish in his desire to believe her?
It would seem so.
Why on earth else would Lewis Parham collapse during that box lunch auction? Was there something truly sick and evil about Faith Nolan? And if so, then what? While one could almost understand a woman who had suffered as much as she had turning on her attacker, one couldn’t grasp why she might ever do anything to harm a stranger.
Why would she wish to poison the bank secretary?
He had seen what some people were capable of during his years at war, even those who in other circumstances would appear to be the soul of innocence. But the war was past, and there was no acceptable reason for the kind of viciousness it would take to harm either Roger or Lewis. He couldn’t abide the evil in the soul of one who might be guilty of such actions.
He couldn’t excuse the one who’d done it.
But…had Faith turned on Roger? Had she actually killed her husband? Had she then set the building on fire to hide her crime?
It made no sense for her to destroy her source of income, her home.
What about Lewis Parham? What could she possibly have against the man? Or was it a matter of the bank secretary knowing something about her? About Roger and her?
If so, what did the man know?
Hours after they’d taken the ailing secretary to his room at Widow O’Dell’s place, Nathan had been unable to relax. He’d paced the Whitmans’ parlor for long minutes, but felt too much like a caged mountain cat, so he’d stepped out onto Main Street to continue his attempt to exercise away his nervous energy. In the cold night air, he strode up to one end of town, where the train station was being built for the railroad spur line. The stacks of wood on the road and the skeleton of the building took on eerie shapes in the shadows cast by the moonlight. In the dark, one could imagine another’s evil intent.
Aware of how fanciful and silly his thoughts had become, Nathan turned and headed back in the direction he’d come…and kept going to the far edge of town, his thoughts no clearer for the additional walk. There, he stopped in front of the newest emporium in town. It was a sure sign of the town’s growth that Bountiful could now boast of a nearly finished saloon, not a place he ever expected to patronize.
“Need an ear?” Eli said from behind.
Nathan spun. “You’re lucky I no longer carry a weapon.”
Eli shrugged. “The war’s over. And I know how you feel about weapons and fighting and killing, and all. Didn’t have a worry about it in my mind.”
“I’m that predictable?”
The bank president laughed. “I wouldn’t call you predictable, my friend, but rather a man I know fairly well.”
He nodded slowly. “Fair enough.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Anything you needed?”
“No. Just realized you’d left the house, and I thought you might appreciate a friendly ear. I watched you today at the church. What happened there hit you hard, didn’t it?”
Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own. “Have you spoken with Doc Chambers since we left Parham in his room?”
“He stopped by a short while after you left to march up and down the street. I’m surprised you missed him.”
Once again, Nathan chose to ignore his friend’s comment on his actions. “What did Doc have to say?”
“That Lewis doesn’t know how he could have swallowed the rat poison.”
“Rat poison?”
“Exactly.”
“Easy enough to find the stuff just about anywhere.”
“Sure. Metcalf’s Mercantile has
boxes and boxes of the stuff on the shelf, and has sold even more of it since they opened their doors for business years ago.”
“As I suspect the Nolan Brothers’ General Store must have done as well.”
Eli shot him a questioning look. “Surely you’ve bought your own box or two. I’m certain you’ve had rodents out at the camp.” When Nathan didn’t respond, he went on. “Don’t tell me you’ve begun to believe Theo’s foolishness.”
Nathan shrugged. “I don’t want to believe a word he’s said.”
“But…?”
“But I can’t set aside reality. Her husband’s dead, and now the man who shared a meal with her has turned up poisoned. What would have happened if Doc Chambers hadn’t been there? What if instead of vomiting, Lewis had continued to convulse, his stomach full of the poison? I’m sure you know the answer to that.”
“I know he could have died. That doesn’t mean Faith is guilty of anything.”
“Lewis was eating the meal she prepared.”
“So was she, and she’s not had a fit of any sort yet. Or do you think she was in the frame of mind to kill herself? She couldn’t have known who would buy her box lunch.”
He ran a hand through his hair, looked up and down the street, glanced at his friend again, but couldn’t bear to hold that earnest stare. He focused on the packed dirt road surface. “I don’t know what to think. I only know what I saw.”
“And not just today, right?” Eli waited, but Nathan only shrugged. His friend continued when Nathan didn’t speak. “You can’t get past the war in some ways, can you?”
“You wouldn’t be able to either if you’d seen what I saw.”
“I’m not challenging you, but rather stating a fact, one I think is clouding the way you see the world around you. And it may be leading you to come to wrong conclusions.”
“Are you saying that you can be certain Faith had nothing to do with Roger Nolan’s death? Even after the man subjected her to unspeakable cruelty for three years?”
Eli took a moment to weigh Nathan’s words. “Yes, I think I am saying that. I don’t think Faith Nolan is capable of hurting anyone.”
A spark of something light began to flicker in Nathan, but he didn’t let it burn. “So the poison Lewis swallowed…appeared inside the fellow. All on its own.”
“I didn’t say that.” Eli waited for Nathan to meet his gaze. “Has it occurred to you that it might have been meant for her? And not placed there by her own hand?”
Nathan felt as though instead of words Eli had thrown a punch at his gut. It took him a handful of minutes to sort through the possibilities. “I suppose that could be the case, but it strikes me as far-fetched. Why would anyone try to poison her? Why her?”
“I couldn’t begin to tell you. It’s a different possibility I felt you hadn’t considered. Had you?”
“No, I hadn’t, but the fact that I’m considering it now doesn’t mean I think it’s likely. I need a reason for her to be poisoned.”
“You also need a reason for her to poison a stranger.”
Nathan couldn’t argue that point. But he also couldn’t deny the events of the afternoon. And he refused to be taken in by a pretty lady in a bad set of circumstances. He had to make sure he knew what had happened. “Someone put poison in that food.”
“How were they going to know what portion Lewis would eat and what portion Faith would serve herself?”
“You’re making my point, Eli. She’s the one who would have known what to serve herself.”
“But even if she had something against Parham, which seems unlikely, she couldn’t possibly have known he would win the auction.”
Nathan stared at his friend for a long moment.
“I think it’s time to head home and to bed,” Eli said at last. “Things usually look clearer in the light of day, after a good night’s sleep.”
While Nathan didn’t see how this would look much better simply because he’d slept, he didn’t feel like arguing any further with his friend. And he suspected the puzzle was one he wasn’t going to be able to solve on his own. No one would be able to solve it by virtue of willing it. From where he stood, it seemed only One could see clearly through the many possibilities.
Only God was in the position to know a person’s heart.
Only God could know the guilty party’s reason.
Only God knew why.
Only He knew who.
Olivia’s, Addie’s, and Mrs. Alton’s encouragement and support made but a small dent in Faith’s anxiety.
“I saw the looks those men gave me,” she said when the four of them stood inside the Altons’ entry foyer. “I understand you want to comfort me, but no matter what all of you say, I doubt your husbands will soon become anywhere near as sympathetic as you are.”
“No, my dear,” Mrs. Alton said. “You have it all wrong. My husband is a most understanding man. That ability to put himself in other folks’ shoes is what has made him such an excellent shepherd all these long years.”
“I’m sure that’s the case in normal circumstances,” Faith countered. “Let me remind you that this is anything but a normal circumstance. Theo is sure I murdered Roger—you heard him yourself. I know that the way things happened makes it look worse for me than it otherwise would. Seeing as I can’t prove I did nothing of the sort, your husband isn’t going to be particularly sympathetic toward someone who looks as much like a killer as I do.”
“Give the men a chance,” Olivia urged. “They can’t possibly be such fools as to listen to someone like Theo or ignore what’s before their noses. What did you pack in that box lunch, Faith? Did you put anything in there that could have harmed someone?”
“Of course not! I only packed wholesome food. Besides, I also ate some of the lamb, the bread, even the cheese and the apple. True, it only added up to a handful of small bites, but I did have some of that food.”
“The reverend and I ate the same things, as well. You and I packed the box lunches together, if you’ll remember.”
“See?” Olivia said, triumph in her voice. “You shared the same things others might think were tainted. What madwoman would risk her own life that way? Or Reverend Alton’s? Or Mrs. Alton’s, either?”
Faith donned a crooked, wry smile. “You said it yourself. A madwoman, that’s who.”
“Are you mad, then?”
“No, but is there any reason to believe they don’t think I’m that unstable?”
“They’re not stupid,” the bank president’s wife said. “And they’re going to see that truth soon enough.”
Faith shook her head. “Soon enough? I would hope so, but I’m not nearly as sure as you seem to be. Besides, I doubt it’ll make a difference, seeing how things stand. We are waiting for a judge from Portland, remember?”
“That may be the best thing in the end,” Addie said. “A judge will make sure all sides are presented and considered fairly.”
Faith remained unconvinced, but she was too exhausted to continue the discussion. “I suppose I have no choice but to wait for them to act.”
“Act?” Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “What are you afraid they might do?”
Faith opted for a touch of humor—dark, true, but humor nonetheless. “Run me out of town on the newly laid rails is one possibility that comes to mind.”
“Bah!” Addie joined Olivia, presenting a united front. “They’re no ogres, and you’ll soon see that. They’re good men.”
“I have no doubt they are,” Faith said. “That’s why I don’t think they can put themselves in my shoes. They’ve heard over and over again from Theo how I’ve done the unthinkable. With that thought in their minds, I doubt they can see me for who I am. They certainly won’t understand my horror at the thought of hurting another being, and that’s human as well as animal. They don’t know what I saw or felt when I returned home from town the day Mama and Papa were killed. They don’t know me well enough.”
When her three companions objected, Faith held up a ha
nd. “You hardly know me either. Good sense alone says you should be at least a bit suspicious of a practical stranger. You know I haven’t spent hardly any time in town since I wed Roger. And I’m a different woman from the girl who went to school here years ago. That’s why I don’t blame them. I don’t understand how the three of you have decided to trust me after all that time I spent away from the life of the town.”
Her words seemed to bring the three wives some soothing. It also had them declaring their complete trust in her, in spite of what had happened at the box lunch auction, in spite of everything else. And it allowed the four women to part on good terms. But it did nothing to ease the fury of Faith’s troubling thoughts.
After all, what was she going to do next? Theo had no intention of letting the matter of Roger’s untimely death fall by the wayside. He intended to extract his pound of flesh from her. He’d never liked her; why would he show her the slightest mercy now?
Mercy?
Oh, goodness. How silly of her. How could a man who had no understanding of God’s gracious gift offer it to her in turn?
He couldn’t.
And that was why she feared the future she faced would be bleak indeed.
The next afternoon, Faith made her way across the churchyard, a brimming pail full of hot water and slivered yellow soap in one hand, three thick cotton rags in the other. She’d persuaded Mrs. Alton to let her repay them for their hospitality by letting her clean the sanctuary. When her hostess had argued, saying it was her pleasure to have her company in the parsonage, Faith had insisted she needed something to do, if for no other reason than to keep from going wildly crazed thinking and fretting her hours away.
At that, understanding had dawned on Mrs. Alton, and she’d agreed.
When she reached the doors to the sanctuary, Faith set down the pail and used the heavy key the reverend’s wife had given her. Once inside, she made her way down toward the altar, where she left her supplies to go search for the broom Mrs. Alton told her they stored in her husband’s office.
Faith found the broom straight away, but she also found much to draw her attention away from her planned clean-up. Reverend Alton kept a tall pair of well stocked bookshelves behind his desk. They drew her like magnets did iron filings.