by Ginny Aiken
It had been a while since she’d indulged her love of reading. Roger hadn’t put much stock in books, seeing as how he and Theo were barely literate, so Faith hadn’t had much choice during her years of marriage. She’d never been allowed to order books in any of the many shipments she’d received while she ran the general store. The long drought had left her so thirsty for the written word she couldn’t have kept herself from reaching out and running a respectful finger up and down the spines of any number of the tomes ranging the shelves even if an angry rattler had sat atop them.
She pulled out a thick volume at random, and brought the book up close, wrapping her arms around it, hugging it to her heart. She drew in a deep breath, pleased by the familiar scent of paper, ink, and leather binding. It brought Mama and Papa to mind.
Tears in her eyes, she turned the book to see the title on the spine, but before she could read it, she heard a sound out in the main room of the church. Strange. She’d thought she’d closed the door behind her, and she hadn’t expected company as she worked.
“Hello?” she called.
No one answered.
The silence, instead of reassuring her, made her uneasy. She set down the volume of Greek history on Reverend Alton’s neat desk and, prayer on her lips, stepped back out into the large expanse of the sanctuary.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
Once again, her question received no response. This time, her heart rate kicked up, and her nerves made her muscles tight. Her hands seized down and her shoulders stiffened. Determined not to let something as silly as a creaky floorboard get the better of her, she tipped up her chin and marched out toward the front doors.
Before she reached the entrance to the church, however, she found the source of the sounds. Inside the wide wooden doors sat a large basket covered with a piece of brown flannel. As she approached, the tiny golden head of a young pup, one barely old enough to have opened its eyes, shoved the fabric aside.
The pup and the basket couldn’t have been there even ten minutes.
“Where did you come from?” she asked, unable to ignore the poor thing even though all her instincts urged her to run. “Who left you here?”
The young animal let out a sharp bark, the same squeaky sound she’d heard while in the reverend’s office, and her heart melted. She dropped down to a crouch, making soft, soothing sounds, hoping to reassure the little fellow. Faith ran a finger over the puppy’s head, and was thrilled when her caress was rewarded with a lick of the warm, raspy tongue.
Had someone known the Altons would make sure the puppy would find itself a good home? Faith had no doubt the reverend and his wife would never let the defenseless creature suffer, and she knew their congregation knew it as well. How she wished she were in a position to be the one to raise the young dog into a strong, loyal friend and companion. She certainly needed that kind of presence in her life.
But she had no means to do as her heart urged her to do. She sighed.
“You sweet thing,” she said. “How could anyone abandon you here? I could never do that. Did they have no way to provide for you? They must have cared enough to bring you—”
Blinding pain struck her temple, cutting off her words. As darkness took over, Faith had only one thought.
This was no accident.
Chapter 13
The by-now familiar pounding inside her head told Faith she was still alive. A third blow to her head. Surely this couldn’t be good. Neither could it be passed off as a coincidence any longer. Someone had tried to—
Well, someone had tried to…harm her, and not only this time. In her heart of hearts she knew the episode with the runaway horse on Main Street had been meant to hurt her.
Maybe even…oh, goodness. Did she have to consider that? Had someone really tried to…to kill her?
Again?
Could it be?
Who was behind these attempts? Was it the same person who’d killed Roger? And why had they killed her husband? Why would they want to kill her? Who hated her that much? While she knew most folks in Bountiful, she didn’t know any of them especially well. Surely not well enough to make someone want to kill her. Who wanted her out of their way so much as to risk being caught, attacking as they’d done in plain daylight?
The troubling thoughts whirled in Faith’s throbbing head, no answer coming to her as she considered all that had happened in her immediate past. A chilly gust of air raked icy fingers over her sprawled body, and she shuddered.
She blinked, and through the pain in her head took stock of her surroundings. She remembered coming to the entry foyer of the church, and from what she could see, she hadn’t left…or been moved. Since that was the case, there shouldn’t have been such a cold wind coming in. With a great deal of caution and all her strength she fought the queasiness and rose onto her elbows. Her surroundings turned hazy for a moment, and she blinked four or five more times to clear her vision.
The double doors she’d carefully closed when she’d arrived, and that had still been closed even after someone had dropped off the puppy—
The dog! Where was he?
Faith struggled to a sitting position. “Hey, little one. I’m still here. I didn’t leave you…”
But when she forced her eyes to truly focus, she realized the basket was gone. A deeper sense of disorientation struck her, and she turned to look back toward the altar. She found no sign of the basket. Or the pup. Had she imagined it? Did she have the order of events correct in her fuzzy mind? Could she have dreamt the dog in the basket after she’d been struck?
“What on earth…?”
Someone had struck her. Of that, she remained certain. She hadn’t fallen, hadn’t hit herself against anything. She was certain she’d found a dog a few feet inside the door. She hadn’t imagined it, hadn’t dreamed it. Also, the walls on either side of the entrance area were at least four or five feet away to her left and her right. There was nothing in the church foyer she could have hit, even if she’d slipped and fallen.
Someone had indeed hit her.
Calling on all her strength, she rose to her knees, and then to her feet. Another wave of dizziness threatened to fell her again, but she fought to cling to her senses. Only when she felt able to stand without danger of falling did she slowly step toward the open doors. Even being so weak, she knew she had to close them. Whoever had hit her could return and finish the job she feared they’d started out to do.
She didn’t think their goal had been to merely stun her. They’d likely left the pup in the church to distract her. Did they think she might identify them later? No. They didn’t want her to call for help…or fight back or run. The more she thought about it, and it being the third attempt on her life, she was now sure the goal had been—and still remained—to kill her. But then, why was she still alive?
Although she was prepared to go home to her heavenly Father whenever He called her to His side, she didn’t want her departure from life to come about because of some criminal bent on doing away with her. At present, Faith didn’t feel her time had come to see her Savior face to face.
After she locked the doors behind her with the key that had still been in her skirt pocket, she turned toward the front of the church and slowly approached. A few feet away from the altar, right where she’d left them, she found her cleaning supplies. The bucket of now-cold water sat in the same spot, and the pile of rags hadn’t moved either. She made her way to Reverend Alton’s office again, and found that door open, just as she’d left it when she’d gone to see what had made the sound in the sanctuary. She gasped.
“Goodness!”
The previously neat desk was no longer clear on top. A slurry of papers flooded the polished oak top, and poured off the right side and onto the floor. Faith stepped inside the room to approach the desk. But before she got there, she realized all the drawers had been pulled open. A couple had papers sticking out, clear proof, if any more was needed, that someone had ransacked the place.
While she
stood, shocked by what had happened, Faith sensed she was no longer alone. She spun around. Reverend Alton stood in the doorway, a thunderous expression on his normally calm and pleasant face.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked in a clipped, stern voice.
The blood draining from her face, Faith found she couldn’t get words out past her tightened throat. “I—I…”
“Why would you do such a thing?” He ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. “My wife said you’d come to clean the sanctuary. There was nothing about rifling through my papers in that proposition.”
Fear knotted her stomach, but righteous indignation gave her the strength to go on. “I…didn’t do this. I did come to clean. Mrs. Alton said I’d find the broom here, and that’s all I did—well, I did take a book on Greek history from one of your bookshelves, but that’s it. I put it down on your desk when I heard the puppy crying out in the sanctuary. Oh!” She pointed. “See? There it is.”
He blinked, clearly bewildered by her response. “A puppy? In the sanctuary? Oh, what am I talking about? You’re saying you took the time out to read when you were supposed to clean? I don’t understand.”
Of course, he didn’t. She’d lived through the events she’d enumerated, and she failed to understand. Still, she somehow had to make him see she hadn’t done a single thing wrong.
“I can see where it’s confusing,” she said. “I’m confused, myself.”
“Then please try to help me understand.”
“Gladly, sir.” Slowly, and with due attention to detail, Faith proceeded to describe her afternoon to Reverend Alton. He didn’t interrupt, but even when she’d finished, she could tell she hadn’t made any progress.
The silence lengthened. Then, without warning, the reverend let out an exclamation. “Oh, no!”
He hurried to the far side of the desk, pulled the deep bottom drawer all the way out, and then shook his head. “I’d hoped…”
Against her better judgment, Faith took a step forward. “What? What is it?”
When he looked up at her, his features were set in what seemed a deliberately mild and neutral expression, but the piercing look he sent her wasn’t. It was clear he’d hardened his mind-set toward her. “The box where I always keep the offering is gone. It was especially full today, what with the money the ladies made on the auction. On Mondays, I make a deposit late in the afternoon, and of course, I hadn’t done so yet.”
What he didn’t say, but made clear to Faith without a word, was that he believed she’d done something with the box. She couldn’t let him keep that wrong notion, however, so she tried to explain.
“I don’t know who took it,” she said. “Maybe it was whoever hit me in the head. If you care to check, I have a knot where they struck, and a throbbing headache.”
“You were hit in the head. Again.”
It wasn’t a question. Faith could almost touch the skepticism in his voice, and she knew she couldn’t blame him. Even she could scarcely believe it had happened. Yet again, as he’d said.
How could she expect anyone to believe any of it?
She sighed. “I suppose you must feel the same disbelief I do, sir. Probably more. As I tell you the details, they sound improbable, even to me, but I promise you, Reverend Alton. It all happened as I’ve told you. I don’t have a better explanation because it’s the only one. That is what happened. I can also assure you I don’t have the box.”
The reverend arched a brow. “Really, now, Mrs. Nolan. Does the box matter one bit?”
She knew what he meant. “I don’t have the missing money, either.”
“I see.”
His expression remained neutral, but his voice again reflected what she could only term his disbelief. Before she could further defend herself, not that she thought a defense had even a remote chance to help, he continued.
“I must send for the marshal. The church has been robbed. It’s a matter for him to investigate. We’ll have to accept whatever he finds.”
Faith took his words as a somewhat ominous warning. As if her life had had anything but ominous overtones lately.
But that didn’t matter. The marshal did indeed need to be fetched. “Of course,” she said. “I would also like to know who has been after me. After today’s episode, I am convinced someone means for me to follow Roger into death.”
Reverend Alton’s gaze cut to her. His lips tightened, his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. In the silence, Faith’s heartbeat clanged louder. She hated the vacuum of sound, but what could she do? What could she say?
She had to wait.
“I’m glad you agree, Mrs. Nolan. Allow me a moment. I’ll stick my head out the door to see who might be passing by so I can send them to fetch Marshal Blair. Go ahead. Since you say you were hit, it likely makes sense for you to take a seat while I go.”
“Thank you, but”—she couldn’t, just couldn’t, tell him she was afraid to stay alone, even in his office—“I’d rather follow you.”
Again, his eyes narrowed as he studied her face. Then he nodded. “Suit yourself.”
Faith hoped the marshal came quickly. Her nerves couldn’t bear much more.
Nathan couldn’t believe his ears. Not only had Faith Nolan been at the side of Lewis Parham when the poor fellow had been poisoned, but now it appeared she’d been at the church at the precise time when the full offering box had vanished. How would she try to explain this latest incident?
“You coming with me, then, Nathan?” Adam Blair asked him after the carpenter Reverend Alton had sent to fetch the lawman left the jail.
“Of course. All that has happened in the last few days seems to have been put into motion by Faith’s—Mrs. Nolan’s decision to bring my order up to my camp.”
The lawman leaned back in the chair behind his desk and studied Nathan. The close scrutiny of those keen eyes made him feel as though Adam could read his every thought about Faith, even the ones that weren’t especially negative. Nathan’s cheeks warmed as the seconds ticked by.
When he feared he would lose his mind waiting, the marshal spoke again. “You really think it’s about you?”
“Well, yes—er…no. Not exactly.”
Adam crossed his arms, a hint of amusement on his mustachioed face. “Care to explain that to me?”
Nathan’s cheeks burned hotter. “I think there’s likely something in what she did that led to her husband being killed. Don’t ask, seeing as I can’t imagine what it might be. And I’m afraid that’s the reason the cabin was burned down, the reason she was attacked at that same time.”
“I can rightly see your reasoning behind that notion, but what does any of that have to do with the offering box at the church?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what one thing has to do with the other, but…well, it will sound crazy, but my gut tells me none of this is random. It can’t be. How many coincidences can happen in a matter of days?”
“I agree. But why do you think it’s someone who’s done all this to Mrs. Nolan rather than Mrs. Nolan having done it all herself? I can’t quite see my way clear to your kind of reckoning anymore.”
Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve asked myself the same question more times than I can count, but I come back to the same thing each time. Why? Why would a reasonable lady act against her interests, killing her husband who provided for her, and burning down her home? She’s homeless now, remember? She no longer has the mules she loves so much, she’s under suspicion for any number of crimes, and now she goes and steals money from the church? That seems…well, if not mighty stupid, then at least foolish. Faith—Mrs. Nolan doesn’t strike me as a stupid or foolish woman. But, I suppose I have to agree with you in a fashion. If not her, then who?”
The marshal shook his head, his grin broadening. “You sure you’re not after proving her innocent ’cuz you’re after marrying up with her? She’s an awful pretty thing, ain’t she?”
Again, Nathan feared his feelings were emblazoned across his
face, but he steeled himself against the embarrassment. “No such thing, Adam. I’m grateful the lady helped me and my men a handful of times, especially that last shipment of food when we were dangerously low, and I do feel sorry for her. She suffered a great deal at Roger’s hand. But none of that means I’m set on marrying. Not her or any other woman. Not right now. I have a flume I’m in the middle of building. Now that the general store is no more, I’m of a mind to open up my own company store for my camp and my men, seeing as how I’m going to have to do something to get supplies up the mountain. At the least that’s going to mean I have to carve out a road from that forest. On top of all that, I have to cut enough lumber to sell to the mills west of here so I can pay my men. None of that leaves me room for courting or wedding a woman. From all I hear, sweethearts and wives take up a whole lot of a fellow’s time.”
The lawman smiled. “That there’s an awful lot of words to tell me no. Have to wonder if you’re arguing more against yourself than you’re arguing against me.”
To keep from saying anything further, Nathan turned to face the door. “Coming?”
Adam Blair laughed out loud. “Oh, I would think it’s right fair to say I have no notion of missing any of this. Whatever ‘this’ might turn out to be.”
Nathan faced his friend. “And that’s supposed to mean…?”
“That you’re arguing too much, my friend, and you’re much too interested in the lovely widow lady’s fate.”
“Does that mean you don’t think she’s guilty of all she stands accused of?”
Adam donned his hat and cinched his gun holster a notch tighter. “You’d’a asked me yesterday, I’d’a said, that’s right. Now? Can’t say as I know yet what I rightly think.” The lawman shot him a sideways glance. “But if I had to take a guess, I’d have to follow my gut. It’s telling me she’s as innocent as you or me.”