by Ginny Aiken
“But—”
“I already married once because of my situation, Nathan. You know how that turned out.” She stopped the sob that threatened to escape. “I can’t see wedding again to save myself from trouble ahead. If I’m to marry, it’ll have to be for the right reason. I’ll need affection, a man who’s interested in me rather than doing a duty, as honorable as that is. I want the love that’ll see two people through years and years of joy and sadness, of abundance and lack, of comfort and work.”
He ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it even more. “I do care, Faith. I care what happens to you in the future. And, sure. I don’t know you well enough to say I’m truly…well, fond of you, but I’m sure we can get there in time.”
She was tempted. Oh, yes, she was. But in the end, that hunger in her heart won out. “Perhaps. But I can’t take that risk again. I know too well how things can turn out if love doesn’t bind two lives. Thank you, Nathan, but no. I won’t marry you. I’ll have to trust the Father in this.”
“I understand if I can’t change your mind.” Regret mingled with relief on his face. “But I stand by my word. If you decide to take a chance on me, why…send me word, and I’ll fetch Reverend Alton straight away. My offer of marriage will still stand.”
A knot formed in her throat, and Faith recognized what she was turning down. She didn’t know another man as honorable as Nathan, and while the thought of marriage to the logger held unspeakable appeal, she was determined to stand her ground.
“I can’t saddle you with my troubles,” she murmured in little more than a whisper, unable to muster a strong, clear voice. “It wouldn’t be right, no matter what you say. I do appreciate your kindness and decency, and will always be grateful for all you’ve done on my behalf.”
“Your mind is made up.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded.
“Very well. But you won’t be able to send me away so easily yet. I’ll be here, in case you need me, and if you should change your mind, until this is all resolved.”
One way or another…
He didn’t say the words, but they seemed to hang in the air between them. All Faith could do was nod once. She then turned her back on Nathan. She couldn’t bear to see him walk away.
The sound of his departing footsteps after the clang of the cell door rang in the hollow jail.
Only then did Faith let the tears fall. They didn’t stop for a long time.
A week after Faith was jailed the marshal surprised her by pausing outside the bars to her cell halfway through the morning. “Missus Nolan, ma’am, I’ve received a telegram telling me the judge will be here in a week’s time. I reckon we’ll be ready for the trial when he gets here.”
What could she say? “I’ll be ready—I’m ready right now.”
He nodded, and with a kind look, went back to his office.
When Faith stopped shaking after he’d left, she pulled out the Bible Mrs. Alton had brought her, and began to read. Every so often, she paused to wipe tears from her cheeks. During the time she spent in her Father’s Word, she sought answers to her questions and comfort, neither of which she found. After enough time, however, she did reach a measure of inner peace.
She was ready to accept whatever God might have in store for her life, even if it turned out to be a short one. Still, could she bear for the time she had left to be filled with the awareness that God had let injustice steal her days on earth?
A wash of regret for what she would miss flowed over her. She’d yet to know the mystery of falling in love, or the wonder of maternal feelings that came along with the birth of a child. A sharp pang pierced her heart. It hurt too much to even consider those losses.
If Theo had his way that was exactly what was in store for her.
How she wished she might not miss any of the magnificent things she’d dreamed about for years. She was still young enough that it could all happen. If she closed her eyes and gave her imagination free rein, she could picture herself pledging her life to another man, to one who would treasure her, to one rich with decency and dignity and honor, to one like…like Nathan.
And now he had offered.
She covered her face with her chilled hands at the pure embarrassment her foolish thought brought along with it. Up until a short while ago, none of their encounters had given her the slightest hint that anything like a courtship, a romance, or—
Heavens! Even after his proposal, any one of those things was out of the question.
Still, if she were to describe the kind of man she’d have wanted for a husband, why, it would be someone very much like Nathan Bartlett.
How wonderful it might have been if she could have let herself dream of a life with him, of the family they might possibly have had together. How splendid it would have been to watch those little ones blossom into the excellent, godly men and women the Lord surely would have planned for them to become.
How wonderful it might have been if she could have let herself accept his offer of marriage.
A sob escaped her tight throat.
Oh, my! Grandchildren…what an incomparable joy that could have been.
But not without love.
A trembling sigh slipped out. Those impossible imaginings were what hurt the worst. Death didn’t trouble her. Not really. It was only a step she would take to enter eternity and see the face of her Savior. If it came in a week, well then, it was simply coming that much sooner than she’d planned. Or wished.
Oh, yes, she would miss a long earthly life, but not the one she’d known the last three years.
The thought of all the loss, of missing the joys her Father had planned for her…that brought her deep, abiding pain. Tears washed her cheeks.
“Father?” She clasped the Bible close to her heart. “Are you here? I want to feel your presence in my days, especially if they’re my last ones. I want to feel you near me while I make my way through this dreadful trial. I need you, Father, at my side. Fill me with the comfort of your Holy Spirit…and the truth of your mercy and goodness and love.”
While she dreaded what she feared was about to come, she knew the One who sat on His eternal throne, and Mama and Papa were there at His side. That truth brought her the only spark of joy she could find in her dark situation.
Perhaps if she focused on that it would give her the strength she would need to get through the sad farewells she’d soon have to say. She had come to treasure the friendships she’d recently made. Mrs. Alton, Olivia, and Addie had shown her what she had missed growing up out on her parents’ property. Yes, she’d known the girls from when she’d gone to school in Bountiful whenever weather had permitted, and she’d seen them as adults those times she’d been able to attend church in more recent times, but the kind of support and friendship they’d recently shown her was new. That encouragement continued unchanged, as did their daily visits. She appreciated them more than she could say.
“Missus Nolan?”
The lawman’s voice startled Faith. She shuddered, and with the back of her hand, quickly swiped away the tears still on her cheeks. “Yes, Marshal Blair.”
“You have visitors.”
“Visitors?” Olivia had stopped by earlier, after she’d walked her children to school. She hadn’t expected anyone else, except for perhaps Mrs. Alton bearing the usual covered dish filled with a tasty supper. “I can’t imagine who would be here. I suppose you can show them in. If you’ll remember, I am your prisoner.”
The marshal chuckled as he stepped aside. “Don’t reckon I can keep them away.”
To Faith’s surprise, Nathan walked in, an older bespectacled stranger at his side.
“Hello, Faith,” the logger said. “I’ve brought someone for you to meet. This is Mr. Peterson. Mr. Peterson, Mrs. Faith Nolan. If you’ll accept him, he’ll be your lawyer for the trial.”
“Lawyer?” Confusion grew. “We don’t have a lawyer in Bountiful, do we?” She shook her head. “That was silly. Of course, I can’t have an attorney fo
r the trial. I don’t have any means to pay him. I’m so sorry you’ve wasted your time in coming to see me, Mr. Peterson.”
“Don’t worry about payment,” Nathan said, his cheeks a ruddy red. “His services have been paid for. And he only came from Pendleton, not so great a journey. We fetched him to look out for you once the judge gets here.”
Pride stung Faith. She sprang to her feet. “I’ll have you know, I’m not one to accept charity, not even from friends. I suspect you’ve appealed to the ladies who’ve offered me their encouragement. I doubt their husbands would approve of your efforts.”
A tight smile widened Nathan’s lips. “Then you’ll be surprised it’s actually the husbands who insist you accept representation. They’re the ones who’ve put up the funds to hire Mr. Peterson.”
She gave him a doubtful glare. “I suppose you’re about to tell me you’re an innocent bystander in this effort?”
He blushed.
She had her answer.
He began to stammer. “Er…well, you see…I—”
“Save your breath, sir. I’ll not be the object of anyone’s pity.”
“Don’t be foolish.” His jaw resembled a stony ledge. “We haven’t offered pity. Can’t you identify friendship and caring? Did Roger Nolan ruin you so much you can’t see when they’re being offered?”
It was Faith’s turn to blush. “If you put it that way…I suppose you might have a point.”
“If you’ll both delay this argument until later,” the lawyer said, a smile on his thin face, “we can get quite a bit done right now. Discussing the case, investigating the situation—situations, from what I understand—strikes me as a better way to spend our time than using words and pride as swords.”
She sighed and gave the gentleman a quick nod.
“I suppose it’s best for me to leave you alone to talk.” Nathan turned to Mr. Peterson. “I’ll be with Adam Blair. You can join me there once you’re done. I can show you down to the River Run Hotel so that you can rest after your journey.”
Once Nathan left, the silence seemed to deepen and draw out. Finally, when Faith feared she couldn’t bear it for another moment, Mr. Peterson opened his briefcase and took out a small notebook and pencil.
His smile was warm and encouraging. “I’m sure you’ve had to repeat your story more times than you care to count, Mrs. Nolan, but I’d appreciate if you would do so one more time. Please don’t hurry. There’s nowhere I need to be, and it’s more important for you to recall everything possible—”
“If you please, Mr. Peterson.” She smiled back. “You don’t need to go on. You’re right. I have been asked the same thing dozens of times, and have become a reluctant expert at telling even the least important of details.”
The lawyer smiled, but didn’t respond, his pencil poised over his notebook, a clear sign to Faith. She went over her story one more time, answering his questions as she went along. When she was done, she fell silent, clasped her hands in her lap, and sighed, exhausted, not so much by her speech, but by her situation.
Mr. Peterson paged through his notes a few times. “Well, Mrs. Nolan. That’s quite a tale you tell.” He met her gaze. “I must admit, I can’t see a solid reason to believe you, but I also can’t see a reason for you to do a single one of the things you’ve been accused of doing. Experience has taught me that criminals don’t act without a cause.”
His first statement set Faith’s heart to a rapid, pounding beat. While his second statement eased her sudden fear, her general anxiety didn’t lessen. “I can’t understand how something like this can happen,” she said. “Certainly not to someone like me. I’ve done nothing but tend to my home and the store for years. The only folks I saw during that time are the customers at the store, my husband, and my brother-in-law. I always made sure to keep to myself and to never offend anyone, not even Roger.”
Mr. Peterson shook his head. “It’s more than I can fathom. Tell me, Mrs. Nolan, is there anyone who might gain from your misfortune?”
She shook her head. “No one, not even Theo. When he first accused me, I doubted anyone would believe him, but…” She shrugged. “Here we are.”
“What was Theo’s part in the business?”
Faith chuckled. “That’s a good question, sir. I never figured it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“He didn’t work in the store, and only once or twice helped Roger unpack the mules. He was gone much of the time. From what I’ve been told and noticed myself, now that I’ve spent some time in Bountiful, he’s right fond of a rocker on the hotel’s porch here in town.”
“Hm…and yet he feels entitled to the store. And the mules, if I understand correctly.”
“He says he put up money when they first opened the store.”
Mr. Peterson tapped his notebook with his pencil, again going over his notes. “Are you sure he was not around when you and Roger argued?”
“He was quite drunk, sir, so he wasn’t quiet. I heard him leave.”
He nodded in a measured way. “Did you know the men who were with your husband when you returned from the camp?”
Faith shrugged. “I didn’t know them. I’d met Captain Roberts and Sergeant Graves from the times they did business at the store, and I may have seen one or two of the others with the officers, but I rarely paid much attention to Roger’s friends.”
“It was safer that way, I would assume.”
She jerked her head up and met his gaze. Instead of judgment, she found compassion there. Tears threatened, so she swallowed hard, blinked, and nodded.
He filled in the silence. “I take it by the time you and Roger argued they were gone as well.”
She nodded again. Then, when she felt she could speak, she drew a deep breath. “The way I see things, someone wants me to pay for their sins. But who?” Tears welled, and this time, she couldn’t stop them. One rolled down her cheek. “Who could do such a cowardly thing? Who despises me so much? And…well, why?”
Mr. Peterson removed his spectacles and cleaned them with a snowy handkerchief. Before donning them again, he pressed thumb and forefinger against the ridge between his eyes, which he closed, as though he could see the events pictured across his eyelids. “Theo Nolan insists you killed Roger and started the fire, but Marshal Blair can’t find anything to prove the accusation. It all burned away.”
“So here I sit, unable to help myself.”
“Let’s move on,” Mr. Peterson suggested. “When it comes to the poisoned lunch, you’re in a better position. Mrs. Alton worked with you to cook the food, and both of you packed the same things. No one but Mr. Parham was poisoned, even though you and the Altons ate the same food.”
She breathed a mite more easily.
“To murky matters once again,” he continued, his brows knitting together, “even you can’t deny you were the only one in the church when the collections box disappeared.”
“I was.”
“And you had a strange tale about a dog. It was there…and then it wasn’t. The church door was closed, and then it wasn’t. Reverend Alton insists it was locked when he came and found you in his office.”
“Of course, it was. I locked it myself. After I came to.”
Mr. Peterson shook his head. “Strange.”
“I didn’t take the collection box, Mr. Peterson.”
He met her gaze square on.
She didn’t flinch.
He gave a nod, then flipped to another page in his notebook, paused, read, and met her gaze again. “Here’s something else. Theo is your brother-in-law. Tell me, Mrs. Nolan. How well do you know the fellow? How did the two of you get on? Did you ever have words?”
At the memory of Theo’s beady eyes following her as she served and cleared supper, she shuddered. “I did all I could to stay far from him and on his good side. We rarely exchanged more than greetings or his requests for seconds at supper and coffee at all times.”
“How about with your husband? Did Theo and Roger argue
much?”
She chuckled. “All the time. At least once or twice on the hour. It meant nothing.”
The lawyer’s brows shot up over the upper edge of his silver spectacle frames. “Could they have quarreled more seriously while you were asleep? Could it have festered in Theo after he left, leading him to round back, and kill Roger?”
This time she laughed. “Only if that skunk changed his stripes. He would have had to decide he was prepared to put himself forward for the first time in his life. You see, Roger was Theo’s only means of income. I ran the store, and Roger provided his brother with money. Theo never worked while I was there.”
“A matter of the heart, then. Could Theo have been sweet on you and jealous of his brother?”
Her laughter multiplied. “Oh…oh, goodness me, Mr. Peterson. That is much too funny. No, sir. It could only have been a matter of the heart if the fellow had one for anything besides his next bender.”
He arched a brow. “Well, then. How about enemies? Did your late husband have any?”
Faith shrugged. “Since his death, I’ve come to understand that most folks in these parts disliked Roger and Theo. But I’m not sure that dislike ever reached the point of hate or a wish to see either of them dead.” A frightening image came to mind. “There were the Indians, though…”
“Indians? I thought they’d been removed to reservations after that last war to the south of here.”
“Most of them were, but some escaped the Army’s efforts to move them. There have been stray groups—more like two or three men—that have attacked farms and ranchers for the food and the livestock. It…it happened to my parents during the Bannock War.”
“Your folks? Are they…?”
“They were killed, sir, and our farm burned to the ground. Before you ask, I wasn’t home when they struck. I’d gone into Bountiful for supplies Papa had ordered from Mr. Metcalf at the Mercantile. When I returned, only the ruins, ashes and smoke, were left.”
A pained look crossed his face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. My condolences.” The silence lengthened. Then the lawyer cleared his throat. “I would suspect that’s when you accepted Mr. Nolan’s proposal.”