Faith

by Peggy McKenzie

  Lavinia’s eyes slanted in her direction, reminding her of a cat waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. Faith watched the woman sit in the chair she had just vacated.

  “I see. So the two of you will be working here. Together. Interesting.”

  Liam walked around to the back of his desk and sat in his chair. It was as if he wanted to put as much furniture between him and this Lavinia Markham as he was able.

  “I’m not sure how interesting—”

  “Faith?” Mrs. Markham was speaking to her, but her hungry eyes never left Liam.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Faith curtsied even though the woman couldn’t see her.

  “Would you be a dear and get me some tea? I had to cut my morning preparations short this morning.”

  “Lavinia, Faith is not a maid—”

  Faith watched Liam squirm in his chair, obviously uncomfortable with the demands of his unexpected visitor.

  “It’s alright, Mr. O’Brien. I don’t mind. Would you like cream and sugar with your tea, Mrs. Markham?” Faith had no idea what made her emphasize the woman’s marital status. Jealousy? Faith had no claim on Liam. It was none of her business what he did or whom he did it with. But she couldn’t help smiling to herself as she quit the room to find a teapot. She really didn’t care how rude the woman was to her. Liam had defended her to the woman and that was all that mattered.

  8

  Liam scribbled on his notepad, trying to clear his mind after Lavinia Markham’s visit. She always made him feel uncomfortable, but lately her attentions toward him seemed more aggressive than usual.

  He had never been happier to see Hiram than he was this morning when his mentor arrived for work. He knew Hiram accurately assessed the situation with a single look and invited Mrs. Markham into his office to discuss whatever ruse she used to justify her visit to the office. And so early.

  He made a point of not being in his office when she made her exit.

  Now he was back at his desk and trying his best to work on an upcoming case. A miner was accusing Mr. Markham of stealing his mine claim. He thought the miner had been duped and he intended to right the wrong. It was hard to fight someone like Markham with all his money, but Liam prided himself in always picking the side of justice.

  Liam’s thoughts wandered to Faith’s trial. Was her trial and sentence on the side of justice? She had been attacked by a drunken reprobate and she was forced to defend herself. That should have been an open and shut case. But, because she worked in a saloon and she was a half-breed, opinions and prejudices came into the picture and tainted the mix. People’s prejudices should never interfere with the truth. But Liam knew from firsthand experience how hard it was to overcome a way of thinking based upon a traumatic event in one’s life. He doodled on his pad some more. Hiram Hanover was a legal genius, but even he admitted they were lucky in winning Faith’s case.

  Thinking about Faith brought him back to the reason for his hatred always simmering just below the surface. And that hatred fired his anger at the thought of what Faith’s people had done to his parents. Perhaps she wasn’t directly responsible, but her people were and he needed to find justice for his family. He couldn’t very well ask her to pay for someone else’s deed. What kind of justice would that be?

  The horrific images of his parents lying on the ground invaded his unguarded thoughts. Bloody. Cold. Lifeless. He could still smell the metal tinge of his parents’ blood-soaked bodies. But even worse, if there could be a worse than watching his parents murdered right in front of his eyes, was hearing his little sister’s screams for help. Watching her thrown over the lap of one of them as they rode off to a fate Liam couldn’t let himself imagine.

  “Are you alright, Mr. O’Brien?”

  Pulled out of his nightmare by the one person he wished to avoid left him no time to temper his response.

  “Whether I am or not is none of your concern, Miss No-Name. Your job is to do your work and not concern yourself with what I am about. Is that clear?”

  The fear in her eyes stabbed him in the gut. He knew he wasn’t being fair. She hadn’t done anything. But her people had, and he would not soon forget that fact even though her soulful eyes sometimes caught him off-guard.

  Tears glistened in her eyes. Damn. He should apologize. But he couldn’t seem to get the words past his lips.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Mr. O’Brien. I came to see if there was something for me to do. I didn’t mean to disturb….”

  Her words trailed off. He could hear her emotions crack her voice. Damn it.

  “Liam, can I see you a moment in my office?” Hiram called out to him.

  He shot Faith a look that said, “Now look what you’ve done.” He could tell by the pallor of her skin, she received his message loud and clear.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t.” He held up his hand to stop her from speaking. He felt bad enough as it was and for her to apologize made him feel like the jerk he was.

  He grabbed a notepad on his desk and shoved it at her when he passed through the doorway between his office and the library. “Look up this statute and give me a rundown on how it reads.”

  He did his best to ignore the tears still glistening in her eyes. But, to her credit, she didn’t allow them to spill over. He was certain it wasn’t the first time she had to shield herself from abuse. Abuse. Was that what he was doing? He hoped not, but his sense of justice and fair play was sorely tested by his atrocious behavior.

  He watched her turn and nearly run back to her desk, anxious to hide from his hateful words.

  “Liam? Are you coming?”

  “Yes, Hiram. I’m on my way.”

  He hated how his anger made him feel. Anxious. Out of control. Violent. He wanted to throw something, and he wanted to do some damage when he did.

  He took a deep breath to slow his rapid breathing, and he pasted a smile on his face. He admired and respected Hiram Hanover, but he wasn’t looking forward to a dressing down, even though he knew he deserved every word coming to him.

  Liam sat in the plush leather chair across the desk from his partner and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Good morning, Liam. I take it your day isn’t going particularly well.” Hiram looked at him over the rim of his glasses.

  “Hiram—”

  “No need to explain. I know Lavinia Markham can be a bit trying.”

  “Lavinia Markham?” Liam was shocked the conversation was about that woman and not the one in the library never far from his traitorous thoughts. “Well, yes, she’s a bit trying. Actually, the woman’s crazy.”

  Hiram laughed. “The woman is crazy like a fox hunting a way into a henhouse, Liam. And right now, you are that henhouse. Don’t ever let your guard down with that woman or you will pay a price, I can assure you. A very steep price.”

  “I have no intentions toward Lavinia Markham.” Liam sighed in relief. “I thought you were—”

  “You thought I called you in here to chastise you on Faith’s behalf? Hardly. I know what it costs you to work with her considering your past. I’ve seen your restraint working with her these last months during the preparation of her trial. A herculean effort, my boy. And now that you will be working with her in close quarters for the next year, I do understand the self-restraint you must exercise to keep your professional appearance.

  “But I would like you to consider the cost she must pay as well. Every day of her life. And you should ask why would an innocent child, now an innocent woman, have to pay any price at all?”

  Liam sat back in his chair, all the energy of his anger deflated by just a few kind and insightful words from his mentor. He should have known Hiram Hanover would not initiate a direct attack. The man was a genius adversary, both in and out of the courtroom. He never laid all his cards on the table. He dealt them out one card at a time, always leading you to the conclusion he wants. And now was no exception.

  “Liam, I ask you another way. What crime has this woman really comm
itted to deserve retribution from people she barely knows? Like the people of Kansas City. Creede. You.”

  Liam knew the answer. He just didn’t want to say it out loud. He looked over at his law partner, fingers tented, waiting patiently for Liam’s answer. The man was not going to let him go without admitting the truth.

  “Because she’s different.” There. That should satisfy the wise ol’ owl.

  “And how is she different from most folks, Liam?”

  Damn the man. Couldn’t he let things be as they were? But Liam knew better. Hiram would dig and pick until the truth was bare and raw for all to see. Liam blurted out the truth against his will, and it kicked him in the gut to say it.

  “She’s different...because of the color of her skin.”

  “That’s right, Liam. She’s different because of who her parents were. And do we know who those people were?”

  Liam’s frustration loosened his tongue and now words came out on their own volition. “Of course not, sir. She is, or was, an orphan.”

  “And does a child have any control over who they are born to?”

  “No, sir.” Liam resigned himself to the truth exposing itself right in front of him.

  “Alright, let’s restate the facts to be sure what we know is accurate. Miss Faith No-Name has no idea who her parents are or where she came from.” Hiram looked at him over the rim of his glasses again.

  Resigned to the truth, he answered his mentor. “That’s correct, sir.”

  “And she had no say in what color her skin would be when she was born.”

  “Of course not.”

  “’Of course not’ that is not true or ‘of course not’ she had no choice in the matter?”

  Liam knew how the game was played.

  “Of course she had no choice in the matter. No child has been able to dictate their lineage to their parents.”

  “Very well, so now that we have verified the facts and the facts show Miss Faith No-Name is not guilty of anything other than looking a little bit different than most of the people around her, what should we do to champion her cause?”

  Liam knew what the right thing to do was. He wasn’t sure he could push past his prejudices to do it.

  It was then John’s words from yesterday’s conversation at the Holy Moses replayed in his head.

  “Get to know her. Instead of focusing on your differences, try looking for your similarities. Build a friendship on that.”

  Liam wasn’t ready to play nice, but he could certainly stop bullying an innocent and fragile young woman. And, his sense of justice, along with his iron fist, would prevent anyone else who had a mind to do so from doing the same.

  “I’ll do my best to make certain she is not made to suffer any harm because of her...differences.”

  Hiram sat back in his chair grinning like the crafty old fox he was. “That’s my boy. I knew I could count on you.”

  Liam knew he was going to have to work hard at overcoming his anger against the woman and her people. But he also knew she was not to blame. And he would be damned to hell before he disappointed the one man who had saved him from a worthless existence.

  “Very well, sir. I suppose I should get started.”

  9

  Faith scooted the rolling ladder to the section of the bookcase she was searching for. “Now where is that book?”

  Her eyes were searching for a particular volume Liam had asked for, but her mind was thinking about a certain Irishman holed up with Mr. Hanover.

  Liam was so angry with her when he closeted himself with Mr. Hanover behind closed doors. She dreaded his reappearance. Although she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, she wondered if there was any chance to change his mind about her. She didn’t hold much hope. Besides, how could she overcome his memories of what her people did to his family?

  “I have sentiments about certain things that can’t be overcome.” Wasn’t that what he had told her yesterday? Was he speaking about her people or was something else bothering him?

  Her skirt hem was a little too long for climbing the ladder. Tomorrow she would search for one of her older dresses where the fabric had shrunk from the many washings and the hem would be a little bit shorter.

  She raised her skirt and stepped up one rung of the ladder. Holding onto the railing, she stepped up another rung. And another. Her eyes scanned the legal tomes for the volume she was looking for.

  “There it is.” She reached for the book, but her fingertips barely brushed the leather bindings. She couldn’t pull it from its perch on the shelf.

  Faith pulled on the shelf, hoping to roll the ladder closer to the book, but the pressure of her pull caused her shoe to slip on the rung. Swinging around the side of the ladder, she hung in mid-air.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Liam’s voice jabbed at her back.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. O’Brien. I was reaching for a book, the book for the statute research you gave me, and I managed to slip off the ladder somehow.“

  Faith found herself pulled from the ladder by the two strong arms of the man who appeared nightly in her dreams. In the darkness. In her bed. He cradled her against his hard chest and she let him.

  Shocked by his closeness, Faith looked up into the face of her rescuer, inches from hers. Amazing blue eyes, the color of a clear Colorado sky in summer, stared back at her. Was that surprise on his face?

  Should she say something? She was afraid if she did, he might throw her to the floor. That wouldn’t bother her near as much as his rejection. Liam’s face flushed with embarrassment, and he nearly did drop her in his haste to distance himself from her.

  Faith took a moment to straighten her clothing before looking at the man who saved her from falling to the floor.

  “Thank you, Mr. O’Brien. I guess I reached out farther than I should have from the top rung of the ladder. I will not do that again, I assure you.”

  The look in his eyes did things to her and only made her feelings for the handsome attorney more devastating.

  He stood unmoving for a few more seconds. Then he stepped backwards, putting space between them.

  “Yes. Well, please see that you don’t. I would hate to have to report back to the court that the Hanover-O’Brien Law Practice shirked their duties in caring for a—” His words trailed off when he realized what he was saying.

  “A murdering Indian.” She supplied the words for him. Faith did her best to hide her hurt, but she could feel her tears sting the back of her eyelids. Again.

  A look of chagrin colored his face again. “Actually, I was going to say convicted felon. I’m sorry…”

  She watched him struggle with his words.

  The humor of her situation made her laugh. Faith let him off the hook as much to spare her own feelings as his. “I’m not sure one label is any better or worse than the other. Please don’t worry yourself, Mr. O’Brien. I know who I am. I know what I am. It is of no importance how you label me.”

  She hesitated a moment, hoping he would say something to bridge the gap between them. He did not. Her heart hiccupped in disappointment. She had hoped—

  “Well, perhaps I should get back to work.” He turned to go.

  She walked to the ladder and tugged it slightly to the right, closer to the book’s location on the top shelf.

  “Here, let me get that for you—” He hesitated at her name again.

  This really must stop. Faith gathered her courage. “Mr. O’Brien. Please, just call me Faith. We can settle on a last name later since not having one seems to be a problem for everyone.”

  He turned and pushed the ladder into the correct position and scurried up it, pulled the book from the shelf, and returned to the ground in lithe, fluid movements. He stood in front of her and handed her the book. Their hands touched briefly. Her breath caught in her chest.

  Faith was considered average in height, but Liam was still almost a head taller. He stood so close she could feel his heat through his suit coat and vest. Or was it her attraction to h
im that heated her blood?

  “I think we should decide right now, Miss—. See, I will just keep sticking my foot in my mouth if we do not.” Liam grinned.

  White, even teeth peeked from beneath his full lips. It was the most beautiful sight Faith had ever seen. He smiled so rarely.

  Because of his anger. And his hatred for you.

  Faith shrunk back into her protective shell and pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders. She turned and walked to her desk, setting the book on top of the file Liam had given her. She turned and was surprised to see he had followed her. He pulled out her chair for her. She had no choice but to sit.

  He hiked one hip on the corner of her desk. “Okay, let’s think about this.”

  Faith’s brain was slow in keeping up with her handsome Mr. O’Brien.

  “Think about—”

  “Your name.”

  “Well, I think any old name will do, don’t you?”

  She turned to rise and he stopped her, his hand on her shoulder.

  “No, Faith. A name means something. It speaks about who you are and where you come from. It lets people know you belong. To a place. To a people. To a culture.”

  “Then I would think ‘No-Name’ would be well-suited to my situation. I don’t know who I am, where I come from, or where I belong. I have no name.”

  “But that doesn’t really tell us who you are.”

  “I hardly think a name could soften the impact of what I am.”

  “Oh, but it will, Miss—Faith. You more than most because of, well, you know. I think we should consider something far removed from the typical—”

  “Indian name?” Faith would like to be offended but she wasn’t. She had heard comments like this her whole life. “How about if I just pick something that sounds not Indian?”

  “I think that’s a good idea. Something like Miller or Baker or—”

  Faith stopped him short. “I can think of only one name that would be appropriate in my situation. It doesn’t connect me with a culture, a place, and its people. But, it connects me to a person. And that person is connected to the traditions of the name.”