“And what would that name be, Faith? I will draw up the declaration immediately.”
“I choose to be called Faith O’Malley. After Rosie.”
Liam turned several shades of pale. “But that’s an Irish name.”
“I guess I knew that. Rosie talked often about her family in Ireland. But I chose it because Rosie is the closest thing I have to a mother. She took four motherless females under her wing to nurture and protect. If she’s Irish and holds those Irish traditions dear, then so do I.”
“But—”
Faith was a little confused. Why was he so resistant to her idea? After all, he was the one pressing her to choose a name. She had done so. Now why was the impossible man so upset?
“You cannot use that name.” He spat out each word between tightly clenched jaws.
“But why?” Faith was very confused by his change in attitude.
“Because it’s Irish. And, well, you are not.”
Faith didn’t know what to say or how to react. Finally the awkward silence between her and Liam demanded someone say something.
“I would think it is rather obvious I’m not Irish. That very fact has been the thorn in my moccasin-clad feet since as long as I can remember. But you just told me I needed a name and to choose a name ‘not Indian’. The only person close to me that I think of as family, as a mother, is Rosie. And her last name is O’Malley. So—”
“You don’t wear mocc—Oh.”
She watched Liam shake his head and then stop. It was as if he wrestled with something. Finally his shoulders sagged and he looked up at her.
“You are right, Faith. You are absolutely right. I asked you to choose a name. And the name you have chosen is an honorable and well-respected name. Faith O’Malley, it is.”
The silence again. Faith waited, unsure of what she should do. Or say.
Finally Liam spoke. “You shall be known as Faith O’Malley. Since there isn’t really any paperwork to file, the process will be an easy one. I’ll simply type up a declaration for you to sign and date, making it absolutely clear it is your wish to be called Faith O’Malley from this day forward.”
Faith didn’t know why the thought pleased her so much. But it was kind of nice to have a last name, even if it wasn’t her own. She wondered how people would react to her now when she was introduced as Faith O’Malley. A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. It was such a short journey from O’Malley to O’Brien….
“What are you thinking?”
She jumped at the sound of Liam’s voice and could not help feeling guilty for her thoughts. She glanced at him, her face flushed with embarrassment.
“It’s not important. Not really.”
“Please. Tell me what you were thinking that amused you so much.”
She guessed she could tell him part of her thoughts without giving away too much.
“I—” She hesitated. She wasn’t used to confiding with anyone outside her family.
“Go on,” Liam encouraged.
“Well, I was thinking of the good citizens of Creede. How amusing it will be to watch the expressions on their faces when they hear my name. They will be expecting one thing and get another. Kind of like anticipating something sour or salty and instead tasting something sweet.”
She saw Liam’s gaze drop to her mouth. The look sent desire rocketing through her body. She stood perfectly still, waiting. For what, she wasn’t certain but she wanted something to happen between them.
He took a few seconds before he answered. “Perhaps.”
Faith knew he harbored resentments deep down inside. And she also knew her people were at the center of those resentments. But she was innocent of all the things he secretly blamed her for.
Perhaps sometime during the next year, she could make him see that she was also a victim of other people’s actions. As Reverend Baker once said, “God isn’t punishing you, Faith. The hard truth of life is sometimes bad things happen to good people. The wrong place. The wrong time. You have to have faith that everything is going to turn out exactly as God intended.”
She stole a glance toward Liam. If only that were true. She wanted so much to be loved and cherished by someone. But not just anyone. She had already chosen her one true love. Now all she had to do was help him overcome his prejudices and hatred for her people and make him fall in love with her.
“An impossible task,” she murmured to herself.
“What is impossible?” Liam asked.
Her heart hiccupped in her chest.
“Um, I meant I probably should get to work or my work will become impossible.”
She turned to her work just a few inches away from the man who tortured her with his good looks and sexual attraction but lashed at her with his angry words.
Faith tried not to notice when he turned away and headed for his office, but the distance between them was more than just space separating them.
10
Liam knew he was making an ass of himself. “Of course, she isn’t Irish, you imbecile. She’s an Indian. Just like the ones that robbed you of your family.”
He also knew the facts did not equal that statement. His head knew it. He just couldn’t get his heart to go along with it. Damn the woman.
He paced back and forth across the wooden floor of his office for a good half hour after she returned to her work in the library. The sound of his boots scraping across the boards grated on his raw nerves.
He did his best to focus on his work, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting. To his dead parents. To his lost sister. And to the woman in the next room who somehow kept getting under his skin.
He hit the desk with his fist. The shock of pain made him sit and rub his knuckles.
“Everything all right in there, Liam?”
He did his best to hide his sarcasm. “Yes, Hiram. Everything is just dandy.” Was that a chuckle he heard? “That old goat is enjoying this,” he murmured under his breath.
Liam sat in his leather chair and pulled a notepad and pen from his middle desk drawer. He needed to make a list. He always made a list when he started a new case. But this case was of a different nature, not his usual plea for justice to a judge and jury. This time, he was the judge and jury. He needed to make a case to himself about the woman in the next room. He needed to find as much common ground as he could or it was going to be a long year.
He drew a line down the middle of the paper.
Pros.
She can’t sleep at night because of her nightmares.
He knew how that felt. Not sure that was really a pro, but it made it to that side of the list.
She is smart.
There was no denying the woman’s intelligence. Check.
She can read and write.
A big plus if she was going to work in the law office and be productive. Where did she learn that sort of thing? Especially at such a young age. She said she knew how to read before she was dumped at the orphanage. Who would take the time and money to educate a child, only to abandon her? That didn’t make much sense. He made a note to instigate more inquiries. Check.
Okay. What else?
She loved books.
He loved books. Check. It gave him escape from some very dark days. He wondered if she read for the same reasons he did.
She is kind.
Very kind to others. Liam had seen her kindness firsthand when she held Grace and John Malone’s baby girl. And in her responses to the hate she endured. Check.
She has an enormous capacity for love even though she had been shown very little throughout her life. That might make it to her pro side of the list, but he couldn’t in all conscience put it on his side when noting their similarities. He had no capacity for love at all. That died with his parents.
This is not productive. He refocused his thoughts.
Her laugh. Dear God, her laugh hit him in his gut. A tinkling sound—like glass striking against glass in a gentle breeze. He didn’t think a laugh could be classified as a charact
er attribute, but he couldn’t get around the fact it made him feel things.
Get on with it.
She wasn’t jaded. Or bitter.
And she had every opportunity to hate her persecutors. Liam felt a tiny pinch of conscience. He might have added his two cents to that mix. Not intentionally. He would never intentionally inflict pain on another human being. That wasn’t who he was, despite his animosity toward Faith.
He didn’t see how he would survive a whole year growling and snapping at the woman. Besides, he was pretty sure Hiram wouldn’t allow it, no matter how he had overlooked Liam’s behavior today.
It was just…he had a lot of baggage of his own to deal with that conflicted with who she was. He didn’t really want to get to know her. Well, he told himself and anyone else who would listen that, but he knew the truth. He simply chose to ignore it so he didn’t have to admit he was attracted to the damn woman. He had a sneaking suspicious Hiram knew and the old goat was pushing them together.
“That’s never going to happen, my old friend.”
Back to the list.
She’s beautiful.
Liam scratched that off his list. How she looked had no relevance to this case. He couldn’t help but think about those dark eyes of hers. They punched him in the gut every time they looked his way.
He scratched at his pad with his pen, covering any trace of the word beautiful.
She seemed honest.
During every aspect of her trial, she answered every question thrown at her in a forthright manner. Her answers were validated by those around her. Every customer or worker at the saloon had nothing but nice words to say about Faith No-Name--
O’Malley. Check. For now.
Liam knew that truth was something that would have to stand the test of time before it could be placed in the pro column.
Now for the cons.
She was an Indian.
He hated to even write it down, but if he was going to be thorough in championing her cause, he needed to be honest with himself and identify his client’s weaknesses so he could be prepared to come to her defense if the need arose. And he was certain the need would arise frequently.
Liam doodled on his paper, waiting for the answers to come.
She was too timid.
She needed to be more assertive. But Liam knew her fears came from a lifetime of trying to avoid being noticed. Because being noticed meant being persecuted. He crossed that off his list. You couldn’t fault someone for self-preservation tactics.
She was too quiet.
She should converse with folks more. But again, that was a self-preservation tactic. If she was quiet, then people wouldn’t notice her and then they wouldn’t—
“Damn it.” Liam ripped the page off the notepad and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Hiram, I’m going to take a walk. Is there anything you need from the mercantile or general store?” Liam shoved his arms into his coat sleeves.
Hiram’s voice called out to him.
“No, lad. I don’t need anything, but I wonder if you would be so kind as to stop by the dressmaker’s and pick up a roll of ribbon for Mrs. Hanover. Aggie is making some falderal for Baby Abbie Rose.”
“I’ll be happy to pick it up for Mrs. Hanover. Will it be ready or should I wait?”
Hiram stuck his head inside Liam’s office door. “No, lad. You misunderstand. You will need to pick it out. Aggie asked me to do it, but I have no idea what to get.”
Liam looked at his partner as if he had suddenly grown two heads.
“I can’t pick out a spool of ribbon. What color? What kind? How much?”
Hiram shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea. That’s why I’m sending you.” The silver-haired attorney grinned and turned back toward his office, calling out over his shoulder. “Ask Faith. She’s had some conversations with Aggie and Grace about whatever it is they are working on. I’ll bet she will know exactly what is needed for such fripperies.”
Well, that old goat. If he thinks—
Before Liam could finish his thought and escape out the front door, Faith walked into the room with her hat in hand and her shawl about her shoulders.
“Mr. Hanover said you had need of my services. Where are we going?”
Liam contemplated telling them all to go to hell, but he wouldn’t do that to his mentor and he couldn’t do it to the fragile young woman standing in front of him. Besides, what would it harm if she went along? Liam knew what dangers lurked beneath the surface if he spent too much time with this forbidden dark-haired beauty. He chose to ignore the possibilities.
“It seems we are going to pick out some ribbon for Baby Abbie Rose’s new clothing. To be honest, I’m to purchase ribbon for the new project Aggie is sewing for Grace and John’s baby girl.”
“We are going to shop for the ribbon?” Faith stood in the doorway, confusion marring her beautiful face.
Beautiful. Stop it, Liam. You can’t have her. You owe your loyalty to your murdered family.
“It seems so. We had best get going. The dressmaker’s shop closes in an hour.”
Faith didn’t waste any time. She placed her hat jauntily on her head, pinning it in place. Her shawl was wrapped around her shoulders to protect her from the cool late afternoon chill the mountains afforded. Looping her reticule strings around her wrist, she picked up her satchel and looked up to find him watching her. He could tell it made her uncomfortable. Hell, it made him uncomfortable too, but for an entirely different reason.
A little more gruff than necessary, he spoke. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” He turned and tried to adjust himself discreetly behind his coat. The last thing he needed was an attraction to a—he knew the word he was trying not to think so he substituted it in his head with her gender.
Liam called out to Hiram they would be leaving. He heard his partner call back he would see them at the house for supper. Liam wasn’t planning to have dinner with the Hanovers every night. It was bad enough he had to spend all day with Faith, but every night? That just would not do.
He used to visit Hiram at home most evenings. They shared his housekeeper’s delicious dinners and then cigars and Irish whiskey in Hiram’s well-appointed library. But he had kept to himself more since Mrs. Hanover had arrived with Grace in tow. And now that the house was full of even more women, he would definitely be keeping his distance.
His southern region twitched when he thought about one of those women. The one he was forced into proximity with every single day. Today was over. One down, three hundred and sixty-four days to go. Good Lord, how was he going to survive?
He held the door open for Faith, and she walked through it and out onto the sidewalk. The sun was behind the buildings on the west side of the street, cloaking them in shadows.
His eyes drifted down to Faith’s backside, swinging underneath her dress.
“Wait, I forgot my hat.” He left Faith standing on the sidewalk in front of the building and retraced his steps back into his office. He grabbed the hat off his desk and carried it back to the door. Voices just outside stopped him in his tracks.
“Well, what have we here?”
Liam could see through the office windows to the street, and what he saw made his blood chill in his veins.
Two men, filthy from the mines, had Faith cornered. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, not quite sure what he was going to do but sure he had to do something, and quick, or this wasn’t going to end well for any of them. He didn’t carry his pistol on a regular basis, but this was a prime example of why he should.
“Can I help you gentlemen?”
“Hell, no, City Boy.” The man speaking spit tobacco juice on Liam’s boot. “We just found us a little dolly here to play with. Go find your own damn entertainment and keep your nose out of business that don’t belong to you, City. Boy.”
Liam could see the fear in Faith’s eyes and it made his skin crawl. She stood frozen. Like small prey trying to avoid a predator.
“Actua
lly, gentlemen, you didn’t find her at all. She’s with me. As in she is under my protection and if you don’t leave her alone immediately, I will be forced to take action.”
Liam turned to the man with his hand clamped tight on Faith’s arm. “If you would be so kind as to take your hand off the young lady’s arm—”
Liam never saw the punch coming but he felt it. Boy, did he feel it. He fell back against the building, slamming his head into the brick wall. He took a few milliseconds to recover. He needed to think. And he needed a plan.
Both men turned their attention back to Faith. Liam saw the citizens on the street avoid looking in their direction. Several men he noticed tipped their hats low and kept on walking.
Disgusted at the lack of moral high ground he was witnessing from some of the good folks of Creede, he staggered upright and kicked the man nearest him in the side of the knee, sending him writhing in pain to the ground.
The man holding Faith’s arms let go and rounded on him, but not before Liam got off a couple of directed punches to the man’s face.
Liam learned the formal art of boxing in school back in Ireland. His master once told him he was very good at it, but Liam had never cared for the sport. Too brutal. Too bloody. Too barbaric for his tastes.
Nevertheless, he gained a great deal of satisfaction to see blood squirt from the man’s nose and down the front of his dirty, ragged shirt.
Liam grabbed Faith’s arm to pull her back into the office, but by then both men had recovered and jumped him at the same time.
Sprawled on the ground, Liam kicked and punched with all his strength as many times as he was able. He could see Faith hitting one of the men over the head with her reticule, but she was no match for him. The vagabond turned on her and pushed her hard. She stumbled over the edge of the boardwalk and landed in the street.
A gunshot went off nearby. Liam’s ears rang. Everyone stopped, including all the passersby doing their best to ignore the fracas.
“I believe that is enough, gentlemen. Now if you will be so kind as to sit down, it is my experience Sheriff Grayson will be along soon enough to investigate the sound of my gunshot.”
Faith Page 6