Liam looked up from his position on the ground to watch Hiram, his avenging angel, wielding a coffee cup in one hand and a smoking pistol in the other.
Liam shook his head, both to clear his addled brain and in exasperation. “What took you so long?”
11
Faith allowed a passerby to help her up off the dusty ground. She thanked the man and then pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders, doing her best to disappear. He handed her her satchel, one cord of her reticule broken, the other still dangling from her arm. It seemed the whole town was now gathered near to see what was going on. And, as usual, everyone’s eyes were on her.
She gave her statement to the sheriff and then it was Liam’s turn. She was surprised to hear him defend her. He called her a defenseless woman. Well, that wasn’t completely true.
She hit one of the men over the head with her reticle. Granted, it didn’t have much weight, containing only her hairbrush, a few extra hair pins, and a coin purse with just enough money to be considered prepared for emergencies. But she had put every ounce of strength she possessed into the knockout punch. Unfortunately for her and Liam, she hadn’t knocked the man out. She had only made him angry.
Finally the sheriff asked everyone to move along. He informed the gawkers they were clogging up the walkway and if they didn’t get moving, he was going to line the walls of his jail cells with the curious folks of Creede.
Faith watched Sheriff Grayson urge the two troublemakers up the boardwalk toward his jail with the business end of his twin pistols, a barrel jammed into the small of their backs.
Liam sat on the boardwalk edge, feet planted on the dusty street, and nursed his bruised face with cold water from the horse trough.
Faith was horrified about what had happened. She felt she needed to apologize. “Liam, I’m so sorry. About what happened. Here. Today. I—”
“You should be sorry. We don’t want the likes of you here. I tried to tell the judge you was gonna be nothing but trouble, but did he listen? Hell, no. Now look at what you’ve done. You are nothing but a filthy, murdering—”
Faith turned to see the same woman who had slung slurs at her the day of the trial.
Hiram stepped closer and addressed the woman. “And what is your business here, Miss—?”
“It don’t matter what my name is. But my business is that this heathen is allowed to walk these streets with Christian people—“
“And is it safe to say you are including yourself in that group?”
The red-faced woman straightened her posture, her nose in the air. “That’s right. I am.”
Faith could tell by the woman’s stance she was preparing for a fight. But it didn’t take long for Faith to realize the woman was in for a big disappointment if she thought to go toe-to-toe with Mr. Hiram Hanover and come out the winner.
“Well, that is good to know, Miss—”
The woman hesitated and then answered. “Guess there ain’t no reason not to tell you my name. I got nothing to hide. My name is Magar. Hazel Magar.”
“Is that Miss or Missus?”
“It’s Missus. Well, it was Missus. I’m a widow because of the likes of her.”
Faith tried to disappear when she heard the woman’s comment.
“My condolences. I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Magar. How long has your husband been deceased?”
“Twelve years. Twelve long years. Me and my Mister were expecting our first baby when we were set upon by her kin.”
Hiram approached the woman using his most persuasive voice. “My dear, again I am so sorry for your loss. You’ve had quite a time of it then, haven’t you?”
The woman was obviously not prepared for Mr. Hanover’s kind words. She stammered a moment or two before she regained her indignant stance and raised her chin.
“Of course, I’ve had a time of it. My husband was killed before my eyes and I lost our baby right there in our burned-out wagon that very next day. Doctor said it was the shock of it all.”
“That must have been horrible for you. I can’t imagine how much you have suffered. And you are suffering still. But let me assure you this young woman is as much a victim as you are.”
“That’s not possible. It was her people—“
“Here me out, Mrs. Magar. You say it was twelve years ago this awful atrocity against you and your family happened?”
“That’s right. Twelve long—“
“Yes, I think I have the idea. But this young woman,” Hiram turned and pointed to her, “she would have been about fourteen years old at the time of your husband’s death.”
Faith schooled her features and her body not to shrink at the attention. Rosie always said, “Looking guilty is the first sign of being guilty.”
Mr. Hanover continued. “Plus, this young lady is an orphan. She grew up in a Kansas orphanage without knowing who her parents were. So, you see, Mrs. Magar, you can’t possibly hold your situation over this innocent young woman’s head. She wasn’t even—“
“I can and I will. It was her kin that took everything from me.” Mrs. Magar’s voice rose to a screech.
“Are you certain about that?” Mr. Hanover’s silver eyebrows rose in question. “Are you certain this young woman’s people are directly involved in the death of your husband?”
The woman didn’t look as confident now. She looked around at the small group surrounding them, hanging on her every word.
“Well, yes. I mean, I think so.”
“Can you say with any certainty what tribe your attackers were from?”
“Tribe? Well, no.” The woman’s words faltered. Sensing she was losing this battle, she turned and tried to recruit help from the crowd. “I was too busy fightin’ for my life. Besides, what difference does it make what tribe? The fact is, Indians killed my husband and she’s an Indian. They are all the same.”
Mr. Hiram continued his case against the woman’s prejudices. “Actually, that’s not true. There are tribes that are peace-loving farmers. They stay to themselves. Hunt. Fish. Feed their families. Most of these tribes have been converted to Christianity by missionaries. They are a lot more like all of you than you might think. And they too have experienced the tragic loss of family and friends at the hands of a race not their own.”
Faith looked out over the small crowd. Could it be they were listening to what Mr. Hanover had to say about her? He continued raising his voice for everyone near to hear. “A woman has every right to stand on the boardwalk outside her place of employment in the daylight hours and expect not to be accosted. Every right. Don’t you all agree?”
The streets of Creede were busy with activity, but the little crowd surrounding her was quiet. Not a word was uttered.
Mr. Hanover called them out, one by one. “Jake Manchester. What would you have done if your daughter had been accosted like this young woman? How about you, Herbert? What would you do if that had been your wife, Essie, pushed about and touched inappropriately?”
The man spit a brown stream of tobacco into the dusty street.
“I’d kill the sons a’ bitches.”
“Well, of course you would. Any good father or husband would do no less for his precious daughter or wife. My point, gentlemen, is that this woman is no different, other than she has no champion. She has no husband or brother to protect her reputation. That is where we come in, good people. We are now her family. And, as her family, it is our job to protect her…and every other woman in this town. Am I right?”
Heads bobbed up and down. Collective murmurs disintegrated into barely discernable snippets of conversation.
The man that spit the tobacco spoke up. “What Hanover says makes sense. I didn’t think of it like that. Maybe we jumped to the wrong conclusion. Poor girl. She must be scared out of her wits.”
Faith pulled her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. She caught Liam watching her from his seat on the edge of the boardwalk. She could tell by the set of his jaw he was thinking about Mr. Hanover’s question too.
Taking a breath for courage, she met Liam’s ice-blue stare. For a millisecond. And then she watched him place the cloth back up to his face, hiding his expression from her view.
It broke her heart and yet she had known there was never any chance for the two of them. There would never be a chance for people like her to live happily ever after.
“Faith!”
She turned at the sound of her name to see Charity and Hope running in her direction. Hope hugged her while Charity rounded on the crowd of people surrounding them. Faith noticed they collectively drew a breath of anticipation and stepped back and away from the red-headed hellcat. Then Faith watched in horror when Charity turned her indignation on Liam.
“What the goldarn hell happened here? I thought you was her protector. How did you let her get attacked in broad daylight? Don’t you take your job seriously, because if you don’t—”
From Faith’s point of view, Mr. Hanover seemed amused at Charity’s dressing down of his law partner. But a quick glance in Liam’s direction told a different story. She needed to save him from her sister’s attack before this day got any worse.
“Charity, be still. Everything is okay.” Faith pulled Charity away from the injured man. “Liam did nothing wrong. We were just coming out of the office and he went back in to get his hat when two miners who obviously were under the influence of alcohol approached me. Truly, it wasn’t Liam’s fault. If anyone is at fault, it is me. I know what people think. How they react. I should have gone back inside with Liam—”
“Stop it! Stop it right this minute!”
Everyone turned to the red-faced Irishman rising to his feet. Liam advanced toward her, stopping within an arm’s length.
“Faith, this is not your fault. None of it is your fault and you know it. You have got to stop taking the blame for everything people do to you.”
He cut his eyes at Charity’s smug expression. “And it’s not my fault either. At least, not entirely. Those two were drunk and obviously have had no proper upbringing. Any woman would have been accosted by those two, even you, Miss Charity Montgomery, although I dare say they would have sorely regretted that decision. However, this was simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Faith knew there was going to be trouble. No one cornered Charity Montgomery without a fight.
She reached out to grab Charity’s arm, but she was a second too late. Before anyone could intervene, Charity pushed Liam backwards until he was against the law office door. She stuck her face as close to his as she could get without crossing eyes.
“Now you listen to me, Mr. Uppity Lawyer.” She turned to where Mr. Hanover stood. “No offense meant to you, Mr. Hanover. You ain’t been nothing but good to us girls. You and your missus.” Then she turned back to Liam. “But you, Mr. Fancy Pants, you think you’re better ‘an us. You think ‘cause you got some kind of snooty education you can look down your nose at the likes of me and my sisters ‘cause we lived in a saloon.”
Faith watched Liam struggle to maintain his composure. His face was as red as a Colorado sunset. “Now, you see here—”
But Charity wasn’t done speaking her mind yet. “No, you see here. Faith is as good as anything the good Lord put on this earth. She’s kind. She’s smart. And she minds her own damn business which is more than I can say”—Charity raised her voice so all could hear—“about them busybodies like them that come into the general store talking about everybody, gossiping like they is some kind of saints.”
Faith saw a few embarrassed faces in the crowd.
Liam tried again to explain himself. “I have never once said that Faith wasn’t a good person. I’ve never even hinted—”
“No, you didn’t have to. At least not with words. Your face says everything I need to hear without your mouth joining in. You ain’t very good at playin’ poker, are you Mr. Fancy Lawyer, ‘cause you wear your thoughts on your face for all the world to see.”
Liam stood to his full height, which must have been about six foot and some change. “Now you see here, Miss Montgomery—”
“No, you see here. I ain’t done giving you my two cents. And mind you, I got a whole dang dollar to spend so we might be here all day.”
“What’s going on here, Liam? Mr. Hanover?” Sheriff Grayson walked up to join the motley crew of victims and avenging angels. “I thought I made myself clear. Disperse or see the inside of my jail. Is this young woman giving you trouble, Hiram?”
Faith watched her garrulous sister suddenly become tongue-tied. Her suspicions about Charity and the sheriff were now confirmed. She looked at Hope, who sent a knowing smile in her direction.
Mr. Hanover spoke up. “Everything is fine here, Sheriff. Miss Montgomery was explaining to Liam the finer points of the game of poker. Isn’t that right, Liam?”
Liam started and stopped his sentence several times before he finally got the words out. “Yes, sir. That’s exactly right. I’m learning to keep my cards closer to my vest.”
“Yeah, and he needs to learn to keep his poker face on until he is done playin’ the game,” Charity retorted.
The sheriff smiled and hooked his elbow towards Hope. “Can I give you ladies an escort to the Hanovers’?”
Hope looked embarrassed. Charity looked like she would succumb to an apoplectic fit at any moment. Faith hid her amusement behind her gloved hand.
Mr. Hanover took Faith’s elbow.
“I think that is a brilliant idea, Sheriff. Shall we go, ladies? Aggie will be wondering where we have all disappeared to. And, I think after today’s excitement, she will forgive us for failing to procure her much wanted ribbon.”
Mr. Hanover led her to follow behind the sheriff and Hope, leaving Liam and Charity to follow. Faith stole a look behind her when they rounded the corner of Main and Fourth Streets. Liam was red-faced, his hat stuffed on his head at an angry angle, his hands crammed into his pockets. Charity looked sad but when the sheriff said something to Hope and she responded with a laugh, Charity shot them both a look full of barbed wire.
Faith had never been one to get involved in other people’s skirmishes. She had enough troubles of her own. But it was obvious there would be no peace on the second floor of the Hanovers’ house tonight when Charity unleashed her retribution on her sister for usurping her self-proclaimed beau. It was too bad the sheriff didn’t know he was spoken for.
Faith caught Sheriff Grayson sneaking a glance or two in Charity’s direction before they arrived at the Hanovers. Maybe the sheriff wasn’t clueless after all.
Faith’s mouth curved in a secret smile. It would be another noisy night in the upstairs quarters at the Hanovers’ house. And another sleepless night for her because of a handsome, blue-eyed, auburn-haired man who stole her breath away each night in the privacy of her dreams.
12
Liam sat in Hiram’s library and downed a good portion of his vintage Irish whiskey until Mrs. Hanover announced dinner was ready. Liam’s world tilted just a bit when he stood to follow everyone to the dining room.
“Are you alright, son?” Hiram’s look of concern made him realize his mentor had just called him son. The thought settled warm and comfortable in his chest.
“Yes, sir. I’m fine. Nothing that a good meal and corking what’s left of that bottle of Irish whiskey won’t cure.”
Hiram’s robust laughter filled the room. “I think you have accurately identified the facts, Liam. We both should probably leave that bottle corked for the remainder of the evening.” He looked at Liam from under bushy gray eyebrows. “Aggie isn’t a teetotaler, but she can’t abide a man who cannot hold his liquor. Ask your friend John about his wedding day.” Hiram laughed all the way to the dining room.
Liam couldn’t help but smile at the man walking in front of him. The Hanovers were the closest thing he had to a family since—. No. He wasn’t going to think about that tonight. He wanted to enjoy a small measure of contentment, if only for an evening.
A crash sounde
d above the dining room as he and Hiram took their seats. Aggie and Faith exchanged glances.
“Perhaps I should go up and see what is amiss?” Aggie started to rise from her place at the table, but at that moment Sarah entered the room with a platter full of hot, fresh-out-of-the-oven yeast rolls.
“I think I’ll wait a few more moments to see if the matter resolves itself.” Aggie served herself and Hiram two rolls each and then passed the platter around the table to Faith and Liam. Another loud crash vibrated the crystal chandelier above the table, causing it to sway ever so slightly.
Faith pushed her chair back. “I’ll go see what the matter is. Grace acted as our mediator from the time we were young, but I suppose it is time we three ladies learn to ‘self-correct’ without our eldest sister to guide us.”
Liam watched her rise and head toward the door. Perhaps his intake of Irish whiskey had loosened his stiff-minded attitudes. Whatever the cause, he couldn’t allow Faith to face the hellcat upstairs alone.
“I’ll go with you.” He knew his face was flushing with embarrassment at the shocked look Faith gave him. He needed to justify his actions and his explanation filled the awkward silence. “I just can’t, in good conscience, allow you to head into danger twice in one day. After all, it is my job to look after you. And we both know Charity will pin my ears back if I let anyone bother you twice in one day.”
“You do realize you are headed into the den of the lioness herself. Are you certain you want to take on this cause?” Faith asked carefully.
Liam grinned. “No, but I’ve already offered and a gentleman never rescinds his offer.”
“Thank you. I am grateful to have your company.”
The gratitude in the molten dark eyes of Faith No-Name, er, O’Malley, left him unable to think of a response. And there was something else. Something more than gratitude shining in her eyes.
Faith Page 7