Faith

by Peggy McKenzie

  Faith turned to Liam. His demeanor was no longer easygoing and friendly as it had been before Billy arrived. He looked, well, angry. She never knew when his mood would change. She had hoped Liam would offer to walk her home, but from the look on his face, she had done something or said something to change his mood.

  “I guess you’d better get going. Close the door on your way out.” Liam disappeared in his office and closed the door.

  Stunned at the turn of events, she turned to Billy who was waiting by the door.

  “Very well, I suppose that would be alright. Let me get my things.” She took her time retrieving her shawl, reticule, and satchel, stuffing her drawings and pencils inside. Her delay gave her time to think. Should she say goodbye? Perhaps he didn’t want to be disturbed. Oh, the man was so troubling. One minute he was conversing freely with her, laughing with her. The next he wouldn’t even look in her direction.

  “Shall we go?” Billy extended his arm.

  Faith slipped her arm into his and out the door they went. She sensed perhaps Liam was watching them but she couldn’t be certain. She was too much of a coward to look back to see if he was watching, for fear he wasn’t.

  Liam had been enjoying his visit with Faith until that damned Billy Buchanan showed up. Why was the man always hanging around? Like a pesky fly he’d like to swat against the barn wall.

  Satisfaction calmed some of his anger when he thought of Faith’s delightful laughter filling his office. He had made her laugh too. And it was a beautiful sound. It hit him in the gut but this time, it drove an arrow right to his heart. She was no more savage than the barn kitten in the Hanovers’ carriage house.

  The image of the orphanage kids dumping buckets of manure on top of Faith’s head invaded Liam’s thoughts for the rest of the evening. Were there no adults to watch over and protect those kids in the orphanage? The thought made him angry. Or was it that the child being abused was an Indian child no one really cared about. And that thought made him ashamed. Of his race. Of his people. Of himself.

  The thought pricked Liam’s conscience. He wondered how many other insults and injuries Faith suffered because of the color of her skin. And what was it about her coloring that made people want to be cruel?

  Her skin held a copper hue, but it was by no means brown. More coffee and cream than the dark-skinned heathens who’d killed his parents. They had aquiline noses, large and prominent on their faces. Faith’s was straight, small, and fit her face perfectly. It was a beautiful nose on a beautiful face.

  Come to think of it, her skin was much lighter than the Indians he had seen. He wondered exactly how many tribes of Indians there were around Oklahoma Territory, Kansas, and Texas. Perhaps she wasn’t Indian at all. Perhaps she was of Mexican descent. Light-skinned. Dark eyes. Dark hair. It was possible she was of Spanish ancestry, but why would that thought make him more accepting of the woman? Why would one be preferable over another?

  Because my family was destroyed by one and not the other.

  Liam’s thoughts wandered back to the subject of his musings and her apparent new suitor. Did she enjoy her walks with Billy Buchanan? After all, she accepted his offer and after her laughter this morning at his stupid stories, perhaps she liked the aggravating man. His conscience reminded him he was the one who pushed her into going with the man. Would she have gone if he hadn’t? Why was he drawn to her, only to push her away? He wished he could go back to the calm before the storm.

  Reluctant to go home, Liam moved his work into the library where there was more lighting. Another hour passed as he sorted through the documents from Mr. Mitchell’s case against Travis Markham. He looked through them several times, and he couldn’t see a single thing out of place. If it wasn’t for Lavinia Markham’s evidence against her husband, Liam wasn’t certain they had enough evidence to prove their case.

  Could it be Mitchell was scamming him? He was pretty good at reading people’s motives and he didn’t think so. His guess was Markham was just too damn good at deceit. One more time through the file revealed nothing new so he switched his attention to something more enjoyable. He loved sifting through history of any kind. He grabbed one of the thick history books off the shelf from the law practice’s extensive library.

  “Tribes in North America.” Liam thumbed through the book absently. Hmm. Had his choice been random or was it intentional?

  Liam wasn’t certain how long he searched through history books, looking for what, he couldn’t say. His intuition told him there was something about Faith’s past they had all overlooked. But what?

  The sun had set hours ago, and he refused to let his mind wander to Faith and her escort. He flipped through a few more chapters and then decided it was time to call it a night when something on one of the pages caught his attention.

  He had been flipping through large chunks of pages so it took him a few minutes to find the page he had seen. But find it he did. Right there, on the right column of the page, was a scarf. But not just any scarf. It was almost an exact duplicate of the one he had seen Faith drawing in her sketchpad. The fringe was longer, but the iridescent material and the sparkling jewels were hard to mistake.

  He grabbed the open book and rushed over to Faith’s desk. He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but he needed to be sure he wasn’t mistaken.

  He opened the middle drawer of her desk. Empty. Nothing but a pair of sewing scissors.

  “She took them with her.”

  He really should wait until tomorrow to question her. But he wanted to see her sketch again. The one of the scarf.

  It might not be anything at all, but his legal mind told him something was amiss. How could an American Indian orphan, tribe unknown, living in a Kansas City, Missouri, orphanage, know anything about an East Indian scarf? And one that belonged to a very specific family in India.

  Liam carried the history book into his office and sat at his desk. He scribbled notes on his pad, making a list of possibilities. She could have read about the scarf in a similar history book. Possible. He tapped his pencil on the pad. He couldn’t think of any other way. After all, how would a little girl from India come to be in an orphanage in the middle of the United States without someone taking note? It was a preposterous notion.

  He leaned back in his leather chair and stared at the ceiling. But why would such a scarf in a random history book cause a little girl to remember it into adulthood? Enough so she would sit and sketch the scarf in exquisite detail.

  He needed to know. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was only a few ticks after eight in the evening. He knew Hiram had a late meeting with the mayor and he would be getting home soon.

  Perhaps the timing would be good enough he could speak with Faith and visit with Hiram about his thoughts regarding Faith’s possible mistaken ancestry. Hiram was always the cool head in the room. If Liam was off-base, his mentor would be the first to point it out.

  Anxious to ask Faith some very pointed questions, he grabbed his hat, locked the office door, and headed the few blocks over to the Hanovers’ house.

  He was more excited to see Faith than he cared to admit. His heartbeat’s cadence was a little erratic by the time he stepped onto the Hanovers’ porch and knocked.

  20

  Faith tried to say goodnight to Billy Buchanan at the door, but Hope was waiting for her in the front parlor when they arrived and insisted Billy stay for refreshments.

  Hope almost pushed Billy into the parlor, forcing him to take off his hat and “rest a spell”. Hope insisted he have a cup. Almost as an afterthought, she offered Faith a cup too. Faith was not interested in taking tea. She wanted to go upstairs and hide away. She needed to think about the events of the day. One minute Liam was talking openly and freely. Actually laughing with her. The next minute he closed himself off behind his office door. And he closed himself to her. That hurt more than she would like to admit. Her vow to protect her heart had gone by the wayside.

  She wasn’t sure she would ever understand that man.r />
  Faith watched Hope flutter and titter around Billy like a butterfly to clover. It was almost embarrassing. The way she was acting, one would be led to think—

  “So that’s how it is. I thought—” Faith murmured.

  Both Hope and Billy turned toward her.

  “You thought what?” Hope looked at her in question.

  Faith looked between the two of them, sitting on the settee together, and it suddenly dawned on her. They like each other. I’m just an excuse for Billy to see Hope. How could I be so senseless and self-absorbed?

  “Um, I was thinking that…I was working out a problem from work today and it just suddenly came to me. I really should go upstairs and write it down before it escapes me. Would you excuse me?”

  Billy and Hope stood. Faith could feel the awkward silence in the room. It was obvious neither one of them wanted the evening to end. Well, she could do something about that.

  “Why don’t the two of you sit, continue your conversation about, well, whatever it was you were talking about. I will let Aggie know you two are entertaining each other. I’m certain she would love to join you.”

  Billy’s dimpled grin was contagious. It was obvious he was pleased with her suggestion.

  “If you don’t think I would be imposing,” he offered

  “Of course, you won’t be imposing. I invited you to tea—“

  Hope’s embarrassed outburst told Faith just how much her sister wanted Billy to stay.

  “Hope is right. There’s no need for you to rush off. I’ll get Aggie.”

  Faith made her exit and searched the house until she found Aggie and Sarah in the kitchen, cooking something with a marvelous aroma.

  “Aggie, would you mind paying the parlor a visit? It seems Hope has a suitor.”

  Aggie’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Hope? Is it the sheriff? That won’t make for a happy household, you know. Does Charity know about this?”

  Aggie wiped her hands on her apron and untied it from the back.

  Faith laughed. “It isn’t Sheriff Grayson.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s Billy Buchanan. John’s best friend.”

  Aggie’s shocked expression was comical.

  “You might want to offer to chaperone. They seem pretty interested in each other.”

  “Oh, my. Yes, of course. Sarah, put some of those cookies on a plate. Hiram isn’t home yet, but he should be home soon. He can offer the young man a drink and have a little discussion with him in his library. You know, about his intentions toward Hope. Behind closed doors.”

  Faith left the kitchen amidst a scurry of activity. She was heading upstairs when a knock sounded at the front door.

  “I’ll get it.” She crossed the entry hall, passing by the parlor door. She could see Billy and Hope enjoying each other’s company, both laughing and chattering on about something.

  Faith opened the door. Liam stood on the Hanovers’ wide porch, his hat in his hand.

  “I know it’s late, but can I come in? Just for a moment?”

  Faith didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Her brain was suddenly disengaged from her tongue, but her mind was running at full speed. What was Liam doing here? She had just left him a few hours ago. Angry. Brooding. Now he was here. What could this possibly mean?

  She stepped back and allowed Liam entry. “Hiram isn’t here, you know. He—“

  “Yes, I know. He had a late meeting.” She watched him struggle to find his words. “I need to ask you a question. About—this may seem odd but—“

  “Is that Liam’s voice I hear out there?” Billy called from the parlor. The man himself soon followed. “Liam, this is a surprise. We were just talking about—“

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. We can talk tomorrow. It isn’t important. Tomorrow. At the office.”

  Liam turned and rushed out the door, nearly knocking Hiram off the front porch as he came up the steps.

  “Where are you going, my boy?” Hiram called after him, but he had already disappeared into the darkness.

  “What was Liam doing here and why was he in such a hurry to leave?” Hiram closed the door and hung his hat and coat on the hall tree.

  Faith had no idea what had gotten into Liam. He was certainly acting odd today. Before she could respond to Hiram’s questions, Billy spoke up.

  “Hello, Mr. Hanover. I hope you don’t mind me visiting this late. I walked Faith home from work and then Hope insisted I stay.”

  Aggie and Hope came out of the parlor and joined the growing group in the hall. “Hello, Hiram, darling. How did your meeting go? Do you know Billy Buchanan? He’s John Malone’s friend. He’s paying a visit. Would you care to join me and Hope in the parlor?”

  “Hope?” Mr. Hanover looked over at Faith and she nodded. He grinned like a fox escaping with a chicken from the henhouse. “Well, well.”

  Faith took that as her cue to head upstairs.

  “If you all will excuse me, I’m exhausted. I think I shall retire for the evening.”

  Billy nodded. “It is getting late. Perhaps I should be—“

  “No!” Hope had the decency to look embarrassed.

  Faith gave her sister a look that said “Can’t you be a little more subtle?”

  Mr. Hanover covered the awkward silence with his own invitation. “Nonsense, my boy. It’s only half past eight. Aggie, dear, what is that delicious smell coming from the kitchen? Is that your scrumptious butter cookies?”

  Aggie pecked her husband on the check. “Yes, dear. I was just going to offer some to our guest when Liam arrived. That boy is acting odd these days.”

  Faith turned several shades of pink when Aggie smiled in her direction.

  “Nonsense, my dear. I think Liam is a little distracted, that’s all. He will right his ship in time. When he is ready. Now, Mr. Buchanan, how about you and I have a touch of something stronger in my library? Just us men.”

  Billy sent an anxious look toward Hope, who encouraged him to go. Her silly grin and starry-eyed gaze was about as subtle as a sinner sneaking out of church during revival. And Aggie, well, she looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. All Faith needed was some peace and quiet.

  A loud crash reverberated through the ceiling, followed by Charity yelling about something.

  Aggie turned toward the staircase. Faith stopped her at the parlor door. “I’ll see to it, Aggie. You stay here and try to enjoy the rest of your evening. Perhaps one day you and Hiram will be able to return to the blissful existence you enjoyed before we all showed up.”

  She smiled at Aggie and Hope, and headed upstairs to temper the red-headed rage that was her youngest sister. She wondered if all redheads had a stick of dynamite attached to their personalities. She knew of two who did.

  She managed to corral Charity in her room and close the door. A few pointed questions later and Charity admitted she was jealous of Hope. Oh, not because of Billy, but because Billy had shown an interest in Hope and the object of Charity’s affections, Sheriff Grayson, did little more than tip his hat to her when he saw her on the street. She was frustrated and asked Faith a thousand times, “Does the man have no sensibilities? How can he not know that I like him? Do you think he likes someone else? I never see him with anyone else. Why doesn’t he like me?”

  For the next hour, Faith sat and listened to her youngest sister lament over the lack of attention from the handsome sheriff of Creede. Faith did her best to slow Charity’s plaintive dialogue to a calmer pace. It wasn’t an easy task. Usually Grace was the mediator. The voice of wisdom. The peacemaker. But she no longer lived with them. Instead, she was enjoying a peaceful and deliriously happy life with her adoring husband and cute-as-a-newborn-kitten baby girl. Faith had no choice but to take over that role. She was usually the sister who stood back and watched the other girls live their lives, drama and all. But she was learning to step outside her space of comfort and be the diplomat of the family. From the look of things, this was to be a lifelong lesson.

/>   After a few delicate observations about Charity’s combustible personality and her less than stellar social graces, they decided to work on molding Charity into a more desirable package. By the time Hope came upstairs, Charity was in her room looking through her wardrobe for the perfect dress to dazzle the handsome sheriff.

  Two hours later, the house was quiet. Billy had gone home. Hope stopped by Faith’s room and talked non-stop about John’s best friend and how wonderful he was. And handsome. And smart. And—Faith finally stopped listening after the clock struck half past ten and sent Hope dancing down the hall to bed.

  Faith washed her face, donned her favorite nightgown, and braided her thick, long hair the color of midnight.

  She pulled her sketchpad from her satchel and folded back the sumptuous covers of her bed and crawled in. Faith knew she needed to get to sleep soon, but she had her own turmoil to contend with. Hope and Charity weren’t the only ones with man troubles.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t solve her problems as easily as her sisters. Her problems were rooted in a different quagmire altogether. Billy and Hope had nothing standing in their way of happiness. And Charity, her happiness was standing behind a silver star. All she needed to do was temper her drama to a more tolerable level. Faith was certain the sheriff had his eye on Charity. But he was a pragmatic man who was all business. He couldn’t afford to have a woman who kept his world in turmoil and his emotions upside down. After all, his life depended on keeping a cool head. Charity was anything but a calming presence. Faith hoped, in time, things could work out for them.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the Irishman who had stolen her heart. What on earth had gotten into Liam? During the months of her trial preparation, he was rational. Steady. Dependable. Perhaps a little standoffish at times. But ever since she started work at the law office, he was all over the place. One minute he was kind and seemed interested in her opinions. The next he was slamming doors in her face and stomping off into the night.