Page 18 of Heart of Mystic Valley
Doyle swirled his drink. “I grew up with strong women, Joshua. My mother, my sisters. I respect what Faith is trying to do.”
“Respect is good,” Joshua said. “Trust is better.”
The two men locked eyes, each measuring the other. Joshua broke first, turning to leave. “Just remember,” he said over his shoulder, “if you betray their trust, you’re not just crossing them. You’re crossing all of us.”
Chapter Seven
Joshua pushed through the saloon doors, and the afternoon light momentarily blinded him. He took a deep breath of the cool, crisp air, a stark contrast to the smoky warmth inside. Walking to Jupiter, he grabbed the reins and patted the horse’s neck.
Inside, Doyle returned his gaze to the card players, his mind was elsewhere. He drained the last of his drink and signaled the bartender for a refill. The normally boisterous saloon owner was uncharacteristically quiet, his thoughts running deep.
Joshua lingered by the hitching post, listening to the muted sounds of the town. He had no illusions about Doyle. The man was as canny as they came, and his motivations were often layered. Mystic was a small town, and alliances, whether political, social, or personal, had a way of intertwining.
Doyle lifted his refreshed glass and stared into it as if seeking answers in the swirling liquid. The card players laughed and shouted, oblivious to the storm brewing in one man’s conscience.
Outside, Joshua swung into the saddle, casting one last glance at the saloon. He couldn’t see Doyle from his vantage, but he imagined the man still standing at the bar, still pondering what was said.
Joshua reined Jupiter toward the ranch, trotting down the street to leave the quiet town behind. Doyle had supported theAlliance so far. Joshua knew trust was a fragile thing, easily shattered and hard to repair. As the peacemaker in the Beckett family, he felt as if he’d spent a lifetime mending broken bonds.
The ride back to the ranch would give him time to think about Faith, about the Alliance, about how all these changing dynamics in town would affect his family. For now, though, he let the rhythm of Jupiter’s gait and the familiar sights of the countryside soothe his mind.
In the saloon, Doyle set his drink down, untouched. He rose slowly, with the heavy deliberation of a man carrying a newfound burden, and walked to the large front windows. He watched as Joshua Beckett rode away, the rancher’s silhouette growing smaller against the backdrop of the waking town.
Doyle had decisions to make. The kind that could change the course of friendships, of alliances, of lives.
Faith Goodell stood on her porch, the chill of evening whispered across her skin. Her gaze was locked on Joshua Beckett, who approached through her gate, his figure outlined by the rising moon.
“Evening, Faith,” he said, tipping his hat in a gesture of familiarity and respect.
“Evening, Joshua.” She turned to open the front door, stepping inside ahead of him.
“Thank you for coming. I thought it best if you could explain your thoughts on the Alliance moving forward.”
“I’m glad you invited me,” he replied.
Faith ushered him into the parlor. The room was already filled with the low murmur of conversation. The discussions stopped, replaced by greetings when Joshua appeared. Hesmiled, letting it linger on his mother, who sat next to Gloria Graham, a woman Naomi professed to take with a grain of salt.
They took their seats, and Faith felt a surge of pride looking around the room. The women who gathered on a Tuesday evening were the embodiment of resilience and strength.
Melody Jennings leaned forward. “So, what is the purpose of this meeting, Faith?” The others nodded, anxious to hear the topic.
She took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the room. “We’ve already decided to organize a library in the building Naomi Beckett graciously offered.” She nodded at Naomi. “We have fifty dollars from Doyle Shaw to get started. This is a topic I’ve asked Mayor Jurgen to place on the council’s agenda for Friday. He agreed. However, there are matters we should discuss prior to their meeting.”
A few eyebrows rose, but most faces showed a spark of excitement. Faith pushed forward, her voice gaining momentum.
“We’ll need volunteers to keep it open several days a week. I would suggest we settle this in case the town council asks.”
“I can help on most Saturday mornings,” Naomi offered in her no-nonsense voice.
“And I can do one morning a week,” Melody said.
The women continued to volunteer until they had coverage for Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday mornings.
Faith smiled. “Thank you. All of you. I’m certain some of the other members will be able to volunteer, also.”
Joshua listened, admiring the dedication of each woman. Yet a part of his mind wandered to the broader implications of their efforts.
Faith looked around the room before changing the subject. “Joshua, please tell us your thoughts on the proposed tax for the schoolhouse addition.”
