Her hand lingered on the doorknob of the Mystic Gazette, her mind drifting from the Women’s Alliance to the events of the day. The bank robbery, Trent Galloway’s sudden appearance, and Joshua’s quiet strength all swirled in her thoughts like leaves caught in a whirlwind.
During the walk home, Faith found herself pondering the two men who had unexpectedly dominated her thoughts. Joshua, with his stable presence, had been a constant in her life for as long as she could remember. She’d loved him for years, though Faith had never admitted her feelings to him. She wondered if he felt the same.
Trent, with his rugged charm and tales of adventure, stirred something new and exciting within her. The two men were as the moon and the sun. Joshua, so rooted to the land, and Trent a tumbleweed in a storm.
The bounty hunter’s stories echoed in her mind, tales of justice served and outlaws brought to heel. Faith’s journalistic instincts tingled with possibility.
She quickened her pace toward home as a cool breeze rustled through the trees. As she rounded the corner onto her street, ashadow moved in the alley beside Jennings Mercantile. Faith’s heart leaped into her throat, her earlier bravado evaporating like morning dew. She froze, eyes straining in the dim light.
“Hello?” she called, hating the tremor in her voice. “Is someone there?”
Silence answered her, broken only by the distant howl of a coyote. She mentally shook herself, trying to laugh off her fear. But the safety she’d always taken for granted suddenly seemed as fragile as spun sugar.
Rushing up the front steps and into the house, she locked the door behind her. Faith leaned her back against it, her thoughts swirling.
She glanced at her writing desk, where a blank sheet of paper waited invitingly. Even with the late hour, Faith felt a familiar itch in her fingers. There were stories to be told, and she was the one to tell them. Whether it was the Women’s Alliance, Trent’s adventures, or the changing face of Mystic itself, Faith knew one thing. Her pen would be busy in the days to come.
The following morning, Faith stepped out into the crisp Montana air, her folio tucked securely under her arm. As she strode toward the newspaper office, she spotted a familiar figure outside the sheriff’s office.
Sheriff Brodie Gaines stood tall and imposing, his jet-black hair ruffled by the morning breeze. His eyes, usually twinkling with good humor, were clouded with concern as he gazed down the street.
“Morning, Sheriff,” Faith called out, quickening her pace. “Did they catch the bank robbers?”
Brodie turned, his broad shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. “Good morning, Faith.” He nodded, his voice deliberate andmeasured. “I was hoping to catch you. Got some information you might want for that paper of yours.”
Faith’s eyebrows shot up, her instincts instantly on alert. “What do you have?”
“I’ve sent word to Fort Ellis, requesting they send some troops to help us deal with those outlaws holed up in Black Canyon.”
Faith’s eyes widened. “Troops? Will they venture into Black Canyon?”
“I’m hopeful they will,” Brodie replied, his eyes meeting hers steadily. “These bandits are dangerous. We were fortunate none of the townsfolk were shot during their escape yesterday. Going into Black Canyon is dangerous, especially with the few men in the posse. The cavalry plus the posse would have a better chance of penetrating their defenses.”
Faith nodded, already considering the implications of heading into what Joshua called the viper’s nest. “Do you think all the men in yesterday’s posse will volunteer again?”
A flicker of uncertainty passed over Brodie’s face. “That’s the other thing,” he said. “Trent Galloway’s decided to ride out to Fort Ellis himself. Told me he wants to join up with the troops if they do ride into Black Canyon. He implied the posse wouldn’t be necessary. If that’s so, I’m all for it.”
Faith felt a sudden tightness in her chest. “If he rides with the troops, when will he be back?”
Brodie shook his head. “I’m not sure he will be coming back. He told me, whether the troops ride out or not, he may not be returning to Mystic. Men like Trent are like tumbleweeds. They never stay in one place long.”
Her high good spirits sank. She’d known Trent was a drifter. Still, she’d hoped he might stick around long enough to share his stories.
“I see.” She fought to compose her voice. “Well, I suppose you’re right. A man can’t change his nature, after all.”
Brodie studied her face, his expression softening. “You all right? Cody told me Galloway had agreed to tell you more of his tales for the newspaper. Must be disappointing.”
She straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin. “You’re right. I am disappointed. The townsfolk would’ve enjoyed his stories. I was thinking about asking Lilian to create illustrations to go with them.”
As Faith and Brodie concluded their conversation, the jailhouse door creaked open. A man Faith had never seen before emerged, his presence catching her attention. Tall and wiry, with thick auburn hair and piercing golden-brown eyes, he presented an air of quiet confidence.
Brodie gestured toward the newcomer. “Faith, I’d like you to meet Nash Beaumont, our new deputy.”
“Pleased to meet you, Deputy Beaumont,” Faith said, extending her hand. “I’m Faith Goodell, editor of the Mystic Gazette.”
His handshake was firm but not overbearing. “Ma’am,” he replied, his voice low and measured.
“Nash has come to us from Laramie,” the sheriff explained. “Figured with all the excitement lately, we could use an extra deputy.”
