Page 31 of Heart of Mystic Valley
As quickly as the thought arose, another followed. Joshua Beckett’s face swam into her mind, his familiar presence an anchor in the sea of uncertainty.
“Oh, Joshua,” she murmured. “Where do you fit in all this?”
The porch swing swayed, as if encouraging her musings. Her gaze drifted to the distant mountains, their peaks silhouetted against the star-studded sky. As the night deepened around her, she remained on the porch, her heart and mind grappling with the choices before her. The future, once so clear, now seemed as vast and mysterious as the Montana sky above.
A sudden gust of wind swept across the porch, rustling the papers Faith had brought home from the Gazette. One sheet caught the breeze, dancing out of her reach. As she lunged to grab it, a name caught her eye. “Flatrock.”
Faith’s breath caught in her throat. She snatched the paper, her eyes scanning the hastily scrawled notes she’d jotted down earlier in the day. In all the excitement of meeting Nash and the lingering thoughts of Joshua, this crucial piece of information had slipped her mind.
“Flatrock,” she whispered, her heart racing. “The outlaws’ hideout.”
She stood and paced the porch, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet, considering her options. A horse nickered in the distance, and her head snapped up. An idea, dangerous and thrilling, began to take shape in her mind. She could ride out tonight, under the cover of darkness.
“It’s madness,” Faith told herself, even as she felt her resolve hardening. “Absolute madness.”
Yet she found herself moving inside the house, her hand reaching for her heaviest coat. The night air seemed to whisper promises of adventure, of stories waiting to be told.
Rushing outside, she hurried toward the livery. Careful not to make any noise opening the gate, she approached the chestnutmare Josiah Jarvis always saddled for her. Seeing her approach, the horse nickered in greeting.
As her hands closed on the saddle, a shadow fell over her. She froze, her heart hammering in her chest. Slowly, she turned to face the unexpected visitor.
“Going somewhere, Faith?”
The shadowy figure stepped into the moonlight, revealing the stern countenance of Sheriff Brodie Gaines. His eyes, usually warm and friendly, now held a mixture of concern and suspicion.
Her hands dropped from the saddle, her pulse quickening. “Brodie,” she managed, striving for a casual tone. “What brings you out so late?”
His gaze swept over her attire, lingering on the heavy coat, the one he knew she wore when it snowed. “I could ask you the same question. Seems to me you’re fixin’ to go on a late-night ride.”
The cool night air swirled around them as the mare nickered once more. In the distance, a coyote’s howl pierced the silence, adding to the tension of the moment.
Faith weighed her options. She could lie, make up some excuse, but the thought of deceiving Brodie sat ill with her. Taking a deep breath, she decided on honesty.
“I remembered something. Thought I might check it out myself.”
His eyebrows shot up. “And it couldn’t wait ’til morning?”
“It’s about the robbers,” Faith pressed on, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I understand they’re holed up in Black Canyon. Probably in Flatrock.” She glanced away, realizing how ridiculous her idea would sound.
“And?”
“And, well… I had the idea to ride out there and see if I might be able to find them. For a story, I mean.”
Brodie’s expression shifted, shock and anger crossing his features as his voice rose. “Flatrock? You were going to ride out alone to a town with a saloon, a house of ill repute, and a livery. A town brimming with outlaws to get a story?” The censure in his voice had her wincing.
“I guess it doesn’t sound quite as sensible as it did when I first thought about it.”
Brodie’s eyes narrowed, his voice harsh as he took a menacing step toward her. “It’s a darn fool notion, and you know it. Flatrock isn’t safe during the day, and is darn right murderous at night.”
As if to underscore his point, a sudden gust of wind rattled the livery railings, sending shadows dancing across the stables. Faith shivered, not entirely from the cold.
Brodie regarded her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Most of the time, your heart’s in the right place, Faith, but your head isn’t thinkin’ straight tonight. Now, here’s what you’re gonna do…”
The sun crested the distant horizon when Faith found herself seated at her desk in the Mystic Gazette office, her fingers punching keys on her father’s typewriter. The events of the previous night continued to weigh on her as she crafted her latest article, weaving together the facts of Nash Beaumont’s experience with the story of his travels, ending with his arrival in Mystic.
A gentle knock at the door interrupted her focus. She looked up to see Nash Beaumont, the subject of her article, standing in the doorway with his hat in his hands.
“Mornin’, Miss Goodell.” A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Sheriff Gaines asked me to check inon you. Make sure you weren’t planning any more midnight adventures.”
