Page 41 of Heart of Mystic Valley
Because he was torn between his duty to Brodie and his desire to help Faith. “Brodie’s already made it clear he’ll give you more details when he has them.”
Straightening her back, she gave a curt nod. “All right.”
She walked off, leaving Joshua to ponder the explosion, the empty safe, and the woman who was never far from his thoughts. He watched as Faith made her way down the street, the determination in her stride unmistakable.
Artemus Graham emerged from the bank, along with the two lawmen. Brodie stopped next to Joshua.
“Appears whoever robbed the bank got away with over three thousand dollars. Artemus can cover the loss, but I want to find the money.”
Jubal rushed up. “Flock is gone. Clothes and everything. Rosamund Butter didn’t know he’d left.”
Artemus’s shoulders sagged at the news. “I just can’t believe William was a part of this.”
Even though no one else was around, Brodie lowered his voice. “Maybe he’s not. His quick departure does make him look guilty.”
“I understand.” The beleaguered bank president stalked off.
“Joshua!” Faith’s voice cut through his thoughts. She stood on the boardwalk in front of the general store, her notepad in hand. He sighed and walked over to her.
Excitement mingled with worry shone in her eyes. “Casper Jennings thinks the payroll for the ranch hands in the area was in the bank. Including your family’s money.”
“Faith.” Joshua’s voice indicated his frustration. He already realized the Beckett money was part of what was stolen. “You need to let the law handle this.”
She stared at him, her expression a mix of hurt and defiance. “I’m not trying to play detective. But people need to know what’s happening. If the bank fails—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “It isn’t going to fail. Sometimes knowing too much makes things worse.”
She was silent for a moment, weighing his words. “What aren’t you telling me?”
When he didn’t answer, she continued. “I saw you talking to Brodie. He must know more than he’s saying.”
“He’s the sheriff,” Joshua said. “I’m just a guest. We need to trust the people in charge.”
She took a step back, as if he’d slapped her. “You think I don’t trust Brodie?”
“I think you want answers faster than they can be given. Sometimes, patience is—”
“Is what?” she shot back. “A virtue? You sound like my father.”
“Maybe he was right.”
She glared at him, the kind of glare that could melt glass, then turned on her heel and started to walk away. Joshua reached out, wanting to stop her, to apologize, then reconsidered. Sometimes leaving Faith to her own thoughts turned out to be for the best.
He watched as she made her way down the street, the determination in her stride now mingled with something heavier, more burdened. He respected her, admired her for the way she’d continued the Gazette on her own.
Joshua thought about what Brodie had said. About him telling Faith what he could when he could. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy her. His attention shifted to Brodie and his deputies. They were forming a posse, and he wanted to be a part of it. He looked back at Faith’s retreating form.
She reached the corner and paused, turning back for a brief moment. Joshua thought she might wave or shout something. She simply stared. He couldn’t read the look in her eyes from this distance, but he imagined it was the same mixture of hope and frustration he felt.
She disappeared around the bend, and Joshua’s shoulders slumped.
Faith kept walking, not sure where she was headed. The hole in the bank’s wall loomed large in her peripheral vision. An explosion like this didn’t just disrupt a bank. It jolted through the entire community.
Halfway down the block, she stopped and looked back. Brodie, Nash, Jubal, and Joshua were talking again, their postures more relaxed. She considered going back, demanding the answers she knew they were withholding. But what would be the point? Maybe they didn’t know anything more or have a suspicion of who might have robbed the bank.
Her eyes drifted to the horizon, where the mountains stood tall and unyielding. The moon was climbing higher, indicating it was much later than she thought.
She looked down at her notepad, flipping through the scribbles. Her instincts had kicked in from the moment of the explosion, but now a heavy fatigue set in. How many times had she been in this position, balancing the need for truth against the potential for harm? Too many to count, yet each instance felt as acute as the first.
