She sat up slowly, her good hand pushing against the feather mattress. Her head swam with a thousand thoughts, none of them bringing the clarity she needed. Did she love Joshua the way he loved her? The way he claimed to, anyway. Their friendship had always been the one constant in her tumultuous life. Was she ready to risk it for something more?
Slipping into the sling, her fingers traced the fabric, remembering how Joshua had gently adjusted it for her, his hands sure, despite the storm in his eyes. He’d saved her, yes. Now, she felt more endangered than ever. Not for her life, but by her own heart.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. The room tilted. Catching herself on the bedpost, she took a moment to calm her breathing. The ache in her shoulder was nothing compared to the gnawing uncertainty in her chest.
Slowly, she crossed to the vanity and looked at the woman in the mirror. Dark circles smudged beneath her eyes, and her hair was a wild tangle of blonde vines. She ran a brush through it, then shrugged. No amount of grooming could tame the hurricane of emotions whirling inside her.
Walking across the room, she opened her wardrobe with her good hand and surveyed the contents. Each dress and blouse was a memory—of her father, of her growing up, of the times she and Joshua had spent together.
Chiding herself for putting it on before dressing, she removed the sling. She pulled out a simple dark blue dress and slipped it on, the motion awkward with her injured shoulder. The fabric was soft and familiar, like an old friend. Like Joshua.
Her mind drifted to the future. Could she really see them as a couple? Walking hand in hand through Mystic, sharing kisses behind the livery, stealing moments in the very kitchen where she now sat alone? Yes, she decided, she could. It all seemed so idyllic, yet so terrifyingly real.
Then there was the ranch. The Becketts had always supported her, taking her in when her house grew too lonely, and she needed to be around friends. If things went wrong with Joshua, where would the loss leave her?
She bit her lip, a habit she’d never quite shaken, and remembered the spark she’d felt when Joshua held her close after the ordeal. It wasn’t just gratitude. It was something more. A great deal more.
With a sigh, she walked to the window. The town of Mystic was waking, the first tendrils of smoke rising from chimneys, the faint sounds of activity trickling in on the cool morning air. This was her world, her life, and Joshua had been at the center of it for as long as she could remember.
Turning from the window, she returned to the vanity, where a small photograph sat in a silver frame. Taken by Molly Beckett,it was of her and Joshua at the ranch, both of them grinning like fools. It was only two months ago, yet now it seemed a lifetime.
Taking the photo in her hand, she traced their faces with a fingertip. How easy things had been then, how simple. She longed for that simplicity, for the untroubled camaraderie they once had.
Setting the photo down gently, as if afraid to break the fragile memory it held, she picked up the sling. Her left shoulder throbbed in time with her pulse, each beat a reminder of her vulnerability. She didn’t like feeling helpless, and she didn’t like being in debt, not even to Joshua. Even so, here she was, owing him her life and so much more.
Slipping the sling over her shoulder, she winced again and took a deep breath. The day stretched out before her, full of uncertainties and decisions she wasn’t ready to make.
The rumbling in her stomach reminded Faith to eat breakfast before leaving for the newspaper office. Heading downstairs, she stoked the kitchen’s cooling stove. She set a cast iron skillet on it before fixing coffee. Within minutes, the stove radiated enough warmth to heat the room.
Faith sat at her kitchen table, the wood stove battling the morning chill. A plate of eggs and a cup of coffee steamed in front of her, but she only picked at the food. The quiet of the house seeped into her bones, providing a comforting moment of reflection.
She remembered the first time she and Joshua met. It had been in the schoolhouse soon after Faith turned six. Joshua had been seven, with a broad smile and kind nature. He’d protected her when an older boy tried to steal her lunch.
From then on, he’d taken her under his wing, teaching her to ride and, eventually, how to shoot. They were inseparable, like brother and sister, except now she had to wonder if he’d always seen their friendship as something more.
Her eyes drifted to the small bookshelf in the corner of the kitchen. On the top shelf sat a book Joshua had given her for her twelfth birthday.Little Womenby Louisa May Alcott had consumed all of Faith’s time. What she loved the most was his inscription on the inside cover.
For Faith, my very best friend. Joshua Beckett.
Now, she saw the gesture in a different light. How many other signs had she missed?
The eggs grew cold, the coffee lukewarm, as she turned these thoughts over and over in her mind. Outside, the sun struggled to make headway against a leaden sky, and light snow began to fall, its flakes dancing on the wind.
With a slow, deliberate motion, she cleared her plate and cup, then put on her heavy wool coat, hat, and gloves. She glanced around the kitchen, taking in every detail, as if committing it to memory. Home had always been a sanctuary for her, but the events of last night had shaken her sense of safety.
Faith stepped out of her house, the crisp autumn air nipping at her cheeks. The snow had stopped, though the biting chill remained. Her eyes darted left and right, scanning the quiet street of Mystic. The sling on her left arm felt like a constant reminder of the recent ordeal, and her heart quickened as she caught sight of a shadow moving behind a nearby tree.
Faith reminded herself she had to be careful. The outlaws who’d tried to kidnap her were still out there. Mystic was a small town with limited resources. Until they were caught, she needed to stay vigilant.
“Stay calm,” she whispered to herself, her free hand instinctively reaching for the small Derringer hidden in her skirt pocket. The weight of the weapon provided little comfort as she began her walk toward the Mystic Gazette office.
Every step felt calculated, her senses heightened to an almost painful degree. The familiar sounds now seemed ominous and foreign.
As she passed Jennings Mercantile & Dry Goods. Casper Jennings glanced up as he swept the boardwalk. “Mornin’, Faith. Heard about what happened. How’s your arm?”
She forced a smile. “On the mend, Mr. Jennings. Thank you for asking.”
“You take care now,” he replied, his brow furrowing with concern.
