Page 56 of Heart of Mystic Valley
A figure darted out from the shadows, knocking Joshua off balance. The intruder barreled past Joshua, shoving him roughly against the wall.
Recovering, he rushed out of the house, his longer strides eating up the distance between him and the fleeing figure. Bursting onto the moonlit street, Joshua caught a glimpse of the intruder’s face. His blood ran cold as recognition dawned.
Questions assailed him as he continued his chase. The figure disappeared around a corner, with Joshua close behind.
The sound of boots pounding the dirt echoed through the quiet side street as Joshua Beckett pursued the intruder. The familiar weight of his six-shooter nestled comfortably in his palm. He raised it, his gaze locked on the fleeing figure ahead.
“Hold it right there!” Joshua’s normally soft-spoken voice boomed with unexpected authority. “Stop now, or I’ll be forced to shoot!”
The intruder’s pace faltered for a moment, and Joshua seized the opportunity to close the distance between them. His finger rested lightly on the trigger, ready but restrained. Joshua hadnever relished violence, always preferring to be the peacemaker, but he knew when force was necessary.
As he drew nearer, Joshua’s mind whirled with questions. Who was this man? Why had he been in Faith’s house? The thought of her in danger stirred something fierce within him.
“I won’t ask again,” he called out. When the man continued running, he shouted a second time.
“Last chance,” Joshua warned, his voice carrying a hint of steel he knew would have surprised those who knew him as the quiet Beckett brother. “Stop now, or I’ll be forced to shoot.”
The weight of the moment pressed down on him. He’d always been the one to defuse tense situations, to find the peaceful solution. With the safety of Faith at stake, he found himself ready to embrace a different role.
The intruder stumbled, his body tensing as Joshua’s words registered. A moment of hesitation hung in the air, before the man moved toward his holster.
Joshua’s grip on his six-shooter tightened. “Throw the gun to the ground.”
With a grunt of frustration, the intruder pulled out his revolver and tossed it to the ground.
“Turn around,” Joshua commanded.
As the man pivoted, Joshua’s eyes flickered in recognition. It was the same fellow who’d been in the fight with Tom Hawkins hours earlier.
“What in tarnation were you doing in Faith’s house?”
The man’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape. “It’s none of your business.”
Joshua’s jaw clenched. “Oh, I’m making it my business.”
The tense standoff was interrupted by the sound of confident footsteps approaching. Sheriff Brodie Gaines strode onto the scene. He took in the situation with a practiced sweep.
“This the man Faith said was in her house?” Brodie asked.
Joshua kept his gun trained on the intruder but nodded respectfully to the sheriff. “He is. He’s also the man who was in the fight with Hawkins today.”
Brodie’s brows arched, the only indication of his surprise. He turned to the intruder, his tone brooking no argument. “Your name?”
The man shifted uneasily but didn’t answer.
Brodie stepped closer, his face inches from the man. “Your name, now.”
“Jim… Jim Rounder,” he muttered.
As Brodie opened his mouth to continue his questioning, a familiar figure appeared at the edge of Joshua’s vision. Faith walked toward them, her eyes intent on the scene before her.
“Is this the man who was in my house?” Faith asked, sensing the tension in the air.
Joshua felt a surge of protectiveness as Faith stopped beside him. He admired her courage, the way she didn’t shy away from tough situations. It was one of the many things he loved about her, though he’d never found the right words to tell her so.
“It is,” Joshua answered.
Brodie’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and focused. “Mr. Rounder, care to explain what business you had in Miss Goodell’s house?”
