Faith (28 page)

The statement hit Nicholas like a cannonball. His hand
paused, the dipper suspended in midair. His eyes darkened
to a troubled hue. "You must be mistaken. She doesn't
intend to leave; she intends to marry Dan."

Drawing on the stem of the pipe, Jeremiah shook his
head. "No, don't believe she does. She's leaving on the
stage in the morning. Saw her purchase the ticket myself,
couldn't have been more than thirty minutes ago."

Nicholas tried to find his voice. Faith leaving? Lifting the dipper to his mouth, he took a long, thirsty drink. IfJeremiah expected a reaction, he wasn't going to get one. This
whole mail-order bride mess left a bad taste in Nicholas's
mouth. She had told him at the dance that she didn't intend
to marry Dan Walters but to return to Michigan. But when
he'd seen her at the Founder's Day celebration, with Dan
and his children, he'd been sure that she was in love with
Dan and had changed her mind. Apparently she had
decided to keep her word to him.

The thought should have left him with a measure of satisfaction; instead, he felt empty, as if he'd lost something rare
and irreplaceable because of pride and stupidity.

Jerking the brim of his hat low, he said quietly, "That's
too bad. I'm surprised Dan would allow her to go."

Jeremiah struck a match and frowned at his cold pipe.
"I'm sure if Dan had any say in the matter, he would insist
that she stay." He touched the match to the rim, puffing,
"Unfortunately, he doesn't. Faith came here to marry you.
Since that no longer seems likely, she's decided to return to
her aunt in Michigan."

Nicholas removed his gloves, stalling for time. "What
about the school for the blind?"

"Pity," Jeremiah said. "Faith's a fine figure of a
woman-smart, too. The town would have benefited
greatly had she been allowed to open the school."

Nicholas slapped the gloves against his thighs, his features
taut with frustration. "No one's running her out of town.
She can stay if she wants."

"Oh, I think she'd find that entirely too awkward." The pipe flared to life again. "True, Dan would marry her in a
heartbeat, but she doesn't love Dan." He fanned the match
out, smiling. "Love's a strange thing; never know where it's
going to pop up, or with whom."

Jeremiah's tone implied she was in love with him, Nicholas. Nicholas inwardly ridiculed the idea. It was not only
wrong, it was laughable. How could Faith love him? He'd
given her every reason to feel the opposite.

Swinging aboard the wagon, Nicholas released the brake.
"Tell her I wish her the best."

"Why don't you tell her?"

He couldn't. He didn't wish her to leave at all.

Nicholas rolled to his back and hurled a boot at the open
window. Blasted crickets! They'd kept him awake half the
night.

Settling back on the pillow, he closed his eyes, only to see
Faith's face for the hundredth time. Why should he care if
she left tomorrow ... yet he did. How could he ever make
up for all that had happened between them-and all that
hadn't happened?

Shifting to his side, he wadded his pillow under his head,
soundly thumping it. He heard the clock strike two; then,
what seemed like hours later, it struck three, and he sighed.

Twisting to his back, he stared at the ceiling. He'd done
the work of ten men today trying to put Faith and her fickle
nature out of his mind. He should be sleeping like the dead, but instead he was staring at the ceiling, wondering what
he'd done wrong.

He had been polite, respectful, careful to make Faith
comfortable during the time she was under his roof. Their
brief talks on the porch at night had made him think they
were warming to each other. Their wedding was delayed
twice-no, three times-well actually four, but she'd
seemed to understand why. A man wasn't expected to lose
a good herd of stock for a ten-minute wedding ceremony,
was he? Faith hadn't expected him to let the town burn to
the ground, had she? Babies had a way of coming at the
most inconvenient time-he'd heard that himself. Miss
Kallahan couldn't pin that one on him. And the herd, well,
that was pure common sense in the cattle business.

He switched back to his side. It was Dan Walters's fault.
From the moment she'd arrived, Dan had his eye on her,
and Carolyn barely cold in her grave. He listened to the
pesky cricket near the windowsill.

Walters needed help. Three small kids under the age of
five-one blind. He guessed he'd be looking for help too if
he were in Dan's shoes.

He rolled onto his back and frowned in the darkness.
Faith certainly hadn't lost any time making herself useful to
Dan. Naturally he'd take to her-no, he was being unfair.
Dan didn't just need Faith; he was attracted to her. That was
the hardest to admit, and it stuck in his throat. He'd seen
the admiration in Dan's eyes, the expectant way he looked
at Faith, the way the two of them shared a confidential
smile when the children did something cute.

Why hadn't Faith looked at him that way? Or had she,
and he'd been so busy trying to solve Mama's problems that
he failed to notice? Questions nagged him. He thought he'd
gotten Faith out of his system, but she was back, haunting
his thoughts, making him feel as though he were at fault,
not her. He professed to be a Christian, but where was his
faith now? What had become of his initial trust the belief
that God had sent Faith for him, not for Dan?

Faith had brought sunshine back into his life. She brought
laughter into the house. After Papa's death the house had
become a tomb. Mama went about her work, he went
about his, and two years passed by. One day he woke up
and realized he was thirty-four years old. Thirty-four.
Before long, life would pass him by.

If he'd had any idea that posting that blasted ad would
bring this kind of grief, he would have cut the journal in a
hundred pieces and fed it to the hogs. What had he been
thinking? Just because he was thirty-four and single, did that
give him license to order a bride? Send off for a wife like he
would send for a new plow? Well, it hadn't worked. He'd
only served to make a fool of himself.

If he had it to do over, he'd try harder with Faith. He
would marry her before the problems ever got out of hand.
Pride, ugly pride, had kept him from going to her. When
was he going to turn that pride over to God?

It wasn't easy to welcome a stranger into his home, and it
took time to build a union between a man and a woman;
but they had struck a bargain. He'd given his promise; she'd
given hers. If he'd married her the moment she got off Jere miah's mule, he wouldn't be going through this! He
punched his pillow. Pride be hanged. He should have seen
this thing through. It wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had.
The worst was when he'd decided not to go after her the
moment he returned from San Antonio.

Sitting up in bed, he realized his mistake. He was obligated to keep his promise. The town would see his rationale
and not hold it against him. He'd sent for Faith to be his
bride, and a man wasn't much of a man who refused to
honor a commitment.

Tossing the sheet aside, he got out of bed and reached for
his trousers.

Faith lifted her head off the pillow, roused from a deep
sleep. The sound of Nicholas's raised voice behind the
closed bedroom door startled her.

"I want to talk to Faith!"

Albert's hushed voice tried to quiet him. "She's asleep,
Nicholas, has been for hours-"

Faith cringed at the note of authority in Nicholas's voice.
"Now, Albert."

Climbing out of bed, Faith dressed quickly, then twisted
her braid on top her head. Pinching color into her cheeks,
she slipped out the door.

"Nicholas?"

Nicholas's eyes burned with intensity. "I want to talk to
you.

Faith glanced questioningly at Albert. "Certainly-Albert,
would you mind-"

"Not here," Nicholas said. "Horses are waiting outside."

"Nicholas, that's highly improper," Albert reminded him.
"Faith is without a chaperone-"

"Faith and I are both adults. I can assure you I have no
intention of dishonoring Miss Kallahan."

"It's all right, Albert." She reached for a light shawl. "I'll
only be gone a short while."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, you stay with Mary Ellen and the children. I'll be
fine, really." She brushed coolly past Nicholas on her way
out of the door.

Her mind whirled. Where was he taking her? Was it wise
for her to entrust her well-being to this man? A new, hopeful thought dawned on her. Had he discovered she was
leaving and come to stop her? No, the only ones who knew
she was leaving were Dan and Jeremiah. Dan had promised
to keep quiet until she was safely gone, and Nicholas would
never have talked to Jeremiah.

She paused when she saw the two Appaloosas standing by
the rail. For a moment she wanted to cry. Now he was taking her for that promised ride.

"Pick the one you want. I promised you a ride when I
got back."

Faith nuzzled a warm, black nose. "Do you keep promises, Nicholas?"

"I try, Faith. I try very hard."

Biting her lip, Faith picked the animal on the left. They were both magnificent creatures. But she didn't want a
horse. She wanted Nicholas.

Nicholas lifted her onto the saddle, and their hands
brushed. She felt a thrill of anticipation and quickly smothered it. Tucking her dress between her knees, she flicked
the reins. The horses galloped out of the yard and into the
lane. A full moon hung overhead. Nicholas rode beside her,
his jaw set in determination. Whatever had prompted this
nocturnal visit, she guessed she'd soon know.

An hour, then two, the horses traveled back roads and
forded dry creek beds. Faith shivered, hunched beneath her
thin shawl. How dare he burst into the Finneys' house and
demand to see her at this time of night? He had no
right-no right at all to act as if he owned her!

The animals climbed steep inclines and picked their way
through valleys dotted with Shepherd cattle.

The moon sank lower and lower in the western sky as the
horses clopped along dirt roads. The silence was altered only
by the changing cadence of hooves, fast, then slower. And
still, Nicholas didn't speak. For what reason had he come
calling for her tonight? His stern features seemed at war
with himself. Did he want to say something? Tell her
something? Confess something?

Darkness gradually gave way to dawn. The sky lightened,
spreading tendrils of pastel pinks and golds across the distant
horizon. Faith dozed, her head bobbing with the horse's
easy gait.

The animals came to a stop, and Faith sat up, trying to
orient herself. They were back in the Finneys' yard. She looked at Nicholas's tired features and knew that indeed a
war raged within him, but he seemed determined not to
permit her to know his enemy.

"Nicholas," she said softly, wanting to erase the pain she
saw in his eyes. "What is it?"

Shaking his head, he refused to answer. She'd known all
along he wasn't a man who easily expressed his feelings. But
she was powerless to help until he exposed the demons that
drove him.

Getting off the horse, he came to stand beside her mount.
She waited, holding her breath.

"I'd like to kiss you," he stated quietly.

"All right," she agreed in a hushed whisper.

Lifting her off the saddle into his arms, he kissed her, his
kiss even more bewildering than his actions. Tentative, yet
possessive. Needy, yet reserved. What was going through
his mind?

When their lips parted, he said softly, "Good night,
Faith."

"Good night, Nicholas."

The rooster crowed the beginning of a new day as she let
herself in the back door, still wondering what he'd wanted.