KeepingFaithCole (10 page)

Having spent enough fury on
her son, she’d turned now to a new target.

Lucille McIntyre.

Tom’s resolve hardened. His
mother could bad-mouth him all she wanted. He didn’t care. But he was not about
to sit there and listen to her berate Lucille, especially since
he
was the one to blame for the
situation. Drawing himself up, he put a stern look on his face.

“Shut up,” he said in a firm
voice. “I’m the one who told Lucille to take Faith home with her. It was the
right thing to do. It’s for the best.”

“The best?” She barreled
across the room like an onrushing freight train, her heels click-clacking over the
floor. “Don’t you dare try to tell me what’s best. I’m your mother, and you
ought to be listening to me.” She pushed at his shoulders, shoving him away. He
stumbled and fell against the wall. “And don’t you ever tell me to shut up.”

“Stop it, Ma.” Scenes from
childhood played through his head, bringing back all the anger, all the shame,
and all the feelings of helplessness—and hopelessness.

She came at him again,
grabbed him by the shirt collar and shook him like one of those old rag dolls
she used to make for Sally.

“What about Judge Morse?”
she asked, shouting the words in his face. “You’re supposed to listen to him.
You’ve got to follow his orders.” Her fingers tightened around his neck.

Tom reached for her hands
and pried them away. His mother’s strength had always surprised him.

“I am following his
orders…more or less.” A lie in some respects, of course, but like so many other
things in life, the truth of the matter depended on how a person chose to see
it. “Judge Morse entrusted Faith to me, Ma.” He had a hard time swallowing.
“Entrusted,” he said again, rubbing his throat. “I’m sure you know what that
means.”

“Don’t go getting smart with
me.” She slapped him hard across the cheek. “Don’t go throwing words around to
act like you’re something, or somebody, you’re not.” She drew back, ready to
lash out again, but Tom was too quick this time. His hand closed around her
wrist.

“Hitting me isn’t going to
help matters.”

“Let go of me!” She jerked
her arm, but Tom’s grip remained firm.

“Not until you listen. Not
until you’re willing to hear what I’m saying.”

She lifted her chin. Her
red-rimmed blue eyes flashed anger. “I’ve heard every word of it. You let me
down, Tommy. We made promises to each other, don’t you remember? We made a
pact. That’s what we called it.”

His heart ached when tears
overflowed from his mother’s eyes and streamed across her wrinkled cheeks.
Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe he should have talked to her first. Maybe they
should have kept Faith.

He shook his head, clearing
the uncertainty from his thoughts. Hell, no. He’d done exactly the right thing.

“Ma, please understand.
Faith needs more than we can give her.”

“Faith needs family.” His
mother let out a fierce sob. Her entire body shook, and as Tom released his
hold on her, she sagged to the ground, crumpling into a tired heap of weary
emotions. “Dear God, why can’t you see it?” She looked up toward her son.

“Are you praying, Ma?” he
asked, struck by her words.

“If that’s what it takes to
get that baby back, I’ll get down on my knees and pray, Tommy. I will. I’ll
pray every morning, every night.”

Yeah, she might do it, but
what difference would prayers make if she didn’t believe God listened?

It was an act, he realized.
If she offered up prayers and they failed to bring Faith back, it would be one
more proof of her belief—or lack thereof. One more opportunity for her to point
out that either God wasn’t there, or else He just didn’t care.

“You can pray if you want,
but make sure you’re praying for the right things.”

Her head jerked up. “What’s
that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t pray to get things
for yourself. Pray for others.” He blinked in surprise at his words. Somehow
they made sense. “Pray that others will have what they need. Pray that Faith
will be loved, that she’ll get the care she deserves.” He knelt beside her,
reached out, and placed a hand on her cheek. “I know this hurts you, Ma. It
hurts me, too. But sometimes that’s what it takes to set things right in life.”

“I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

“If you want to pray, pray
for Faith. And pray for strength, too.”

He drew back, half expecting
a wad of spittle to shoot from her mouth. But all she did was bow her head and
nod.

“Strength,” she whispered.
“Faith.”

* * * *

Two weeks later, on a clear, Monday morning, Tom stood at
his friend’s side, watching as the mayor stepped forward to pin a gleaming star
on Caleb Bryant’s chest.

“I’m right proud to accept, Mayor.” Caleb grinned, looked
down, and brushed at the star. He glanced up, then swept the crowd with a
serious gaze. “I don’t expect there will be too much trouble in town. I reckon
most of you folks know right from wrong, but in case there’s any question, the
rules are simple. No gunplay. No fist-fighting. No public drunkenness, and
gentleman,” he said, directing a gaze toward Mr. Hubbard, who stood with his
frightened-looking wife and seven children close beside him, “if I hear of any
one of you laying a hand on a woman, whether she’s your wife, your sweetheart,
or even your mother, I’ll personally come after you and you’ll be spending time
in that jail over there.”

He pointed toward the recently completed building that would
serve as his office. Tom had worked on the construction of it. Keeping busy
helped ease the ache in his heart whenever he thought of Faith.

“What about children?” called a man’s voice. “We still
allowed to discipline them?”

“Only if they need it,” Caleb answered.

As Caleb shot back answers to each question thrown at him,
Tom stopped listening and searched through the crowd. When he caught sight of
Lucille standing next to her mother, he broke into a grin and tipped his hat.
She held Faith in her arms, and at Tom’s gesture, she turned, stepped back from
the crowd, and hurried away. Olive McIntyre followed her daughter.

Damn, they sure as hell weren’t happy to see him. His grin
faded.

The short ceremony ended moments later. Tom put aside all
thoughts of Lucille and stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Damn,
friend, but you’ve done all right for yourself. You look good in that hat and
badge.”

Caleb chuckled. “Feels pretty good, too. I think I’m going
to like being a lawman in this town,” he added as a bevy of girls from the Red
Mule strolled by. They waved, winked, and whispered among themselves, looking
back over their shoulders as they passed the two men. “I’ve heard that the
sheriff in a town usually gets a few special privileges, if you catch my
drift.”

Tom laughed. “Since when have you needed any special
privileges?” With Caleb’s good looks and his friendly demeanor, he could have
his way with women. He envied Caleb for his simple confidence, his
straight-forward approach. “Damn, man, you’re going to be so busy screwing
around, when are you going to find time to keep law and order?”

“Might even be able to work a few favors for a friend,”
Caleb told him, leaning closer. “Next time you’re looking to get laid, maybe I
can hook you up with one of those sweet little gals, no charge.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got other things on my mind.”

Caleb let out a hearty chuckle. “You’ve got it bad for her,
don’t you?”

“What? Who?”

“Lucille McIntyre. I saw the way you were looking at her.”

“Well, even if I were interested in her, it wouldn’t do me a
bit of good. You know that.”

Caleb shook his head. “Don’t start that again, Henderson.
You’ve got as much to offer as any other man. Forget where you came from, how
you were brought up. Those things don’t matter. What matters is who you are
now.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“I am. You’re a hard-working man doing your best to make a
future for yourself and for the ones you love. Once you and Lucille figure
things out between you, I’ve got a feeling the two of you will be damned happy
together. You make a fine-looking pair, you know.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He knew his cheeks
were pink, and he couldn’t stop grinning. “You’re prattling on like some old
lady. There’s nothing going on between me and Miss McIntyre.”

“The hell there’s not. You might as well admit it.”

“Nothing to admit.”

Caleb pulled off his hat, raked his fingers through his
hair, then plopped the hat on again. “That’s exactly why it’s not working out.
Did it ever occur to you, Tom, that maybe you should tell her how you feel?”

Tom scratched at his chin. “Yeah, right. I’ll keep that in
mind.” Of course, it would be a lot easier once he figured out exactly what his
feelings were. Until then, best he keep his mouth shut and not go around
stirring things up.

“I heard she’s keeping your baby girl.”

“Faith,” Tom replied. “That’s her name, and yeah, I asked
Lucille to look after her.”

“Smart thinking. Gives you a lot of opportunity to spend
time with Miss McIntyre.” Caleb clapped an arm over his friend’s shoulder.
“When you see her, tell her how you feel. Trust me, it will work out.”

“I’m seeing her later this evening.” He’d be going to
Lucille’s for his first reading lesson, but he didn’t like to call attention to
the fact that he was illiterate. Let Caleb think whatever he wanted.

“Good luck, Tom.” Caleb pulled his arm away, adjusted the
badge on his chest, then grinned. “If she won’t give you what you want, come find
me. We’ll head over to the saloon.”

“I just might have to take you up on that.”

Lucille would never give him what he wanted, and he’d be a
fool to think otherwise. All the same, getting it on with one of those cheap
saloon girls no longer held the appeal it once had. Not even if it were free of
charge, courtesy of Sunset’s local lawman.

* * *
*

Whether at her dressmaking shop or at home in the evenings,
watching the door—or the window—had become Lucille’s favorite pastime…and
whenever she watched, she was always watching for the same tall, rugged,
good-looking cowboy. She couldn’t say precisely when, or how, the handsome man
had captivated her mind and heart so completely, or maybe she simply didn’t
want to admit—even to herself—that it had happened. Much easier, really, to
pretend that her only interest in Tom Henderson related to her desires to be of
service, to perform good works. A feeling of pride rippled through her each
time she thought of the trust he had placed in her. He’d left Faith in her care,
and he’d turned to her, as well, to help him learn to read and write, to become
the man he wanted to be.

Fading rays of sunlight danced among the late afternoon
shadows, giving an almost enchanted look to the world outside her window. When
she caught sight of Tom riding up the lane, Lucille patted her hair into place,
gave her cheeks a quick pinch to add a spot of color, then drew in a deep
breath so she could pretend his arrival had caught her by surprise. It wouldn’t
do to let him know how impatiently she’d waited, how long she’d stood watching
for him. The man was already too full of himself.

“Good evening,” she said as she opened the door to invite
him inside. “I hope you’re ready to begin.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His dimples flashed when he grinned. “I’m always
ready for whatever comes my way.”

Heat rose from the tips of Lucille’s toes to the ends of her
hair. Always the innuendo, the subtle suggestions of a sexual nature. Or was it
merely her own thoughts, her frustrated desires that led her to read more into
an innocent remark than the man ever intended?

“Yes, well, I’ve set up a workspace in the parlor.” She
gestured toward the door, but Tom didn’t move. “Is something the matter?”

He took off his hat, held it in his hand, and gazed down at
her with those sultry blue eyes. “I was hoping I might be able to see Faith
first. Could I spend a few minutes with her, Miss Lucille? It would sure mean a
lot to me.”

How could she deny such a heartfelt request?

“Of course, I understand. She’s upstairs with my mother. Go
on into the parlor,” she suggested. “I’ll bring Faith down.”

For some reason, an unexpected heaviness settled over her
heart as she trudged up the narrow staircase. Disappointment, perhaps in
knowing that Tom was probably more eager to see his niece than to spend time
with
her,
learning to read and write?
Fear that he might change his mind and insist on taking Faith home with him?
Neither emotion accurately described her feelings. Something more lurked
beneath the surface, something she couldn’t identify, something she couldn’t
understand. She’d felt it earlier that day, too, when she’d seen Tom in town.

When she came downstairs, she found Tom seated in her
father’s favorite chair. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, and
he looked comfortable and very much at ease.

“I see you made yourself at home,” she remarked.

At once Tom got to his feet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to
offend you.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You haven’t done anything
wrong. I’m the one who’s lacking in manners. I should have made sure you were
settled before…”