Chapter Fifteen
Josie stormed throughthe post and telegraph office door and threw the day’s bag of mail onto the counter. “He actually paid a visit to George—all the way out to our ranch—to insist I be married as soon as possible! Can you imagine? How dare he. What doesheknow of marriage anyway?”
Faith scurried around the counter, not entirely certain to what Josie was referring, but able to make an educated guess. Her friend stood there, hands on her hips, her face as red as the checked shirt she wore, and hair hanging wildly about her face. She looked as if she’d run here from her family’s land, somehow stopping at the stage depot for the mail along the way.
“Do you want to sit? Tell me what happened.” Faith held out a hand, but Josie turned and began pacing the width of the room.
“Pastor Collins is what happened. He has some nerve, dictating what ladies may or may not do and how we might live our own lives. I have George! I don’t need another man. I never wanted one in the first place!” Josie looked as if she were ready to find the pastor and toss him into the jail for even suggesting she marry again.
“He’s moved on from me . . .” Faith pursed her lips, the realization sinking in. Pastor Collins had made it abundantly clear that all the widowed ladies of Last Chance needed to remarry or return back East. It didn’t seem to matter at all to him that not everyone had family there. Josie, for instance, had spent half her life here, outside Last Chance with her brother and parents.
Faith reached out and placed her hands on Josie’s arms. She was a slight yet strong thing, fully capable of doing any sort of work the ranch required. “Pay him no mind at all. George isn’t insisting, is he?”
Josie shook her head. “I told him I wouldn’t marry again, and he seemed to understand.”
Faith hoped—for George’s sake—that “seemed to” meant “agreed.” Josie’s father had been a traditionalist, and thought a husband might settle his wild daughter. In the very short time she’d actually been married, Josie hadn’t shown a single sign of changing her personality. And that pleased Faith to no end. Josie was perfect the way she was, full of fire and determination. If she didn’t want to marry, no one should force her.
“Then you have no need to worry,” Faith said in a voice meant to soothe. “George has charge of the ranch and all who live there. Not Pastor Collins. Now, won’t you come help me sort the mail? Beau has gone off to help Jack and Celia again, and I’ve no help for the rest of the afternoon.”
As Faith suspected, sorting through the large sack of mail helped Josie find calm. By the time they’d reached the bottom of the bag, she was laughing and speculating on what some of the letters might say.
“This one is for Mr. Travis.” Josie squinted at the envelope she held. “The handwriting reminds me of an elderly lady’s. Perhaps it’s his grandmother. ‘My dear Paulie, Please tell me if you received the lace handkerchiefs I sent. I’m certain they will look most pleasing with your favorite plaid shirts. Please do take care not to get them filthy.’”
Faith bent over the counter, tears at her eyes as she laughed at Josie’s high-pitched voice. Simply imagining grumpy Mr. Paul Travis, the burly fellow who’d come to town to marry but found himself assisting with various building projects instead, carrying a lace handkerchief was more than Faith could bear.
Josie set Mr. Travis’ envelope aside with another he’d received and extracted a bent and dirty letter from the bottom of the bag. “This one is missing an envelope,” she said as she shook out the bag.
“Let’s see it.” Faith held out a hand and Josie passed the wrinkled paper to her. She carefully unfolded the letter just enough to see to whom it might be addressed.
To Beauregard Landry—it began. Faith wrinkled her forehead. That was an awfully cold and impolite way to begin a letter. Without thinking, her eyes drifted to the line beneath the salutation.
We have in our possession one Mrs. Landry, of Coliseum Street. She is well and will remain—
She ought to fold this up and give it to Beau. But Faith’s heart pounded and the words made her stomach churn, and it was impossible to stop reading. She unfolded the rest of the letter, which was brief.
She is well and will remain that way provided you give yourself over as soon as you receive this message. Send word to the address below that you are coming. You know your crime, and it is past time that you pay for what you did.
