Meanwhile, Beau was the sort of man who could talk himself out of just about any situation. He was charming and friendly, and Faith doubted there was a person in town who didn’t like him. What was it that Celia had always called Faith?Vivacious.Faith had certainly never felt shy or nervous when it came to speaking with people. In fact, they intrigued her in such a way that she usually wanted to know more about them.
Aaron would find a way to get to that pistol.
Beau would gain Lyon’s trust by engaging him in conversation.
And Faith would do both.
“Mr. Lyon,” she said with a courage she knew now dwelt somewhere deep inside her. “I must confess your presence here confuses me. Beau received a letter stating that you and your friends had taken his mother. If that’s true, then why are you here?”
He studied her a moment, as if he was debating what to say. “He never came. So I journeyed here.”
That didn’t clarify whether Beau’s mother was safe or not, but Lyon didn’t seem receptive to more of those sorts of questions. So Faith changed tactics.
“How do you know my husband? He’s mentioned many friends he had in New Orleans, but I don’t recall your name.” Faith forced her hands to relax as she spoke. He’d be more likely to converse with her if she set him at ease.
“Landry isn’t a friend. In fact, he shot a friend of mine.”
Faith nodded, as if she was considering this information. “I’m sorry to hear you lost someone you cared for. That must have been hard.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. She smiled in return, trying to lighten the mood. “Thank you,” he finally said in a gruff voice.
Lyon retrieved a pocketwatch from his side. As he checked the time, Faith’s eyes strayed to the counter. The revolver was located just under where she normally kept the mail sorted. It should still be loaded. After all, it hadn’t been touched since before Aaron’s passing.
“Are you hungry?” she asked Lyon.
He returned the watch to his pocket and regarded her a moment. Faith kept her expression arranged in a placid, friendly manner. It must have worked, because the harder edges of Lyon’s own face seemed to smooth.
“I’m not, but I wouldn’t mind a whiskey.”
“I don’t keep spirits in the house,” Faith replied, as kindly as possible.
He shook his head, but Faith thought she saw the trace of a smile. “Women,” he said under his breath.
“Oh, are you married?” She tilted her head just so, hoping to convey an eagerness to learn about his family. It was just the sort of thing she’d perfected as a girl, before Aaron had finally made his affections known.
“No,” he said with something that sounded like a laugh. Faith smiled in return. She was breaking through his shell, bit by bit. “My mother feels the same way as you,” he went on. “About spirits. She claims they possess men’s souls and turn them toward evil.”
Faith wouldn’t have gone quite that far, but she nodded in agreement. “Your mother sounds very smart.”
“All my family is,” he said, entirely serious. “Maman said the world wouldn’t cut my papa a break, else he could have owned half of New Orleans.”
Faith nodded sympathetically. He went on, talking about a brother who was so intelligent, he’d been kicked out of school, and sisters far smarter than their husbands. She chimed in here and there, insisting he must be just as blessed as his family. Andthatreally set him off to talking about how no one had ever seen that in him, but he was indeed one possessed with a high degree of intelligence.
Faith listened just well enough to keep him talking, but her mind wandered back to that gun behind the counter. He was at ease around her now. All she needed was an excuse to stand and go to the mail or the—
The telegraph sounded, alerting her to an incoming message. Faith didn’t know the exact time, but messages didn’t often come this late. “Oh!” she exclaimed, interrupting Lyon’s soliloquy on the teacher who never believed he could learn sums. “That’s the telegraph. It must be urgent, coming in this late. You won’t mind if I take down the message, of course?” She held her breath as she waited for his answer.
“Go on.” He sat back, seeming entirely at ease with her now.
Faith rose slowly. The last thing she wanted to do was rouse his suspicion. She passed behind the counter, and without pausing, slipped the revolver into her hand and hid it easily in her skirts. She sat at the telegraph as her heart pounded, trying mightily to concentrate on the code that came through the lines. Her hand shook as she wrote out the message, her other hand clutching the pistol on her lap. The telegram turned out not to be urgent after all—instead merely a shipment update for one of the nearby ranches for horses. Someone in Kansas City was working late.
The moment the message ended, Faith laid her pencil down, pulled in her breath, and prayed for bravery. If she managed to escape Mr. Lyon, she’d find a way to get to Beau.
And she would tell him everything that was in her heart.
She raised herself from the chair and glanced behind her. Mr. Lyon was examining his pocketwatch again, paying no attention whatsoever to Faith. Her ruse had worked, and she’d garnered his trust. She bit her lip, wondering what Beau would think of that. She imagined he’d be proud of her efforts.
She drew strength from that thought and wrapped both hands around the grip. Raising the revolver until it was level in front of her, she said, “Mr. Lyon, I believe it’s time I see you out.”
He glanced up, clearly confused, and then his eyes fell upon the pistol. He hesitated a moment, and then stood, an eerie smile crawling across his face. He opened his mouth.
But before he could say a word, the front door flew open.
