Faith (Goldwater Creek Mail-Order Brides 1)

I
f anyone had told
Faith Bailey three years ago that she'd be traveling across the country to marry a complete stranger she would have laughed.

But that was
before
Charles. Before the cheating and the deception. When she'd been a starry-eyed eighteen-year-old who still harbored the illusion of true love.

The mere thought of her dead husband, Charles Preston, cast a cloud over Faith's heart. She couldn't believe she'd been so stupid. But she had been and she'd fallen head over heels. Love at first sight, she'd told herself, and she thought Charles had felt the same.

She couldn't believe she'd been naive enough to actually believe in true love ... A mistake she vowed to
never
make again.

Looking back now, she could see that his boyish charm and handsome good looks were only skin-deep. But back then, she'd thought he was her Prince Charming, come to save her after the death of her father. She'd even had hopes that he would help support her mother and sisters while they lived out their 'happily ever after'.

"Some happily ever after," she muttered under her breath, twisting the string of her reticule so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Things had turned out the opposite of what she'd thought. Charles had soon shown his true colors as a brute, a liar and a cheat who gambled away everything they'd had and then some.

Faith cracked open the train window and sucked in a deep breath, letting it whoosh out in a sigh. Colorado Territory was nothing like Boston. She missed the busy streets, hotels and stores. Though the air did have a nice smell to it here, clean and earthy with a slight scent of dried grass that tickled her nose, it didn't make up for the depressing, dreary countryside.

Given a choice, Faith would still be in Boston. But she didn't have a choice, thanks to Charles. His untimely death had not only left her a penniless widow, it had left her with a huge debt to repay.

Anger bubbled up inside her at the thought. It wasn't fair that she should have to repay Charles's debt, but she'd been left with no choice. Charles had owed one of the most notorious gangsters in Boston, Lefty Brewster. And apparently Lefty did not let debts die with the debtor.

Shortly after Charles's death, Lefty and his henchman, Silas O'Toole, had paid her a visit, letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that he expected her to repay the debt her husband owed ... and if she did not, he would make life miserable for her sisters—something a man of his power could easily do.

Faith had no financial means to repay any debt, but she would risk life and limb to keep her sisters safe. Her willingness to face risk was a good thing because Lefty had demanded a different type of payment in lieu of money—he wanted information and Faith provided a means for him to acquire it—which was how she came to be on this train, hurtling toward Colorado as a mail order bride.

Faith shifted in her seat. The red velvet cushion on top of the bench was flimsy and her bones hurt from the jarring contact with the hard wood underneath. She didn't know whether to be glad her uncomfortable journey was over, or afraid of what lay at the end of it.

She craned her neck and pressed her face against the smooth glass of the window to look toward the front of the train where she could see the dotted buildings of a town looming in the distance. Her new town.

The few sips of coffee she'd managed for breakfast soured in her stomach. Up there, in the new town, was her new husband-to-be.

She allowed herself a minute to wonder about him. She didn't know much about him except that his name was Jackson 'Jax' Blackburn, he was eight years her senior and he had a reputation as a ruffian. According to Lefty, that was why he needed a bride—to legitimize himself and show that he was an upstanding member of society. Apparently, he wanted to enter into some business dealings where that was required. Even the marriage was strictly a business deal—at least that's what the letters had implied.

Faith hoped that was the case. Jax's reputation had her a little worried that he might want more than just a 'business arrangement' from her, but she had no choice and even if he did, whatever he did to her couldn't be any worse than what she'd suffered at the hands of Charles.

Faith settled back in her seat and listened to the squeaking of the train wheels as it slowly reduced speed. Her belly fluttered nervously at the thought of the task ahead of her. At least she
assumed
that was why it was fluttering—it certainly couldn't be nervous excitement at the thought of meeting her future husband. Maybe it was indigestion because she had no intention of having any feelings for Jax Blackburn, or any other man, for that matter.

She'd do what was required of her until she was able to repay the debt. Then, hopefully, she'd get the heck out before Jax discovered what she was up to. If she waited too long … well, she shuddered to think about what her fate would be.

Dark clouds settled over the hazy Rocky Mountains in the distance as if to serve as a warning about her future. She didn't relish the task before her. Deceit was not her strong suit, but she would have to pull this off if she wanted to save her sisters from suffering at the hands of Lefty Brewster.

Jax Blackburn thought he was getting a quiet, unassuming bride, but what he was really getting was a spy. Because Jax had a secret that Lefty wanted and Faith was his only way of uncovering it.

F
aith scanned
the faces on the platform as the train lurched to a stop. The sea of strangers looked expectantly at the train, their wide faces searching each window for their expected loved one.

It appeared to Faith as if all of them were looking for a familiar face, except one man who stood off to the side. That man was tall with gray hair and bushy gray eyebrows. He wore a black hat and he watched the people getting off the train with uncertainty as if he wasn’t sure he would recognize whomever he was waiting for.

Faith felt a stab of disappointment. The man looked so old—surely he couldn’t be Jax Blackburn? Lefty had said he was only eight years older than her, which would make him twenty nine and this man looked to be at least fifty. She’d heard life in these mining towns was hard, but hopefully it didn’t age one
that
much.

She chided herself as she made her way down the aisle. What had she been expecting? A young knight in shining armor? A handsome and rugged cowboy? Better he be old and unattractive, especially with what her task was. She didn’t want to be forming any attachments to the man.

Faith stepped off the train, her plain brown boots thudding on the wooden platform, her simple black valise clutched in her hand. She glanced over at the cargo car to see that her trunk had yet to be unloaded. Uncertain as to what to do, she turned back to the crowd only to see the old man walking toward her.

“Miss Bailey?” the man ventured. Faith blinked at the use of her maiden name. She’d stopped using Charles’s last name after he died but she still wasn’t used to hearing it. That’s who she’d answered the mail order bride advertisement as, though, under the strict instructions of Lefty.

The man’s eyes dropped to take in her plain, gray linen dress. She saw something flicker through them. Disapproval? She knew the dress was cheap and outdated. She only had two, and the other one was no better. Charles had never given her money for fancy clothes. Besides, Blackburn had asked for a plain Jane and that’s exactly what she was.

She straightened, lifting her chin. “Yes … are you Mr. Blackburn?”

Faith’s heart thudded and her stomach churned, but she managed to hold the man’s gaze. She was going to have to at least give the appearance of being confident on the outside if she wanted to pull off her new role as a spy.

The man’s blue eyes twinkled and she thought she saw his lips quirk up before he coughed and covered his mouth. “Hardly, Miss. I’m Robertson, his driver. He sent me to pick you up.”

Faith stared at him. His driver? Blackburn must have a lot of money and very few manners if he couldn’t even come himself to pick up his fiancée. It was just as well, though. Much better that she detest the man right from the start. And from what she’d heard about him, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“I see,” Faith said.

The man’s eyes softened. Had he thought she was disappointed? She wasn’t. She could care less who picked her up.

“He’s very busy, but he’s waiting for you back at the ranch.” Robertson’s gaze drifted over to the trunks being unloaded from the train. “You have more luggage?”

Faith turned and spotted her beat up old trunk. “Yes, it’s the brown one.”

They walked over to the pile together and Faith pointed out her trunk, which Robertson hoisted onto his shoulder with the ease of a much younger man. He led her toward the front of a shiny black buggy and Faith’s chest constricted. Her step faltered. It wasn’t so much the buggy that had Faith bothered, it was the horse. Faith was terrified of horses.

She knew it was irrational and inconvenient. Horses were a fact of life—one needed them to get anywhere—but ever since she’d nearly been trampled by one as a child she’d been afraid of them. She’d learned to live with them, but always kept her distance. Which usually meant approaching the buggy from the back, staying as far from the horse as possible.

Robertson sensed her tension as well as the reason why and gave the animal a wide berth, leading Faith to the side of the buggy.

“This here is Buttercup.” Robertson nodded his chin toward the horse who looked back at them as if acknowledging that they were talking about her. “She’s real sweet and gentle.”

Faith knew the man was trying to put her at ease and was grateful for it. She was starting to like Robertson, even though she didn’t want to. No sense in making friends who were only going to hate her later on. “I’m sure she is.”

Robertson helped her into one side of the buggy, then went around to the other, stopping to feed Buttercup something from his pocket.

“She’s the best we got,” he said, patting her muzzle affectionately. “In fact, she’s the one that Jax … I mean Mr. Blackburn … trusts the most. He wouldn’t send just any horse out to get you, especially not after—”

Robertson stopped abruptly and Faith’s eye’s flicked from the horse to his. “After what?”

Robertson's eyes grew cloudy. He pressed his lips together and ambled into the buggy. "Sorry, Ma'am. I don't want to talk out of school. Never you mind about that."

Faith held her tongue, but watched the man curiously as he looked around for something on the floor. What had he been about to say? Was it something to do with the information she needed? It was possible. Maybe she could befriend Robertson and find out what she needed to know, it seemed likely he would know all of Blackburn's secrets. Robertson picked up a gray wool blanket revealing a wicker basket covered in a red and white checked cloth.

“You must be hungry and thirsty after your long trip.” Robertson held the basket out toward Faith as he removed the cloth. The smell of fresh bread wafted out and Faith looked in to see golden-topped slices of white bread, a chunk of butter and a wide glass jar full of clear liquid with a metal lid screwed on.

“That was nice of Mr. Blackburn to think of it.”

“Actually, it was our cook Maisie, but I’m sure Mr. Blackburn would want you to be comfortable.”

“No doubt.” Faith broke off a small piece of bread and settled back in the seat as Robertson urged the chestnut-colored horse forward. Had she actually thought that Jax Blackburn would have had the nicety to consider her comfort? What was she thinking? She slathered a thick gob of butter on the bread and bit in. It was delicious—crusty on the outside but soft on the inside and the butter was sweet and creamy.

“Maisie must be a good cook,” Faith said.

Robertson nodded. “The best. You won’t have to worry about any kitchen duties or cleaning back at the ranch. Maisie does it all.”

Mention of her new home spoiled Faith’s appetite and she covered the basket. What exactly would be expected of her at her new home? She’d imagined she would be running the household, but if Blackburn already had someone, just what, exactly, was
she
supposed to do?

Thankfully, she would only be living at the ranch for a limited time, hardly long enough to get bored—especially considering she would be spending most of it spying on her new husband.

She watched as the town of Goldwater Creek passed by. It was nothing like Boston with its taller buildings and congested streets. But she was happy to see that at least there were some stores and even what looked like a restaurant. At the end of the main street was a large saloon which, even at this time of day, appeared to be quite rowdy. She made a mental note to steer clear of that end of the street.

It didn’t take long before there were less and less buildings and more and more dirt. The mid-August heat was stifling and the dust from the dry road parched her throat. She looked dubiously at the covered jar. Was that water inside? What kind of water did they have out here?

She was sure there were no municipal water supplies in this untamed part of the country. Her eyes fell on the bubbling creek that meandered alongside the road. Goldwater Creek. Was the creek where the water came from? She didn't know if creek water was safe to drink, but her thirst won out and she unscrewed the top, took a tentative sniff, then sipped. It was cool and refreshing—the best water she’d ever tasted.

As if sensing her thoughts, Robertson said, “The water comes from a spring on the ranch. You won’t get anything fresher. You have springs back in Boston?”

“No,” Faith said. “Boston is a lot more built up than this. We have many paved and cobblestone streets and a lot more buildings. It’s more … well …” Faith let her voice trail off. She was going to say ‘civilized’ but didn’t want to sound like a snob.

Robertson snorted. “I know what you are tryin’ to say. More fancy. High class. But I bet you don’t have the fresh air and sense of freedom we have out here.” He gestured toward the wide prairie that had opened up in front of them with the majestic Rocky Mountains in the background. Faith knew those mountains were not only scenic, but they were also loaded with gold. In fact, that was the reason Lefty had sent her out there.

Faith had to admit the scenery was quite pretty. Very different from the scenery in Boston where the land was flat and met with the Atlantic Ocean.

She supposed living out here might have its advantages, but she doubted that life here could ever be as good as in Boston.

Not far out of town, the dirt road forked to the left into a patch of trees. She was grateful for the shade which made the temperature drop to a more comfortable level. She leaned back against the seat, lulled by the songs of the birds, the clop clop of the horse’s hooves and the swaying of the buggy. She was almost asleep when Robertson announced, “The ranch is right up ahead.”

Faith’s eyes jerked open. Up ahead, the woods opened up to a valley, lush with green grass and dotted with colorful wild flowers. Yellow and black butterflies skimmed the tops of the tall grass. In the middle stood a long building made out of logs. It had a wide porch that ran along the front and one side. The meadows on either side of the house were edged with a low fence, also made from logs. Inside the meadows, horses grazed, their tails flicking lazily.

“You have a lot of horses,” Faith said almost to herself as she made a mental note not to venture into the fenced in fields.

Robertson nodded. "Yup. Mr. Blackburn likes to keep a lot of horses on the ranch and we have some goats and cows and chickens, too. Don’t get too attached the chickens, though. One of them might end up as your dinner.”

Faith gasped. She didn’t like the idea of eating something she'd made friends with. If that’s what they did out here, she definitely couldn’t wait to get back to Boston.

Robertson glanced at her and gave a little chuckle. “Sorry 'bout that, but it’s just the way out here. We don’t have a lot of fancy restaurants or stores to buy food at, so we have to be more self-sufficient.”

But Faith wasn’t listening. They were nearing the house and her attention was riveted on the porch. Would her fiancé come out and greet her? Though she was under no illusions about her impending marriage being a love match, she had to admit she was curious about the man she was about to marry. Jax Blackburn must not have shared her curiosity because no one appeared on the porch even once they'd stopped.

Robertson helped her out of the buggy and grabbed the small valise. “I'll take your trunk to your room later. Right now I'll take you inside. Mr. Blackburn is waiting to meet you."