by Kay Stuart
“Thank you,” he told Mrs. Gaines.
“Do come again,” Mrs. Gaines replied surprised by her words. She seldom encouraged male visitors. The backdoor closed and Royce walked across the yard heading towards the cemetery. A cool breeze tugged on yellowing tree leaves sending them scurrying across the ground. Turning from the door Mary Gaines saw Faith watching Mr. Hargadon out the back window.
“Don’t you thank he seems lonely,” Faith said justifying her interest.
“Yes,” Mrs. Gaines said thoughtfully.
Elizabeth gathered up the dishes off the table. “He seems nice,” she said. “Maybe this school year will be different.”
“Different,” Mary Gaines asked. Elizabeth so seldom complained her mother was surprised.
“Miss Ferguson is mean,” Elizabeth stated as color darkened her cheeks. “Her treatment of poor Lydia was deplorable. A teacher should have a kind heart.”
Chapter Three
Monday was an overcast dreary looking day. Royce’s classroom was blissfully silent when he descended the stairs and opened the door at eight thirty. Half an hour before classes began. Looking at the rows of neat desks butterflies started fluttering inside his stomach. He would rather face down a dozen desperadoes than the twelve students soon to arrive.
“Chicken,” he growled softly knowing he was saying the truth. His palms were sweaty and his heart was beginning to race out of control. He was afraid of twelve young people and sought to bolster his falling esteem. “Just think of them as twelve future desperadoes,” he whispered. A grin splitting his face.
Royce walked to the back of the classroom, pulled back the bolt and opened the front door. Outside a breeze was blowing leaves across the schoolyard. In front of the elementary school swings suspended from a wooden frame were moving back and forth blown by the wind. The door to the students’ outhouse was open and banging against the side of the building. The dark sky overhead looked as if it might rain at any moment.
Propping the door open Royce returned to his desk. Sinking onto the chair he groaned out loud. He must have rocks in his head to think he could carry off this stunt. He could not distinguish between the Battle at Concord and the Battle at Bull Run. His English was atrocious and when he wanted to count pass ten he had to remove his boots. What made him think he would last one day teaching school!
Sounds on the front stoop caused Royce to glance up. Three students came into the classroom. The oldest was a tall boy with straw colored hair. He looked over the room as if he was uncertain what to do next. Then he selected a back desk. His companions were two young ladies. The youngest hurried to the front row and took the last desk on the right. Royce assumed the other young woman was her sister. They looked similar. She chose a desk in the third row. Brother and sisters, Royce decided and read down his list of names. Johnny Meyers and his two sisters Ruth and Deborah were listed.
The next to arrive were two young girls. One stopped in back of the classroom and hung up her coat. Then she hurried after the other girl. They selected desks in the second row as if they knew which desks belonged to them. One had black hair and the other was a blond. Royce assumed they were not sisters, just friends. So he was not able to assign names.
He knew Elizabeth Gaines. She arrived with a timid young woman. With her head bowed and clutching books to her breast the youngest Gaines sister slowly walked to the front of the room and sat down next to the Meyers girl. Lydia would not look up and Royce wondered if the girl was silently crying. Her shoulders rose and fell as if she might be. Miss Ferguson had taken pleasure in telling him the child was backwards. Royce believed she was afraid and wondered if Miss Ferguson was the cause. He had never had a sister. If he had, he would be protective of her. Was that the hot feeling he felt rising to the surface of his mind. Backwards or not people should be treated with respect.
Lost in thought Royce missed the arrival of four more students. One was a beefy looking boy with flyaway brown hair and dark blue eyes. One of the other students was a young boy with carrot red hair and a face full of freckles. They took the two remaining desks in the back row. The other two students were young women. The first chose a desk next to Elizabeth. Leaning over she whispered something into Elizabeth’s ear. Elizabeth turned towards the beefy looking boy with flyaway hair and frowned in disapproval. The boy doubled one hand into a fist and presented it to Elizabeth for inspect. Trouble was brewing Royce thought and wondered what the young scalawag was getting up to. He would soon find out.
Miss Ferguson rang the bell in the schoolyard as the second girl hurried to the front row and slipped into a vacant desk. Three desks remained empty, two in the second row and one in the third row where Elizabeth was seated.
Royce stood and wrote his name on the blackboard. Then he drew a line under his name before turning back to the classroom. All three desks were now occupied. “I am Mr. Hargadon your teacher,” he announced. “Class will come to order. The young man in the first desk, last row will you please close the door.”
The boy with carrot colored hair rose to do Royce’s bidding.
“First we will get acquainted,” Royce said stepping from behind his desk. His roster with students names held in one hand. He stopped beside Lydia’s desk. “The young man in the backroom what is your name,” he asked.
“Bobby Smith,” the young man promptly replied.
Royce heard Lydia suck in a deep surprised breath. He placed one hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Bobby Smith. I would have said Johnny Meyers.” He looked at the girl on the first row. “Your name is Deborah Meyers,” he asked.
“I . . . I am Ruth,” the girl said giving her brother a hostile look.
“Haw,” the boy declared. “I am Johnny Meyers.”
“You are Bobby Smith,” Royce asked turning to the beefy looking young man.
“Yes Sir,” Bobby Smith replied. “How did you know,” the youth demanded.
“Family resemblance,” Royce replied. “You don’t have any brothers or sisters listed.”
“They’re still in Miss Ferguson’s class,” Bobby admitted reluctantly.
“I remember trying to pull the same stunt when in school,” Royce said. He watched wonder fill the two young men’s eyes. They both suspected a trip to the woodshed was due them. Instead the new teacher understood their boyish prank of trying to deceive him. “Remember honesty is the best policy and we will get along,” Royce said firmly.
“Yes Sir,” the boys said in unison.
The carrot haired boy was Colin Pillsdale, the Mayor’s son. He did not look anything like Caroline Pillsdale.
“Good morning Elizabeth,” Royce greeted before turning back to Colin Pillsdale. “Why did you choose the back row,” he asked the youth.
“Miss Ferguson insists all boys sit in the back rows,” Colin replied.
“What grade are you in,” Royce asked him next.
“Fifth grade, Sir” Colin answered. The boy was small for his age. With Elizabeth seated in front of him it was impossible for Colin to see past her without leaning over in his chair.
“Boys will no longer be required to sit in back of the class. Ruth Meyers what grade are you in,” Royce asked and watched all eyes turn towards him in surprise.
“Fifth grade,” Ruth replied hesitating over her words.
“And Lydia,” Royce asked. Lydia turned a pale face towards him. Her brown eyes were wide pools of fears. When Elizabeth would have answered for her sister Royce shook his head no. “Lydia,” Royce said again and walked towards the front of the classroom. “It is alright,” he said his voice soft and gentle.
“I don’t know,” Lydia replied. “Miss Ferguson said I am not ready for the fifth grade. Only, I am old . . . old enough.” She swallowed and bowed her head as color rushed into her cheeks.
“Class,” Royce’s word silenced the other students. “Any more noise and you will each be writing on the blackboard. Every person deserves respect. Is this clear.” He heard soft spoken, “Yes Sir,” from his c
lass.
At the end of his questioning Royce had five fifth graders. The three young women seated in the first row, Colin Pillsdale and Bobby Smith. The other students were not aware of which grade they were in. Miss Ferguson had not assigned grades to her older students. Young men and women attended classes until their fifteenth birthday. After that they were considered too old for school.
Royce walked to the front of his classroom and sat on top of his desk, his hands holding onto the front edge. He looked at each student before he opened his mouth to speak. “I am Royce Hargadon,” he said. “I was born in Tennessee. In a log cabin built along Potter’s Creek. My mother was born in Ireland. My father was a frontier’s man. The first ten years of my life I lived in Tennessee, Kentucky, Arkansas and Missouri. I was living in Kansas when my mother died of fever. My father was a lawman.” This part of Royce’s story was true. “I was thirteen when my father and I moved to Texas. He was sheriff of several towns before we moved west into the Territory. At seventeen I wore a deputy sheriff’s badge. Later I accepted teaching school as my profession.” He looked around the classroom. He had each person’s attention. “Johnny will you tell us about yourself,” he asked.
Johnny Meyers’ eyes opened wide before he said slowly. “I am Johnny Meyers. I was born in Kansas. My folks moved to Junction City when I was five.” Johnny paused before continuing. “I have a horse named Star Light. He is the best horse a man can have.” Over the next ten minutes Johnny told the class about his horse.
Elizabeth Gaines was the next student to be called to speak. “I am Elizabeth Mary Gaines I was born in Pennsylvania. My father is a Baptist Minister. I have four sisters and no brothers.” Elizabeth went on to tell about her summer. She ended by saying, “This is my last year to attend school.”
The school bell rang as Ruth Meyers was talking. “What was the bell for,” Royce asked.
“That was the dinner bell,” Ruth replied.
Royce pulled out his pocket watch and opened the cover. It was twelve o’clock. “So it is,” he declared surprised that the morning had passed so quickly. “You may go,” he stated.
Four of his students went home for dinner. The remainder sat in friendly groups and opened dinner pails. Royce had not given dinner a thought. A lawman’s meals were uncertain at the best of times. At the worst they were nonexistent. Seated at his desk he took a leather wrapped package of dried beef from an inside pocket and bit off a chunk of meat. Coffee would be good but decided not to leave his classroom unattended until he knew his students better. He could remember more than a few pranks he had pulled over his school days and shuddered.
Their meal over the younger girls went outside to play. Lydia stood in the open door looking at Miss Ferguson. Her face was puckered in a frown while her eyes looked troubled. “Lydia,” Royce spoke quietly. “Is there something I can help you with,” he asked.
Lydia bowed her head and shook her head slowly.
“You did not want to come to school,” Royce said. He was rewarded by Lydia jerking her head up and looking at him. She was silently crying. “You have no reason to be afraid,” Royce declared.
“Yes Sir,” Lydia said in a soft whisper. Her tone of voice belied her statement. “Did you really wear a badge when you were seventeen,” she asked.
“Beings you are a Minister’s daughter I would think you know the importance of telling the truth,” Royce replied. Lydia’s face softened into what Royce believed was a smile. A very shy smile.
“Yes Sir,” Lydia replied.
“My father was a lawman,” Royce stated. “Like Ministers, lawmen insist the truth be spoken.” He rubbed the back of his head. Royce’s flesh was crawling. Looking up he saw Miss Ferguson watching them. Her pinched features were dark with disapproval. The woman went back into her classroom. There was something about Miss Ferguson that troubled Royce. Or was it his protective instinct. Adults could be bullies as well as children. Lydia’s fears touched his heart.
All afternoon Royce spent trying to sort out his students’ levels of learning so he could prepare class assignments. At the same time wondering when he was going to have time to investigate Marshal Dean’s murder and learn which of Junction City’s citizens was Barlow.
When Miss Ferguson rang the bell at three o’clock Royce was more than ready to call it a day. Yet, his spirit soared when Lydia told him a soft goodbye. He walked to the front door and was surprised to find Faith standing on the end of the boardwalk. He watched Lydia and her sisters until they turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
* * * * *
“How was your day,” Faith asked. Holding her breath until Lydia answered. Not sure what she expected her sister to say.
“I like Mr. Hargadon,” Lydia replied simply.
Elizabeth reported on the day’s happening. Starting with Johnny Meyers and Bobby Smith trying to pretend they were each other and how Mr. Hargadon handled the situation.
“Mr. Hargadon says lawmen expect to be told the truth just like Ministers,” Lydia said. Faith wondered why Mr. Hargadon would make such a statement. “Mr. Hargadon’s father was a sheriff. He says he once wore a Deputy’s Sheriff’s badge. Back when he was seventeen,” Lydia informed her older sister. “He says everyone deserves respect and silenced the class when they . . . when they started to laugh at me.” Tears formed in Lydia’s eyes as she recalled how humiliating she had felt until Mr. Hargadon had spoken.
Good for him, Faith thought. She could see her youngest sister was upset over the incident. She also knew Lydia was not convinced attending school was going to be pleasant. “I can talk with father,” Faith suggested. “Maybe he will agree to you studying at home.”
“You know he won’t,” Lydia replied sadly. “A Minister’s family must set a good example for the rest on the community. It is alright,” she continued. “Mr. Hargadon said I mustn’t be afraid. I will try to be brave,” she added before giving Faith a grateful look. She knew Faith worried about her when she was at school.
Elizabeth stopped in front of the millinery. In the store’s front window was displayed a straw bonnet decorated with paper flowers. “Would you believe that,” Elizabeth declared. “Mother showed me how to make crêpe paper flowers and now Mrs. Hock has copied the flowers I wore on my bonnet last Sunday.”
“Mrs. Hock has to make her living,” Lydia said softly. “You know Mr. Hock can’t keep a job.”
“Sometimes I wish we did not have to turn the other cheek,” Elizabeth declared vehemently. Not willing to forgive Mrs. Hock’s act of thievery. For that was how Elizabeth viewed the situation. Mrs. Hock had stolen her mother’s creation.
“Grandmother Stern taught mother how to make paper flowers when she was young,” Faith said. “I am sure at the time many women knew how to make paper flowers. Remember mother saying as much. Maybe the flowers on your Sunday bonnet only reminded Mrs. Hock of a skill she already knew but had forgotten,” she suggested to her younger sister.
“Humph,” Elizabeth scoffed. Not willing to be easily pacified. She had been proud of the flowers she had made and worn on her bonnet to church.
“Let’s not worry about it,” Faith replied. They were nearing Mr. Cook’s Feed and Grain store. The man knew what time school was dismissed and that Faith often walked home with her sisters. As they neared the store Faith moved to the outside hoping Mr. Cook would not notice she was with Lydia and Elizabeth. She spied the man standing at the front window staring out. Groaning Faith dodged for the side road. Her chin tucked so Mr. Cook could not see her face.
The man was getting to be impossible!
“Faith,” Elizabeth called trying to catch up to her hurrying sister. “What is the matter,” she asked. Faith stopped and gave her sister a withering look. “Oh,” Elizabeth replied. “It is Mr. Cook. He is at his front window waiting for you. You can’t keep avoiding him, you know.”
“I can try,” Faith declared heatedly.
The side road led to the back lot of the Feed and Grain. Holding pen
s stood empty of cattle and horses. The yellowing fields beyond were vacant except for haystacks set in neat rows. Doors were open on the huge hay barn and a team of horses stood in the doorway while a wagon was being loaded. The sisters had stopped next to the wooden platform attached to the side of the business. Sacks of grain were stacked on the platform with a ranch wagon pulled along side. Faith hastily turned her back when she heard voices coming through the open door.
“Miss Gaines,” a deep timbered male voice greeted her and her sisters. Startled Faith turned and had to look a long ways up to meet the brown eyes of Sheriff Walden. “Is something wrong,” Sheriff Walden asked, the fingers on his left hand tipped his hat over his eyes. Amos Walden was too rugged looking to be considered handsome. His firm jaws were square cut and clean shaven. His mouth was wide with a thin upper lip that spoke of a stubborn nature. His nose was long and straight which was amazing given the type of work he did. His eyebrows were black as was the long sideburns on the sides of his face.
“No,” Faith croaked before flashing a fiery red.
“The west side of town is not . . .,” Walden paused in his speech not sure what word to use when talking to proper young women. The west side of Junction City housed less desirable businesses.