by Kay Stuart
“Your students all like you,” Faith replied. “I don’t think anyone pays much attention except Elizabeth. She is a very intelligent girl.”
“She has mentioned my lapses to you,” Royce stated wondering why it mattered.
“I am sure she did not mention them to anyone else,” Faith replied. Suddenly the day seemed brighter. Mr. Hargadon was not an underpaid schoolteacher. Why Faith should care she would not speculate. Not even to herself. Royce’s next words deflated her ballooning hope.
“In Dean’s letters he mentioned you. You told him something that very well could have led to his death.”
Faith turned pale. “Something I told him led to his death. Are you sure? I never spoke to the man more than half a dozen times.” Suddenly, she was struggling to breathe.
“What did you talk about,” Royce asked. Now that he had shown his hand Faith was bewildered. She looked at him with wide brown eyes. The gold flecks around her irises were almost invisible. Her skin looked gray and her mouth pinched. There was a great sadness in the way she held her head and shoulders. Her chest rose and fell as she labored to breathe.
Faith shook her head. “I truly don’t know,” she insisted. “What do strangers say to one another? Hello isn’t the weather wonderful for this time of year. What could that have to do with his death.” Tears burnt her throat making talking difficult.
“Will you try to remember,” Royce cajoled. “This is important.” He saw the panic in Faith’s eyes and regretted his abrupt introduction into the subject. It was too late now. He would have to continue as he had begun.
“I know,” Faith croaked hating her tears. Yet how could she not be saddened by Mr. Hargadon’s words. To be responsible for another human’s death even unwittingly was too horrible to contemplate. “What could I have possibly told him that was so important. Of course, I will try and remember what was said. It does seem hopeless,” she added in her defense.
“Elizabeth is not the only intelligent Gaines sister,” Royce stated. Faith had walked away from him and stood with her back towards Royce. Her head was bowed.
“The first time we met was after church,” she said as she turned back to Royce. A sad smile brightened her face. “He said much the same as you did that first Saturday. You must be Faith Gaines. There can be no mistake for I have met your sister. I wondered which sister. It could have been anyone of them. We do all look alike. Many times father has blessed the fact we all take after mother.”
Royce nodded his head not wanting to interrupt Faith’s thoughts.
“I am sure more was said. But the facts slip my mind. The second time was . . .,” Faith turned her back on Royce again. She placed one hand on the wooden marker. It was rough beneath her fingers. “Yes of course,” Faith breathed deeply. “It was the day of Lydia’s Eleventh birthday. I came out of the general store with a load of packages. My mind was on Lydia and I wasn’t looking where I was going and bumped into Mr. Dean.” I never seem to watch where I am going, Faith thought. She had stopped abruptly the first day she saw Mr. Hargadon and Mr. Cook had bumped into her. Now the man was following her around worse than the plague. “I don’t believe we spoke. If we did it was something like, I beg your pardon and I said something like, my fault entirely. He offered to walk me home and I refused. The last thing I wanted was a man following me around.” Faith’s voice was strained as she made this admission.
“George Dean said you were . . . how shall I say. Disappointed in men,” Royce said when Faith did not continue.
“Disappointed!” Faith’s voice rang clear. “I was hopping mad at the male race. A few days before Mr. Ferguson had tried to kiss me. I had bruises on my arms where he held me while I struggled against his hold. When I did get loose I punched him in the face. Not slapped mind you but punched. My hand was still sore. The skin on my knuckles was broken. I kicked him as well. Not once but several times. My foot still hurt when I walked. If my screams had not brought a crowd I might have done more harm to the man. As it was Miss Ferguson said it was my fault. She called me a few names I won’t repeat.”
“Was that at the same time,” Royce asked. Something Lydia said stuck in the back of his mind. He would remember what it was later.
“No not until the following Saturday. We met in front of the general store. She was . . . I won’t say what I started to say.” Faith tilted up her chin her eyes were now fiery red as she looked at Royce. “To get back to your question.” Faith breathed rapidly as she tried to control her thoughts. “I refused to let Mr. Dean walk me home. I avoided the man from then on. We met again a few days before his death. I can’t think why Father was out walking when he discovered Mr. Dean. It is not like Father. He said he was having trouble sleeping. Still . . .,” Faith did not finish what she was going to say. “You can’t think Father has something to do with Mr. Dean’s death!”
“No,” Royce replied. So Faith did not know it was Imogen who discovered Dean’s body. Mr. Gaines was protecting his daughter from any bad publicity.
Faith took one last deep breath. “Mr. Dean seemed different the last time we met. I can’t explain what I mean other than to say he acted almost brotherly.”
This comment interested Royce. Faith had said brotherly and he knew George Dean had asked Imogen to marry him which would make Faith his future sister-in-law. Faith was perceptive. What she said to Dean might not mean anything to her. A trivial matter that set Dean to thinking and coming up with the correct answer. Perhaps it was hopeless after all. What Faith said seemed to have no bearing on Marshal Dean’s murder.
Chapter Nine
With the kerosene lamp setting on the corner of his desk Royce crafted another letter home. He was careful not to mention events he had written about in his first letter. He was not to know his last letter was the target of the Mail Stage robbery. After hours of deductive reasoning he had come to this conclusion. He was under suspicion and now must be on guard.
The lamp made a pool of light over the desktop. A cool wind was blowing outside the schoolhouse windows and through the cracks. Branches on the tall oak that grew at the corner of the building were brushing against the roof making scraping noises. Stars were shining in a black sky. The moon hidden behind gray clouds gave out very little light.
Royce walked to one window and stared out at the ribbon of road running along side the school. The warehouse across the way was in total darkness. Restless, he walked pass student desks to the other side of the schoolroom. Here the world outside the window was shrouded in darkness by the tall oak tree. Returning to his desk Royce dipped his pen in a bottle of ink and paused before deciding to relay the events of today’s Town Fair. He could weave the important names into his narrative. A son reassuring his father he was getting on quite well in his new surroundings. A person casually reading the letter would not notice the important names were slightly larger than the rest of the writing. Or that he dipped his pen into the ink bottle just before writing the name. He was cautious to start each sentence in this manner. The first word appeared darker. At a glance this seemed systematic.
He told of Imogen Gaines coming in last in the Ladies Horserace. John Layfield was the first person to shoot in the target contest. The shots in Layfield’s target fit inside a silver dollar setting the standard for the rest of the contestants. Milton Ferguson took third place.
Royce cleaned his pen and laid it aside. He had heard horses approaching. The clip-clop of hooves sounded loud in the stillness of the late hour. Reaching towards the lamp he turned down the wick. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness. In his rooms above the school Royce looked out over the roof of the Elementary School building at Miss Ferguson’s house on the hill. Deep shadows covered the ground. He raised one window and listened. The night air was cold blowing into the room and he shivered in his shirt sleeves. Then the squeak of a gate reached his ears and a few minutes later the front window of Miss Ferguson’s house was bathed in light. Miss Ferguson once again had a night visitor.
Royce di
d not wait to pull on a coat. He hurried down the stairs, across the classroom and let himself out the front door. The schoolyard was in deep shadows. The moon was hidden behind clouds. A few stars lighted the way as he made his way towards the Elementary School. At the corner of the building Royce stopped to listen. Except for the wind blowing through the trees all was silent.
Stepping cautiously Royce stayed in the shadow cast by the school building. He was in new territory grumbling softly under his breath acknowledged he had been remiss in not checking out the grounds surrounding the school before tonight. It was now too late.
He inched his way along the side of the school cautiously feeling the ground before placing his foot. It seemed like hours but only a few short minutes later Royce was at the back of the building. Miss Ferguson’s window still glowed yellow.
Keeping in the shadows Royce headed north following a line of trees. Stopping when he could no longer see Miss Ferguson’s bedroom window Royce quickly ran to the nearest fence post. He stood with his back to the post barely breathing. His ears alert to any sounds.
He was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Stopping, Royce wondered for a brief moment if he was the cat or the mouse. Only time would tell.
Slipping through the fence rails Royce crept silently across the corral until reaching an occupant inside the enclosure. He ran experienced hands over the brown horse. The animal’s hide was still damp from a long ride. “Steady boy,” Royce whispered as the horse stepped away. The animal’s muscles were quivering. He was snorting air through his nose. Royce moved deeper into the shadows until he bumped up against the back fence. It was as dark as the pit of Hades under the trees. Scratching his head in bewilderment Royce leaned back against the fence rail. There was only one horse inside the corral. The brown horse Milton Ferguson rode. He was not sure what to make of this revelation. Earlier in the evening he had seen Milton walking across the schoolyard heading towards home. Had the man deliberately showed himself to alleviate Royce’s suspicion. When had Milton slipped away.
Royce was now certain Miss Ferguson’s night visitor was her younger brother Milton. What mischief had the man been up to and when was Royce likely to find out.
Royce made his way silently back to the Secondary Schoolhouse and let himself in through the front door. He moved to his desk and lit the lamp. Royce finished his letter home adding two more names of interest. Those of Roger Cobb the gunsmith, Marshal Dean’s rifle had been in his possession. Mr. Cook was on the Mail Stage when it was robbed. Royce folded his letter and slipped it inside an envelope. The following day he would post his letter.
* * * * *
Faith slept badly and woke with a headache. She shared a room with Lydia and Elizabeth. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she watched as Lydia stood in front of the mirror brushing her long pale yellow hair. The young woman’s hair reached past her knees. “Braid it for me,” Lydia asked. Through the mirror she looked at Faith.
“Will you ever grow up,” Faith grumbled. She stood letting her long nightgown fall around her ankles. “Give me the brush,” she ordered grumpily.
“You really don’t mind. Do you,” Lydia asked noticing Faith’s dark scowl. “Don’t you think Mr. Hargadon is handsome,” she continued without giving Faith time to reply to her first question.
“Mr. Hargadon is nice looking,” Faith admitted grumpily. In her mind she could picture his green eyes, the shape of his head and rough texture of his suntanned skin. He was more than handsome. He was prefect! What was she thinking!
“Mr. Hargadon’s first name is Royce,” Lydia continued leaving Faith to wonder how her younger sister knew such intimate details about the man. “Royce Hargadon. He wrote it on the blackboard the first day of school,” Lydia explained. “I was terrified. He looked . . . I don’t know. Frightening I think. He walked over to me and placed one hand on my shoulder. He whispered that I was not to be afraid. That everything was alright.”
Good for him, Faith thought as she separated Lydia’s hair and began to braid the long strands together. “I am glad you like him,” she told her younger sister.
“I adore him,” Lydia replied blushing. “Don’t you think it would be nice if he was part of our family,” she asked shyly. Sighing, she waited for Faith to tell her no.
“I think it would be nice if Mr. Hargadon was part of our family,” Faith said wondering why she was confessing as much to Lydia. She had not consciously thought over the matter.
“I was hoping you felt that way. After all I am too young to marry,” Lydia turned and hugged her sister.
“You mustn’t say anything,” Faith cautioned. “Father wants me to marry Mr. Cook.”
“You won’t! You can’t,” Lydia wailed. “Mr. Cook is conceited and selfish and oh I don’t know. Just wrong for you!” She scrunched up her face and looked earnestly at Faith.
“Father does not think so,” Faith replied. “It might take time to change his mind.”
“Oh,” Lydia said thoughtfully. “Maybe you could elope,” she said dreamily.
“Mr. Hargadon has not suggested such a thing. He might not even like me,” Faith warned.
“He must! He has too!” Lydia stated in earnest.
“We will wait and see,” Faith replied patiently. While her heart told her she felt the same as Lydia. “There’s plenty of time between now and the end of the school year.” Would Mr. Hargadon still be here after he solved the mystery of Mr. Dean’s death. After all he was not a schoolteacher but a Territorial Marshal. She must safeguard his secret. She did not want Royce to have the same fate as Mr. Dean. The thought sent cold chills down her spine. “You are going to be late to school,” Faith declared.
“No I won’t,” Lydia said giving her sister a hug. “Oh,” the child cried.
“Lydia,” Faith asked.
“I am alright,” Lydia replied. “I feel wonderful really.”
Faith shook her head. Lydia was still an impressionable child. She should not have mentioned her growing feelings for Mr. Hargadon. “Don’t you dare say a word to Mr. Hargadon about what we have discussed!”
“I am not a child,” Lydia said haughtily before giving Faith an impish grin.
Faith watched her youngest sister leave the room closing the door softly behind her. She took several deep breaths. When had it happened she wondered. When had she lost her heart to Royce Hargadon. More importantly, would anything ever become of it.
Lydia and Elizabeth had left for school by the time Faith appeared in the dining room. Outside the window wind was blowing dried leaves across the yard. The sky was gray over head. Friday had been a perfect day for the annual fair while today was as gray as winter. Faith’s spirit felt the change and she struggled to smile.
“Morning,” Reverend Gaines greeted.
“Good Morning Father,” Faith replied before leaning over and kissing him on one cheek.
“What is this,” Reverend Gaines replied. His brown eyes twinkled at his eldest daughter. “Have you decided to come to your senses and do as I ask,” the clergyman asked.
“I don’t want to be disrespectful,” Faith replied. Reverend Gaines knew what this meant. Faith had made up her mind not to marry Mr. Cook. His daughter was not like most women. Who seemed to change their minds over the smallest whim. Once Faith had decided an issue wild horses could not change it. “I am going to be foolish and tell you I have no desire to marry Mr. Cook.” Faith confirmed her father’s fears.
“Sit down and have coffee with me,” Reverend Gaines began.
“Alright Father,” Faith spoke before her father could say more. She took the chair on her father’s left and poured a cup of coffee before staring at the dark contents in her cup. It was not an easy matter to defy her father. She loved him dearly. “I don’t wish to go against your wishes but I shall not be marrying Mr. Cook. Not sooner or ever,” she said emphatically.
“There’s no changing your mind,” Reverend Gaines ventured to ask. He watched his daughter shake her head no and pla
ced one boney hand over Faith’s hand lying on the tabletop. “I am disappointed,” he said.
“I know,” Faith replied. “I have thought the matter over seriously and decided Mr. Cook is not a good man. He talks better than he acts. He is conceited and arrogant and I believe cruel. I could never marry a man with those traits.”
Reverend Gaines studied his daughter’s taut features knowing she believed what she was saying about Mr. Cook. He did not see these traits but knew women viewed life differently than men. What a man saw as ambition a woman called arrogant. Faith had called Mr. Cook cruel where he saw him as a good businessman able to take care of his daughter in a way he never could.
“It looks as if Imogen has found the right man,” Faith ventured to say. A smile softened her features. “Sheriff Walden appears to be in a daze. I can see Imogen having that effect on a man. She is the prettiest of my sisters.” Faith took a drink of coffee before continuing. “I do believe Robert Morse will shortly ask Valerie to marry him. You will soon have two daughters out of your way. Elizabeth and Lydia are still too young for marriage or I do believe you would be looking for husbands for them.”
Reverend Gaines opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.
“You old Dear,” Faith scolded mildly while smiling. “I am happy as I am,” Faith insisted returning to the subject they were discussing. “If in the future some young man should catch my fantasy and ask me to marry him. I will consider the possibility then.”
“Faith,” Reverend Gaines stated wearily. It was a trial of patience trying to keep up with Faith’s nimble mind. It had always been this way. Even as a child Faith could talk her way through countless subjects while he was still focused on what was said at the start. “I thought I made my position clear. You are to provide for your sisters if the need should arise.” Perhaps there was still hope in changing Faith’s mind. She could be reasonable and took her duties seriously.