Courting Faith

by Kay Stuart

  “Mr. Cobb. Is he related to Roger Cobb the Gunsmith,” Royce asked.

  “Grandfather,” Faith explained. “He was responsible for founding the school back some fifty or so years ago. He donated the land and paid for the school being built. I never met the man but some in the community say he was furious looking. A big bear of a man in contrast to his pretty Norwegian wife. It is said Roger Cobb looks like his grandmother.”

  “Roger Cobb is not a member,” Royce asked.

  “But he is,” Faith replied. “Mr. Cobb is or was married. His wife is now deceased a victim of the last outbreak of fever. He has two young children in Miss Ferguson’s class.”

  Roger Cobb was already under suspicion and now Royce was learning he was a School Board Member. “How many members are there,” Royce asked.

  “Five,” Faith answered. “Mr. Pillsdale and Mr. Cobb,” she stated, “Father is one of the members. Mr. Hardin is a rancher. His daughter Jill is in your class and one of Elizabeth’s friends. The other member is Doctor Thomas. Sue and Sally are his daughters.”

  He could rule out Doctor Thomas and Reverend Gaines. They were both elderly men and as far as Royce was concerned above suspicion. He had worked too long in law enforcement to be easily fooled. Cobb had been Royce’s first suspect. The man would have had to remove the bronze plate to sand George Dean’s initials off the rifle barrel and stain the wood. It was not likely he had not noticed the script on the back of the plate. Cobb and Pillsdale were only two members on a five member board. That put Rancher Hardin in a bad place. If it was like he suspected and Miss Ferguson was retained because of her brother Milton. Otherwise a woman as disagreeable as Miss Ferguson would have been discharged years ago.

  “I mustn’t keep you,” Royce said standing. “I will come back Wednesday for Get-a-long if that is agreeable.”

  Faith stood as well. “Father has a saddle,” she said. “He doesn’t ride anymore. Says Get-a-long is too mean spirited. I think he just enjoys using the buggy.” She smiled as she spoke to indicate she was not criticizing her father.

  “Thank you,” Royce said stepping into the gathering dusk before Faith could reply. She stood a few seconds watching his tall figure disappear into the gray mist. So, Mr. Hargadon suspected Milton Ferguson. That did not surprise Faith in the least. The man was odious. Yet, she wondered if Mr. Ferguson had brains enough to be mixed up with a ruthless gang of robbers. Then again, now much brain did it take to pull a trigger Faith wondered and Mr. Ferguson was an excellent shot.

  Chapter Twelve

  Royce entered the classroom and noticed a sheet of paper had been slipped under the door. Picking up the paper he read Miss Ferguson’s heavily penciled words. ‘I am not feeling well and have decided I shall not be able to teach classes tomorrow. Please take the Elementary children into your classroom for one day. Thank You. Miss Ferguson.’

  Children! Fourteen Children! Royce panicked at the thought. He could foresee bedlam. Children running to and fro screaming and crying all over his classroom! His blood ran cold. Then, he remembered Elizabeth Gaines. She was a wonderfully gifted teacher often helping him with fifth grade lessons.

  Royce’s next thought was just as disturbing. Was Miss Ferguson really ill or did she have an errand to run for her brother Milton. Closing the door behind him, Royce made his way across the Elementary School yard. He stopped and listened at the corner of the building. Only the sound of falling rain reached his ears. Silently he walked to the back of the school. Miss Ferguson’s window was dark. In fact, her entire house was dark. Royce followed the line of trees until he could see inside the corral. No shadow moved. He crossed the distance and slipped through the fence rails. The corral was in deep shadows under the trees. The rain made the ground squishy under foot as he crept across the corral. Milton Ferguson’s horse was gone!

  “I’ll be damn,” Royce whispered, frustration sounding in his voice. Now what did he do. Did he return to his rooms or chance investigating Miss Ferguson’s claim of being taken ill. He knew he would not be able to sleep until he knew for certain what Miss Ferguson was up to. Silently, he crept across the yard keeping in the shadows as much as he could. Testing boards on Miss Ferguson’s front porch before placing his full weight Royce moved cautiously along the porch with his back pressed against the building. He tried the front door and found it locked. Inching towards the window Royce peeked inside Miss Ferguson’s room. It was difficult to see inside with the porch shading the front of the house. He tried the window and felt the frame move under his fingers. A moment later he was stepping over the windowsill into Miss Ferguson’s bedroom. His thoughts made cold shivers run down his spine.

  Royce stood listening for sounds. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Reaching into his denim pocket he pulled out a metal container of matches. He struck a match cupping his hand around the flame. A mound of covers concealed an occupant in the bed. Standing silently Royce listened intensely. No breathing. Nothing broke the silence inside the room. Was the woman dead? Stepping cautiously Royce made his way across the floor. Leaning over he peered at the mound of covers. Then reaching out he touched the top of the blankets. No movement! No sound! Miss Ferguson was not in her bed. A mound of blankets made it appear as if she was sleeping to anyone looking through the front window.

  Smiling grimly Royce stepped over the windowsill and closed the window. He lit another match cupping the flame with his hand. Along the porch floor were muddy boot tracts. He would have to do something about them before leaving. He striped off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. He was shivering by the time he pulled his coat back on. Then using his shirt he carefully wiped away any signs of his presence.

  Royce walked to the corral and slipped between the rails. He walked across the enclosure backwards rubbing out his boot prints as he went. What he needed now was a good downpour to settle the ground. Looking up at the sky Royce saw a waning moon masked by dark clouds. A moment later a few drops of rain dampened his face. Maybe some one up there was on his side after all. By the time Royce reached his school rain was falling once more.

  In his rooms Royce fed wood into the kitchen stove and put coffee on to boil. He peeled potatoes and added cooked venison to the pan to make stew. As his meal cooked he rinsed out his shirt and hung it off the back of his kitchen chair to dry. All this time, wondering what significance he should place on Miss Ferguson being away. It was another piece to the mystery of George Dean’s death and the identity of Frank Barlow.

  Stretched out on top of his bed Royce felt a jab in his back. Getting up he looked at the spot. “A pencil? How did that get here.” Royce’s eyes swept over the room. Nothing seemed out of place. Yet now that he was aware of the fact. He plainly saw someone had been through his belongings. Leaning over he slipped his fingers inside his left boot and felt his Marshal’s badge. Paying meticulous attention he went through his belongings. Whoever searched his rooms had placed his books on the bed not noticing the pencil between the pages had rolled out. Nothing was found to be missing.

  * * * * *

  “Is the man going to take me away,” Laurie asked. She pouted trying hard not to cry. Her blue eyes sparkled in a pale face.

  “The man? Do you mean Mr. Hargadon? No one is going to take you away,” Faith comforted the child. She placed one hand on Laurie’s shoulder. “Why do you think Mr. Hargadon is going to take you away?”

  “He wears a star like,” Laurie paused and screwed up her features into a deep frown. Then she placed one hand over her heart. “Sheriff. . . . the man that was here today.”

  “Sheriff Walden,” Faith asked. “You know Mr. Hargadon. You have seen him before.”

  Laurie bobbed her head up and down her eyes never leaving Faith’s face. Big tears formed in her eyes and ran down her cheeks dripping off her chin. “Is he going to take me away,” Laurie asked again reaching for Faith’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

  “No Dear. Mr. Hargadon is not here to take you away.” This was a problem Faith had not foreseen.
“Do you know what a secret is,” she asked kneeling down in front of Laurie. In some ways Laurie was older than her seven years.

  Laurie shook her head no. The child was clearly puzzled.

  “A secret is something you know but must not tell anyone,” Faith replied hoping Laurie understood what she was explaining. “Mr. Hargadon wearing a badge is a secret. No one must know. There are bad men that would hurt him if they knew. Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” Laurie replied. “Are they the same bad men that hurt pa,” she asked. She looked trustingly at Faith.

  “I don’t know,” Faith answered truthfully, “Maybe. Anyhow we must not let anyone know about Mr. Hargadon having a badge. Can you keep his secret?”

  “Oh yes,” Laurie answered proudly.

  “Good,” Faith replied. “You must remember to say Mr. Hargadon is the schoolteacher. Now let’s see if Mother needs our help in the kitchen.”

  Standing on a kitchen chair placed next to Faith. Laurie said, “I know how to make biscuits. I can make coffee,” she breathed deeply before continuing. “I’m not much good at peeling potatoes. But, I can sort beans and know I have to keep adding water while they cook so they don’t stink.”

  Faith smiled. A seven year old should not know so much about cooking. Had responsibility stolen away most of Laurie’s childhood. “Do you want to help,” Faith asked and was rewarded with a tremendous smile from the child.

  “What does schoolteacher mean,” Laurie asked.

  Mary Gaines turned towards the child. “Are you talking about Mr. Hargadon,” she asked.

  “Mr. Hargadon came by. He wanted to know the names of the School Board Members,” Faith replied. “I told Laurie that he is the new schoolteacher.”

  “What is a schoolteacher,” Laurie asked again.

  “Do you know what a school is,” Mary asked.

  “No ma’am,” Laurie replied.

  Mary sat on one of the kitchen chairs and pulled Laurie towards her. “A school is where young boys and girls go to learn how to read and write.”

  Laurie scrunched up her face in concentration. Her eyes turned midnight blue. “What is read,” the child asked.

  “Good heavens,” Mary said in astonishment. “Forgive me,” she said softly placing one arm around Laurie. “I should not be surprised. After all, I am a Minister’s wife. I should know about a fallen world and the fact very few men place value on an education. If it was left up to men we would all go around . . . well we would all go around not knowing how to read or write,” she finished not being able to voice what she truly thought. Her sentiments would shock even Faith.

  A chair was added at the dining table. Laurie sat next to Lydia wide eyed at all the food on the table. When she did not unfold her napkin Lydia did it for her. “What’s this,” she whispered in Lydia’s ear.

  “Watch Mother,” Lydia whispered back. “Then you will know what to do.”

  All through supper Laurie watched Mary Gaines. When Mary took a bite of food Laurie handling her cutlery awkwardly did likewise. When Mary drank from her glass of water Laurie took a drink too. After supper Mary wiped her lips and fingers on her napkin before placing it on top of her dinner plate. Laurie looked at her fingers for a moment then followed Mary’s example. Breathing a sigh of relief Laurie stood when Mary did. Eating sure was complicated the child thought.

  At bedtime it was decided Laurie would sleep with Lydia. “I have to wash again,” Laurie whined as Lydia poured warm water into the washbowl. “I’ve washed and washed again already today.”

  “We always wash before going to bed,” Lydia explained.

  “I ain’t never washed so much in my whole life,” Laurie acknowledged. Wondering why Lydia wanted to wash again. They had washed before supper.

  “I am afraid so,” Lydia replied. “If you don’t Faith will just make you get out of bed and wash. Big sisters are that way. Forever telling you what to do so you might as well do it before they tell you.”

  “I never had a big sister,” Laurie said as she lathered soap on a cloth. She washed her face the way Faith had showed her earlier.

  “Most of the time it’s not so bad,” Lydia replied. “Just sometimes they can get bossy. Then you wish you were an only child,” she admitted.

  “I am an only child,” Laurie stated. “I wished to have someone besides Pa. He was always gone doing this or that. He left me alone.”

  “Tough,” Lydia acknowledged. She could never remember being left alone.

  Laurie crawled under the covers and looked up at the ceiling. She could not remember living in a house. She had never sit down to supper at a table or had a bed to sleep in. No one had ever told her to wash her hands and face.

  She missed Pa!

  Faith sat on the edge of the bed and tucked the blankets around Laurie. The child seemed overwhelmed by her surroundings. “Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story,” Faith asked.

  Laurie sniffed back tears. “Do you know the one about the grizzly bear and the skunk,” Laurie asked.

  “No. I am afraid I don’t,” Faith replied tenderly.

  “Pa would tell me,” Laurie stated snuggling into the feather mattress. “The old grizzly bear lived in the woods at the foot of the mountains. He was mean and cranky because he had a thorn in his paw,” Laurie growled and made claws with of her fingers. “The skunk lived in the hollow of an old pine tree. He was lonely because no one came near him. He stinks,” Laurie explained placing her fingers over her nose. “No one likes you when you stink,” the child added.

  “What happens next,” Faith asked intrigued by the child’s story.

  “The grizzly bear comes lumping through the woods. Growling as he steps on his sore paw. Skunk looks out of his burrow and ask grizzly bear what is wrong. Grizzly bear growls what can you do about my sore paw,” Laurie added growls to her story and clawed at the blanket on the bed.

  “What does the skunk do,” Faith asked.

  “Skunk takes hold of the thorn with his teeth and pulls it out,” Laurie replied. “Grizzly bear stops growling and says to the skunk come live in my cave and he does. Whenever grizzly bear gets a thorn in his paw skunk pulls it out. Skunk is not lonely anymore because he lives with grizzly bear.”

  “That is a very nice story,” Faith said. Leaning over she kissed Laurie on the forehead. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” Laurie replied before pulling the blanket up to her chin. The child closed her eyes and snuggled into the mattress her head leaning against Lydia’s shoulder.

  Faith woke to the sound of crying. Pushing back the covers she hurried to Lydia’s bed. “It is alright,” she whispered before lighting the lamp. Laurie stood up in bed and reached for Faith.

  “I want Pa,” the child wailed.

  “I know you do,” Faith said gathering the child into her arms. She placed one hand on back of the child’s head as she hugged her close. “Shush,” she whispered rocking Laurie in her arms. “We don’t want to wake Lydia and Elizabeth.”

  Laurie wrapped her arms around Faith’s neck and sobbed onto her shoulder. “I want Pa,” Laurie repeated.

  “I know,” Faith said. “You love your Pa and he loved you very much.” Faith walked across the floor to her bed and sat down with the tearful child on her lap. “Tell me the story of the grizzly bear and the skunk,” she asked.

  “Alright,” Laurie said sniffing back tears. Faith lay on her bed with her arm around Laurie while the child told the story of the grizzly bear and the skunk. Laurie yawned between growls. “Skunk went to live in grizzly bear’s cave and was never lonesome again,” Laurie finished. She closed her eyes and leaning against Faith was soon asleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Royce disliked telling lies. This was his strongest objection to undercover work. He was never good at deception and knew his short comings in this area. Royce credited his feelings to his father bringing him up to respect honesty and the rule of law.

  Closing and locking the school’s front do
or Royce walked across the road stepping onto the boardwalk in front of the large warehouse. The sign over the door read Pillsdale’s Freight Company. The building was locked when Royce tried the front door. The weeks he had spent in Junction City teaching school not once had Royce seen activity in or around the warehouse. How did a man make a living on inactivity. This was one more reason for him to distrust Mayor Pillsdale.

  Walking pass the general store Royce stopped and held the door open for Mrs. Freeburg and her oldest daughter Susan. Their arms were full of brown wrapped packages. “Good afternoon,” the young woman said giggling, her cheeks turning a bright red as she batted her long eyelashes at Royce coyly. Mrs. Freeburg gave her daughter a scorching gaze. It was not in good taste to flirt openly.

  “Good afternoon,” Royce replied tipping his hat to mother and daughter respectfully.

  Mrs. Hock was in her small Millinery Shop window arranging a display of winter hats when Royce started to pass. He stopped to watch. Never ceasing to be amazed by what women wore on their heads. A man wore the same hat day in and day out. Hating the thought it might someday need to be replaced. By the display in the window apparently you could not say the same thing about women.

  Royce never thought much on women. The few he was on speaking terms with remained a mystery. His duties kept him away from genteel life where he might have cultivated acquaintances. Now, he wondered if it was too late and discovered the thought disturbed him. Of course, it was Faith Gaines’ fault he was feeling melancholy about the prospects of never having a wife and family. Something that until lately had never entered his mind.

  At the end of the block Royce stepped off the boardwalk and crossed the road running east and west through town. Mud oozed around the soles of his boots. The road was awash in a sea of mud from yesterday’s rain. He grinned as he stepped upon the boardwalk in front of the Newspaper office remembering Faith’s words about him being out walking in the rain. Would he forever remember their conversations. The thought was disturbing.