by Kay Stuart
A few minutes later Ferguson, Layfield and Turner rode past while the fourth man waited in the middle of the road watching them. Royce had a decision to make. He could continue following the three men he knew or discover the identity of this fourth person. This unknown man headed back towards Junction City and Royce decided his best option was to follow the man home.
It was well after midnight when Royce saw the first buildings of Junction City come into view. The warehouse across the road from the Secondary School was dark shadows. At the bend in the road Royce stepped to the ground and lead Get-a-long through the backstreets and alleys keeping the man ahead of him in view.
The houses on Fifth Street were large and well appointed. Gingerbread trimmed the gables. Shutters were attached to the sides of tall windows. Wide porches kept rain and snow from blowing under front doors. The roofs had multiple chimneys. White painted fences surrounded widely spaced yards. This was the area where the wealthy in Junction City lived.
The rider skirted the tall three story house with its well manicured lawn heading towards the stable and carriage house in the rear. Royce tied Get-a-long to a fence post and silently followed the man keeping in the shadows.
The barn door squeaked open and a man came out carrying a lantern. Royce held his breath a Mayor Pillsdale crossed the yard not more than ten feet away from where he stood.
Mayor Pillsdale!
Royce wondered why he was surprised. He had suspected Pillsdale’s involvement in the Barlow Gang from the beginning.
Chapter Seventeen
Royce unlocked the school’s front door. The sound of splintering wood was only inches away from his head. He heard the repercussion of a rifle and dove inside the school. The second shot stung his shoulder and sent him sprawling against the floor. A third bullet whined over his head and was buried in the back school desk. Rolling over Royce kicked the door closed. His shoulder was a burning fire. The suddenness of the attack left him feeling lightheaded and trembling all over.
Scrambling to his feet Royce bolted the door then sat with his back against the wall taking in deep calming breaths. The attack had his heart pounding in his ears. Sweat popped out on his forehead. His hands shook.
He sat a moment coming to grips with the realization he had taken a bullet. He could smell his own blood. Feel the hot burning sensation in his shoulder as seconds ticked by. His mind went racing back over past events. He could rule out Ferguson, John Layfield and Turner. They were miles from Junction City by now. His next thought was Walden. Was he wrong about the Sheriff. Then there was Bob Hardin. The man voted to keep Miss Ferguson on as schoolteacher when it was oblivious the woman should not be anywhere near children.
Royce was not sure how long he sat in the darkened classroom. It could have been seconds or minutes. His breathing returned to normal. His tingling nerves quieted. On unsteady legs he stood and walked across the darkened room. Climbed the stairs to his rooms above and made his way to the stove. With his good arm he chucked wood into the firebox and closed the metal door before sinking onto the kitchen chair. Blood was sticking his shirt against his back. His next thoughts were he needed to attend to his wound and stop the bleeding.
Reaching for a match Royce lit the kerosene lamp on the kitchen table then turned the wick down low. A pool of light shone against the tabletop. For a moment Royce sat wondering if the shooter would notice the light and return to finish the job. He took out his pistol and laid it on the tabletop. He waited taking deep breaths while trying to remember if he had locked the front door. The attack had been sudden and unexpected. He rose on unsteady legs to fill the kettle with water and placed the pot on the stove. The room was spinning by the time Royce removed his winter coat. After unbuttoning his shirt he sat at the kitchen table gulping in air. He would wait another minute before going back downstairs and checking the bolt on the door. The fire in his shoulder was numbing his hand. A fine sheen of sweat covered him. His shoulder was throbbing. Sliding out of his chair and hitting the floor was the last thing Royce remembered.
* * * * *
Bobby Smith banged his fist against the school door and shouted.
“There’s something wrong,” Elizabeth declared her voice sounding urgent. “Mr. Hargadon always has the school unlocked by this time.”
Johnny Meyers came around the building’s corner. “The side door is locked also,” he announced to the anxious students gathered on the front porch.
Miss Ferguson rushed across the schoolyard and arrived breathless. Her squeaky voice more nasal than normal, “What is wrong,” she demanded.
“The school is locked,” Bobby Smith answered.
A tight smile pinched Miss Ferguson’s lips into a straight line. “If you will unlock the door,” Elizabeth said. “I can start classes. Maybe Mr. Hargadon had business elsewhere and forgot the time.”
Miss Ferguson looked down her nose at Elizabeth. The sound she made in the back of her throat spoke volumes. “The man is irresponsible,” the woman declared haughtily. “He is incapable of teaching school. I shall tell Mr. Hervey about this infraction.”
“Yes Miss,” Elizabeth replied while the rest of the students stared with open mouths at Miss Ferguson.
Keys jingled when Miss Ferguson unlocked the front door. “I will be back at noon,” she said looking at Elizabeth. Her blue eyes were hard marbles of distain. Her attitude was formidable.
“Yes Miss,” Elizabeth answered, “Everyone inside.” Elizabeth shut the door and leaned back against the cool wood. “Johnny, get the fire going in the stove,” she ordered. “Bobby, I want you to go upstairs and check on Mr. Hargadon. The rest of the class, go to your desks.”
Bobby Smith opened the stairwell door and crept up the stairs cautiously. The door at the top stood open. The room flooded with morning light. Elizabeth stood at the bottom of the stairs watching him. Lydia placed her head against her sister’s shoulder as the remaining students pressed against their backs. All were wide eyed and anxiously waiting to find out what had happened to Mr. Hargadon.
“He’s lying on the floor,” Bobby shouted hoarsely. “There’s blood all over the back of his shirt.” The young man’s heavy footsteps hurried across the floor. He appeared at the top of the stairs. “He’s been shot!”
The group of students gathered closer around Elizabeth all gasping in surprise. “Colin, hurry and find Doctor Thomas,” Elizabeth ordered. “Johnny, go for Sheriff Walden.”
“It’s too early for Sheriff Walden to be in his office,” Johnny replied. His eyes were round saucers in a pale face.
“You know where Sheriff Walden lives go there.” Elizabeth marveled her voice sounded so calm. Her body was trembling while her heart pounded in her ears. Shot! “May I come up,” Elizabeth called to Bobby. Bobby did not reply. “Is Mr. Hargadon decently dressed,” she asked, mortified Bobby had not understood her meaning. Boys were such morons at times.
“Yeah,” Bobby replied.
Elizabeth did not wait for more explanation. She hurried up the stairs and peeked around the stairwell wall. Not sure she trusted Bobby’s judgment when it came to the issue of Mr. Hargadon being decently attired.
Lydia peeked around Elizabeth’s shoulder tears running unchecked down her pale cheeks. “Poor Mr. Hargadon,” she whispered.
“Let me see,” Jill insisted shoving Lydia into the room ahead of her. Through the open door she saw Mr. Hargadon lying on the kitchen floor. His face turned towards the parlor. His eyes were closed. “He’s dead,” she said, hysteria rising in her voice.
“Hurry up,” Deborah Meyers shouted shoving against everyone. “We all want to see for ourselves.” Jill was pushed out of the way.
“Hold on,” Elizabeth replied. She was wedged against the doorframe unable to move. “Everyone back downstairs.” No one obeyed her command. One by one the Secondary Students came into the room. Whispering to one another they tiptoed across the floor and came to stand over Mr. Hargadon.
Lydia was the first to sit down. She r
eached out and touched Royce’s hand. “He is warm,” she announced. “Look, he is breathing.” She moved her hand and placed it over Royce’s back and felt the expansion of his lungs. Each student followed her example taking turns feeling Royce’s back raising and lowering as he breathed.
Doctor Thomas was surprised to find all of Mr. Hargadon’s students seated on the floor in a circle around him. No one made a sound as he crossed the room. “Been shot you say,” he asked Colin.
The youngster was pale. A row of freckles stood out vividly across his cheeks. “Yes . . . yes Sir,” the boy replied. “See, he has blood on his shirt.
From where he stood Doctor Thomas could see the dark patch on the back of Royce’s shirt. “I will need to see for myself,” he said. The students in front of Doctor Thomas looked up and stared at him as they slowly shifted to make a path.
“Thank you,” Doctor Thomas said kneeling down. “His pulse is strong,” he announced and heard a deep sigh from the students. “Perhaps Elizabeth it will be best if you take everyone downstairs,” he suggested. “Bobby can help me get Mr. Hargadon to bed.”
Heavy treads were heard coming up the stairs. Sheriff Walden rushed into the room taking in everything at a glance. “Who found him,” he asked.
“I did,” Bobby said standing. He raised one hand slowly then embarrassed by his action tucked his hand behind his back. “Elizabeth asked me to come upstairs first. In case, you know he was still in bed,” the boy stuttered. His ears turned a bright pink when he glanced in Elizabeth’s direction.
“You found Royce lying on the floor,” Walden asked.
“Yes Sir,” Bobby replied.
Elizabeth motioned the students to one side of the room. They stood watching as Sheriff Walden and Doctor Thomas lifted Royce and laid him on his bed face down. Placing his black bag on the chair next to the bed Doctor Thomas opened the bag and took out a pair of scissors.
The students all gathered closer around the bed. They were not leaving their beloved teacher in the care of Doctor Thomas without supervision. They watched breathlessly as the doctor cut a square off Royce’s shirt and exposed his shoulder. The flesh around the wound was gray and puckered. Blood caked the hole.
“Hot water,” Doctor Thomas ordered. Elizabeth poured water from the kettle into a pan and carried it across the room. “Thank you,” Doctor Thomas said taking the pan and setting it on the chair beside the bed. The next few minutes he spent cleaning the wound. Twelve heads leaned towards the bed and oversaw his work.
“Let me see,” Colin Pillsdale said pushing his way to the front of the line. His red hair was standing on ends, his blue eyes were wide open and his lips formed a straight line with the ends curving down. He breathed in deeply the action shaking his entire body.
“Sheriff,” Doctor Thomas complained.
Sheriff Walden placed his long arm in front of the line of children gathered behind Doctor Thomas. “Don’t you think you should all go back downstairs and let Doctor Thomas do his job.”
“No Sir,” Bobby Smith said crossing his arms over his chest. He gave Sheriff Walden a stubborn look. “I am not leaving.”
Ruth Meyers stuck her head under Bobby’s elbow and looked up at Sheriff Walden with round fearful eyes. “I am not leaving either,” she declared. The look she gave Walden was hostile.
Walden read the same sentiment in very pair of eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel the hostility inside the room and knew it would be next to impossible to get Mr. Hargadon’s students to leave his side. They were determined to stay and watch over their teacher.
“Alright,” he conceded, “But do give Doctor Thomas room to work.”
“Yes Sir,” Bobby replied. He stepped back and the others did likewise.
Doctor Thomas took an instrument out of his bag and began probing for the bullet.
“You’re hurting him,” Lydia whispered. Her face was ghost white. All heads leaned towards Doctor Thomas as eyes widened and small gasps could be heard inside the room. The young people groaned as if it were them suffering from the probing.
“Children,” Sheriff Walden said. He was ignored. All eyes never left Mr. Hargadon.
Doctor Thomas held up the bloody bullet. “From a rifle,” he said washing the piece of lead in the pan of water before handing the bullet to Sheriff Walden.
“Did anyone hear a rifle shot last evening,” Walden asked.
“I did,” Emily Randall said raising her hand. “This morning,” she corrected. “The sound woke me.” Several other students that lived close to the school nodded their heads in agreement.
“Is Mr. Hargadon going to live,” Lydia asked the question all his students were anxious to have answered.
“He hasn’t lost all that much blood considering. Mr. Hargadon should be up and about in a few days barring complications,” Doctor Thomas replied. “Now I want to disinfect the wound and make sure he has no other injuries.”
“Downstairs,” Elizabeth ordered the class. “Mr. Hargadon will need lots of rest so he can get well. Lydia, go home and tell mother what has happened. She will send someone to take over Mr. Hargadon’s care.” Lydia hurried to do her sister’s biding. “Be sure to put on your coat,” Elizabeth reminded.
Chapter Eighteen
Royce opened his eyes believing he had died. An Angel sat on the chair beside his bed. He groaned softly feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder. “You’re not wearing a halo,” Royce whispered.
“A halo,” the Angel spoke, “Do lay still you want to do more damage.”
“Where is your halo,” Royce asked a second time.
Faith looked into Royce’s feverish green eyes and smiled. He did not recognize her. “In the Bible all Angels are male,” Faith informed him softly. “I assure you I am alive and no Angel.”
“Water,” Royce croaked. His throat was as dry as a desert. He felt as hot as sun baked clay.
“Hold still,” Faith repeated before getting up and placing the book she was reading on the chair seat. She touched Royce’s forehead. “You have a fever.”
“Fever,” Royce whispered trying to understand what was happening to him. His head throbbed and his entire body ached.
“You were shot,” Faith explained knowing a person seldom remembered an accident when first regaining consciousness. “Doctor Thomas removed the bullet,” she further explained.
“When was this,” Royce asked. Some of the fog was beginning to lift from his mind.
“I believe you were shot sometime this morning,” Faith replied. She walked across the room holding a glass of water in one hand. “Do be careful,” she cautioned as Royce rolled over in bed. The bed squeaked beneath his weight. Leaning over him, Faith helped Royce raise off the bed enough to take a drink.
“This morning,” Royce repeated his mind searching through the past. He remembered getting Get-a-long out of the corral and waiting in the trees back of the Elementary School. He remembered following Ferguson, Layfield and Turner out of town. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes. “Who found me?”
“Bobby Smith found you lying on the floor. Doctor Thomas said none of your students would leave your side until after the bullet was removed. They are all waiting downstairs right now.” Faith pulled the blanket up over Royce’s shoulders and tucked the sides under the mattress. “I promised I would let them know when you woke. Are you up to seeing your class for a minute?”
“Yes,” Royce said. Amazed his students were here waiting for him to regain consciousness. The sky outside the window was dark. The lamp on the table was lit casting a circle of yellow light. Faith helped him take another drink of water. The feel of her arm about his shoulders in stark contrast with the pain he was feeling. He closed his eyes and heard Faith moving to the top of the stairs. Time stood still.
Someone touched his shoulder and Royce opened his eyes. Twelve young faces loomed over him. “Thank you,” he said recalling what Faith had told him about his students’ devotion.
“You alright,�
� twelve voices asked in unison as if prompted.
“I am doing fine,” Royce replied. Suddenly aware his statement was true. He did feel much better.
Ruth Meyers stepped closer. “We promise to study hard while you are laid up in bed,” the girl said earnestly.
“I won’t tease my sisters,” Johnny Meyers declared pushing his sister aside. He grinned from ear to ear when Ruth shoved him back. “Or make a ruckus during class.” Royce felt like shouting hallelujah. Johnny could never seem to sit still and was forever pestering one of the younger students.
“I am sure you will all do your best,” Royce said before yawning. He could barely keep his eyes open.
“Jill and I taught classes today. We don’t want Miss Ferguson coming in and taking over,” Elizabeth said, a scowl darkening her pretty features. “May I continue teaching class tomorrow?”
“That will be nice. Thank you,” Royce replied and closed his eyes. The room was suddenly spinning out of control.
“Mr. Hargadon needs his rest,” Elizabeth declared, motioning everyone toward the stairs.
“Goodbye.” “Goodbye.” “Goodbye,” was heard overlapping one another as the young people filed from the room and down the stairs.
“Goodnight,” Royce called. A smile settled on his face. Imagine his class all wanting to make sure he was alright before going home. He felt honored by their devotion.
“I must be going home also,” Faith said picking up the book she had been reading.
“Must you,” Royce asked. He yawned even as he protested.