Courting Faith
Kay Stuart
Other Books by Kay Stuart
Captivated Heart
Under Western Stars
A Mistaken Bride
Outlaw’s Daughter
Courting Series
Courting Grace
Courting Wisdom
Courting Hope
Copyright ©2013 Kay Stuart
All Rights Reserved
ISBN-10: 1494705087
ISBN-13: 978-1494705084
Chapter One
Royce Hargadon walked into the Territorial Marshal’s office and removed his hat before taking the chair in front of the cluttered desk. “You sent for me Sir,” he asked crossing one ankle over his other knee. Royce hung his hat off his knee. With his other hand he rubbed his brown hair removing the band where his hat had flattened his hair against his scalp.
Marshal Tinsley pushed back his chair and studied the young man for a long moment. “You knew Dean,” Tinsley asked. His tone was blunt.
Royce arched one brown eyebrow before answering. He had worked long enough under Marshal Tinsley to know his superior had something on his mind. “Yes Sir. We worked together a couple of times. I was sorry to hear about his death,” Royce replied. “Is that why you sent for me?”
Tinsley slid a McGuffey’s Reader across his desk towards Royce. “Think you can handle about a dozen rowdy youngsters,” Tinsley asked soberly.
“Sir,” Royce replied sitting up straighter in his chair. Picking up the Reader Royce handled the text book as if he expected it to bite him.
“Junction City is expecting a new schoolteacher,” Tinsley explained his blue eyes amused by Hargadon’s reaction to the Reader. Most men viewed children with a sense of uncertainty and thanked God they were a mother’s responsibility. “They have built a new addition on to the school. The new teacher is to arrive before the next term begins. You’re going to be that teacher.”
“Me Sir,” doubt sounded in Royce Hargadon’s voice. “It’s been a long time since I sat in a classroom.” The Territorial Marshal looked younger than his twenty nine years. At times he felt more like a hundred. Hard riding over back trails and sleepless nights had a way of aging a man before his time.
“I have confidence in your ability to fit in just about anywhere,” Tinsley explained. Hargadon was one of his best Marshals. He was educated better than most men in the Territory. The reason Marshal Tinsley had selected him.
“But teaching school,” Royce said shaking his head in the negative. His green eyes calmly revealed his doubts on the subject. “I don’t know beans about children,” Royce declared vehemently. “I didn’t have siblings. It was just me and pa.”
Tinsley understood Royce’s reluctance. Any man with an ounce of commonsense left rearing children to women that included teaching school. “You’ve faced half dozen outlaws without a qualm. Don’t let facing a bunch of youngsters defeat you.” Tinsley paused long enough to watch resolve settle on Royce’s face. “You have ten days to brush up on your schooling then I expect you to catch the stage for Junction City,” Tinsley said. He passed two more textbooks across his desk. “Dean’s body was found outside of Junction City. By a Reverend Gaines on land the man owns.”
“He a suspect,” Royce asked settling comfortably in his chair once more. This line of thinking was more to his liking. He could handle crooks and desperadoes. They were his bread and butter.
“Everyone is a suspect,” Tinsley said his gravelly voice harsh. “No one will know who you really are. Not even the local sheriff. Sheriff . . .” the older man paused and looked through papers lying on top of his desk. “Sheriff Walden,” Tinsley said thumping the top page. “He was the only man that knew Dean was working on a case. Of course that does not mean Walden is involved in Dean’s death. But it does throw suspicion his way. This time no one is to be the wiser. A stranger showing up will attract attention. I’m hoping no one will question the arrival of the new schoolteacher.”
“Yes Sir,” Royce replied. He still doubted anyone would believe he was a schoolteacher. In his mind they were middle aged spinsters with sharp tongues and sourpuss faces. A lumpy woman no man would approach for a moonlight walk. “What was Dean’s assignment,” Royce inquired.
“The Barlow Gang. It has long been suspected that Barlow lives in the open.” Royce let out a low whistle. “Dean was working on the assumption the man lives in or around Junction City. Barlow is probably using an assumed name and could be anyone. What little we know about him will not help much. He is medium height, medium built, blue eyes and brown hair. That description fits half of Junction City,” Tinsley said in frustration.
“Even Reverend Gaines,” Royce asked.
Tinsley smiled for the first time. “I shouldn’t think so. Gaines is a vague sort of man. Married with five daughters and is as poor as the proverbial church mouse. He owns a thorn and rock infested piece of ground north of Junction City. Dean tried to get cozy with the oldest daughter but she would have nothing to do with him.”
“Do you know why,” Royce asked.
“She is down on men,” Tinsley replied soberly.
“No,” Royce interjected. “I was wondering why Dean was cozying up to Miss Gaines. How does she fit into the Barlow case?”
Tinsley scratched his head glad for new insight into a puzzling case. “Nothing was in Dean’s reports. I want you to go over them before you leave today. You might find something I’ve missed.”
“Yes Sir,” Royce answered.
“Now we will go over what I do know,” Tinsley said. He hitched up his chair and picked up the top sheet of paper off his desk.
* * * * *
The stage rocked to a halt in front of the gray weathered station and shifted as the driver climbed down to open the door. “Junction City,” he said with disinterest in his voice.
Royce waited until two men exited the stage before he stood and bending low stepped through the stagecoach door. The black town suit he wore made him look like an undertaker. He felt naked without his gun holster strapped to his hip and his
