“No Sir, haven’t had the misfortune,” Royce said.
“Misfortune,” Mr. Morse Senior declared grinning. The man was missing two front teeth. “John Layfield is the best man to go hunting with since you don’t know the area,” the old man continued. “Layfield,” he shouted.
“Yeah!” John Layfield was a man in his early twenties and careless in his appearance. His yellow hair was recently cut and needed washing. His hazel eyes mere dots in his face. The man had no chin but an engaging smile. He was soft spoken. The kind of man the ladies appreciated.
“Mr. Hargadon was asking about the best place to hunt. I figured you might be going sometime soon and would be willing to take him along,” Mr. Morse Senior declared. He looked hopefully towards the younger man.
“You the new schoolteacher,” Layfield asked. There was a sneer in his voice. Grinning broadly he looked Royce over critically.
“Yes Sir,” Royce replied. Layfield was the man that traded Dean’s rifle for a new colt. Royce tried not to appear overly interested in the man. It was plain to see, he was not Barlow but it was a good hunch he knew the outlaw and was probably one of the Barlow Gang. Lady luck was at last shining on him, Royce thought.
“Going hunting this afternoon,” Layfield said. He did not bother to ask if Royce knew which end of a rifle did the shooting. By his demeanor he was sure he already knew the answer.
“This afternoon,” Royce replied. “What time. I have a dinner engagement at twelve o’clock to eat with Reverend Gaines and his family,” he supplied and watched Layfield’s eyes turn dark with resentment. Which of the Gaines sisters held the man’s interests, Royce wondered.
“You eating with Reverend Gaines,” Mr. Morse Senior asked. “Half the young men in Junction City would like a place at his table. His daughters . . .,” the old man stopped abruptly. As if just realizing he was talking about Minister’s daughters. “The Gaines sisters are an attractive lot,” he finished lamely.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Layfield whispered. His features were furious.
“I am sure Reverend Gaines is only interested in learning how his daughters are doing in school,” Royce replied. “I often get invitations to dinner usually on Sundays,” he added hoping to change the perception. He did not want to antagonize Layfield.
“Hunting is best in the evening,” Layfield stated a moment later. His resentment still blazed out of his eyes. “I will meet you at the livery stable at three o’clock.”
“I shall have to hire a horse,” Royce said.
“Don’t bother. I’ll bring along a horse for you to ride,” Layfield replied.
Royce did not trust the bland look Layfield gave him. “Thank you,” he said knowing Layfield was up to something. It was not only boys that enjoyed playing pranks. He would just have to deal with whatever it entailed when the time came.
* * * * *
Sunshine was warm on his shoulders when Royce walked towards the north end of Junction City. He stopped and looked at the Baptist Church noticing for the first time the evidence of an earlier fire. The walls were freshly painted white but charred boards were visible beneath the paint. Many of the trees surrounding the church had dead limbs. Another incident he would wait to hear about. Royce was developing a long list of events he needed answers too. Patience he reminded as he walked across the road and through the graveyard.
Imogen opened the front door when he knocked. “Come around back,” she said stepping onto the front porch. “I told Faith to expect one extra for dinner but did not tell her it was you.” Royce gave her a questioning look. “It is much nicer to sit outside when the weather is nice. We won’t have too many more days to enjoy the sunshine.”
Royce waited until Imogen was seated before taking the wooden chair opposite her.
“I know who you are,” Imogen said leaning towards Royce. Her words were softly spoken. “Marshal Dean said he has a saddle pal named Royce,” she added in undertones watching Royce’s face for his reaction. She was disappointed. Leaning back in her chair she waited for Royce to confirm or deny what she said.
Royce did not know how to respond to Imogen’s insinuations and was glad his shock over hearing her words had not registered on his face. It was too early to trust Imogen with his true identity.
“You needn’t say anything,” Imogen continued. “I know George is . . . was a Territorial Marshal. He told me so. He also said his assignment was finished here.”
“When did Dean tell you this,” Royce asked his words urgent.
Imogen smiled sadly. “First I want to tell you I was the one that found George not father. We had arranged to meet. He was set to arrest the man he had come after and planned to leave the following morning,” Imogen caught back a sob. Her brown eyes glowed with unhappiness. “I want the man found and killed,” she exclaimed.
“He will hang,” Royce said. “But you are confiding to the wrong man. You should be telling all of this to Sheriff Walden.”
Imogen shook her head no. “George did not trust anyone,” she added softly. Royce might be protesting his identity but she knew she was correct. Royce Hargadon was a Territorial Marshal. “After I found George I came back to the house and told Father. He went out the backdoor and located the .
