“Foot prints,” Royce suggested.
“I never thought of that,” Imogen replied lifting her shoulders in a deep sigh. She was a beautiful woman. The kind of woman George Dean would find attractive. “I’m sure Father didn’t either or he would have wiped them away.”
“Has Sheriff Walden asked you or your sisters any questions,” Royce asked.
“He hasn’t asked me any. As for Faith or Valerie I’m not sure. He may have,” she replied. “He seems interested in Faith. Do you think he will question us?”
“Walden said he was waiting on Marshal Tinsley. The longer he waits the colder the trail becomes,” Royce retorted. Not completely able to hide his frustration. Faith again. Her name kept coming up in connection with Barlow. What did she know and how important was her information.
Royce doubted Dean had given Imogen any real information. But he set about trying to prove his hunch was correct. “The fact Mr. Dean was a Territorial Marshal interest me,” Royce said in a casual way. “What deep secrets did he confide to you? Not that it matters,” he added hastily.
“You can keep up your pretence,” Imogen replied. A smile brightened her features. “George told me something Faith said got him thinking.”
“Did Marshal Dean say what it was,” Royce asked holding his breath until Imogen answered.
“No,” Imogen admitted. “Only that they were talking about Miss Ferguson and her brother Milton.”
Royce already suspected Milton Ferguson of being tied in with Barlow. Imogen’s words only confirmed his suspicion and did not really help him. “Did you mention Mr. Dean was a Marshal to anyone? Say to one of your sisters,” Royce asked.
“No,” Imogen was adamant in her reply. “I knew how dangerous it would be if anyone found out.”
“Someone did find out,” Royce declared. “The reason he was killed. Did Dean tell you why he was in Junction City.”
Imogen’s brown eyes darkened with unshed tears. She nibbled on her bottom lip trying to regain her composure. “George said he was in Junction City looking for an outlaw leader. He did not say who or why.”
“Ever hear of Barlow,” Royce asked knowing he was tipping his hand. But, he was sure Imogen knew more than she was confiding.
“The man responsible for robbing the train last Wednesday night,” Imogen asked.
“The same man,” Royce answered. “Dean figured Barlow was living a double life. By day an upright citizen of Junction City and at night an outlaw and train robber.” He heard Imogen gasp for air. Her cameo complexion turned gray in appearance. She locked her fingers together on her lap and took several deep breaths. “Miss Gaines,” Royce asked with concern in his voice. Not sure Imogen was not going to faint. Dean had not informed her of the man he was after. No one could fake such a reaction.
“I am alright,” Imogen whispered. She brushed tears off her cheeks. “I know about you because George . . . I am sorry,” she wailed fighting for control over her pent up emotions. “George asked me to marry him. I haven’t told anyone. Not even Father.” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed brokenly. “That’s the reason he told me about you. He said if ever I needed someone and he was not around. I was to look up his Saddle Pal. George only gave me your first name, Royce.”
Royce felt clumsy. Women and tears were not something he had learnt to deal with. He reached for his handkerchief, passed it to Imogen and watched silently while she mopped up her face.
“George said you were quiet around women,” Imogen said after she had gotten control over her emotions. “He also said you were the best Marshal he ever ran across. I want Barlow killed,” she reiterated her features furious. “I don’t want to wait on God’s judgment or the law.”
“I can understand how you feel,” Royce replied. “I plan on catching the man. I will let the law do its job. Hanging is slower than a bullet,” he added softly. “Gives a man time to think and sweat the outcome.”
Imogen gave Royce a watery smile. “We must go in to dinner,” she said. “Father is expecting you.”
Royce looked dubiously at the dining table. He was not use to white tablecloths and linen napkins. “Mr. Hargadon,” Reverend Gaines said extending his right hand. “I am glad you can join us.” He indicated the chair adjacent his on the right. “Make yourself at home. Don’t let my daughters intimidate you. Women can be fussy,” he added with a smile. “I learnt a long time ago to enjoy my food in spite of all the glamour.”
“Thank you Sir,” Royce replied. Imogen took the chair next to him. Valerie was seated in the next chair. At the end of the table Mary Gaines picked up her napkin and with a twist of her wrist the cloth opened before she placed it on her lap. Lydia was seated adjacent her mother and across the table from Valerie. Elizabeth was across from Imogen leaving the chair facing Royce vacant.
Faith’s voice preceded her into the dining room, “Is everyone here?” She stopped abruptly when she saw Royce. Her lips tightened into a straight line. Royce pushed back his chair and stood. “Sit down Mr. Hargadon,” Faith said. “If you stand each time I come into the room you will look like a Jumping Jack,” her words were friendly while her look was frosty.
Color rose in Royce’s face.
Faith cocked her head to one side and studied his reaction to her words. She had never witnessed a man blushing before. The reaction was intriguing. She set a bowl of mashed potatoes and a platter of roast venison on the table in front of her father. A moment later this was followed by a bowl of cooked summer squash and another of green beans. Mr. Gaines
