Lydia hurried towards Royce. Her young face was bright with happiness. “I knew you could do it,” she said coming to a stop beside him. “You are to have dinner with us to celebrate.”
“Yes, please do,” Faith added her invitation. Lydia’s grip on her sister’s hand had compelled Faith to follow her.
“Thank you. I will be delighted. Who is doing the cooking,” he asked.
“We all helped,” Lydia whispered.
Faith found she was tongue tied. An event that had never happened to her before. Royce’s green eyes caressed her face lingering for a moment on her lips. The feeling was so strong Faith felt as if he had touched her.
“Do you know,” Lydia whispered leaning towards Royce. “I have never seen Miss Ferguson and her brother together. What do you make of that?”
“What did you say,” Royce asked. His attention had been on Faith and her reaction to him.
Lydia stood frowning, staring after Milton Ferguson and did not reply.
The gathering at the Gaines home was a festive one. Valerie introduced the young man accompanying her as Robert Morse the son of a local rancher and nephew to Mr. Morse the grocer. Sheriff Walden looked around the parlor appearing uncomfortable. Remembering how uncomfortable he had felt on his first visit Royce sympathized with the man. Imogen stood beside Sheriff Walden one arm hooked inside his while her other hand rested on top of his arm. Royce decided, now that Imogen had gotten her man she was not about to let him escape.
Mrs. Gaines ushered her daughters from the parlor leaving Reverend Gaines to entertain their guest. Royce got the impression it was not a completely congenial task and wondered to which of his guest he objected. Sure every father viewed a suitor for his daughter’s hand an intruder. Royce did not count himself in this category. As soon as he found the murderer of George Dean and identified Frank Barlow, he would go back to headquarters and forget about his time spent in Junction City.
Small talk inside the parlor only added to everyone’s discomfort. Reverend Gaines while adapt at handling a congregation knew very little of life outside the church. He was ill-equipped to handle the situation. Until Mr. Cook had approached him seeking Faith’s hand in marriage he had not given thought to this eventuality. Now that the time had arrived Mr. Gaines looked forward to his daughters marrying. Life would be much simpler. He was looking to his golden years when he no longer had to worry about the cost of flour or bacon. He welcomed a time when his meager salary would supply all his humble needs.
Robert Morse asked Sheriff Walden about the antique pistol he had won which started the conversational ball rolling. Walden knew a good deal about firearms. His appreciation for the Revolutionary War pistol was genuine. The three men talked while Reverend Gaines listened.
Imogen opened the parlor door and announced dinner was served. The three men lined up along one side of the table. The three Gaines’ sisters sat opposite them. Elizabeth and Lydia at the end of the table near their mother. Few words were spoken during dinner. Robert Morse was the most comfortable of the three men. Sheriff Walden and Royce feeling like fish out of water struggled with their table manners.
After dinner Elizabeth and Lydia volunteered to wash dishes and clean the kitchen. Imogen took Sheriff Walden to the backyard where they sat talking. They were soon joined by Robert Morse and Valerie.
“I must be going,” Royce said feeling he had over stayed his invitation.
“I will walk you to the front door,” Faith offered. She followed Royce onto the front porch. The light in her brown eyes telling him she had something on her mind. Faith locked her fingers together in front of her as she stared towards the cemetery. “I hope I am not being too forward,” she said after a brief span of time.
“No ma’am,” Royce replied soberly. “You do have something on your mind.”
Color rose on Faith’s cheeks then receded. “Yes,” Faith began only to fall silent. “Father,” she smiled hoping to take the sting out of her words. It was so difficult to know what to say. She did not want to hurt Mr. Hargadon’s feeling still she felt she must be honest. “Father insists I marry Mr. Cook,” she said in a rush of words. “I . . . well . . . I feel I must tell you. This is all too embarrassing,” Faith heaved a deep breath and rushed on. “You see, Father says I must marry to my advantage. Being the oldest daughter, you see.” Suddenly her throat closed up. Faith tucked her chin and would not look at Royce.
“Do you love Mr. Cook,” Royce asked in what he hoped was a brotherly tone. He was not thinking of Faith’s admission but on George Dean and his investigation. Dean’s letters indicated Faith possessed information he must obtain if he was to track down Frank Barlow.
“I loath the man,” Faith replied truthfully. “Only . . . only . . . it sounds heartless of me. Mr. Cook is a very wealthy man and he is interested in me.” Faith wished she had not brought up the subject of Mr. Cook but Mr. Hargadon was too nice a man to give false hope.
Royce placed his fingers under Faith’s chin and raised her face until he could look into her troubled eyes. “Your marrying Mr. Cook is your father’s idea and not yours,” he asked.
“I am the oldest daughter,” Faith
