Mrs. Houston lived in a small house on the east edge of town. A wooden fence surrounded the yard. The yard in front was worn bare by little feet. A porch swing was suspended from the front porch’s ceiling. Providing a place where Mrs. Houston could sit and watch over her children at play. “I tried planting flowers,” Mrs. Houston said as she pushed open the gate. “I do love flowers,” she added wistfully. “My ma always grew lots of flowers when I was a girl. The place seems kinda lonesome without cheery blossoms to greet me.”
“Mother grows Zinnias in an old wash tub,” Faith said following Mrs. Houston into the yard. “If you like I will bring you some seeds. Mother says Zinnias are so tough we girls could not kill them off.”
“Zinnias,” Mrs. Houston said as if she could see flowers blooming along her front porch. “That is very kind of you. Yes, I think I would like some seeds. Charles was saying the other day the milking pail has sprung another leak and it is time to buy a new one. I will save the pail and plant Zinnias in it next spring. Thank you.” Mrs. Houston took the sleeping baby in her arms. “I would ask you in,” she began embarrassed by her lack of curtsey.
“The children are ready for their naps,” Faith replied. “I will come for a visit another time.”
Faith made her way along the eastside of Junction City. Hoping Mr. Cook was not looking for her. The white church appeared and Faith gave a sigh of relief. “Miss Gaines,” the male voice startled her. Mr. Hargadon was sitting on the front steps of the church.
“Oh!” Faith whispered hoping her cheeks were not as fiery red as they felt.
“May we talk,” Royce asked.
“I . . . I,” Faith stuttered noticing the intense look in Mr. Hargadon’s green eyes. “Yes. If you like.”
Royce stood and walked towards the graveyard. He knew where Dean’s marker was located. “You were right when you asked if I knew George Dean,” Royce said standing in front of the man’s marker. His hands were in the front pockets of his denims. He still wore his holster. After learning of the Mail Stage robbery he had decided it was time to keep his revolver on him.
“A friend or family,” Faith asked.
“Friend and colleague,” Royce answered.
“Then you are a Territorial Marshal,” Faith stated. She was not really surprised. Mr. Hargadon was . . . what? Too confident to be a schoolteacher. Too aggressive. Too superior male. All of the above and more. He did not appear to be a man content to spend his time behind a school desk teaching children.
“You are not surprised,” Royce declared.
“Not really,” Faith replied. “Some of what Elizabeth has said makes sense,” she added softly.
Royce looked embarrassed for a brief moment. “I told Tinsley I could not pull it off,” Royce defended and heard Faith’s soft laugh. “It has been too many years since I sat in a classroom.”
“Your students all like you,” Faith replied. “I don’t think anyone pays much attention except Elizabeth. She is a very intelligent girl.”
“She has mentioned my lapses to you,” Royce stated wondering why it mattered.
“I am sure she did not mention them to anyone else,” Faith replied. Suddenly the day seemed brighter. Mr. Hargadon was not an underpaid schoolteacher. Why Faith should care she would not speculate. Not even to herself. Royce’s next words deflated her ballooning hope.
“In Dean’s letters he mentioned you. You told him something that very well could have led to his death.”
Faith turned pale. “Something I told him led to his death. Are you sure? I never spoke to the man more than half a dozen times.” Suddenly, she was struggling to breathe.
“What did you talk about,” Royce asked. Now that he had shown his hand Faith was bewildered. She looked at him with wide brown eyes. The gold flecks around her irises were almost invisible. Her skin looked gray and her mouth pinched. There was a great sadness in the way she held her head and shoulders. Her chest rose and fell as she labored to breathe.
Faith shook her head. “I truly don’t know,” she insisted. “What do strangers say to one another? Hello isn’t the weather wonderful for this time of year. What could that have to do with his death.” Tears burnt her throat making talking difficult.
“Will you try to remember,” Royce cajoled. “This is important.” He saw the panic in Faith’s eyes and regretted his abrupt introduction into the subject. It was too late now. He would have to continue as he had begun.
“I know,” Faith croaked hating her tears. Yet how could she not be saddened by Mr. Hargadon’s words. To be responsible for another human’s death even unwittingly was too horrible to contemplate. “What could I have possibly told him that was so important. Of course, I will try and remember what was said. It does seem hopeless,” she added in her defense.
“Elizabeth is not the only intelligent Gaines sister,” Royce stated. Faith had walked away from him and stood with her back towards Royce. Her head was bowed.
“The first time we met was after church,” she said as she turned back to Royce. A sad smile brightened her face. “He said much the same as you did that first Saturday. You must be Faith Gaines. There can be no mistake for I have met your sister. I wondered which sister. It could have been anyone of them. We do all look alike. Many times father has blessed the fact we all take after mother.”
Royce nodded his head not wanting to interrupt Faith’s thoughts.
“I am sure more was said. But the facts slip my mind. The second time was . . .,” Faith turned
