“More is the pity,” Florence replied. “A man shouldn’t live alone.” Her smile broadened and her eyelashes fluttered up and down.
Royce gulped for air. “A stamp please,” he said and handed over two cents. Miss Florence licked then pressed a red two cent stamp on the envelope. Royce believed it was Thomas Jefferson he was viewing upside down. Trying to remember which President was on a two cent stamp was a challenge after the shock he had just received. He was sure Florence Morse was not a woman any man would willingly court. She would probably someday inherit half of the General Store. The thriving business could induce some man to give the woman a second look. Or was he being too critical of other women after meeting the five attractive Gaines sisters.
Outside of the general store Royce stopped suddenly. Why had Miss Ferguson waited until today to inform him of Mr. Hervey’s letter. Mail arrived on the Wednesday morning stage. Today was Monday nearly a week later. One more puzzle in the long line of puzzles in dealing with Miss Ferguson. Walking along the boardwalk Royce wondered once again why Mayor Pillsdale and the town’s school board put up with Miss Ferguson’s atrocious manners.
Now sure there was a connection between Milton Ferguson and Frank Barlow perhaps he should investigate Junction City’s school board members. He might find something very interesting. Royce made his way to the Baptist Church then crossed the cemetery arriving at the Gaines small two stories home.
Royce stepped up on the front porch, removed his hat and shook off water. It was a miserable day to go visiting. His knock was answered by a young girl dressed in clothes obviously too big for her. Large safety pins keep the hem of her dress from dragging the floor by raising the waist. Her eyes were blue. Not a Gaines’ trait.
“May I speak with Miss Gaines. Miss Faith Gaines,” Royce added hastily for all the young women in the house were Miss Gaines.
“Laurie, who is at the door,” Faith asked coming into the room.
“A man,” Laurie replied. She looked Mr. Hargadon over with great suspicion.
“Mr. Hargadon,” Faith said a moment later, “How nice to see you. Father is not home at the moment. Is there something I can do for you? Do come in,” she rushed on to say willing her heart to stop its wild thumping in her breast.
“I am dripping water,” Royce declined the invitation. “Perhaps you will step outside for a moment so we may talk,” Royce suggested. “It is quite dry under the porch roof.”
Dry or not, it was cold outside. “I will get my coat,” Faith replied. Closing the front door against the cold she returned a few minutes later wearing her warm coat. She placed her hands inside the pockets to keep them warm. It was miserable out. Mr. Hargadon had moved to the end of the porch and was staring towards the lights of town dimly seen through the falling rain. Dusk came early these days.
Royce looked at Faith’s upturned face not sure how to say what he had come to ask. Faith knew he was a Marshal or he would not be asking her for the loan a horse. “I need a horse,” Royce blurted out then felt his ears turning red. He rammed his hands into the front pocket of his denims. His first impulse had been to take Faith into his arms and kiss her delectable lips. Remembering her response to Milton Ferguson’s attempt at kissing her, he rethought the issue.
“A horse? You want to borrow Get-a-long,” Faith asked. She was puzzled and it showed in her brown eyes.
“I don’t want anyone to know,” Royce replied. “Or I would hire a horse from the stables. You do understand.”
“You know something,” Faith said stepping closer to Royce.
Her movements did not help Royce concentrate on his errand. He stepped back finding Faith’s attractiveness was more powerful than he realized. “I need to follow Milton Ferguson on his next midnight ride. I am sure he is part of Frank Barlow’s gang. I want to know where he goes and what he does. So, I need the use of your horse.”
“You need not explain,” Faith replied calmly while all the time her heart was racing. Trust was in her eyes before she turned and sat down on one of the wooden chairs on the front porch. Her parents enjoyed sitting on the porch in the evenings. It was now too cold. Winter had arrived along with cold winds and colder rains. “You are not planning to ride through this rain,” she asked concern in her voice.
“If need be but I shouldn’t think so,” Royce replied. “I have spotted Ferguson leaving on Wednesday evenings,” he elaborated.
Faith slid back in her chair and folded her hands together on her lap. A graceful movement that contradicted Miss Ferguson’s clumsy movements earlier in the day. The schoolteacher was not blessed with grace or good manners.
“Wednesday,” Faith said looking up at Royce. “Why did you weather the rain to come and ask about Get-a-long today.”
Why? Royce wondered himself for a brief moment. He had not stopped to consider the rain. He chuckled softly feeling self-conscious. “Truth is I did not consider the rain. A man that spends most of his time out of doors rarely thinks about the weather. He works rain or sunshine.”
Faith found Mr. Hargadon’s response insightful. Town born and raised she found rain a nuisance. Never venturing out into bad weather unless absolutely necessary. Mr. Hargadon on the other hand never stopped to consider the pouring rain or the cold.
“May I sit,” Royce asked indicating the chair beside Faith.
“Please do,” she replied.
Royce’s oilcloth raincoat crinkled as he sat down. He cleared his throat. Being seated beside Faith had his senses stampeding in all directions. He was uncomfortable and found the thought disturbing. “What do you know about Junction City’s School Board Members,”
