“School Board Members,” Faith repeated. She was having trouble keeping up with Royce’s changing subjects.
“Is Mr. Pillsdale a member,” Royce asked. He had disliked the pompous little man from the beginning. It would not come as a surprise to discover he was somehow tied in with Barlow.
“Yes,” Faith replied. “All members must have a child in school. Mr. Cobb had insisted the prevision be included in the rules.”
“Mr. Cobb. Is he related to Roger Cobb the Gunsmith,” Royce asked.
“Grandfather,” Faith explained. “He was responsible for founding the school back some fifty or so years ago. He donated the land and paid for the school being built. I never met the man but some in the community say he was furious looking. A big bear of a man in contrast to his pretty Norwegian wife. It is said Roger Cobb looks like his grandmother.”
“Roger Cobb is not a member,” Royce asked.
“But he is,” Faith replied. “Mr. Cobb is or was married. His wife is now deceased a victim of the last outbreak of fever. He has two young children in Miss Ferguson’s class.”
Roger Cobb was already under suspicion and now Royce was learning he was a School Board Member. “How many members are there,” Royce asked.
“Five,” Faith answered. “Mr. Pillsdale and Mr. Cobb,” she stated, “Father is one of the members. Mr. Hardin is a rancher. His daughter Jill is in your class and one of Elizabeth’s friends. The other member is Doctor Thomas. Sue and Sally are his daughters.”
He could rule out Doctor Thomas and Reverend Gaines. They were both elderly men and as far as Royce was concerned above suspicion. He had worked too long in law enforcement to be easily fooled. Cobb had been Royce’s first suspect. The man would have had to remove the bronze plate to sand George Dean’s initials off the rifle barrel and stain the wood. It was not likely he had not noticed the script on the back of the plate. Cobb and Pillsdale were only two members on a five member board. That put Rancher Hardin in a bad place. If it was like he suspected and Miss Ferguson was retained because of her brother Milton. Otherwise a woman as disagreeable as Miss Ferguson would have been discharged years ago.
“I mustn’t keep you,” Royce said standing. “I will come back Wednesday for Get-a-long if that is agreeable.”
Faith stood as well. “Father has a saddle,” she said. “He doesn’t ride anymore. Says Get-a-long is too mean spirited. I think he just enjoys using the buggy.” She smiled as she spoke to indicate she was not criticizing her father.
“Thank you,” Royce said stepping into the gathering dusk before Faith could reply. She stood a few seconds watching his tall figure disappear into the gray mist. So, Mr. Hargadon suspected Milton Ferguson. That did not surprise Faith in the least. The man was odious. Yet, she wondered if Mr. Ferguson had brains enough to be mixed up with a ruthless gang of robbers. Then again, now much brain did it take to pull a trigger Faith wondered and Mr. Ferguson was an excellent shot.
Chapter Twelve
Royce entered the classroom and noticed a sheet of paper had been slipped under the door. Picking up the paper he read Miss Ferguson’s heavily penciled words. ‘I am not feeling well and have decided I shall not be able to teach classes tomorrow. Please take the Elementary children into your classroom for one day. Thank You. Miss Ferguson.’
Children! Fourteen Children! Royce panicked at the thought. He could foresee bedlam. Children running to and fro screaming and crying all over his classroom! His blood ran cold. Then, he remembered Elizabeth Gaines. She was a wonderfully gifted teacher often helping him with fifth grade lessons.
Royce’s next thought was just as disturbing. Was Miss Ferguson really ill or did she have an errand to run for her brother Milton. Closing the door behind him, Royce made his way across the Elementary School yard. He stopped and listened at the corner of the building. Only the sound of falling rain reached his ears. Silently he walked to the back of the school. Miss Ferguson’s window was dark. In fact, her entire house was dark. Royce followed the line of trees until he could see inside the corral. No shadow moved. He crossed the distance and slipped through the fence rails. The corral was in deep shadows under the trees. The rain made the ground squishy under foot as he crept across the corral. Milton Ferguson’s horse was gone!
“I’ll be damn,” Royce whispered, frustration sounding in his voice. Now what did he do. Did he return to his rooms or chance investigating Miss Ferguson’s claim of being taken ill. He knew he would not be able to sleep until he knew for certain what Miss Ferguson was up to. Silently, he crept across the yard keeping in the shadows as much as he could. Testing boards on Miss Ferguson’s front porch before placing his full weight Royce moved cautiously along the porch with his back pressed against the building. He tried the front door and found it locked. Inching towards the window Royce peeked inside Miss Ferguson’s room. It was difficult to see inside with the porch shading the front of the house. He tried the window and felt the frame move under his fingers. A moment later he was stepping over the windowsill into Miss Ferguson’s bedroom. His thoughts made cold shivers run down his spine.
Royce stood listening for sounds. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Reaching into his denim pocket he pulled out a metal container of matches. He struck a match cupping his hand around the flame. A mound of covers concealed an occupant in the bed. Standing silently Royce listened intensely. No breathing. Nothing broke the silence inside the room. Was the woman dead? Stepping cautiously Royce made his way across the floor. Leaning over he peered
