Chapter Eighteen
Royce opened his eyes believing he had died. An Angel sat on the chair beside his bed. He groaned softly feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder. “You’re not wearing a halo,” Royce whispered.
“A halo,” the Angel spoke, “Do lay still you want to do more damage.”
“Where is your halo,” Royce asked a second time.
Faith looked into Royce’s feverish green eyes and smiled. He did not recognize her. “In the Bible all Angels are male,” Faith informed him softly. “I assure you I am alive and no Angel.”
“Water,” Royce croaked. His throat was as dry as a desert. He felt as hot as sun baked clay.
“Hold still,” Faith repeated before getting up and placing the book she was reading on the chair seat. She touched Royce’s forehead. “You have a fever.”
“Fever,” Royce whispered trying to understand what was happening to him. His head throbbed and his entire body ached.
“You were shot,” Faith explained knowing a person seldom remembered an accident when first regaining consciousness. “Doctor Thomas removed the bullet,” she further explained.
“When was this,” Royce asked. Some of the fog was beginning to lift from his mind.
“I believe you were shot sometime this morning,” Faith replied. She walked across the room holding a glass of water in one hand. “Do be careful,” she cautioned as Royce rolled over in bed. The bed squeaked beneath his weight. Leaning over him, Faith helped Royce raise off the bed enough to take a drink.
“This morning,” Royce repeated his mind searching through the past. He remembered getting Get-a-long out of the corral and waiting in the trees back of the Elementary School. He remembered following Ferguson, Layfield and Turner out of town. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes. “Who found me?”
“Bobby Smith found you lying on the floor. Doctor Thomas said none of your students would leave your side until after the bullet was removed. They are all waiting downstairs right now.” Faith pulled the blanket up over Royce’s shoulders and tucked the sides under the mattress. “I promised I would let them know when you woke. Are you up to seeing your class for a minute?”
“Yes,” Royce said. Amazed his students were here waiting for him to regain consciousness. The sky outside the window was dark. The lamp on the table was lit casting a circle of yellow light. Faith helped him take another drink of water. The feel of her arm about his shoulders in stark contrast with the pain he was feeling. He closed his eyes and heard Faith moving to the top of the stairs. Time stood still.
Someone touched his shoulder and Royce opened his eyes. Twelve young faces loomed over him. “Thank you,” he said recalling what Faith had told him about his students’ devotion.
“You alright,” twelve voices asked in unison as if prompted.
“I am doing fine,” Royce replied. Suddenly aware his statement was true. He did feel much better.
Ruth Meyers stepped closer. “We promise to study hard while you are laid up in bed,” the girl said earnestly.
“I won’t tease my sisters,” Johnny Meyers declared pushing his sister aside. He grinned from ear to ear when Ruth shoved him back. “Or make a ruckus during class.” Royce felt like shouting hallelujah. Johnny could never seem to sit still and was forever pestering one of the younger students.
“I am sure you will all do your best,” Royce said before yawning. He could barely keep his eyes open.
“Jill and I taught classes today. We don’t want Miss Ferguson coming in and taking over,” Elizabeth said, a scowl darkening her pretty features. “May I continue teaching class tomorrow?”
“That will be nice. Thank you,” Royce replied and closed his eyes. The room was suddenly spinning out of control.
“Mr. Hargadon needs his rest,” Elizabeth declared, motioning everyone toward the stairs.
“Goodbye.” “Goodbye.” “Goodbye,” was heard overlapping one another as the young people filed from the room and down the stairs.
“Goodnight,” Royce called. A smile settled on his face. Imagine his class all wanting to make sure he was alright before going home. He felt honored by their devotion.
“I must be going home also,” Faith said picking up the book she had been reading.
“Must you,” Royce asked. He yawned even as he protested.
“Mother will be here in a few minutes,” Faith replied. Color stole up her face. The glow from the lamp turned her hair to spun silver. She was unable to explain that it was not appropriate for her to stay any longer now that his students were gone. Ill or not, Mr. Hargadon was still a man and should know as much.
“Did Doctor Thomas say how long I must stay in bed.” Royce was thinking his investigation was rapidly drawing to a conclusion. He was now certain Ferguson was Barlow. The only question remaining in his mind was who shot him.
“You know what you’ve come to discover,” Faith asked taking the chair again and leaning towards Royce in her eagerness. “This outlaw Barlow you know his identity,” she whispered. “Can you tell me,” Faith asked fascinated beyond all reason. The Barlow Gang had little or nothing to do with her.
Royce shook his head slowly. “The less you know the safer you will be.”
“They could have killed you just like they did poor Mr. Dean. How many more have to die,” Faith demanded, “While Barlow remains free to kill and rob.”
Royce stretched under the covers. Faith was beautiful in her earnestness. “Are you worried about my dieing or Barlow going free,” he lightly teased. Faith gave him a deeply disturbed frown.
“You! I am worried about you,” Faith admitted shyly. “I don’t want to stand over your grave wondering who is Barlow! I want to know so he can’t get away with another murder!”
“If you promise to tell only Marshal Tinsley what I am about to say,” Royce replied. Faith leaned towards him. Her brown eyes living fire. She held up one hand as if taking an oath. “Milton Ferguson,” Royce whispered.
Faith collapsed back onto the
