Royce left without answering Faith’s query. He needed time to think. Things between him and Faith were moving too fast or was it not moving fast enough. He loved her and was sure she loved him. Marshal Tinsley did not encourage his Marshals to marry. Insisting the job was better suited for someone unattached. Loners who did not mind long hours spent in the saddle or cold nights on the trail. A man, whose focus was on his job and not on a wife and children.
On the east side of Junction City smoke was still rising into the air when Royce walked towards the Secondary School. His shoulder throbbed. His body ached and wondered if his fever was returning. He had been soaked to the skin while battling last night’s many raging fires. He was weary to his bones.
Outside of the Newspaper Office the bulletin board posted the latest headlines. MAIL STAGE ROBBED AGAIN! Royce stopped and read the headline. “Getting to be a regular habit,” Mclean called from inside the Newspaper Office. “The robbers must be looking for something,” he added.
“Must be,” Royce replied. “Know of any valuables being shipped,” he asked then smiling finished, “I know. Newspapers are two cents each.”
Mclean laughed, for once not his usual grumpy self. “Have a copy on the house,” he said. “Hear you rescued the Runyan children last night,” he continued.
“Anyone would have done the same,” Royce replied.
The newspaperman shook his head no. “There were plenty of men hanging around the fire last night. I can say this because I was one of them. Someone surely noticed Mr. Runyan was . . .,” here he paused. “Not himself,” he finished. “Yet no one ran into the house to look for his wife and children.”
“There was a lot going on,” Royce declared. “Getting back to these Mail robberies is there any information pointing to a reason,” he asked. Royce knew one very condemning piece of information. His latest letter was on the Mail Stage.
“There was a fatality,” Mclean said. “After the last robbery a shotgun guard was added to the route. The holdup men weren’t expecting armed resistance,” Mclean explained. “Before being wounded the guard killed one of the robbers. The rest got away with the mail sack.”
“Was the man identified,” Royce asked. He held his breath while he waited for Mclean to reveal the name.
“John Layfield,” Mclean said.
“Our John Layfield,” Royce asked for clarification.
“The same. His father went to Lodgeburg to pick up the body,” Mclean replied. “Why Layfield was involved in the Mail Robbery is beyond me. He seemed to be a nice enough young man. Did not carouse with the usual riff-raff if you know what I mean.” Mr. Mclean took a copy of the telegraph wire he had received from Lodgeburg and handed it to Royce. “Arnold keeps me informed on any goings on in Lodgeburg,” he explained. “I do the same for him.”
“Your own chain of correspondence,” Royce said. He had come across this kind of network among Newspapermen before.
“A lot of Junction City has family members in nearby towns,” Mclean said. “They appreciate the occasional announcement of births and deaths. Local gossip, you know.”
Royce’s mind was still on the news John Layfield was dead. He had followed Layfield and Ferguson Wednesday night and had turned back so he could identify the fourth man seen with them.
If Royce was certain of Sheriff Walden he could arrest Ferguson and his gang. As it was, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Not sure who to trust and no way of getting a message to headquarters. Had George Dean been in the same fix when he met up with death.
Royce thanked Mclean for the newspaper and walked home. He unlocked the schoolhouse and went upstairs to change out of his damp clothing before stretching out on his bed. He was beyond weary. His shoulder throbbed. He reached a hand back to rub his wound and his hand came away bloody. Doctor Thomas was busy bandaging burns and cuts. He would wait awhile before going to have the doctor redo his bandage. For now all Royce wanted was a few hours sleep.
Chapter Twenty
The Church Bell ringing woke Royce from a sound sleep. He laid in bed his mind going back over the events of the past hours. The soaking he had taken while helping to put out multiple house fires. The rain had chilled him to the bone. The flames had been red hot and the smell of smoke everywhere. Had the fires reignited and another alarm was being sounded.
Royce swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He shook his head when the room started spinning then wished he had resisted the impulse. Taking deep calming breaths, Royce held his head in both hands. Not sure his head was not going to fall off and roll around the floor. Jabbing pain was behind his eyes. Sweat popped out on his forehead. He sat silently waiting for the room to settle back in place. When it did, Royce walked to the end of the room. Gripping the windowsill to steady himself, he looked out over the schoolyard towards town. Thin lines of gray smoke rose above the trees on Fourth Street. He saw no one hurrying along the road. The town was at peace.
Miss Ferguson walked across the schoolyard and crossed the road heading towards town. She wore a black cape over her dark dress. The hood was pulled over her head to keep out the cold winds. She carried a book in one hand.
The Church Bell rang again.
The sky overhead was light
