“I want to help,” Faith said as if she could read Royce’s thoughts. She moved into his arms turning her face up to him, she waited for Royce’s kiss. She sighed contentedly when he took her into his arms and rested her head against his chest. “I’ve never been more than ten miles from Junction City,” she admitted softly. “At least not since I was a young girl,” she clarified. “I was born in Pennsylvania. I hardly remember the journey to Junction City.”
“Nervous about being on your own,” Royce asked marveling once again at Faith’s forthright manner. She was a woman who spoke her mind. Admitting she had doubts and yet willing to go anyway touched Royce’s heart.
“Some,” she said.
“Robby the stationmaster in Clear Creek is a friend of mine. He will look after you and see you get on the stage,” Royce said.
Faith did not reply. Royce needed her help and somehow she would find the courage to help him. That was what life was all about helping those you loved in times of need.
Royce lifted Faith onto her sidesaddle. Then, he strapped her small valise behind the saddle before mounting his horse. They rode west through the trees skirting the edge of Junction City before picking up the northbound road to Clear Creek. It was going to be a long tiring ride to reach their destination before the stage left town. A ride Royce hoped Faith was capable of making. He was unsure of her riding skills.
Faith used her small whip on her horse’s rump. The animal leaped in response. He had spent too many long days in the corral. Now free the animal was ready to run. Faith gripped the saddle horn with one hand while holding the reins in the other. She had no more use for her riding whip. The beat of horses’ hooves against the roadbed sounded loud contrasting with the night’s stillness.
Riding beside Faith, Royce watched her for signs of fatigue. Sitting straight in the saddle with her long skirts blowing in the wind Faith was gallantly beautiful. Moonlight shone off the sensible bonnet she wore. A scarf tied around her head to keep the bonnet in place and the wind off her face and neck. Her long coat was buttoned to the waist with the front falling open. Her long yellow dress gleamed pale in the moonlight.
“Are you warm enough,” Royce asked slowing his horse to a walk. Moonlight bathed the road in ghostly white. Bushes growing along both sides of the road looked like small dark specters. Wind whipped tree branches together making scraping sounds.
Faith shivered before replying, “Yes.” She turned her face to Royce. Moonlight dusted her features with silver light. Her lips formed a generous smile.
“Are you sure,” Royce asked doubt sounding in his voice.
“I’m warm enough,” Faith insisted. “I’m wearing a pair of longjohns and two flannel petticoats under my skirt.” She laughed, embarrassed over the admission. Yet, she did not want Royce to worry about her safety.
“Your feet,” Royce asked.
“Wool socks,” Faith replied, “Two pair.” She wiggled her toes inside her boots. This time she did laugh softly.
“Sensible girl,” Royce replied. He could not remember the last time he had met a beautiful woman that was also sensible. In his mind the two did not seem to fit together. “We will walk the horses for awhile,” Royce stated.
“You have not told me what I am to report to Marshal Tinsley,” Faith reminded. Her words snatched by the wind blew away before reaching Royce.
Royce rode his horse closer. He leaned in the saddle to study Faith’s upturned face before kissing her. Lingering over Faith’s lips while seconds ticked away. “That is better,” he whispered against her mouth.
“Mr. Hargadon,” Faith said breathlessly. She tingled right down to her toes believing she need not have bothered wearing longjohns after all. She was feeling overly heated. Her heart was doing funny little flips inside her chest.
“Is that the way it is to be,” Royce asked leaning from the saddle until his face was inches away from Faith’s moonlit features. He watched a multitude of feelings cross Faith’s beautiful face.
“You drag me off in the middle of the night without allowing me to tell my parents. The least you can do is keep your mind on business,” Faith snapped. Knowing if she was not careful she would be like putty in Royce’s hands. She was fearful of her reaction to his kiss. At the same time she was scolding Royce, Faith drew the tip of her tongue over her lips savory the taste left behind.
“You do that again I might forget why we are riding to Clear Creek,” Royce threatened. Faith whipped up her irritation and scowled at him. “Alright,” he conceded. He would never understand women. One moment Faith was purring in his arms and the next she was snapping his head off. “You mustn’t write anything down. Do you think you can remember what I tell you?”
“I will remember,” Faith promised. Wondering at the way her heart was hammering against her ribs. She swallowed before closing her mind to possibilities she had never before dreamed about. Royce was in danger and she must keep a clear head if she was to help him.
Royce started off by describing Marshal Tinsley to Faith. “You are not to talk to anyone else,” he cautioned. Faith nodded she understood. Then Royce gave a long list of reasons why he suspected Ferguson was Barlow. He did the same for each of the men he suspected being members of Frank Barlow’s gang.
Over the remaining ride to Clear Creek each time they walked the horses to give the animals rest Royce had Faith repeat his report. Reminding her of details she omitted. “You’re doing fine,” he praised when Faith became frustrated when she again made a mistake. “You’ve got the main details right. Don’t worry about the rest. Marshal Tinsley is smart enough to
