Jim Cook protested loudly. “I’ve been locked behind bars for four days.” With his hands wrapped around the bars he shook the cell door. “I had nothing to do with Miss Gaines disappearance.” He reminded giving Royce a cynical look.
Royce made his way to Sheriff Walden’s desk and sat down wearily on the chair. His feeling of weakness were returning. His head throbbed and his breathing was labored. “Your being in jail guaranteed Miss Gaines safety,” Royce replied speaking slowly. “Your shouting you were innocence convinced everyone you were as guilty as sin.” Royce smiled at Jim Cook’s outrage. “Call it your Community Service if you like. While you remained behind bars Barlow and Ferguson felt safe.”
Jim Cook growled obscenities.
“A lady is present,” Royce said indicating Miss Ferguson with a wide grin.
“Go to blazes,” Jim roared. “When are you going to let me out,” He demanded of Walden.
“I am still trying to decide if you’re part of Barlow’s gang,” Sheriff Walden replied. “Ferguson and Layfield was always hanging around the Feed Store.”
“Probably picking up information,” Cook snapped giving the sheriff a dark scowl. “You are forgetting about the rustling going on in these parts. What better place to find out when cattle are being trailed to the railhead than at the Feed Store.” Jim Cook’s face was growing bright red with anger. His eyes bulged from their sockets.
“Alright,” Walden retorted. “You can go for now.” He unlocked Cook’s jail cell. “Remember if I find you hanging around Miss Gaines. Back in you go and I will throw away the key. I will enjoy watching you rot behind bars.”
Jim Cook slammed the office door. Muttering under his breath the man headed across the road pushing anyone he met out of his way. He was in a fine rage.
“A job well done,” Tinsley told Royce shaking his hand. “You look as if you need to lie down for awhile. Still have a fever I see.”
“I am alright Sir,” Royce said standing. He looked over the jailed Barlow gang. Feeling a sense of satisfaction in a job completed. Ferguson still wore a dress with his stringy hair hanging about his shoulders. Turner and Hardin occupied the same jail cell as Ferguson and were not too happy about the fact. As for Pillsdale, the man had run out of bluster. It was the end of the road for Frank Barlow and his gang.
“I think I will take your advice and go back to Doctor Thomas and lie down,” Royce said heaving a deep sigh. Now that his case was closed he could get some much needed rest.
Chapter Twenty Three
Three months later:
The town of Junction City lay under a thin blanket of Snow. Wind blowing off the mountains was cold forecasting a fresh round of winter weather in the near future. Royce rode Black Jack down the center of town halting at the Baptist Church. Snow crunched underfoot as he walked across the cemetery and stood in front of George Dean’s marker. He placed one hand over the rough wood. “You did a good job,” Royce said out loud. “Barlow and his gang have paid the ultimate price for your murder. The country is now free from their tyranny.”
Royce bowed his head for a moment of silence. He had worked on several cases with Marshal Dean and had respected the man’s integrity.
Retracing his steps Royce took up Black Jack’s dangling reins and stepped into the stirrup. In some ways his next visit was going to be harder than visiting Marshal Dean’s grave. Reverend Gaines had burnt his ears the last time he had seen the man. Faith’s father could forgive Royce for not telling him about Faith going for Marshal Tinsley but was having a harder time forgiving him over putting Faith in danger.
Royce could sympathize. He had worried about Faith going and had not breathed a sigh of relief until he knew she was back safely.
Snow had been cleared off the walk leading to the Gaines’ front porch. Royce stood a moment blowing hot air on his cold fingers in an effort to warm them before knocking on the front door. He felt butterflies fluttering inside his stomach. Faith had promised to wait for his return before making any decision regarding Mr. Cook and the man’s proposal of marriage. Had she waited.
Laurie opened the door. “Marshal Hargadon,” she said in surprise.
“Laurie,” Royce greeted.
“Who is it,” Faith called from the dining room.
“Royce,” he called looking over Laurie’s head in hope of seeing Faith.
“Mr. Hargadon,” Faith said rushing into the parlor. Her eyes were brown jewels in a pale face. She had not heard from Royce since he had left town.
“Is it safe to come inside,” Royce asked, “Or should I be asking if your Father’s shotgun is loaded. After taking you away and not telling your father do I still need to dodge lead,” he asked and watched an amused smile play with the corners of Faith’s delectable mouth.
“Maybe,” Faith replied. “I do remember reading a commandment against murder.” Smiling, she extended one hand towards Royce. He drank in her loveliness like a drowning man. “I will set another place at the table,” Faith said calmly while wondering at the hammering of her heart inside her chest. One look from Royce’s green eyes had stampeded her emotions leaving her breathless with anticipation.
Lydia heard Royce’s voice and hurried into the parlor. She wrapped her arms around his chest giving him a hug. “You are well,” she asked shyly when he returned her hug.
“Yes,” Royce replied. “How do you like Miss Carter.” Miss Carter was the teacher he had replaced and when his tenure was finished she had taken over classes.
“I like her a lot,” Lydia replied. “Did you know Elizabeth is assistant teacher until a new Elementary Teacher can be hired? Mr. Cobb is paying her to help with the younger students. He now heads the School Board.”
“I haven’t heard,” Royce stated.
Laurie stood silently beside them her blue eyes shining
