Phoebe laughed. “I think thewhenis something we need to decide to together. There are considerations, I believe, unless you tell me that Sheriff Brewer no longer needs you. Is that true?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. I’m disappointed, not surprised.”
Nodding, Remington sat up and began straightening his clothes. Items that belonged to Phoebe and were in easy reach, he passed along, not because he felt any urgency to see her dressed, but because she distracted him when she wasn’t. “We found John Manypenny,” he told her, pulling on his shirt. “That took longer than either of us thought it would, but the good news is that no one else found him first.He’d read about Blue and Miss Carolina in theRocky, but the details and the consequences had to be explained to him. When we left him, he was planning on exchanging his ticket and heading back to Denver to resign from his job with Reynolds Liquors. I believe he intends to visit his sister in Jefferson City. After what he heard, it’s likely he is considering permanent residency.”
“You must have put the fear of God into him.”
“Something like that.”
“Was he helpful?”
“He was.” Remington rose to his knees to fasten his trousers. “Jackson and I are fairly confident that Manypenny purchased the ring directly from the men who stole it. He told us that he was shown a variety of pieces, and based on when he was shown them, it was early days yet. The thieves were just beginning to get rid of the property. It’s unlikely they found anyone so quickly to do it for them.”
Remington reached for his vest but didn’t put it on. Instead, he patted it down and found the small notepad and pencil in the inside pocket. He showed them to Phoebe. “Thank you for these. They came in handy.”
“And you thought you only needed a gun. The pen is mightier...” She pointed to the notepad as he opened it. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me.”
“Manypenny didn’t have names for us, but he claimed to be good with faces.”
“You made sketches?”
Remington arched an eyebrow. “No. No talent for it. But I did write down what he described. Only two men approached him, Phoebe.”
“Not Mr. Shoulders, then.”
“What makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “The pair hiding behind the blue bandannas worked together. They collected the jewelry, the guns, the reticules. Mr. Shoulders was a presence, a constant threat, and he directed them while they were on the train, but later, it was less clear to me that he was in charge. They were not afraid to argue with him, and one was comfortablespeaking for the other, as if they had a long-standing connection. He was the odd man out.”
Remington glanced at his notes then at her. “From what Manypenny said, they could be kin. Brothers, but probably not twins. Cousins at least.” He read to her from what he had written. “Brown hair cropped close at the neck. Brown eyes, set wide. Narrow face.” He shrugged. “I guess that’s why the eyes seemed wide-set.” He looked back at his notes. “No obvious missing teeth but all of them on the yellow side. No chin. Fair skinned. No facial hair. Oh, and here’s something to distinguish the pair. One of them had a flat bridge. Manypenny guessed a broken nose that was never properly set. They were wearing what you’d expect. I don’t see anything different here from what you described them wearing on the train.”
Phoebe nodded. “Fiona says the hands at Twin Star look alike to her because they all wear the same thing. She’s not far wrong. She didn’t know who Les Brownlee was until I told her he was the one with the weak chin. An unfortunate distinguishing feature is what she called it.”
Remington closed the notepad. “When she’s right, she’s—”
“No chin,” said Phoebe.
“What?”
“Les Brownlee doesn’t have a chin. Well, he does, but it sits so far back in his face that it might as well not be there.”
“That’s true, but I’ve known Les for years. If you’re thinking that—”
She interrupted him again. “I wasn’t. Just picturing him, getting it straight in my mind. If you could draw what you wrote down, you’d have a near perfect image of Les Brownlee. That’s odd, don’t you think? Brown hair. Brown, wide-set eyes in a narrow face. Ruddy complexion, though, but that’s because he spends almost every waking hour out of doors. Clean shaven, at least most of the time, and I’d say he takes better care of his teeth, but there you have it. Oh, and his nose is straight, so I suppose he better resembles the one whose nose was never broken.”
Remington put the notepad and pencil away. “It’s not much to go on, is it?”
“Not if it means you’re going to arrest Les Brownlee or every other man who looks like him.”
“That’d mean taking in a lot of the Brownlees and fair number of their kin. It’s a big family, and among the ones I know, that no chin feature makes a regular appearance.”
“It’s like a brand, isn’t it?” she said, grinning. “Little wonder they hid behind those bandannas. Maybe you should round them all up. Cut them from the herd the way you do the unweaned calves.” She finished yanking on a boot and looked up at him. He was not smiling. On the contrary, his face had no expression. He was a man struck dumb. “What? You know I’m not—”
Remington bent, grabbed her by elbows, and hauled her to her feet. “It doesn’t matter what you’re not.” He kissed her hard on the mouth. “It matters what youare, and what you are is exceptionally clever.”
“But I—”
