“Yes, that.”
“I don’t think Mr. Stonechurch needs to know about that,” said Laurel. “It won’t necessarily make him more confident about hiring Mr. Landry.”
In spite of himself, Call grinned. “She’s right, Doctor. Probably better left unsaid.”
Dr. Singer reluctantly agreed. He changed the subject. “I’m going to want to go over the notes you took to make certain I can read them. I like to keep good records.”
“Of course.”
When they reached the station, Call stopped in front of the house to allow the doctor and Laurel to climb down. He drove the buckboard to the barn and began to unhitch the team. He was almost finished when he was aware that Laurel had come to stand on the opposite side of the buckboard.
“If you’re looking for one of the boys, they’re both out back in the garden.”
“I know. I told Mrs. Lancaster to send Dillon to the mercantile to purchase clothes and take them to Mr. Beckley. I came here looking for you.”
“You found me.” He turned his back on her to hang up the tack.
“I want to go with you,” she said.
“Oh? Where am I going?”
Laurel waited until he’d finished with the tack and turned around. She refused to say another word to his back. “You’re going to the top of the falls again. You think theremight be something there that will tell you about Mr. Pye’s killer. I’m volunteering to help. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”
“What makes you think I’m going up there?”
“Because you went up before with nothing but a gut feeling motivating you. Now you know that Mr. Pye died up there and you know how he was killed. You have to go.”
“I do. You don’t.”
“But—”
“I’m not arguing with you. I’m going to review Singer’s notes and then I’m leaving while I still have plenty of daylight.” Turning his back on Laurel a second time, Call headed for the house.
28
Dr. Singer was pleased with Call’s documentation and made only a few corrections for clarification. It required but a half hour of Call’s time before he was able to saddle Artemis and leave the station. Mrs. Lancaster packed a sack of food for him when he told her where he was going. He’d laughed when she thrust it at him because the sack was heavy enough to feed him and his horse. She had merely smiled in return.
Call remembered that sweet but slightly forced smile as he crested the last few yards of the steep slope leading up to the falls. He thought she hadn’t cared for his joke. Perhaps she hadn’t, but it wasn’t the reason for her frozen smile. No, she knew something he didn’t and was honor bound not to tell him.
The secret Mrs. Lancaster held back revealed itself when he came over the top. Laurel was waiting for him.
There was no point ignoring her. He urged Artemis forward and came abreast of her and Abby under the broad boughs of a ponderosa. Without preamble, he said, “Can you fathom how much I do not want to be around you right now?”
“You’ve made that clear, yes.”
“And yet here you are.”
“To keep you from cutting off your nose to spite your face. You know you can use the help.”
“If I thought that, I could have asked Rooster.”
“Not without my permission,” she said. “He wouldn’t have come, and you would have tied yourself in knots before you asked me to let him go.” Abby stirred under her, a reminder to Laurel to steady herself. “I’m here, Call, and I’m staying. You may as well take advantage of it. Where do you want me to begin?”
Call held her gaze a moment longer. It hurt to look at her. “We have to go on foot,” he said, dismounting. He tethered Artemis to the cinnamon-colored trunk of the pine. The bark released a vanilla scent when the leather reins rubbed against it. “Start about a hundred yards from the water and make a semicircular path. When you’re done, go out ten or twenty yards more and do it again. And again. It will be tedious. You can quit anytime.”
Laurel joined him at the tree and looped Abby’s reins around the trunk. She didn’t snap at the bait he dangled in front of her. “Is there anything specific I should be looking for?”
“Anything that doesn’t belong.” He raised an arm and pointed northwest. “See that rocky rise over that way? Where the limber pines are?” The short trees were gnarled, shaped by the wind, and grew in places the mightier pines disdained. “That’s the kind of ground where I’d lie in wait if I were looking to make someone my target. Lots of good places where a person can stay low and keep a Springfield steady.”
