“The wind’s stronger up there,” she said doubtfully. “Dr. Singer mentioned a light wind for accuracy.”
“Do you think the good doctor’s ever fired a rifle? No? Well, I have, and I know it can be done. I’m going to start there.”
Laurel nodded and started walking in the direction of the stream. She stopped at a place she judged to be a hundred yards out and marked it by turning a few rocks over so their darker undersides were visible. She covered the ground carefully, occasionally looking up to see Call’sprogress as he headed for the rise. It was slower going for him to reach the point where he wanted to begin. He had to scale large rocky outcroppings or climb around them. His journey was as much up as it was long.
Laurel was aware he had given her the easier route to walk. Her path included large grassy areas where her only obstacle was scrub brush. There wasn’t a lot of cover where a sharpshooter could hide, and she assumed, as Call did, that Mr. Pye was unaware that he was a target.
She considered what that meant. Exactly how many people were involved in the robbery? Pye, of course, and they knew Digger Leary had helped. Digger rode shotgun so perhaps he had sniper skill with a rifle. If Digger was the killer, then there must have been some arrangement to meet after the robbery, when he and Pye would split the payroll. But if that were true, why would Digger shoot Pye at such a distance and risk missing his target? Surely Digger would choose to take his partner unaware at close range.
Laurel shook her head to clear the thoughts distracting her from her assignment. When she looked up to find Call, it was just in time to see him disappear over the rise. She wished him better luck than she was having. He was right about one thing. The search was tedious.
In the few instances when something caught her eye, Laurel bent and dragged her fingers through the grass to sift and separate it. For her efforts she found a few smooth white stones and the broken shell of a bird’s egg.
When she’d finished her first route, she moved out fifteen yards and started again. She never sighted Call and finally stopped looking for him. She was thirty yards out when she spied something fluttering in a thicket. She carefully plucked it free. It was not immediately apparent what it was, though by the size of it she suspected it was a greenback. This specimen was bleached from the sun and rain so it was virtually colorless. Turning it this way and that, and with a little squinting to compensate for not having her spectacles, Laurel was finally able to identify it as a ten-dollar bill.
She pocketed her prize and took the blue ribbon fromher hair to mark the thicket. Satisfied that she would be able point out the spot to Call, she went on, trying to imagine all the while what had happened that allowed money to escape. Had Pye been showing the money to someone, perhaps opening his saddlebag to prove he had the bills? She supposed he could have been counting the money, but if she had taken the risk to steal the Stonechurch payroll, Laurel was sure she’d have made a better job of holding on to it.
Working with her head down, she got a crick in her neck, which she stopped to massage away. She also lost track of how much time had elapsed since she and Call parted ways. It was only when her stomach rumbled that she realized several hours had passed. She knew that Call had a sack of food in his saddlebag because she’d asked Mrs. Lancaster to provide him with one. She was mightily tempted to wander over to where the horses were tethered and help herself, but she resisted because she wanted to be invited to the meal that was meant for both of them.
“Laurel!”
Hearing her name, she sprang up, straightened, and looked toward the rise. Call was standing on a large slab of rock, legs parted, one hand on his hip. In his other hand, he was holding a pair of reins.
“Look who I found!”
Laurel saw Call take up the slack on the reins and thought her heart would stop when Penelope clambered over the rise to stand at his side. She sucked in a breath and covered her open mouth with her hand, too astonished at first to do more than stare. Her frozen stance lasted mere seconds and then she was running. She stumbled twice, caught herself both times just before she fell, and only stopped her mad dash when she reached the base of the rise. She would have started to climb if Call hadn’t shouted at her to stay where she was. It was all she could do not to dance in place as Call led the mare down the rough slope. Penelope balked several times and forced Call to find a less treacherous route.
Laurel frowned as the mare picked her way around the rocks. There was hesitation in her step. Gone was the sure-footed lady who was the natural leader of any team. “Has she thrown a shoe?” she called up.
Call was close enough now that he only had to nod. He continued to watch his step and the mare’s until he reached Laurel. He held on to Penelope’s bridle as Laurel ran her hands along the horse’s neck and flank and spoke in dulcet tones meant to ease herself and the mare.
“Oh, sweet girl. You’ve had a time of it, haven’t you? Where have you been? And so roughly used. You’re safe now. Everything will be fine.” Recognizing a familiar voice, Penelope rubbed her nose against Laurel’s shoulder. “That’s it, girl. You know me, don’t you?”
Call let the reunion go on awhile longer before he spoke up. “She lost the left shoe on her forefoot.”
Laurel bent and gingerly ran her hand down Penelope’s foreleg. The mare let her raise the hoof. “This needs filing and cleaning. Poor thing.” She stood, sifted the mare’s black mane with her fingers. “Burrs and thistles.” She pulled out several twigs and tossed them aside. “Where did you find her?”
“About half a mile from where I started. I heard her first and I walked on to investigate. I had no idea what I’d find. She got her reins caught in a limber pine. Twisted. Looped. And finally knotted. I don’t how she managed it, but she hurt herself trying to get free. The girth straps cut into her. I had to right the saddle because it’d slipped, but I didn’t want to take it off until we got back to the barn. She was pretty spooked and it took a while for me to be able to calm her enough so I could touch her.”
Laurel thought she might weep. She gently rubbed the mare’s neck and nose. “Surely she wasn’t trapped the whole time she’s been missing. She’d be—”
Call didn’t let her finish. “No, she wasn’t caught this whole time. I figure she wandered for a while. She’d have had water from the stream and grasses down here, but shemade the climb and then got herself in trouble. She was probably nosing around the pine looking for food when she trapped herself. I’m going to take her over to the water and let her drink a little. Look in my saddlebag and see if Mrs. Lancaster put anything in the sack that we can give to Penelope. Maybe a couple of carrots or some dried apples.”
Nodding, Laurel let him take Penelope away. She’d have to let Sam Henderson know they’d found his mare and hope she could convince him that it would be a while before Penelope could make another stage run. The girl deserved some rest and pampering.
When Call returned to where their horses were tethered, Laurel had some dried apple slices ready. She held them one at a time in the flat of her hand while Penelope sniffed and then gobbled. “More later,” she said when the last of them was gone. She looked at Call. “Do you think we can trust her not to wander far if we don’t tie her?”
“I think she’ll stay put. She knows you.” He pointed to his saddlebag. “What else is in there?”
Laurel opened the bag and took out the sack. “Ham sandwiches. Hard-boiled eggs. A couple slices of cherry pie.”
“Two of everything, I bet.”
“Mm. Seems that way.”
He took the sack from her, peeked inside, and then gave Laurel a knowing look. “This was your doing, wasn’t it?”
She didn’t pretend she didn’t know what he meant. “Yes.”
