Call nodded. “And Miss Morrison called Rooster over to take my gun. Then Rooster escorted me to the pump, where I washed up and went straightaway from there into the house, took a seat at the table. I was either accompanied by someone or in your sights, Brady. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop bringing me into this.”
Brady grunted, but he didn’t apologize.
Stonechurch said, “You have a gun under your coat?”
Call nodded. Without being asked, he stood, parted his duster, and unfastened the gun belt. He hung it over the back of the empty chair. “That’s my shotgun in the corner,” he said in case Stonechurch hadn’t noticed it.
“My wife told me. She doesn’t like guns in the house though she tolerates my collection of old firearms.” He eyed the butt of Call’s gun, recognizing it as Army issue, but didn’t comment. Instead, he turned back to Brady. “What about your other stops?”
“Just two other living stations between there and here. Got down when the tenders changed the team but I never left the stage. Pissed in the yard.” Seeing Stonechurch’s lips twist in disapproval, he said, “Too much detail? Seemed to me I should mention it to let you know how serious I was about keeping the payload safe.”
“I appreciate that you thought you did everything youcould, but you have to acknowledge that it wasn’t enough.” He waved his hand over the stones still scattered across the table. “Otherwise...” It wasn’t necessary to finish the sentence. The evidence of Brady’s failure was in front of them.
The driver nodded heavily. “Had to have happened at Laurel Beth’s place. Maybe I wasn’t watching as closely as I thought I was. Can’t think of how it could have happened anywhere else.” He picked up one of the pebbles, examined it between his thumb and forefinger. “Hurts me more than a little to think Laurel Beth is somehow involved.”
Call had never considered that, not for a moment, but now he had to because Brady had put it out there. He had nothing but his gut telling him that she was innocent so he remained quiet rather than try to defend her. He waited to see what Stonechurch would say.
“Not Miss Morrison,” said Stonechurch. “Not in this lifetime or the next. I’m putting that out of my mind. But one of her tenders? You know them. What do you think?”
“Rooster’s been with her for years. The way I heard it, he helped her bury her father and brothers and stuck around. He’d do anything for her is my guess, but if we agree she’s not behind the theft, then he didn’t do it. Dillon Booker and his brother—can’t bring the name to mind right off—are still whelps, but they’ve been with her for a couple years. Can’t say I know them, not like I do Rooster. Maybe they could pull off a robbery, there being two of them and all. Brothers, like I said, working together.”
“All right. We can look into that. Send her a telegram. She runs the office so no one will get wind of it.”
“Good idea. Can’t even let the sheriff know without Miss Laurel getting the message first.”
“Right. Just as well she’s not on our suspect list.”
Brady nodded, swallowed, and regarded Stonechurch frankly. “Am I off it? The suspect list, I mean.”
Stonechurch was not giving quarter just yet. “Let’s see how things go. If it sets your mind at ease, you’re off it for now.”
Call didn’t notice that Brady breathed any easier. In the driver’s shoes, he wouldn’t either. “What about that other fellow?”
“What other fellow?” Stonechurch wanted to know.
“Oh,” said Brady. “Yeah. He’s talking about—” He stopped, searching for a name. “Damn. Dye. Fry. Rye. Pye! That’s it. Pye. Not like pie you eat. P-Y-E. Don’t know why that sticks in my mind when I couldn’t think of his name right off. Laurel Beth always calls him Mr. Pye, like Mister is his Christian name. Struck me funny. Rooster. Dillon. Hank—nowI recollect it. But always Mr. Pye.”
Ramsey Stonechurch didn’t ask if Mr. Pye had a first name. It was certain that he did, but it wasn’t important and Brady had already strained the outer limits of his brain. “What about Mr. Pye?”
Brady shrugged. “Can’t say much about him. Laurel Beth told me she hired him when she saw that Rooster was favoring his hip. That’s all I know. He hasn’t been around long. Maybe a year. Maybe not quite that long. Don’t know if he’s a local or someone who was passing through and seized an opportunity. That’s something worth learning.”
Stonechurch knuckled his chin, thoughtful. “I’m going to get dressed and walk over to the station. No point waiting until morning to send the news to her.”
“I’ll walk with you,” said Call. “I’m headed back that way for a bite to eat and a cot.”
“There’s a rooming house.”
“I’m not exactly flush.” He said this without embarrassment. It was simply a fact. “Brady says I can sleep in the tack room at no cost because I rode with him.”
“Are you looking for a job?”
“Yes, sir.”
“With the stage line?”
“No. At least I wasn’t thinking that. I told Brady I wasn’t auditioning for a job when I climbed onto the box, not that I’d turn one down out of hand if it was offered, but I’m in Stonechurch because I had an idea youroperation might need security, leastways I heard rumblings about that in Denver.”
“I see.”
