“Yeah, I heard you climbed the rocks. Stonechurch must be paying you a lot of money to take fool chances like that.”
Call didn’t respond.
Carter’s wooly eyebrows made a thick black line across his brow as he took Call’s measure through narrowed eyes. “You been up there since to look around?”
“Yes. Yesterday afternoon, in fact.”
“So after you got back from Beckley’s.”
“That’s right.”
“Find anything?”
“Penelope.”
Carter frowned. “How’s that again?”
“Penelope. She’s the horse that Pye stole from the Morrison Station. Miss Morrison has names for all the mares that go through the station.”
“Now that’s downright peculiar.”
“You probably shouldn’t mention it to her.”
“No. I won’t. Still, it’s peculiar to my way of thinking. A work animal like that. Suits her, though.”
Call wasn’t sure if he was saying Penelope was suited to her name or peculiar suited Laurel. He didn’t ask. Instead, he told Carter about the mare’s condition when she was found and how she was recovering.
“You find anything else up there?” asked Carter.
“Nope.”
Rayleigh Carter was in full considering mode. He rubbed behind his neck again as he thought. “What made you think Pye was shot up top of the falls? Why’d you goup there the first time, and if you didn’t find anything then, why’d you go up again?”
So the sheriff was not quite as dull-witted as he appeared at times. Call realized he would do well to remember that. “A gut feeling,” he said. He was not going to mention the greenback scrap he’d found after his initial climb that had prompted his return. “Can’t say it was any more than that.”
“Huh. Sometimes you have to trust your gut, is that it?”
“Yes.”
“I was thinking that maybe I’d have a look up there myself. Could be there’s something you overlooked. I mean that mare could’ve gotten up that way on her own. There’s no proof that Pye rode her up there or that he was shot there. That’s right, isn’t it?”
Call admitted to the sheriff that he was right.
“Seems like you’re making some assumptions, Mr. Landry.”
“Seems like. Good to know you have my back.”
The sheriff shook his head. “Not yours. Miss Morrison’s. I don’t give a good goddamn what happens to you. I want to make sure her name and reputation remains in the clear.”
“Is there some reason you think it won’t?”
“Other than the fact that I don’t trust you?”
“Other than that, I guess.”
“You’re just passin’ through and got no stake in this town. I don’t like that. Makes you something of a wild card.”
“A wild card, huh? That’s a good thing to keep in mind, Carter, because I’m going to run for sheriff next election.”
