Call nodded and switched chairs. “Got it. Am I going to work for you?”
“Still thinking on it. You?”
“Still thinking on it.”
Stonechurch sat back in his wide armchair and regarded Call with a calculating gaze. He pressed his lips together and tilted his head to one side. “My brother was supposed to join us. He was here for a while but he couldn’twait any longer. A situation in the number one mine required his attention. Leo is our problem solver. He’s also a better judge of character than I am.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “Do you believe that?”
“About your brother being the problem solver? Sure. A better judge of character? I doubt it.”
“Good. He’s not. Sees the best in everyone. Optimistic to a fault. That’s Leo.”
“That’s probably what makes him good at solving problems. You have to believe there’s a solution to find one.”
“I like that, Mr. Landry.”
“Call.”
“Yes. All right. Call.” Stonechurch folded his thickly knuckled hands on the desktop when he leaned forward. “I’m estimating that I sent for you a little over an hour ago. You took your time coming.”
“Waking up. Washing up. That takes time. Had a bite to eat, too. Also arranged for the station to hold on to my belongings. Came here straightaway after that.”
“I appreciate your honesty, but I expect less attending to your needs and more attending to mine.”
“You mean if I work for you.”
“Yes.”
“But I don’t,” said Call. “And here’s more honesty you might or might not appreciate. Even if I draw down pay from you, my needs will pretty much always come first. There could be situations where our needs are one and the same. In those cases, we won’t have any conflict.”
“I see. For a man who told me last night that he wasn’t exactly flush, you don’t seem eager to ingratiate yourself to a potential employer.”
Call shrugged. “I lean toward optimism, like your brother. Something will turn up.”
“Maybe it will.” Stonechurch unfolded his hands and placed them on the arms of his chair. He tapped the calloused pads of his fingers against the curved wooden arms. “I received a reply from Miss Morrison.”
“Oh?” Call had considered several reasons that wouldprompt Stonechurch to command his presence. A reply from Morrison Station had been the most likely. It seemed to him that whatever the news, Brady should have been invited to hear it. Last night the driver had been marginally successful at concealing his fear, but Call figured he’d been sick with it. “And she told you...”
“Seems one of her stage tenders ran off last night. Took a mare that didn’t belong to him and disappeared. You’ll likely know that horse thievery is a serious offense in these parts.”
“In other parts, too.”
Stonechurch nodded. “Just so. Her message was short on detail, but it was clear that she made an attempt to find him, which is likely why she was so long responding to me. She thought she was looking for a horse thief and that would have kept her on the trail most of the night. Miss Morrison isn’t one to give up easily.”
Call hadn’t been around her long enough to share that judgment, but he was glad to hear that Stonechurch thought so. “Brady mentioned something last night about her burying her father and brothers. What was that about?”
“Not the most important thing right now, but I understand your curiosity and I’m going to indulge it because itwillbe important.” Stonechurch stopped drumming his fingers and for several long moments the silence was portentous. “Laurel’s father and her two brothers were murdered in a raid on the station. This was seven years ago, not long after Lee surrendered at Appomattox. There were rebel stragglers, deserters, and even men who served with honor traveling through here. Some looking for work. Others looking for trouble. It was inevitable that they found each other, united by their defeat and their hunger and their need to keep on fighting.
“They roamed around, taking what they wanted at the point of their swords and guns, and there wasn’t much resistance because they perfected the ambush. In the raid at Morrison Station, the fellow riding shotgun was one of the raiders. The driver never had a chance. Mr. Morrisonand his sons were unsuspecting and unarmed. There was no reason to gun them down except that it’s what the rebels wanted to do. Miss Morrison’s never spoken to me about what happened. What I know is from a couple of the passengers who were robbed but not killed and eventually ended up here in Stonechurch. Their stories were similar, and the way they told it is that Miss Morrison returned fire from inside the house. She must have witnessed all of it. She killed one of the men and wounded another. All but the man she killed got away and she was left to bury her family. When Brady said she had help, that’s the first I knew of it.”
“Rooster.”
Stonechurch nodded. “Telegraph lines hadn’t come out this way yet. She was on her own. Folks put together a posse but nothing came of it. Several of the raiders were from the same family. Everyone got to calling them the Grant clan, but that didn’t aid in the search. It’s been seven years now and no one’s heard from them in almost that long. There were more raids with no consequences to the clan so I’m not sure how or why they disappeared. One day they were a scourge and then they weren’t.”
Stonechurch’s cheeks plumped and then deflated as he blew out a breath. “Not that I believe we’ve heard the last of them. Their kind doesn’t change their ways. They’ve probably just moved on and I’ll wager Miss Morrison thinks about that each day.”
“You don’t think they’re responsible for your payroll theft, do you?”
“No, but only because no one died. Death was their calling card.”
