Rooster shrugged. “Happens from time to time thatsomeone leaves, someone doesn’t make the trade, someone takes ill. Puts the schedule off. You heard the boys. We’re righting it now. More’s the pity.”
“You don’t like hosting them?”
“Doesn’t matter what I like. Miss Laurel’s got the contract and the stage line pays for boarding the drivers. She accepted the terms and likes to keep them. Me? I wish we had separate lodgings for them, but you know what they say about wishes.”
“If they were horses, beggars would ride?”
“Huh? If they were fishes, we’d all cast our nets.”
Call huffed a soft laugh. “That’s true, too.”
Rooster changed the subject. “What’s that you were doing for Miss Laurel when the stage came in?”
Call told him about the porch. “It won’t require much of my time if you need me for something else.”
“No. I got this. You go on.”
Call didn’t ask again. He wanted to get back to the porch work, but it was more important that he made sure Hank and Dillon didn’t give one of the overnight boarders the bed where the strongbox was once again concealed in the chest paired with it. As it happened, he didn’t have to say anything. The brothers were setting out blankets on other beds. They both looked up when he entered the bunkhouse.
“Just needed to get something,” said Call. He rummaged through his belongings and randomly chose a comb out of his kit. Aware of their curiosity, he held up the comb before he pocketed it and said the first thing that came to his mind. “Grooming. Not only for horses.”
Wearing identical expressions of bemusement, Hank and Dillon stared at Call then at each other until laughter broke through. Call could hear them laughing long after he left the bunkhouse. “Grooming,” he repeated under his breath. “Not only for horses.” It was a sure bet that the brothers thought he was a cartridge shy of a full load. It had been that kind of laughter. Shaking his head, Callpicked up the saw and resumed the work he’d been asked to do before the arrival of the stage.
Laurel came outside when the passengers were leaving. If she was aware of him pausing to watch her, she paid him no mind. Jed Holloway and Digger Leary stood on either side of her and had words with their replacements, who were already taking their positions on the box. The three of them remained there until the stage moved on and then Jed turned in the direction of the bunkhouse, Digger started walking toward town, and Laurel set her path on the diagonal and was coming to him.
Without preamble, she asked, “What did you learn?”
Call required a moment to get oriented to the question. Her long-legged and unhurried approach had held his attention for a little too long. By the time she’d reached him, he was holding the saw so loosely it fell from his hand. He bent, picked it up, and laid it over the board he was preparing to cut. He offered a brief apologetic smile though it did not seem to be expected.
“No one knew anything about a strongbox,” he said. “I didn’t mention that we’d found one. I gave them an opportunity to mention that they’d seen a box around or owned one. No one did. I asked about Josey Pye and anyone who came before him. They were sure they’d never known anyone to have so many valuables or money to squirrel it away in a strongbox.”
“Did you inquire about what they do with their pay?”
“Hmm. I eased into that one. Truth is, I needed advice about it. I’ve been wondering what to do with the money that Mr. Stonechurch gave me for miscellaneous expenses. It’s making my boots a tad tight.”
Laurel’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re keeping notes in your boots?”
“For now. Legal tenderfoot.”
She groaned softly. “That was horrible.”
“Sorry.” He shrugged, grinning. “Anyway, Rooster has an account at the bank. Dillon and Hank turn over mostof their wages to their mother and she gives it back in the form of an allowance. It seems to work for them. They agreed that Josey Pye spent his money almost as fast as he earned it on those visits to Mrs. Fry’s and less often at Sweeny’s.”
Laurel took this in, nodded slowly. “How confident are you that Mr. Pye owned that strongbox?”
“He ownedastrongbox, notthatstrongbox. The one we found likely belongs to Henderson Express or Stonechurch or the bank that released the payroll.”
“Yes,” she said. “Of course. I understand that. But tell me how confident you are that Mr. Pye had it in his possession.”
“Close to one hundred percent.”
“Even though Rooster and the boys never saw him with a strongbox?”
“Oh, I don’t think he kept his in the bunkhouse, at least not until he was prepared to use it.”
Laurel stared at him. Her mouth twisted to one side as she tried to work what he was telling her. “Then... oh.” Her puzzled expression cleared. “Mrs. Fry’s.”
“I think so. I’ll know more after I visit the house.” He waited to see if she would comment. She didn’t. She didn’t even look troubled by the thought of him going to the brothel. It was discouraging. “Are you familiar with a woman named Desiree? You might know her as Desi.”
