“Can’t say for sure,” said Dillon. “I think he stumbled in last night and then left again. His bunk ain’t really been slept in. Anyone else hear him?”
Hank shook his head. “Hard to hear anything over the racket Jed makes. How do you sleep through that, Jed?”
Rooster muttered, “Was wondering the same thing myself.”
Call had no comment. He thought of himself as a light sleeper, but he hadn’t heard Digger Leary come in. When he woke this morning, he retained a vivid memory of a dream involving Miss Laurel Beth Morrison, a picnic basket that never got opened, and a blue-and-white-checkered quilted blanket that they sat on, then lay down on, and finally made love on. With very little effort, he could have retrieved that dream. In other circumstances, he might have done so, but Sunday supper was hardly the time and place.
Stealing a glance at her now, Call decided that his imagination had not done her justice. He hadn’t pictured her as she was now with her chestnut hair smoothly coiled at the back of her head. The wisps of hair that escaped the ivory combs framed her face and added a softening effect. He also hadn’t visualized her in a gown. She was still wearing the daffodil-yellow dress she had worn to church.This morning he’d watched her walk off to services flanked by the Booker brothers. Her skirt swayed. He had a glimpse of petticoat that was infinitely more intriguing than anything he had seen at Mrs. Fry’s.
Jed Holloway ignored the comments about his snoring and turned sideways to address Laurel. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you are looking as fine as sunshine, Miss Laurel. I don’t know that there’s a color in the rainbow that doesn’t suit you, but you’re particularly fetching in yellow.”
“Thank you, Jed. I don’t mind you saying so at all.”
Although she accepted the compliment graciously, Call noticed that a pale wash of pink touched her cheeks and the light dusting of freckles vanished. Damn, but he liked those freckles, though he had to grudgingly admit that the translucent pink was fetching, too. He just wished he’d been the one to put the color in her complexion. Call had some regret about not accompanying her to the tent church at the far end of town. He wasn’t one for attending services and hadn’t been for a long time. It seemed a mite hypocritical to make an appearance in the Lord’s house when he had carnal thoughts on his mind and he wasn’t looking for redemption. He still had just enough of the Good Book’s beliefs left in him to consider the possibility that he’d be struck down for carrying those thoughts inside the tent.
So he’d stayed back while the others went to church and rode out a ways on Artemis, following the Morrison property perimeter that Rooster had described. A fence line made it relatively easy to get an estimate of the size of the spread. He found evidence of long-abandoned mine shafts and recalled that Laurel told him there had been mining in and around Falls Hollow for a time.
“Have you thought about boarding up those entrances to the old mines on your property?” he asked, raising both eyebrows when everyone stopped eating and turned to look at him. “What?”
“I think you must have been a hundred miles away,”Laurel said. Her smile was gentle but left no doubt that she was amused. “We were discussing Dillon’s interpretation of this morning’s sermon.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He waved his fork at Dillon. “Go on.”
Dillon returned to his favorite theme of questioning the preacher’s every tenet while his brother challenged him just to see his face turn red. Laurel leaned toward Call and whispered, “Talk to me later about what you’re thinking.” And then she leaned into the conversation and never looked Call’s way again.
***
It was dusk when Call saw Digger Leary returning. For a man who had allegedly spent his time away from the station drinking at Sweeny’s, he was walking upright in a mostly straight line. Call watched from where he was standing at the entrance to the barn to determine if Digger needed help to reach the bunkhouse. He didn’t move until the man stumbled, dropped to one knee, and struggled to rise.
“Need a hand?” asked Call, extending his.
Drink made Digger’s smile loose and sloppy. His rheumy eyes were vaguely unfocused. He still managed to regard Call warily. “Who are you?”
“McCall Landry. We met yesterday.” Call kept his hand out.
“Did we? Suppose that’s good.”
“Yes. Do you need help?”
Digger’s hand wavered until it found Call’s. “Thanks.” He didn’t help much as Call pulled him to his feet. “That’s better.”
Call didn’t release his grip until he thought Digger could stand on his own. “It seemed like you were steadier when I first saw you.”
“Don’t know. Might’ve been. It’s a long walk from there to here, wherever there was.”
“Right. You good now?”
“Yep.” Digger took two steps before his legs started tofold. “Whoa.” He managed to straighten, weaved a bit, and then looked back. “Maybe I could use some help.”
Nodding, Call gave Digger his shoulder for support and was careful not to breathe too deeply. The man was ripe with the scent of sweat and spirits. Digger Leary had been stewing in his own juices for too long. Call was tempted to pitch him in the watering trough on their way to the bunkhouse. He didn’t, but only because he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Lancaster coming out the back door carrying a bucket. That good Christian woman would probably cheer him on if he were to dump Digger in the trough, but Call doubted the same could be said of Laurel when she heard about it.
Call released Digger as soon as they reached the man’s bunk. He stepped back and let Digger find his own way onto the bed. He wasn’t surprised when the man simply pitched forward. Call picked up his feet and swiveled him lengthwise onto the mattress. Digger groaned softly, turned on his side, and mumbled something that might have been thank you or go to hell. Call left him to his own devices and removed himself from the stink.
Rooster met him crossing the yard. “The boys and Jed and me are gonna play cards. You want to join us?”
Call glanced back at the bunkhouse and then looked doubtfully at Rooster. “You’ll want to give the place a chance to air out. That’s why I left the door open.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, well, Hank saw you with Digger and knew what was what. He asked Laurel if we could play in the dining room and she said sure. You interested? Ain’t none of us with money to waste. We play with matchsticks.”
