“How well do you know Jed and Digger?”
“Well enough, I suppose. Jed’s like a pair of old boots. Comfortable. He’s been around longer than Brady. Digger is, well, he’s a bit of a mess, isn’t he? He’s been around for maybe five years, but I wouldn’t say that we’re acquainted. The drinking is a relatively new development. He wasn’t always stupid drunk when he came back from town. The first time he came back that way, Mr. Pye half carried him to the bunkhouse the same as you did. I was surprised when he showed up yesterday with Jed.”
“Probably for the same reason I was. I didn’t think he’d still have a job, not after failing to accompany Brady on the Stonechurch payroll drive.”
Laurel nodded. “Yes. It’s out of character for Sam Henderson to keep a man on when he’s shown himself to be unreliable. I doubt Digger will get a second chance so I hope he’s up on the box tomorrow.”
“Any idea what brought on the heavy drinking?”
“None. I asked Mr. Pye if he knew because it seemedhe made it his business to look out for Digger. He told me that Digger kept his demons to himself.”
“Or maybe he just kept them a secret from Josey Pye,” said Call. “I’ll ask around.”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
Laurel was doubtful and said so. “I don’t think I believe you.”
Call pushed himself out of the rocker. “I’m for bed.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to comment on my skepticism?”
“No.”
Disconcerted, it was a moment before Laurel spoke. “Very well. Good night, then.”
“G’night.”
***
The late morning stage left with Jed Holloway and Digger Leary in the box. Call observed that the near endless poker game took a bigger toll on Jed than the drinking had taken on Digger. The shotgun rider woke bleary-eyed but almost unnaturally cheerful while Jed started grumbling the moment his feet hit the floor. No one seemed to find anything remarkable about their behavior so Call kept his thoughts to himself.
Hank helped Call cut enough planks to board up the entrances to two mines. They tossed the planks on the bed of the buckboard and Dillon harnessed the sure-footed Sylvia to the wagon. Both boys offered to go along, but Rooster had other ideas and they shuffled off behind the older man, heads hanging with exaggerated disappointment.
Call kept the hammer and box of nails beside him on the bench seat and laid the saw in the back. He waved to Mrs. Lancaster as he set off. There was no clear route to follow so the going was slow. Sylvia was a good choice to pull the buckboard. The mare showed no reluctance to make the shallow water crossing, and she was intuitive about picking her way around the rocky outcroppings.
He pulled her up outside the first entrance and began unloading the planks. The entrance was wide enough that another pair of hands would have been helpful to hold the board while he secured one side. He got as far as thinking it when he heard someone approaching from behind. Sylvia whinnied and tossed her head, recognizing the newcomer.
“Could you use some help?” Laurel asked as she dismounted. “I brought my work gloves.” She reached into her saddlebag and pulled them out.
“You read my mind,” said Call. “You want to hold one end of this while I nail the other end into the supports?”
Laurel slipped on her gloves and joined him at the entrance. She hefted her end and held it up. “Why didn’t you ask me to come out with you when everyone else was busy?”
“Truthfully? I didn’t think of it.”
“Because I’m a woman?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Lord, no. Because you’re the boss.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose that’s understandable.” She stepped back when he’d finished securing his side and took over her end. They repeated the work with a second plank, hammering it in crossways so an X barred the entrance.
“That’ll keep the cows out and give a human being pause before entering. At least a human being with some sense.”
“You’re right about the sense. My brothers used to dare me to go in.”
“And you did.”
