“Yeah, that’s so.” He lifted his chin in Jane’s direction. “Your wife hasn’t been to town for a while.”
“That’s right.”
“Tru was asking after her, wondering if she shouldn’t invite both of you to Sunday dinner sometime.”
“You discouraged her, I hope.”
Cobb’s smile hinted at his amusement. “You don’t really know my wife, do you?” When Morgan said nothing, Cobb did not press. “I understand you never did run those rustlers to ground.”
“No. Never did.”
“Last time Jessop was in, he told me there hasn’t been any trouble for a while.”
“You can trust what Jessop says.”
“I do. I’m wondering what you think about it. Is it over, or is it a lull?”
“I couldn’t rightly say.” Morgan’s gaze bored holes into the back of Jane’s poppy-trimmed velvet hat, willing to her to turn around. Thus far, it had not worked.
“So you’re sticking to your story that they’re just rustlers.”
“It’s like this, Marshal. I know they’re rustlers. Whether they’re something else is still a question, and we’ve been over it before. Let it be.”
Cobb exhaled softly. There was a hint of impatience in the sound. “You damn well know you’re not making it easy to do that. You’ve never come by to look at the sketches I made of those three men.”
“No, I never did. It’s hard for me to imagine that any of those three would be Jack or Gideon. They’d stay behind, send others to do the scouting.”
“That occurred to me,” Cobb said. “I noticed you and Mrs. Longstreet came alone. You weren’t moving any cattle today.”
“My wife is only learning to ride. She’s not up to herding cows.”
“Funny.”
Morgan shrugged.
“I mention it because your visits to the bank generally coincide with a cattle drive. I figure you make a deposit and take care of your payroll.”
“You have to find something else to do with your time, Bridger.”
“Did I tell you I was studying law?”
“Something else.”
Cobb’s grin appeared, but it was faint and fleeting. “Tell me why you’re here.”
“Finally,” said Morgan. “Never thought you’d get done beating around that bush. Trade places with me.”
“What?”
Morgan crooked his finger at Cobb and then pointed to the space he was occupying. “Trade places.” He stepped aside, waited for Cobb to slide sideways, then stepped into Cobb’s footprints. “Look around.”
Cobb did. “And?”
“Well, from where you’re standing now, you should be able to see that Mr. Webb’s sitting next to an open Barkley and Benjamin safe. That makes the pin and tumbler lock, the four-inch steel door, the two-inch steel lining, and all five hundred thirty-six pounds pretty much just for show. So what I’m doing here besides waiting for my wife to open her own account with this fine institution is resisting the powerful temptation to stuff Mr. Webb in his Barkley and Benjamin and tell my wife she’s better off keeping her money in a trunk.”
“Huh. Maybe I should have a talk with Mr. Webb.”
“Maybe you should. And while you’re at it, keep an eye on Mrs. Stillwell and Mrs. Collins. I think they’ve seen the open safe. They didn’t have the time of day for you because they’re plotting.”
