Chapter Six
THE AFTERNOON SUN STREAMEDinto the depot, lighting up the dusty corners and illuminating the bits of dirt that passengers had tracked inside. The waiting room was empty now, although a few people still strolled about the platform.
It was the perfect opportunity to speak with the stationmaster—Jeremy’s former employer.
The man stood behind the counter, muttering under his breath as he counted something spread out on the counter in front of him. Stuart hesitated. Gerald Rose was awfully busy . . .
No. He needed to speak with the man.
Norah had no idea he was here. He couldn’t bring himself to speak with her after Mrs. Parker’s blatant matchmaking attempt at dinner last night. Just the thought of Norah’s turning scarlet from hairline to neckline made him pull at his collar. Even worse, after the initial embarrassment had worn off, all he could think about was how it was impossible to tell what Norah thought of the idea.
And then he’d spent half the night trying to force the thought from his head.
Thankfully, thoughts of Norah and wondering about what she thought of him had diminished as he’d thrown himself into work at Joliet’s Cañon City Shipping and Freight. He’d done more work in one morning than he’d accomplished all week. He’d been about to lose himself in tallying the week’s receipts when Papa had essentially pushed him out the door, saying he hadn’t even gotten all the receipts pulled together, and besides, there was still one more shipment due in on the last train from Santa Fe.
At a loss for how else to spend his time, Stuart had found himself here at the depot. If he’d promised to help Norah, he’d best get on with it. The sooner he showed her evidence of Jeremy’s wrongdoing, the sooner she could drop all of this nonsense about his innocence.
He stepped up to the counter. “Pardon me, Mr. Rose?”
The older man looked up from his counting. Stubs of tickets lay spread out before him. A smile spread across his face. “Stuart, it’s good to see you. You’re here early. That Santa Fe run isn’t due in until seven o’clock.”
“I’m not here for the shipment. It’s . . . well . . .” Why hadn’t he taken a moment to compose his thoughts? To think of some less awkward way of inquiring after Mr. Rose’s former employee. He glanced around—why, precisely, he didn’t know. Except it felt as if any conversation about Jeremy needed to occur in private. He forged ahead. “I’ve come to ask you about Jeremy Parker.”
Mr. Rose’s friendly smile instantly disappeared. He shook his head. “Messy business that was. A shame, too. An utter shame.”
Stuart clasped his hands behind his back, trying to think of how to ask what he wanted to know. “Jeremy was a friend of mine. I’m not sure if you knew that?”
The man’s face crinkled into a sad smile. “It would be hard to forget you boys running across my platform.”
The memory sparked a smile for Stuart too. It seemed so long ago, back when neither of them had a care in the world beyond whatever fun they could find that day. “I suppose I’m still thinking about it all. Still trying to piece together where everything went wrong.” And wasn’t that the truth. Although he’d put the questions to rest long ago, and given up trying to figure it out.
Until Norah.
“I was wondering if you remembered Jeremy acting differently before the robbery attempt. Did he say or do anything that surprised you or that felt out of character for him?”
Mr. Rose pressed his hands against the counter. “I told the judge this, and I’ll tell you too. I don’t, in fact. Aside from one visit from that no account fellow—Maddox, his name was, the one Jeremy had taken to meeting up with at the Archer House—remember him?”
Stuart tried his best not to scowl. He remembered Tip Maddox all too well. In fact, he’d seen the man from time to time since then, looking as unsavory as ever. Stuart gave Mr. Rose a short nod.
“That Maddox fellow only came by here once, though. I think Jeremy knew I didn’t care for the man. Besides that, Jeremy was as he usually was. Punctual, friendly, and a hard worker. I thought he’d take on my duties when I finally decided I’d had enough.” Mr. Rose shrugged. “But he spent more and more time with Maddox and those other fellows, and although his work never suffered, I feared he was headed down the wrong road. Sure enough . . .”
He didn’t need to say any more. Stuart wholeheartedly agreed with him. He’d found himself without a friend as Jeremy spent more and more of his free time at the saloons and gambling halls with Maddox and the others.
“I told the judge that too.” Mr. Rose shook his head. “Hated saying it, but it needed being said. It was awfully clear he’d taken advantage of his work here and a man had to die for it.”
