She pulled out of the middle of the road, allowing the other vehicle to pass her. It was a newer model than hers by several years, the shiny black paint defiant of the powdery road, but she was relieved to see that it didn’t have an official seal stenciled on the side.

She continued on her way and blessed the second she reached the highway without anyone in pursuit. Still shaken, but calmer than she had been, she pointed herself toward town.

Thirty-Six

After leaving Bill Amos to deal with his situation at home, Thatcher rode the gelding back to Barker’s, then put in a long day of work, exercising every horse in the stable and trying to correct whatever bad habit or stubborn trait each had.

He kept his distance from Fred and Roger. The youngster had developed a case of hero worship since the incident with the rattlesnake and often trailed Thatcher around like a puppy. Today the two picked up on his desire for solitude and stayed away from the stable and corral.

Learning of Bill’s circumstances had left Thatcher with conflicting emotions that were equally strong and unshakeable. Throughout the day, he fluctuated between being angry and resentful over Bill’s manipulation, while also feeling compassion for his personal torment.

And prior to that distressing conversation with Bill, he’d had the set-to with Laurel.

He was ready to see an end to this day.

He returned to the boardinghouse in time to fill a plate with what was left of the cold supper and ate alone in the dining room, even as the landlady was clearing the dishes and utensils off the long table with more clatter than necessary. When finished eating, he dodged the residents seeking companionship and headed for his room.

He’d almost reached the third floor when he was called to from below. “Hutton.”

Chester Landry was rounding the landing on the second floor. His gold tooth caught the light from a wall fixture as he smiled up at Thatcher. “Hold up.”

Shit. Chester Landry’s intrusion was the perfect top-off to this crappy day.

He replied unenthusiastically to the salesman’s greeting and was tempted to continue on to his room, but, in spite of himself, he was curious to see if Landry would refer to the roadhouse raid.

Landry reached him and took a moment to catch his breath. “You’d think I would be conditioned to climbing these infernal stairs by now.” He inhaled deeply, then asked, “Am I keeping you from anything?”

“Bed.”

“That kind of day?”

“And then some.”

“Would you consider going out for a little refreshment? Grab a Coca-Cola at the filling station?”

“No, thanks. I’m ready to hit the hay.”

“Well then, another time.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I feel at loose ends tonight.”

“Ask your buddy to go with you.”

“Buddy?” He tipped his head and looked at Thatcher with puzzlement, which Thatcher thought was faked. “Oh, you mean Randy? He’s moved on.”

It occurred to Thatcher only now that he hadn’t seen the young man around lately. “Where’d he go?”

“God knows. Greener pastures, I guess.” He shrugged. “I missed seeing him around and inquired about him. Mrs. May said he left without notice. She went up to collect his rent, which was a day late. He’d cleared out in the dead of night.” He chuckled. “Sounds like something impulsive and irresponsible he would do.”

Thatcher thought Landry’s dry laugh also seemed faked. When Thatcher didn’t join in, Landry must have sensed his reserve. He glanced down the staircase to make certain no one else was around. No one was. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice to a confidential level.

“We’re avoiding the subject we’re both dying to talk about.”

Thatcher just looked at him.

“Come on, Hutton.” For the first time ever, some of Landry’s polish dimmed and he showed annoyance. “I didn’t see you, but I heard you were there last night.”

“I saw you, running away.”

“Yes, our perspectives were entirely different. We were on opposite sides of the bedlam.” When Thatcher didn’t respond, Landry said, “No comment on that?”

“What do you want to know?”

“From kidnap suspect to deputy sheriff is a very broad leap. You covered it in a matter of weeks. How did you manage to curry the sheriff’s favor and become a deputy?”

“I didn’t.”

He declared it as a fact, but that damn badge was still in his breast pocket. After listening to Bill’s tragic tale, witnessing the heartache, sorrow, and despair that he lived with daily, Thatcher hadn’t had the heart to return the badge with the stern put-down he’d rehearsed.

“What I heard was that you were in the thick of it with the sheriff’s men.”

“I went for a hamburger, and got caught up in it.” He stopped there, not feeling a need to explain or justify anything he did to this popinjay. “What were you doing there, Landry? Fitting the soiled doves with new shoes?”

Thatcher got a flash of the gold tooth when Landry threw his head back and laughed. “You have a sense of humor after all. I was beginning to wonder.” Recovering from his laughter, he said, “God help any man who goes near one of those girls. I’m sure they’re petri dishes for VD.

“No, I went only for a hamburger, too, but couldn’t resist the enticement of a drink. You were the one who told me about the place, remember? Did you know about the back room?”

“I’d heard rumors.” Thatcher paused, then asked, “That was your first time there?”

“Rotten luck to choose last night to try it out, huh?”

“I’d say.”

“Having to escape arrest wasn’t the worst of it. In the melee, I lost my pocket watch. I went back today to see if it had been found and turned in. The madam…” He raised his eyebrows. “…denied having seen it. I doubt that’s true, but there was a shotgun within her reach, so I wasn’t about to question her honesty.”

“Good call.”

Landry shuddered. “Lord, she’s a species unto herself. To make the unpleasant encounter even worse, she was already in a foul temper when I arrived. I hope her ire wasn’t provoked by Mrs. Plummer.”

Thatcher felt like a bolt of lightning had shot through him, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. Every nerve ending in his body sizzled. “Laurel Plummer?”