“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?”
Landry grinned and winked. “The charming lady of the pies. She was leaving as I was arriving.”
“Leaving Lefty’s?”
“We met on the road. She pulled over so I could pass.”
“You must have mistaken somebody for her.”
Landry tapped him in the chest with the back of his hand and winked again. “Come now, Hutton, who could mistake that face?”
Thatcher wanted to lift him bodily and pitch him headfirst over the bannister. But he knew he was being baited, and that a volatile reaction was what this slick dude was after, so he forced one corner of his mouth to tilt up. “A blind man, maybe.”
“There’s an appealing air of refinement about her, too.” Landry made a spiraling motion with his hand. “I can’t picture her going to that ratty roadhouse for any reason other than it having something to do with her father-in-law getting shot.”
“You’re well informed, Landry.”
“Small-town scuttlebutt,” he said. “I couldn’t go anywhere today without hearing about the raid and the fallout from it. It’s all anyone was talking about.”
Thatcher remained noncommittal and tried to look bored with the subject. He covered a yawn with his hand. “Sorry. As I said, I was off to bed.”
Landry gave him a little bow. “Then don’t let me detain you any longer. Good night.”
“Good night.”
“Sleep tight.”
Landry’s mocking lilt set Thatcher’s teeth on edge. He went into his room, but not to sleep.
* * *
Laurel led the O’Connors down the steps into the cellar and set the lantern on the dirt floor. She gestured toward the stacked wooden crates. “The theft hurt us. That’s our stockpile.”
“That’s it? No jugs?” Davy asked.
“As you see,” she said. “Ernie had hidden ten crates of jars. Even those would barely have covered our orders. Now, they’re gone.”
“Thieving bastards,” Davy muttered.
She had gauged the brothers’ furious reaction to the news of the theft and didn’t believe they would have stolen from her even if they’d known where the crates had been buried. They seemed to understand and appreciate that their enterprise was in dire straits due to the loss of product simultaneous with Irv’s being incapable of working to replace it.
“Ernie is doing a double run tonight,” she said. “In the meantime, this is the supply we have on hand.”
Mike did a quick calculation. “Seventy-two jars. Those roughnecks will have that drunk before we get halfway back from delivering them.”
“I can’t help it, Mike. Nobody counted on these setbacks.”
Davy sighed. “Let’s get the haul into the car, brother, and make the best of it.”
“When you have everything loaded, join me inside. There’s another development to tell you about.”
A few minutes later the two came inside. Davy was about to speak when Laurel put her index finger to her lips. “Softly, please. Irv was restless and grumpy all afternoon. I know he’s in pain, but he’s also fretting over our situation. I let him drink enough to tranquilize him. He’s asleep, and I hope he’ll stay that way till morning.”