“No, Cahill came in just before I said I would stop the stage, but I remember particularly that before I spoke I waited for him to get back to the exchange.”
“And Crosby tells me,” continued Carr, “that the instant you had gone he looked into the exchange and saw Cahill at the farthest corner from the door. He could have heard nothing.”
“If you ask me, I think you've begun at the wrong end,” said Ranson. “If I were looking for the Red Rider I'd search for him in Kiowa City.”
“Why?”
“Because, at this end no one but a few officers knew that the paymaster was coming, while in Kiowa everybody in the town knew it, for they saw him start. It would be very easy for one of those cowboys to ride ahead and lie in wait for him in the buttes. There are several tough specimens in Kiowa. Any one of them would rob a man for twenty dollars—let alone ten thousand. There's 'Abe' Fisher and Foster King, and the Chase boys, and I believe old 'Pop' Henderson himself isn't above holding up one of his own stages.”
“He's above shooting himself in the lungs,” said Carr. “Nonsense. No, I am convinced that someone followed you from this post, and perhaps Cahill can tell us who that was. I sent for him this morning, and he's waiting at my quarters now. Suppose I ask him to step over here, so that we can discuss it together.”
Before he answered, Ranson hesitated, with his eyes on the ground. He had no way of knowing whether Mary Cahill had told her father anything of what he had said to her that morning. But if she had done so, he did not want to meet Cahill in the presence of a third party for the first time since he had learned the news.
“I'll tell you what I wish you would do,” he said. “I wish you'd let me see Cahill first, by myself. What I want to see him about has nothing to do with the hold-up,” he added. “It concerns only us two, but I'd like to have it out of the way before we consult him as a witness.”
Carr rose doubtfully. “Why, certainly,” he said; “I'll send him over, and when you're ready for me step out on the porch and call. I'll be sitting on my veranda. I hope you've had no quarrel with Cahill—I mean I hope this personal matter is nothing that will prejudice him against you.”
Ranson smiled. “I hope not, too,” he said. “No, we've not quarrelled—yet,” he added.