‘I dunno whether yuh can help me or not, Horton. In case a telegram comes for anybody in Mesa City, how do yuh handle it?’
‘Mail it to ’em right away.’
‘Do yuh keep any record of telegrams?’
‘Oh, sure; we keep a copy. Of course we never let anybody——’
‘If it was orders from the sheriff’s office?’
Horton grinned. ‘Well, that’s different, of course.’
‘In the last few weeks have you had any telegrams for Peter Morgan?’
‘The big cowman who got murdered? Mebby I did. It seems to me I sent one—lemme see.’
He lifted a bulky book to the counter and opened it. The leaves were of yellow tissue, bearing the imprint of telegrams written in copying ink. Swiftly the agent went through the recent imprints. Not many telegrams came to Cañonville.
‘There’s one,’ he said, pointing at it, as he swung the book around for them to read.