over the boardwalk, he thumbed though the papers. He read a couple of follow-up notes regarding the construction of the new jailhouse followed by replies to his queries to neighboring counties and states.
None of the lawmen had information about anyone meeting Morgan’s description. So far the news didn’t flesh out his instincts. He stuffed the messages into his pocket and reached to unloop his horse’s reins from the hitching rail. He still had a full day of getting a temporary office put together ahead, and he had yet to visit the gunsmith and the hardware store.
Mounting, he headed toward north Main. The same group of plains Indians he’d seen earlier were loading supplies into the back of a wagon with the help of one of the mercantile owner’s hired men.
Clay nodded to the men and tipped his hat to the women. The females greeted him with smiles. “No paper,” one of the women said to him.
“No paper,” he agreed, with a grin.
Odd how Sophie had spotted that con going on right there on the platform with so many people crowded together. But then Newton was the place for it, the railroad hub, and everyone who came through by rail passed that station. The people who worked at the Arcade probably saw more than anyone else.
He found himself wondering if he’d have a chance to visit the dining hall with all he had going on. Eating there had become much more appealing of late.
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