If Catfish Had Nine Lives(51)

            “I like that,” I said.

            Jake looked at me as if to ask what he should do next. I didn’t know, so I looked at Gram. Jim decided for us.

            “That all?” he said.

            “I believe so,” Jake said.

            “Well, we need to get back to it, then,” Jim said. He’d had his moment of sentiment.

            “Got it.” Jake stood. Gram and I followed suit, and then she and I paraded out of the jail as Jake carefully refolded the fake letter, keeping the act going. Cliff and I shared a glance, but it was clear that he didn’t feel like he could take the time to talk to me privately or give me any new details. Hopefully later.

            “Well, should we check out the next letter? We still have time,” Gram said as she and I stood outside on the boardwalk. Joe and the horse were now in the middle of the street. “We can move to Jake’s archives. Joe, come on, bring the horse.”

            “So, that was it?” I said. “Was something else supposed to happen?”

            “Nope. Just moving on to the next letter.”

            “That’s a bit disappointing.”

            “I do think we’re getting closer to something happening though. Come on, let’s get into Jake’s.”

            Gram led the way across the street. Joe and the horse followed her.

            Jake was the last one out of the jail, and he stopped next to me as he watched Gram.

            “Did that do what it was supposed to do?” he asked.

            “Nothing happened, but I think so. I think all the letters have to be delivered before the ‘big thing’ happens. Gram wants to read the next one. She and the ghosts are going to your archives.”

            “I wish I could see that horse. Come on. I’d like to hear about the next letter.”

            The horse’s big body in the back room made me uncomfortable, so I asked if we could leave him in the front. I was certain the animal agreed with my plan as he focused his brown eyes on me. He blinked his long, mostly transparent lashes and briefly lifted one side of his mouth. Was he really trying to communicate something? Unless he started tapping Morse code with his hooves, I would probably never know. I doubted that even in their ghostly form could animals master a spoken language. I nodded at him just in case, though. At least he should know I was aware of his attempts at communication.

            “Two more, Miz,” Joe said with a bright smile. “Two more and I think everything will be taken care of.”

            Taken care of?

            Joe reached into the mochila, but stopped cold when he saw something on Jake’s table. I moved so I could see what had had such an effect. Joe was looking at Jake’s picture of Astin Reagal.

            “Who . . . who’s this?” Joe said.

            “Jake, Joe sees the picture of Astin. He’d like to know more about him. He’s standing right about here.” I pointed at Joe.

            “There’s a chance you knew him, Joe. He was a Pony Express rider, too. His name was Astin Reagal. He disappeared on the trail.”

            “I know,” Joe said.

            “He knows,” I said to Jake. “How do you know? Did you know him?” I said to Joe.

            Joe shook his head slowly as if to clear out some cobwebs. “I . . .” He looked up at Gram.

            “What is it, Joe?” she asked.

            “I knew him,” Joe repeated.