“I need a pair of trousers and a new shirt,” Matt said.
The clerk, evidently believing that he had a gift for fashion, attempted to pick out the trousers and shirt. He chose a pair of fawn-colored trousers and a bright orange shirt.
“Oh, I think you would look very nice in this,” the clerk said.
“I would feel better in this,” Matt said, picking up a pair of blue denims and a white collarless shirt.
Both Teasdale and Moreton Frewen had telephones in their houses, with direct lines to the switchboard in town. In fact, they were two of only thirty-five private telephones in the entire town; but Teasdale’s foreman, Stan Reed, was in town, and shortly after the gunfight occurred, he went directly to the telephone exchange.
The switchboard was in the living room of Gordon Prouty’s house. Prouty was the operator. Reed pulled on the bell cord, and Prouty, who was eating a piece of fried chicken, answered the door.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I want to call Mr. Teasdale.”
“It’ll cost you a nickel,” Prouty said.
Reed gave him a nickel, and Prouty pointed to a telephone mounted on the wall. “Go over there and pick it up,” he said. Prouty connected the line, then turned a crank.
Teasdale was eating his dinner when the telephone rang, and when Margaret started to answer it, Teasdale held up his hand.
“I’ll get it,” he said. “I’m expecting a call.” He hurried over to the phone.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Teasdale, I thought you might like to know that this fella Matt Jensen that ever’one has been talkin’ about got into town today.”
“How do you know?” Teasdale asked.
“How do I know is because almost the first thing he done after he got here was he got into a gunfight with Kyle Houston.”
Teasdale smiled. “Houston kill him, did he? Well, I guess that ...”
“No sir,” Reed said, interrupting him.
“What do you mean, no sir? I thought you said the first thing he did after coming to town was to get into a gunfight with Houston.”
“Yes, sir, that’s what he done, all right. Only he didn’t get killed, he was the one that done the killin’. It’s Kyle Houston who is dead.”
Teasdale hung up with saying another word.
After he’d made his purchases, Matt returned to The Lion and The Crown Saloon. The bartender waved him over.
“It’s Room Four, Mr. Jensen,” Moore said, handing Matt a key. “Second room on your left.”
Matt climbed the stairs then opened the door to the room. There was a zinc bathtub in the room, filled with water. The little wisps of steam that were rising from the water indicated that the water was warm. Matt slipped down into the tub, where he soaked for nearly an hour. Then, with his skin red from the hot water and soapy scrub, he dried off and walked over to lie down on the bed. Still naked from his bath, he crawled between the stiff, clean sheets, and was asleep within moments.
The room was dark when he woke up. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. Then he remembered that he had taken a room over the saloon. At that same moment, he realized that he was awake because something had awakened him, though he didn’t know what it was.
The doorknob rattled quietly, and all confusion and hesitancy were gone. Matt was out of bed, on his feet instantly. Pulling his pistol from the holster that hung on the head of the bed, he moved as quietly as a stalking cat to the wall next to the door. He cocked his pistol, pulling back the hammer as slowly and quietly as he could to silence the engaging sear. With the pistol cocked and loaded, he held it at the ready.
The night breeze pushing through the window cooled his skin, reminding him that he was naked. Damn! He was about to get into a gunfight, and he was naked! How would the paper write that up if he was killed? He could feel the texture of the boards under his feet. He was intensely alert, ready for anything.
He heard whoever was trying to break into his room breathing on the other side of the door. The hall lanterns were lit, and a sliver of light shot in under the door. From the saloon below, he could hear the nighttime revelry, a playing piano, and someone laughing.
Matt waited.
Whoever was coming into his room wasn’t breaking into it. They had a key! The doorknob turned again and the door began to swing open, spilling an ever-widening arc of light into the room.
Matt watched the door ease open, away from him. As it did, the arc of light turned into a bar of light that splashed all the way across to the foot of the bed. A shadow filled the door, gliding in through the opening, backlit by the lantern on the wall in the hall beyond.
What the hell?” Matt whispered in surprise, letting his breath escape in a rush. The person trying to get into his room was a woman!
Matt grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her inside. He closed the door quickly behind her, the motion pulling her against him. She let out a cry of alarm.
“Who are you?” Matt asked, backing away from her.
“My name is Lily,” the woman answered in a frightened voice. “Lily Langtry.”
“Lily Langtry? I’ve heard of you,” Matt said, lowering his pistol. “The next question is, what are you doing in my room?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” Lily replied. “This is my room. I’ve been staying here for two weeks.”
“What?”
“I’m a friend of Moreton Frewen,” Lily said. She chuckled. “However, I am not a friend of his wife, Clara. So when I come to visit, I have to make other arrangements. This room is my other arrangement, and has been for the last two weeks.”
“I, uh, don’t know what to say,” Matt said. “I rented a room, and this is the room the bartender gave me.”
“Wait a minute, I think I know what must have happened,” Lily said. “I was in Room Three, but I asked to be changed to this room. There is some construction going on down the street, and when they get started in the morning, the hammering and sawing awakens me. I complained about it to Johnny this morning, and he gave me a key to this room. He must not have told Harry. I’ll go back across to Room Three. I really didn’t expect to see you in here.” She paused for a moment, and Matt saw a twinkling of humor in her eyes. “And I especially didn’t expect to see so much of you.”
Matt felt his cheeks burning, and he was glad that it was too dark for her to see that. He stepped back into the shadow to restore some modesty, if not dignity.
“You don’t have to keep looking, you know,” he said.
Lily laughed, a low, throaty laugh. “I see your point,” she said. “I’ll just step back across the hall now. I do apologize for disturbing you. Good night, now.”
A slight morning breeze filled the muslin curtains and lifted them out over the wide-planked floor. Matt, clean from his bath the night before and wearing his new clothes, moved to the window to look out over the town, which was just beginning to awaken. From the laundry, he could hear the chattering of the Chinese employees as they built the fires to heat the water. Boxes were being stacked behind the grocery store as a team of four big horses pulled a fully loaded freight wagon down the main street.
A stagecoach was sitting at the coach depot, and one man was on top of the coach receiving luggage from another man who was passing it up to him. The door of the coach was open, and passengers were just now getting onboard.
From somewhere in town, Matt could smell bacon frying and his stomach growled, reminding him that he was hungry. He splashed some water in the basin, washed his face and hands, then put on his hat and went downstairs. It was too early for the normal clientele, but there were a couple of people already here and they were sitting at separate tables, staring silently into their breakfast beer. Neither of them paid any attention to Matt as he walked through the saloon. The bartender was not the same one who had been on duty the previous night.