“If this here fella in the picture is Matt Jensen, then yes, sir, that’s exactly what I’m sayin’,” Claibie said.
“All right, suppose it is. Suppose he did bring a string of horses into town. What does that have to do with my horse? What makes you think he’s the one that stole it?” Cummins asked.
“Because after he brung them horses in, we started talking about horses and such. I mean, him not havin’ one, you see. He rode in here on one of the horses that belongs to the stage line. He said he was lookin’ for a horse, so I told him about the sorrel you had for sale and he seemed real interested. I figured maybe he would buy it, and maybe if he done that, why, you’d give me a little somethin’ for steerin’ him to you. Of course, after seein’ his picture on this poster, I know why he was interested. And of course, that bein’ his horse you had, why, he wouldn’t have no trouble ridin’ it or nothin’.”
“It wasn’t his horse!” Cummins said angrily. “That horse was contraband. I confiscated it legal and proper after the trial.”
“Excuse me, Marshal, but when you do that, aren’t you supposed to hold an auction, with all the proceeds to go to the city?” Kyle asked.
“I did hold an auction,” Cummins said. “And I bought and paid for it, with my own money. That money did go to the city.”
“When did you see Jensen?” Kyle asked.
“Two days ago,” Claibie answered.
Kyle looked at Cummins. “And when was your horse stolen?”
“Two days ago,” Cummins admitted.
“Then I’d say that Claibie is right. Jensen is the one who took it.”
“Claibie, if you saw him, why the hell didn’t you report him to someone?” Cummins asked.
“How was I to know who he was, Marshal? He never told me his name or nothin’. And I hadn’t never seen him.”
“You didn’t see him at the trial?” Kyle asked.
“I didn’t know nothin’ ’bout the trial. By the time I heard about Gillis gettin’ hisself kilt and all, why, this here fella had already been tried and was on the train to Yuma to get hisself hung.”
Kyle looked at Cummins. “Are you telling me that the killing and the trial happened on the same day?”
“Yes.”
“And Judge Craig allowed that?”
“Judge Craig didn’t have nothin’ to do with it,” Cummins said. “I held the trial my ownself.”
“You held the trial?”
“In addition to bein’ the city marshal, I’m also an associate circuit court judge,” Cummins said. “It was all legal and proper.”
“It was awfully fast, wasn’t it?”
“We had to do it fast, Marshal,” Cummins answered. “Deputy Gillis was just a real popular man. He was well liked by everyone, and there were folks around here wantin’ to string Jensen up that very day. Only way I could keep order was to have a real fast trial.”
“The only way you could keep order?” Kyle questioned. “My God, man, you’ve got six deputies for a town that has a population of less than three hundred people. Do you expect me to believe that you couldn’t keep order?”
“Like I said, Deputy Gillis was a very popular man,” Cummins repeated. “And feelin’s was runnin’ real high then. I done what I thought was right.”
“You did what you thought was right? Or you did what you wanted to do?” Kyle asked.
Cummins smiled. “Why, Marshal, wouldn’t that be the same thing?” he asked.
“Would you like dessert, Marshal? We have a wonderful cherry pie.”
Kyle, who had eaten a late dinner in the City Pig Café, looked up at the waiter. “Cherry pie, you say?”
“Yes, sir, just baked today.”
“Well, now, I suppose a piece of cherry pie would be good. And another cup of coffee, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll bring it right out,” the waiter promised.
As the waiter walked away, Kyle saw someone approaching his table. The man had unkempt silver hair and clothes that were disheveled, absolute indications that he was down on his luck. Kyle was sure the man was coming to ask him for enough money to buy a drink, and anxious to get rid of him, he reached into his pocket for a nickel. He held the coin out toward the man as he reached the table.
“Here you go, friend,” he said. “Have a drink on me.”
“Thank you, but no,” the man replied. “I’ve been six days without a drink, and I hope never to take another.”
“You don’t say,” Kyle said, surprised by the man’s pronouncement. “Well, then, what can I do for you?”
“Did the governor send you?” the man asked. “Are you here in response to my letter?”
“No,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “I don’t know anything about a letter.”
“Oh,” the man said, obviously disappointed. “You are a U.S. marshal, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I was sure you had come in response to my letter.”
“What letter would that be?”
“You are a U.S. marshal?”
“Yes. I’m Marshal Ben Kyle.”
“Marshal Kyle, my name is Robert Dempster. I am an attorney.”
“An attorney?” Kyle asked, obviously surprised by the man’s announcement. Then, realizing how that must’ve sounded, he apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound—”
“That’s all right,” Dempster said quickly. “There is no need to apologize. I realize that I make less than a sterling impression. I wonder, Marshal, if I might have a few words with you?”
At that moment the waiter brought the pie and coffee.
“Won’t you join me, Mr. Dempster?” Kyle asked. “Waiter, bring another piece of pie and a cup of coffee.”
“There’s no need for you to—” Dempster began.
“Please, join me,” Kyle said.
“All right,” Dempster agreed. “I don’t mind if I do.”
“Another slice of pie and another cup of coffee,” Kyle said again.
“Are you sure it’s coffee you want?” the waiter asked, looking at Dempster with obvious disdain.
“I believe I said coffee,” Kyle said, his voice showing his irritation with the waiter’s rudeness.
“Yes, sir, right away,” the waiter responded.
“I’m sorry for that man’s insolence,” Kyle said.
“Don’t blame him,” Dempster replied. “I’ve brought this on myself.”
“You say you are a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“What—uh—what brought on this—this present condition? Wait, never mind it’s none of my business. You don’t have to answer that.”
The waiter delivered the pie and coffee, and then withdrew without a word.
“It’s all right,” Dempster said, holding his response to Kyle until after the waiter left. “I can see why one might be curious.”
Dempster added a copious amount of sugar and cream to his coffee, then stirred it with a spoon for a long moment, as if gathering his thoughts.
“Back in Missouri, I was a circuit judge,” he said.
“That’s quite an honorable position.”
“Yes,” Dempster said. “Which makes the fact that I dishonored it even more reprehensible.”
“You took a bribe?”
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose you could say that,” Dempster said. “I was trying a murder case when some friends of the defendant informed me that if I did not find some way to free their friend, they would kill my family and me.”
“And did you find some way to free the defendant?”
“Yes, I did just as they asked.”
“Well, if your family was in danger, I don’t know as too many people can blame you.”
Dempster took a drink of his coffee. “Only it didn’t help,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“They killed my family anyway.”
“Oh, damn,” Kyle said. “Damn, no wonder you—have problems.”
“Problems with no solution,” Dempster said. “Drinking is no solution.”
“You said that you haven’t had a drink in six days,” Kyle said. “That’s a long time between drinks for an alcoholic, isn’t it?”