“Yes. I hope it goes much longer.”
“What made you stop drinking?”
“Matt Jensen,” Dempster answered.
“Matt Jensen? Are you talking about the convicted murderer?”
“Mr. Jensen is no more of a murderer than I am,” Dempster said. “His trial was a charade and the biggest miscarriage of justice I have ever seen.”
“Was it a real trial? Did he have a judge, a lawyer, and a jury of his peers?” Kyle asked.
“His defense attorney was an incompetent drunk, the judge was crooked, and the jury was fixed.”
“That’s quite a charge,” Kyle said.
“I suppose it is,” Dempster agreed. “But I would gladly make that same charge in an open courtroom. Assuming, of course, that the judge hearing the case would be someone other than Andrew Cummins,” he added.
“Yes, I can see how you might be hesitant to make such a charge to the very man you are making the charge about. But let me ask you this. What makes you think this man, Jensen, is innocent? I was told by Marshal Cummins that there were eyewitnesses to the shooting who confirmed that he killed Deputy Gillis.”
“There was only one eyewitness to the shooting, a young boy, and the story he told me exactly coincided with what Jensen said. Gillis drew first, but Jensen was much faster. He drew his own pistol and shot Gillis. Gillis’s pistol slipped back down into his holster. But it was not until he went into the saloon that anyone else saw him. That’s where he died.”
“I believe you said you sent a letter to the governor?”
“I did indeed,” Dempster said. “I asked the governor to stay the execution until another trial, a fair trial, could be arranged.”
“As it turns out, your letter was unnecessary,” Kyle said. “It would seem that Jensen has arranged his own stay of execution. He escaped.”
“So I’ve heard,” Dempster said. “I hope he gets clear out of Arizona. But I would also hope he could clear his name so this doesn’t hang over him for the rest of his life.”
“Mr. Dempster, if what you tell me is true, then I must say that you have not painted a very good picture of your marshal,” Kyle said.
“Our marshal is a despot,” Dempster said. “He rules this town as if it is his own personal fiefdom.”
“Why does the town council allow such a thing?”
“He has enough of his deputies placed on the council that he quite easily controls it. They pass any law he dictates and authorize any funding he requests. As a matter of fact, the council no longer even serves the town. They are here for one purpose, and one purpose only. They exist for the convenience of Marshal Andrew Cummins.”
“Do the people of the town support Marshal Cummins?”
“Support him?” Dempster replied. “No, they don’t support him, but most are too frightened to do anything about it. There are a few merchants who have been holding secret meetings, I understand, but whether or not they will be able to do anything, I don’t know.”
“Have you met with them?”
Dempster shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I have not earned their trust. But I hope to. Right now, the thing that is keeping me sober is my determination to see Marshal Cummins run out of office and justice done.”
“That is an honorable goal,” Kyle said.
Dempster ate the last bite of pie, then smacked his lips appreciatively. “You know, coming off a three-year drunk, I had forgotten all the good things about life, such as cherry pie. I thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” Kyle replied.
Chapter Eighteen
The Bob Dempster who showed up at the meeting held at Joel Montgomery’s bank did not look like the Dempster everyone thought they knew. Dempster had taken a bath, gotten a haircut and shave, and was wearing a very nice suit. He arrived at the meeting with Marshal Kyle, Mrs. Dawkins, and her son, Timmy.
“It’s good of you to come, Mr. Dempster,” Montgomery said.
“I thank you very much for allowing me to come,” Dempster replied. “I am well aware of the fact that I have not conducted myself in any way that would inspire confidence.”
“I believe everyone deserves a second chance,” Montgomery said. “Marshal, Mrs. Dawkins, Timmy, it’s good to have you as well. Please, come into the conference room and have a seat. The meeting is about to get started.”
Dempster, Kyle, Mrs. Dawkins, and Timmy followed Montgomery to the back of the bank, where Montgomery opened a door to show them into the back room.
“Do you think it will be safe here?” Mrs. Dawkins asked.
“We’ve got the marshal with us,” Dempster said. “How much safer do you want it?”
“The marshal isn’t always going to be here,” Mrs. Dawkins pointed out. “And after he leaves, Marshal Cummins will still be here.”
“It’s safe,” Montgomery said. “We’ve had several meetings here without any problem. I often have to work late, so people are used to seeing a light in here. Besides, at this time of night, the marshal and his deputies are over at the Pair O Dice, drinking.”
“That’s not all they do over there,” Goff said with a ribald chuckle.
“Amon, we have a woman and a child with us,” Montgomery chastised.
“Sorry, ma’am, didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” Goff said.
“I’ve taken no offense, Mr. Goff,” Mrs. Dawkins said. “I want to do what is best for the town, but I’m sure you can understand that my primary concern is for the safety of my son.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s our concern as well,” Montgomery said. “And on behalf of the Citizens’ Betterment Committee, I want to thank you and your son, and tell you that we understand the danger, and appreciate your courage in coming to the meeting.”
“Citizens’ Betterment Committee,” Mrs. Dawkins said. She smiled, and nodded her head. “Yes, I like that.”
“All right, if everyone will take their seats, we’ll get started now,” Montgomery said.
Goff, Goodman, Taylor, and Bascomb, who were, in addition to Montgomery, members of the Citizens’ Betterment Committee, took their seats around the table. Dempster, Kyle, Mrs. Dawkins, and Timmy joined them.
“Timmy, my wife made some cookies if you’d like one,” Taylor said, offering a plate of cookies to Timmy.
“Gee, thanks,” Timmy said, taking three of them.
“Timmy, he said one,” Mrs. Dawkins said.
“That’s all right, Mrs. Dawkins, he can have as many as he wants,” Taylor said. Then, seeing the expression on the woman’s face, he amended his comment. “Although you are right. Too many wouldn’t be good for him.”
Timmy put two of the cookies back.
“Gentlemen,” Montgomery said. “I called this meeting after Marshal Kyle and Mr. Dempster came to visit me. As you know, Marshal Cummins recently conducted a court trial, if you can call it that, in which he found a man guilty and sentenced him to hang. In order to give some semblance of legality to it, he had the man sent to Yuma Prison, where the hanging was to be carried out. As you also know, Robert Demptster acted as defense counsel for the accused. He came to me with an interesting account of that trial, and I invited him to share the information with the rest of us. Mr. Dempster, the floor is yours, sir.”
“Thank you,” Dempster said. He cleared his throat, then stood up to speak to the others.
“Mr. Montgomery is correct when he says I acted as defense counsel for the accused. In this case acted is the operative word, for the truth is, I was far too drunk to provide an adequate defense for anyone.
“Marshal Cummins knew this, and counted upon this when he selected me as attorney for the defense.
“I’m not going to go through a litany of all the errors in this trial that could cause a reversal of the outcome—though they are legion. I will tell you, however, that any fair judge would at the least call this a mistrial, and in all probability completely reverse the decision and declare Matt Jensen innocent.”