William Johnstone - Snake River Slaughter

“But, where will I go? What will I do?” the woman asked. “I have no place to go!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that isn’t my problem,” Sherman said.

“All the rooms are clear, Colonel,” Scraggs said.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Sherman said. “Burnett?”

“Yes sir, Colonel?”

“See to my horse. The rest of you men, get your horses boarded, then come back and find your rooms. We’ll meet here in the lobby in thirty minutes.”

All those who had come into the hotel with Sherman now hurried outside in response to Sherman’s orders.

“Elmer, I’m holding you responsible for this,” the old man said.

“I’ll find a place for you, Mr. Pemberton.” Elmer promised. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a place for all of you.”

Chapter Twenty-one

The arrival of Clay Sherman and his Idaho Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse was the subject of conversation all over town for the rest of the day. It was discussed in stores and shops, talked about at the barbershop and in the meat market, at the train station and the stage depot, and by housewives over the back fence.

“They say they put poor old Mr. Pemberton out of his room at the hotel. Where will he go?”

“I heard he has a room upstairs at the Sand Spur. But the women are still lookin’ for a place.”

“Father Pyron is putting up one of ’em.”

“I’ve got a room where one of ’em can stay.”

“Me too.”

“That will take care of all of ’em.”

“Yeah, but it still don’t say why Sherman and that bunch of his has come to Medbury.”

“You want to know what I think? I think they come here to get even for Poke gettin’ hisself kilt.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Terrell used to ride for ’em.”

“Yeah, but he war’nt ridin’ with ‘em when he was here. I heard he had been fired.”

“Maybe, but he prob’ly still has a lot of friends among ’em. Wouldn’t surprise me none at all if they war’nt here to settle scores with Matt Jensen.”

“Yeah? Well from what I’ve heard of Matt Jensen, he can pretty much take care of his ownself.”

“But they’s seventeen of ’em, countin’ Sherman. There can’t no one man go up ag’in seventeen men. Not even Matt Jensen.”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t sell Matt Jensen short if I was you.”

“I ain’t sellin’ him short. But I’ve heard a lot about Posse folks, and there ain’t nothin’ I’ve heard about ’em that’s good.”

That night Sherman and his men took their dinner in the Sand Spur. There were so many of them that they took up four tables and, by their very presence, dominated the saloon. Also, because so many were frightened of them, they had a tendency to run others away so that business was way down from normal. The Sand Spur was losing money.

The girls had approached the Auxiliary Peace Officers when they came into the saloon, smiling and flirting with them as they did with all customers who frequented the Sand Spur. The posse men wanted the girls’ company, but they didn’t want to pay for it, so there were no tips, so the girls, like the saloon, were losing money.

At eleven o’clock that night, the posse left the saloon, but by then it was too late for any of the regular customers to come.

“I tell you the truth, Jenny, I wish those fellas would take their business to the Mud Hole, and leave us alone,” Charley said as he wiped down the bar. “I hardly made enough to keep the bar open.”

“You certainly got that right,” Jenny said. “I’ll have a drink, Charley. Only this time, make it a real one.”

Charley poured a drink of whiskey and slid the glass across to her, then poured one for himself. They held their glasses toward each other in an unstated salute.

“I wonder what they are doin’ here?” Charley asked.

“I’ve heard some say they came here to settle the score with Matt Jensen for Poke Terrell,” Jenny replied as she tossed the drink down.

When Matt and Kitty rode into Medbury the next morning, they rode by an empty lot just south of town. On that lot were gathered several young boys, playing the game of baseball.

“Throw it to him, Jimmy, throw it to him! He ain’t no hitter!” someone was chanting.

“Come on Carl, you can do it. All we need is a hit!”

Matt looked over toward the game just in time to see the batter swing and miss.

“Ha! I told you he ain’t no hitter. What’s a’ matter, Carl? You got a hole in your bat? What was you swingin’ at?”

“You can do it Carl, you can do it.”

Matt watched the next pitch, then he saw Carl swing and connect. He heard the cracking sound of the bat hitting the ball, and saw the ball flying high over the outfielder’s head, who turned and chased after it. With his efforts cheered by the other members of his team, Carl started running toward first base.

The circumstances of Matt’s childhood had caused him to miss out on many childhood activities, including baseball. Sometimes he felt as if he had been cheated. Then he realized that he had been given personal tutoring by Smoke Jensen—and he wouldn’t have traded that for all the baseball games in the world.

As it turned out, Matt had not made arrangements for the railroad cars when he came into town last week, so he and Kitty were here to finalize the arrangements and set the date that the twenty five cattle cars would arrive. But before they went to the depot, they stopped in front of a shop which had a sign boasting:

ANNA COOKE

Seamstress

Latest Fashions Sewn Here.

“You go on, I’m going to stop in here and talk to Anna for a few minutes,” she said.

“I can wait out here for you,” Matt offered.

Kitty chuckled. “You are sweet, Matt, but you don’t want to wait on me. These are women’s things, and if you knew anything about women, you would know that no matter what we might say, we never do anything in just a few minutes. I wouldn’t dream of dragging you along with me while I take care of them, so you go have a beer, play some cards or something. I’ll meet you at Railroad Café for lunch, then we’ll go to the depot.”

“All right,” Matt agreed.

Kitty smiled at Matt as he rode on up the street, then she stepped inside the dress shop.

A small bell attached to the top of the door jangled as Kitty pushed it open and stepped inside.

“I’ll be right with you,” a voice called from the back of the shop.

“It’s all right, Anna, I’m in no particular hurry,” Kitty replied.

A moment later a middle-aged, rather buxom woman stepped through a door that led to a back room. She was holding a piece of material in her hand, and there were a couple of pins sticking out of her mouth. She removed the pins and smiled with she saw Kitty.

“Kitty,” she said, happily. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Hi, Anna.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I need a new dress for Chicago.”

“Oh, my, Chicago,” Anna said. “How exciting. What kind of dress are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure. I was hoping you might suggest something.”

“Let’s start with the color,” Anna said. “That will give me an idea.”

“All right.”

“Black or brown?”

“No, definitely not black or brown,” Kitty said, shaking her head.

“Not black or brown. Good, that narrows it a bit. Let me make a few suggestions and see what you like. How about white and serene?

“White and serene? That sounds too—virginal,” Kitty said.

Anna laughed out loud. “You are awful, Kitty.”

“Aren’t I?”

“All right, how about blue and regal?”