“Are you saying you don’t think the marshal will feed him?”
“I don’t know. You know that Marshal Dawson is Pogue Quentin’s man, and if Quentin doesn’t want Pearlie fed, Dawson would more than likely just starve him.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Kathleen said. “But you know yourself that sometimes I get pretty busy in the restaurant. I might not always be able to get away.”
“You’ve got to feed him, Ma.”
“Like I said, I’ll do what I can. I’m not going to let him starve,” Kathleen promised.
“You’ll like Pearlie, Ma. He’s really a very nice person. And he has been just real friendly to me.”
“How nice can he be? He killed Billy Ray Quentin.”
“I told you, he didn’t have any choice,” Lenny said, glancing toward the door. He had been glancing toward the door every minute or so since they had arrived, half an hour ago.
“What are you looking for?” Kathleen asked.
Before he could answer his ma’s question, a young woman stepped through the door. She smiled when she saw Lenny and she started toward him, then stopped when she saw Lenny’s mother with him. The smile left her face, to be replaced by a look of concern.
“Mary Lou, I’m glad you could come,” Lenny called to her. “Come on, I want you to meet my ma.”
“Lenny, I don’t think…” Kathleen began, but Lenny cut her comment off with a stare.
“Ma, watch what you say,” he said quietly. “I don’t think you want to insult the girl I’m going to marry, now, do you?”
“Lenny, you can’t be serious.”
“I am, Ma. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Lenny walked over to take Mary Lou by the arm and lead her back to his mother.
It was obvious that Mary Lou was nervous, but to Lenny’s relief, his mother smiled graciously, then extended her hand.
“Mary Lou,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m glad you are here to help see Lenny off.”
The tense expression left Mary Lou’s face, and she relaxed visibly. “It is nice to meet you, Mrs. York,” she said, taking Kathleen’s proffered hand.
“Oh, hey, Ma, I’ve got an idea,” Lenny said. “On those times when you can’t get off long enough to take a meal over to Pearlie, you can let Mary Lou do it for you.”
“Oh, Lenny, I couldn’t ask her to do that,” Kathleen said.
“I don’t mind,” Mary Lou said. “I’d be glad to do that for you.”
Kathleen paused for a moment, as if considering all the consequences. Then, smiling, she nodded. “Thank you, that will be wonderful,” she said.
By mid-morning of the next day, a polished black coffin, liberally trimmed with silver, was on display behind the big window in front of Quentin’s Hardware Store. Throughout the morning, nearly the entire town had stopped by at one time or another to have a look. The top half of the coffin was open so the body could be seen lying on a bed of white silk. Billy Ray was wearing a black suit, a ruffled white shirt, and a black bow tie.
A sign posted alongside the coffin read:
A Noble Young Life
Brought to an
by a murdering Stranger
The article in the
A quiet evening of pleasant conversation, moderate imbibing, and recreational cardplaying erupted into gunplay Thursday last. Billy Ray Quentin, the son of Huereano County’s most affluent citizen, was hurled into eternity by the accurate placement of a .44-caliber ball, said ball the result of a pistol discharged by a visitor to Santa Clara, a man who has identified himself only as Pearlie.
Shortly after the dramatic confrontation, Marshal Clem Dawson and Deputy Deke Wilson arrived on the scene, whereupon Pearlie was immediately placed under arrest. Pearlie is now awaiting trial for murder, though the prosecutor may have a difficult time in establishing his case. There are some who were eyewitnesses to the shooting who have made the statement that the stranger had no choice but to return fire. These witnesses report that Billy Ray started the fight by firing a twelve-gauge shotgun at Pearlie, with the obvious intent of killing him. It will be up to a jury to make the final decision as to whether Pearlie’s arrival in our fair town, surely with no aforethought to killing another human being, shall now result in his being hanged.
Billy Ray Quentin will be buried tomorrow in the Santa Clara Cemetery.
The funeral parade to the cemetery was led by members of the volunteer fire department, proudly showing off their pumper, its highly polished brass boiler shining brightly in the afternoon sun. Following the fire pumper was the town’s marching band, its members elegantly attired in their red and gold uniforms, the bright color offset somewhat by the black armbands they were wearing. The band was playing Chopin’s stately
Next came the highly polished white, glass-sided hearse, bearing Billy Ray’s black and silver coffin. The head of the coffin was somewhat elevated so that the spectators who lined the street on both sides could see the body. The hearse was driven by Josiah Welch, the undertaker, who, like Billy, was dressed in a black suit, with a ruffled white shirt and black bow tie. The only difference was that Welch was wearing a high-crown silk hat.
Pogue Quentin, who was also wearing a black suit, rode in an elegant open carriage behind the hearse. The
