“I know two people who say that Billy Ray fired first.”
“Oh, yeah? Who?”
“My son for one,” Kathleen said. “And Mary Lou Culpepper for another.”
Dawson laughed. “Mary Lou Culpepper? The whore? And you believe her?”
“I do. Especially when my son tells the same story.”
“Yes, ma’am, well, that don’t mean much, seein’ as ever’one in town knows your son is stuck on that whore. But I reckon, when you get right down to it, we’re goin’ to have to go with the evidence, the other eyewitness accounts, and the prisoner’s own confession.”
“Confession?”
“Yes, ma’am. When I asked if he was the one that kilt him, why, he said, flat out, that he was. And there wasn’t nobody in the saloon what didn’t hear him say that.”
“But that isn’t an admission of guilt. Didn’t he also say that Billy Ray shot first? That it was in self- defense?”
“He may have,” Marshal Dawson admitted. “But the thing is, Miz York, that kind of thing ain’t mine to decide. That’s for the court to decide. All I got to go on is the man who said he kilt him, which is my prisoner, and Billy Ray’s body, which is dead.”
“Marshal Dawson reached for the biscuit, but Kathleen pulled it back.
“This food is for the prisoner,” she said.
“Well, then, you better get it to him before it gets all cold,” Dawson said.
Kathleen took the tray back to the cell.
“Lenny asked me to make certain you get enough to eat.” As Lenny had before, she handed each dish through the bars to him before turning the tray on its side and sliding it through.
“Whoowee, I tell you the truth,” Pearlie said as he first looked at, then smelled, the food. He took a bite of chicken, then smiled. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It’s almost worth bein’ put in jail here if I’m goin’ to get to eat like this.”
Kathleen laughed nervously. “Don’t be foolish, young man,” she said. “I appreciate the compliment, but nothing is worth being in jail for.”
“You must be Lenny’s sister,” Pearlie said.
Kathleen smiled, then blushed slightly. “I’m his mother,” she said.
“You don’t say,” Pearlie said. “Well, all I can say is, you must’a had him when you was about twelve or somethin’. You sure don’t look old enough to be his mother.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Have you heard from Lenny?” Pearlie asked as he forked some mashed potatoes and gravy to his mouth.
“Indirectly,” Kathleen said. She looked back over her shoulder to make certain Marshal Dawson wasn’t watching her, and when she saw it was clear, she pulled a telegram from under the bodice of her dress.
Leaning a little closer to the cell, she spoke very quietly. “Your friend, Mr. Jensen, sent this telegram this afternoon.”
“Why did he send it to you?” Pearlie responded, speaking as quietly as Kathleen.
“I expect he sent it to me so you would be sure and get it,” Kathleen replied. “If he had sent it directly to the marshal, you might never even see it.”
“Yeah,” Pearlie agreed. “I don’t know much about this marshal, but I think you might be right.”
Kathleen pushed the telegram through the bars and, making sure he wasn’t being watched, Pearlie took it.
LENNY YORK HAS TOLD US OF YOUR
TROUBLES PEARLIE STOP WE ARE ON
OUR WAY TO TAKE CARE OF IT STOP
KEEP UP YOUR SPIRITS STOP SMOKE
Chapter Sixteen
“Thank you, Pete,” Quentin said as he took a paper from the telegrapher. “This telegram is from Smoke Jensen, you say?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Quentin,” the telegrapher said.
“Well, now, what do you know about that?” he said. “Smoke Jensen, huh?”
“Do you know Mr. Jensen?” Pete Hanson, the telegrapher, asked.
“Oh, yes, I know him,” Quentin replied. “I met him in Colorado Springs during the cattle auction.”
“I understand he is quite well known throughout the state,” Pete said.
“So I have been led to believe,” Quentin said. “I must say, he did not make a very good impression on me. What I am wonderig is, why would he be sending a telegram to the man who murdered my son?”
“Evidently, they are friends,” Pete said. “As you will see when you read the telegram.”
Quentin read the telegram, then looked up. “I wonder what he means by ‘take care of it’?” Quentin asked.
