are going to do anything, you will have to do it tonight.”
There was nobody else with Cassidy. He had told Maynard that just so he could reverse the split and take the three thousand dollars for himself. But as he stood at the bar that night, drinking whiskey to get up his courage to do what had to be done, he asked himself why there needed to be any split at all. He was the one taking the risk.
Then, as he continued to think about it, he realized there was something that Maynard hadn’t considered. Once he did the job, Cassidy would have all the money in his hand, and the only way Maynard would ever see a cent of it would be if Cassidy took the money to him.
Cassidy glanced up at the clock. It was five minutes until midnight. If he was going to do this, now was as good a time as any. He tossed down his last drink, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then started toward the saloon door. He had no intention of splitting the money with Maynard. Once he got the money, he intended to leave town. That would serve Maynard right for trying to cheat him in the first place.
The night clerk at the hotel was reading a book when Cassidy went into the hotel. The clerk put the book down and smiled up at Cassidy. “Yes, sir,” he said. “You need a room?”
“I’ve already got a room,” Cassidy said. “A friend of mine said I could stay with him tonight. He’s in Room 206.”
“Room 206? That would be Mr. Jensen’s room. I would not have thought he would be the type to share his room, but if you say. Go on up and knock. I am sure that he is in.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to wake ’im up. Why don’t you just give me the key?”
“Give you the key to an occupied room? Oh, no, sir, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the clerk said.
Cassidy pulled his pistol and pointed it at the hotel clerk. “I said give me the key to Room 206, you son of a bitch!”
With shaking hands, the clerk took the spare key to 206 from the hook and held it out toward Cassidy. Cassidy took the key, then brought the pistol down hard on the clerk’s head. The clerk collapsed on the floor behind the desk.
With the key in one hand and his pistol in the other, Cassidy hurried up the stairs to the second floor. The hallway was well lit by wall-mounted gas lamps that gave off a quiet hissing sound as they burned.
Room 206 was at the far end of the hall. There was also a window there. The window was closed for now, but Cassidy opened it, then stuck his head through to have a look around. Two floors below was the back alley. That was a pretty long jump, but if he crawled out of the window, then hung from the ledge and dropped that way, it wouldn’t be so bad. And this would give him a route to get away after he took care of Jensen and stole the money. He left the window up so he wouldn’t have to take the time to raise it afterward.
Stepping over to the door that had the numerals 206, he put the key into the keyhole, then turned it as quietly as he could.
It wasn’t quiet enough. Even while asleep, Matt heard the lock tumblers click. Quickly and silently, Matt pulled his pistol from the holster that hung from the headboard just above him, then slid out of bed and moved to the opposite side of the room.
The door opened, and in the backlight provided by the hall lamps, Matt saw a man standing there. His right arm was crooked and he was holding a pistol. The man stepped over to the bed, then pointed his pistol before he realized the bed was empty.
“What the hell?” he said in surprise and frustration.
“Are you looking for me?” Matt asked.
Swinging toward the sound of the voice, Cassidy fired, the flame pattern of the muzzle flash lighting up the room. The bullet crashed through the window beside Matt, even as Matt fired back.
The impact of the bullet knocked Cassidy back onto the bed and he lay there with his arms thrown to either side of him, his head back, and his eyes open. His pistol hung by the trigger guard from Cassidy’s finger.
“You’ve been a busy man, today, Mr. Jensen,” the police officer said a short while later. Matt was talking to the policeman in the lobby of the hotel, along with several of the other hotel guests who had come down to the lobby out of curiosity. The hotel clerk was there as well, holding a towel to the wound on his head. Two men were carrying Cassidy’s body out on a stretcher. “I heard about the incident with Red Plummer.”
“Yes, it has been a busier day than I would want,” Matt said.
“Did you know Pogue Cassidy?”
“I never saw him before he came into my room,” Matt said.
“Do you have any idea why he broke into your room?”
“Most likely reason, I suppose, is that he wanted to rob me,” Matt said.
“I’m sure that’s it. I know Cassidy, we have had him in our jail a few times, mostly for fighting and disturbing the peace. But he did serve two years in the penitentiary down in Rawlins for robbery.”
“I’d better get a new sheet for your bed,” the clerk said. “Like as not Cassidy bled on the one you have.”
“Thanks,” Matt said. He looked back at the police officer. “Is there going to be an inquiry on this? The reason I ask is because, if there is going to be one, I wonder if we could combine it with the one I have at ten in the morning. I need to get away as soon as I can after that, because I have to be somewhere else.”
The policeman chuckled. “Let’s see, you have been involved in two shootings in less than twenty-four hours. I’ll talk to the chief. I don’t see why he couldn’t convince the judge to hold both inquiries at the same time.”
At ten o’clock that morning, Judge William D. Clanton held a rare double inquiry, one into the death by gunshot wound of Ronald (Red) Plummer, and another into the death by gunshot wound of Pogue Cassidy. Witnesses from the saloon testified first, explaining how Plummer had made the first move. Also introduced into evidence was the account of the bank robbery and murder down in Colorado. Grant Peal, the clerk at the Western Hotel, testified that Pogue Cassidy knew which room Matt was occupying and that
