Matt Jensen, they didn’t get away with it.”
Matt walked up to the marshal, carrying Pete’s hat with three pistols.
“Here you go, Marshal,” he said. “I told the men I took these guns from that they could get them back from you.”
“Ha!” Marshal Drew said. “There’s a fat chance of that happening.”
Frustrated at seeing Matt Jensen still alive, Teasdale turned back to his coach. “Take me home, Mr. Reeves,” he said to his driver.
Matt accepted an invitation to eat dinner with Frewen and his family that evening, but when Frewen offered him a bed in his guest room, Matt declined.
“If you have a spare bed in the bunkhouse, I’d rather stay there,” Matt said. “I think it would give me more freedom to ride around, and if I’m going to find and stop the rustlers, that’s what I’m going to have to do.”
“All right,” Frewen agreed. “I also have several line shacks, one less than I did have, since Logan burned one of them, but if you find yourself near one of them, feel free to spend the night there. They are all occupied, but I would be glad to give you a letter that would identify you so that—no, wait, that won’t do any good. There are several of them who can’t read.”
“You could give him a paybook,” Clara suggested.
Frewen smiled. “Yes, that’s a good idea. They would all recognize that.”
“A paybook?”
“Shortly after I started ranching, I learned that there is a rather quaint custom among some of the cowboys to show up at payday on the larger ranches, and stand in line to draw their pay—whether they work there or not. Apparently I was an easy mark, because my bookkeeper pointed out to me some months I was paying from one to two more cowboys than actually work for me.”
“So now any cowboy who shows up for pay must present his paybook,” Clara said.
“It was her idea,” Frewen said. “If you are challenged by anyone, all you would have to do is show them your paybook.”
“All right,” Matt said. “Give me a paybook and I’ll carry it.”
After dinner, Matt walked out onto the front porch and stood there for a moment, enjoying the quiet. He sensed someone coming up behind him, and recognized her perfume.
“Hello, Jennie,” he said without turning around.
“Oh, my, I have heard that you are one of the most noted men of the West,” Jennie said. “But I didn’t know you had eyes in the back of your head.”
“I don’t,” Matt said. “It’s just that you are wearing perfume and that makes it hard to sneak up on a person.”
Jennie laughed, a low, throaty laugh. “Of course,” she said. “I should have thought of that. Do you like it? It is
“It smells good,” Matt said.
Jennie threw her head back and laughed. “It smells good,” she repeated. “Matt, you are just too precious. I shall have to tell Monsieur Parquet the next time I see him that you said his perfume ‘smells good.’”
Jennie came up to stand close to him, much closer than she needed to stand.
“Oh, my,” she said. “The stars are even more beautiful here than they are at sea. They are so close it is almost as if you could reach up and touch them.”
“It’s the clear mountain air,” Matt said. It was the reason he had heard given, but in truth he had seen stars like this for most of his life, so he couldn’t always relate to what people were talking about.
“Moreton said that you turned down his offer to stay in a guest bedroom,” Jennie said.
“Yes.”
“But that is silly. Where will you sleep?”
“I will sleep in the bunkhouse, or wherever I happen to be when I get sleepy,” Matt replied.
“Like last night, when we slept together in the bed?” There was a throaty, flirtatious tone in her voice.
“Yes.”
“I seem to have a memory of something—something that I’m sure would be most embarrassing to me if I could remember it clearly.”
“No need to be embarrassed,” Matt said.
“Then, something did happen, didn’t it?”
“Not really.”
“Oh, wait,” Jennie said. “I remember now. I believe that at some time in the middle of the night I kissed you. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“I am so sorry,” she said. Jennie put her hand on his cheek and moved her fingers softly over the stubble. “And if memory serves me, it was right here.”
Matt took her hand in his and gently, but firmly, pushed it back down. “As I said, Mrs. Churchill, you have nothing to apologize for, or to be embarrassed about.”
