Matt Jensen, The Last Mountain Man Savage Territory

“Why do you think he accused you of doing that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, surely you know, Miss Simpson. Why did he accuse you of sticking your finger in the drink? Do you think it might be because you refused to do business with him?”

“Do business with him?” Juanita said.

“Yes, do business. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, Miss Simpson. What sort of business are you in?”

“I work at the Hungry Miner.”

“Is it true, Miss Simpson, that you are a whore at the Hungry Miner? And is it not also true that you angered Pogue Willis, not by sticking your finger in his drink, but by refusing to go upstairs with him?”

“Objection,” Dempster said quickly. “Irrelevant!”

“Withdraw the question,” Craig said. “Miss Simpson, did you actually see the gunfight?”

“Yes, I saw it.”

“Who drew first?”

“You don’t understand. Pogue Willis just kept on goading Mr. Marcus. He just wouldn’t leave him alone. He was wantin’ Mr. Marcus to draw his gun.”

“Who drew first?” Craig repeated.

“Well, it was Mr. Marcus, but he—”

“Thank you, Miss Simpson. I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor.”

When all the witnesses had testified, Judge Heckemeyer invited the counselors to give their closing arguments. Counselor for the defense was first.

“Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the witnesses to this shooting and, since it happened right here in the saloon during a busy time, more than a dozen were able to testify.”

Craig paused for a moment.

“More than a dozen witnesses had a good enough view of the shooting to be able to give us a very detailed description of what happened. And, gentlemen of the jury—” Craig paused and held up his forefinger. “No one, not one witness, testified that Willis drew first. In fact, every eyewitness who testified before this august court and honorable judge testified that it was Marcus who drew first.”

Craig pointed to Willis.

“You may not like Pogue Willis. Indeed, few do, for he is not a very likable man. But you cannot find him guilty of being unlikable. And if you are honest with yourself, you know that you cannot find him guilty of murder either.”

Dempster stood up when Craig sat down. It was time for him to give his closing argument, but he stood silent for a long moment, then shook his head.

“An unlikable man?” Dempster said, speaking very quietly. “Unlikable?” he repeated, just a little louder. Then he pointed to Willis. “He is not merely unlikable—he is an evil spawn of Satan!”

Dempster shouted the last phrase.

“This unlikable”—he twisted his mouth as he said the word—“man has killed fifteen human beings! Do you fully understand that? Fifteen men, men who were someone’s son, brother, husband, and father, fifteen men were killed by Pogue Willis.

“And now we are asked to find him innocent because the other man drew first? You have heard witness after witness testify that Pogue Willis goaded, cajoled, beleaguered, and intimidated Mr. Marcus until he felt that he had no choice but to draw. It has also been testified here that Pogue Willis had a smile on his face as he pulled the trigger.

“I ask that you find this man guilty, and that the judge sentence him to hang.”

“Hear, hear!” someone in the gallery shouted.

Judge Heckemeyer quickly restored order by the judicious use of his gavel. Once order was restored, he charged the jury and they adjourned to the back room of the saloon to make their decision. After only a few minutes of deliberation, the jury returned.

“Mr. Foreman,” he said. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor,” the foreman answered. The foreman was Al Frakes, owner of Frakes Photography.

“Please hand the verdict to the bailiff.”

Frakes gave a little piece of paper to the bailiff, who took it over to the judge. Heckemeyer read the verdict silently.

“Mr. Willis, approach the bench,” he said sternly.

Although Matt Jensen had already bought a round-trip train ticket to St. Louis, he’d stayed in town long enough to attend the trial and now, as Pogue Willis approached the bench, Matt studied the expression on his face. Throughout the trial Willis had displayed arrogance and bravado. Now, however, being summoned to stand before the judge, he began to show a little bit of apprehension.

Matt could understand Willis’s concern. For Willis, a prison sentence would be as deadly as a sentence to be hanged. Willis had made a lot of enemies during his short, but very brutal, career, and many of his enemies were now in prison. On the outside, where he could carry a pistol, Pogue Willis feared few men. But, if he had to go to