prison, he would be unarmed. Without a gun, Pogue Willis would be dead within less than a week.
“Pogue Willis, it has been testified to in this court that when a Good Samaritan saw you hitting a woman, he asked you politely to quit. It has further been testified to that you took issue with that Good Samaritan and, for no good reason, began goading him, challenging him, and pushing him beyond reasonable limits until he was forced to draw against you.
“If it were my case to decide, I would find your sorry carcass guilty and sentence you to hang within the week. But it is the law of our land that you are to be tried by your peers, and your peers, following the letter if not the intent of the law, have ruled that, because Lee Marcus drew first, you are not guilty.”
“Ha!” Willis shouted happily. “I know’d I was goin’ to beat this one.”
“I am going to acquiesce to the ruling of the jury, for I have no other choice,” Judge Heckemeyer said. “However, sir, I am now issuing this court order. You are to vacate the town of Fort Collins and the state of Colorado. If you return to Colorado, I will have you arrested and thrown into prison for violation of this court order. I do not think, Mr. Willis, that you would fare very well in prison.”
“Judge, you got no right to run me out of the state,” Willis protested.
“You are free to appeal my decision, Mr. Willis,” Heckemeyer said. “But in order to make that appeal, you will have to remain in the state. And if you remain in the state, I will put you in prison, where you will remain until that appeal is acted upon. So your choice is simple. Leave the state, or make an appeal from behind prison walls. Now, which shall it be?”
“I’ll, uh, leave the state, Judge,” Willis said.
“I thought you might see it my way. Sheriff, escort this man to the depot and put him on the next train,” Heckemeyer said. He banged the gavel down on the table that was serving as his bench. “This court is dismissed.”
“Gents! The bar is open!” the bartender shouted, and there was a rush to the bar as the patrons hurried to quench the thirsts that had been generated by the trial.
Chapter Seven
At the Fort Collins train depot, Matt Jensen stood with his arms folded across his chest as he watched the activity on the platform. Pogue Willis, unarmed, meek, and unchallenging, was here also, sitting on a bench under the watchful eyes of one of Sheriff Allen’s deputies. As it happened, both Matt and Willis would be taking the same train south from Fort Collins, though when Matt reached Denver, he would transfer to a train heading east, while Willis and the deputy would continue on with the train heading south, toward New Mexico Territory. The deputy would stay with Willis until they reached the state line. At that point, Willis would be released and the deputy would come back.
Although Matt was disappointed by the outcome of the trial, he realized that technically the jury had come in with the correct verdict. No matter the provocation, Lee didn’t have to draw his gun. That meant that in the final analysis, it was his own fault. Matt just wished that he could have arrived a few minutes earlier. He was sure that if he had been there, none of this would have happened.
“Mr. Jensen?”
Turning, Matt saw the bar girl Willis had been beating.
“Yes, uh, Miss Simpson, isn’t it?” Matt replied.
The girl smiled and, even with the bruises, the smile softened her features. It was obvious that, before the dissipation of her profession had taken its toll, Juanita Simpson had been an attractive woman.
“Here, folks was callin’ me miss all durin’ the trial, and now you’re callin’ me miss, too. Don’t hardly nobody ever call me miss no more,” she said. “Not what with me bein’ a bar girl an’ all. Most folks call me much worse. You can call me Juanita if you want to.”
“I’d be pleased to call you Juanita.”
“You was a friend of Mr. Marcus, wasn’t you?” Juanita said. “I seen that you and him talked some right there at the end, just before he died.”
“Yes, we were friends,” Matt said.
“You was friends, and now he is dead. And it was all my fault him gettin’ killed all ’cause of the way he took up for me like he done.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Juanita. Not at all,” Matt said. “Don’t be blaming yourself for it. The person to blame is that little pipsqueak over there.” Matt pointed to Pogue Willis.”
“He don’t look very scary now, does he?” Juanita said.
“No, not at all.”
Juanita walked over to the bench where Willis was sitting.
“Mr. Willis, there’s somethin’ I owe you,” she said.
“Yeah? What is that?” Willis asked.
Suddenly and totally without warning, Juanita swung her hand around, putting all her weight into it. With her doubled up fist, she hit Willis on the cheek just under his eye, hitting him with enough force to send him tumbling off the bench.
“Why, you bitch, I’m going to—”
“Do nothing, except sit back down on the bench and shut up,” the deputy said.
The others at the depot, having seen what happened, laughed.
“Hey, Willis, you ain’t much of a man without a gun, are you?” someone called.
