Matt awakened in the middle of the night and for just a second or two, he could almost imagine that he was back in the Wayward Home for Boys and Girls.
Despite what Captain Mumford had told him, he did have a last name. At that time, his last name was Cavanaugh. He was ten years old, and he had already killed the first man—killing one of the outlaws who had killed his parents and his sister.
He escaped from the Home a few years later, and was found in the mountains, half frozen to death. The man who found him was Smoke Jensen, and the legendary mountain man not only saved Matt’s life, he raised him, and taught him how to ride, shoot, and track. But mostly, he taught Matt how to be a man and a grateful Matt took Smoke Jensen’s last name to honor his friend and mentor.
Then he used every skill Smoke taught him to track down, and bring to justice, the men who had killed his entire family.
Now, several years later, he lay in bed, in the hotel room in American Falls, Idaho, separated from the reality of his dream by both time and distance, until finally sleep overtook him.
The rest of the night was deep and dreamless.
Chapter Nine
Poke Terrell woke up with a ravenous hunger and a raging need to urinate. The whore still asleep beside him had the bedcover askew, exposing one of her breasts. One leg dangled over the edge of the bed and she was snoring loudly as a bit of spittle drooled from her vibrating lips. She didn’t wake up when Poke crawled over her to get out of bed and get dressed.
The whore was not one of the women who worked at the Sand Spur, nor even at Flat Nose Sue’s. She did business out of a very small, one-room house called a crib. Poke walked through the alley to the Sand Spur, which was about two blocks from the whore’s crib.
He used the toilet behind the Sand Spur, holding his breath against the terrible odor. As he started into the saloon, he saw someone lying in the alley behind the building. At first he thought he might be dead, then he saw him move, and knew that it was just a saloon patron sleeping off last night’s drunk.
Once inside, Poke took a seat at his table. The main room of the Sand Spur saloon was big, with exposed rafters below the high, peaked ceiling. Although there were several tables in the saloon, most of them were empty as it was still fairly early in the morning and there were only a few patrons at this hour. A couple of all-night customers for the whores came down the stairs, looking a little sheepish at being seen by the few who were in the saloon. A few minutes later the two girls came downstairs, laughing uninhibitedly. There were several large jars of pickled eggs and pig’s feet on the bar, and the two women walked over to the bar, then stuck their hands down inside the jars to pull out a couple of pickled eggs each for their breakfast.
The Sand Spur was one of two saloons in town. The other saloon was called the Mud Hole, and it catered to a lower class clientele, serving cheaper whiskey and beer in an establishment that no amenities of any kind. It was behind the livery, whereas the Sand Spur had the more choice location, at the end of Meridian Street, right next to the Union Pacific track.
Poke had ordered breakfast and it was just being brought to his table as the morning train rolled in. With its whistle blowing and its bell clanging, the heavy engine caused the saloon to shake. As a result of the shaking, the bottles of whiskey that were lined up behind the bar began to rattle when they banged together. It sounded, and felt, as if the train was about to come right through the building, but the arrival and departure of the daily trains, both freight and passenger, was such a routine event that no one in the saloon paid any attention to them.
After a few minutes of sitting in the station, the train blew its whistle then moved on. Shortly after the train left the station, Sam Logan stepped into the saloon. Seeing Poke, he walked back to his table. Yesterday, Poke had sent Logan, Madison, and Jernigan to American Falls to deal with the Matt Jensen issue.
Poke didn’t interrupt his breakfast and he took a bite of biscuit as Logan approached his table.
“Well, you are back I see. Any trouble?”
“Yeah, we had trouble. We had a lot of trouble,” Logan said.
“What kind of trouble?” Poke looked toward the door, expecting to see someone else. “Where are the others? Where are Madison and Jernigan?”
“That’s the trouble. Madison and Jernigan? They’re dead, Poke.”
