threw away the club and made another roundhouse swing at Matt. This time, because Matt had been put slightly off balance by the club attack against him, Poke connected.
The blow knocked Matt back, and he fell onto one of the tables, smashing it into two pieces. Poke ran over to him and raised his foot with the intention of bringing it down hard on Matt’s head. Matt grabbed Poke’s leg and twisted it, causing Poke to go down. Matt rolled over to him then knocked him out with a blow to the chin.
Now, breathing hard, and bleeding from the reopened wound in his side, Matt got up from the floor and stumbled over to the bar.
“Whiskey,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” the bartender replied. “And this one will be on the house, Mr. Jensen. I reckon you’ve earned it.”
“You dropped this,” Millie said, handing Matt his pistol.
“Thanks,” Matt said. “And thanks for the other night, not only the warning, but for taking care of me. Katherine told me what you did.”
“It wasn’t anything that anybody else wouldn’t have done,” Millie said.
“But that’s the point, Millie. Nobody else did it.”
By now everyone had crowded back onto the floor of the saloon. Many were repositioning tables and chairs, and a couple of men set the stove back up. They were unable to reconnect it to the flue though, because one of the stove pipes had been too badly damaged.
Poke was sitting up on the floor now, with his head hanging down. Nobody would dare approach him.
“Oh, honey, you are bleeding just real bad,” Millie said, putting her fingers on Matt’s shirt. “Come on up to my room, let me take care of that for you.”
“Mister, look out!” someone shouted and Matt turned to look toward Poke, just as Poke shot at him.
“Uhn!” Millie grunted, going down beside Matt. Matt drew and fired back at Poke, hitting Poke in the middle of his chest.
“Millie!” Matt said, dropping down beside her.
Millie smiled at him. “Kitty told me what a good man you are. I said she didn’t have to tell me that…I already knew.”
Millie took two more gasping breaths, then she stopped breathing.
Matt stood up, then looked over at Poke. He walked over and stood over him, then pointed his gun at Poke’s head and cocked it.
“Mister, you’ll just be wasting a good bullet on that worthless son of a bitch,” someone said. “He’s already dead.”
By coincidence, the circuit judge was in town, so they were able to hold an inquiry as to the cause and circumstances of the deaths of Poke Terrell, Cooter, and Millie that very afternoon. After all the testimony was taken, Judge Marshall Craig issued his ruling.
“As to the death of Harold Cotter, there being no eyewitnesses to dispute Matt Jensen’s claim that it was in self-defense, this court rules that there be no indictment.
“As to the death of Poke Terrell, all testimony being heard, this court rules that it was death by gunshot, said gunshot discharged in the defense of his own life. This court rules that the homicide be justifiable, and there will be no indictment.
“As to the death of the young woman known as Millie, all testimony being heard, this court rules that her death was the result of an act of murder committed by Poke Terrell, and only his own death prevents an indictment from being issued.
“This hearing is concluded.”
Several came to congratulate Matt, and he accepted their congratulations and best wishes graciously.
When he rode back out to Conventry on the Snake that evening, he realized that not only had he not had lunch with Marcus Kincaid, he didn’t even see him while he was in town.
He had also made no arrangements for the livestock cars, and that had actually been the sole purpose of his visit.
His day had become unexpectedly busy. He was sure that Kitty would understand that.
What he didn’t realize was that it was about to get busier.
He felt the bullet, before he heard the sound. Actually, he didn’t feel the bullet as much as he felt the effects of the bullet, because his hat flew off his head and he felt his hair fluff. Had the bullet been but one inch lower, it would have slammed into the back of his head.
Matt jerked the reins of his horse hard to the right, toward a large rock that would give him protection from whoever was shooting at him. Spirit needed no urging, the horse answered so quickly that Matt wasn’t sure whether the horse was responding to his direction or reacting on his own.
Once he was behind the rock he jumped from the saddle, then climbed up onto the rock to see who had taken the shot at him. When he saw Mole, he wasn’t surprised.
Mole took a second shot at him, and Matt shot back. One shot was all it took.
Matt walked back to look down at Mole’s body, then he sighed.
“You just got yourself killed for nothing, Mole,” he said. “With Poke dead, just who did you think was going to pay you?”
The next day, two grave diggers drove the undertaker’s wagon out to the edge of town to Boot Hill, then back
