“Who the hell are you? What are you doing?” the man shouted angrily. When Grimes reached for him, he pushed his hand away. “Get your hands off me, you son of a bitch!”
Scraggs laughed. “He’s a scrappy old shit, ain’t he?”
“Down the stairs,” Grimes ordered. “Go downstairs now before I kick you downstairs.”
More than anxious to get away from the frightening men, the four occupants of the hotel hurried down the stairs to the hotel lobby. They halted when they reached the bottom step and saw that there were several other men in the lobby, all of whom were dressed exactly as the men who had rousted them were dressed.
“Elmer,” the first old lady said to the hotel clerk. “Elmer, who are these terrible men? Why did they come into our rooms and tell us we had to leave!” she complained.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Rittenhouse, I had nothing to do with it,” the clerk replied.
“Who are these men?” Mrs. Rittenhouse asked, looking at all the men in the lobby.
“I apologize, ma’am,” Sherman said, dipping his head slightly. “I am Colonel Sherman of the Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse. We are here on a matter of the law and I require quarters for my men. By the law of the United States Government, as well as the law of the territory of Idaho, I have the right of eminent domain. I have exercised that right to take your room, and all the other rooms in the hotel. I’m sorry if this has inconvenienced you, but it is a matter of necessity.”
“But, where will I go? What will I do?” the woman asked. “I have no place to go!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that isn’t my problem,” Sherman said.
“All the rooms are clear, Colonel,” Scraggs said.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Sherman said. “Burnett?”
“Yes sir, Colonel?”
“See to my horse. The rest of you men, get your horses boarded, then come back and find your rooms. We’ll meet here in the lobby in thirty minutes.”
All those who had come into the hotel with Sherman now hurried outside in response to Sherman’s orders.
“Elmer, I’m holding you responsible for this,” the old man said.
“I’ll find a place for you, Mr. Pemberton.” Elmer promised. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a place for all of you.”
Chapter Twenty-one
The arrival of Clay Sherman and his Idaho Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse was the subject of conversation all over town for the rest of the day. It was discussed in stores and shops, talked about at the barbershop and in the meat market, at the train station and the stage depot, and by housewives over the back fence.
“They say they put poor old Mr. Pemberton out of his room at the hotel. Where will he go?”
“I heard he has a room upstairs at the Sand Spur. But the women are still lookin’ for a place.”
“Father Pyron is putting up one of ’em.”
“I’ve got a room where one of ’em can stay.”
“Me too.”
“That will take care of all of ’em.”
“Yeah, but it still don’t say why Sherman and that bunch of his has come to Medbury.”
“You want to know what I think? I think they come here to get even for Poke gettin’ hisself kilt.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Terrell used to ride for ’em.”
“Yeah, but he war’nt ridin’ with ‘em when he was here. I heard he had been fired.”
“Maybe, but he prob’ly still has a lot of friends among ’em. Wouldn’t surprise me none at all if they war’nt here to settle scores with Matt Jensen.”
“Yeah? Well from what I’ve heard of Matt Jensen, he can pretty much take care of his ownself.”
“But they’s seventeen of ’em, countin’ Sherman. There can’t no one man go up ag’in seventeen men. Not even Matt Jensen.”
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t sell Matt Jensen short if I was you.”
“I ain’t sellin’ him short. But I’ve heard a lot about Posse folks, and there ain’t nothin’ I’ve heard about ’em that’s good.”
That night Sherman and his men took their dinner in the Sand Spur. There were so many of them that they took up four tables and, by their very presence, dominated the saloon. Also, because so many were frightened of them, they had a tendency to run others away so that business was way down from normal. The Sand Spur was losing money.
The girls had approached the Auxiliary Peace Officers when they came into the saloon, smiling and flirting with them as they did with all customers who frequented the Sand Spur. The posse men wanted the girls’ company, but they didn’t want to pay for it, so there were no tips, so the girls, like the saloon, were losing money.
At eleven o’clock that night, the posse left the saloon, but by then it was too late for any of the regular customers to come.
