“I said shut up,” Scraggs repeated. “Let’s get out of here.”
Matt took a step back, but bent his knees slightly to be ready for anything that might happen.
Scraggs held his hand up.
“Take it easy, Jensen,” Scraggs said. “We ain’t doin’ nothin’ but leavin’.”
“Yes, I think that is wise,” Matt said. “From what I hear, you aren’t very welcome in the saloon anyway. You frighten the other customers, and drive them away.”
“I’ve about had it with you, Mister,” Burnett said, pointing his finger, angrily at Matt.
“Burnett, I told you to shut up!” Scraggs said.
Burnett glared at Matt for a moment longer, then he went outside with the others.
As the men left the saloon, Matt walked back up to the bar and, with his left hand, retrieved his beer.
“Damn, I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that!” Charley said, his voice cracking with awe.
“Wait,” Matt said quietly.
“Wait on what?”
“You’ll see.”
At that moment the batwing doors swung open and Scraggs stepped back into the saloon. He already had his pistol in his hand, but before he could bring it to bear on Matt, he found himself staring into the big .44-caliber hole at the business end of Matt’s pistol.
“Hello, Scraggs,” Matt said easily.
Scraggs stood there for a second, his face registering the shock of seeing Matt with his pistol already drawn and pointed toward him.
Scraggs lowered his gun. “I, uh, just thought I’d,” Scraggs started, but he was unable to finish his sentence.
“Empty your gun, Scraggs,” Matt ordered.
“Look, why don’t I just…?”
“Empty your gun,” Matt said again. “Push out all the shells and let them fall to the floor.”
Scraggs made no move, and Matt cocked his pistol, the double click sounding dangerous.
“Empty your pistol,” Matt said again.
Glaring angrily at Matt, Scraggs punched all the shells out of the cylinder. They sounded exceptionally loud as the hit the floor, one at a time.
“Now, walk over to the stove and toss your gun in.”
“What good would that do you? I have another pistol,” Scraggs said.
“Just do it,” Matt said, making a small waving motion with the end of his pistol.
Scraggs continued to glare at Matt, but seeing Matt’s unwavering insistence, he walked to the middle of saloon floor, opened the door, and dropped the pistol inside.
“That’s a nice man,” Matt said. “Now, find somewhere else to be. We’re all tired of looking at you.”
“Mister, you don’t have an idea in hell what you have just done,” Scraggs said.
“Yeah, I do,” Matt said, and he kept his gaze fixed on Scraggs until the posse man left the saloon.
For a long moment after Scraggs left, it was deadly quiet in the saloon, as if no one would dare even breathe. Then Jenny walked over to the window and looked outside.
“They’re gone,” she said. “They are all goin’ toward the hotel.”
“Good riddance,” Charley said.
Charley’s comment seemed to open up the dam because now everyone started talking, describing in animated detail what they saw to everyone else who had seen the same thing.
“Gents,” Charley called out. “This round is on the house.”
With acclamations of appreciation, the other patrons rushed to the bar.
“What about Mr. Pemberton?” Jenny asked.
“Pemberton isn’t down here now.”
“No, but I’m sure the old gentleman would like a beer,” Jenny said. “Especially since Mr. Jensen just ran off the men who threw him out of his home.”
“Threw him out of his home?” Matt asked.
“He was livin’ at the Del Rey Hotel,” Charley explained, “but Sherman and his men took over the hotel. They threw Mr. Pemberton out, as well as the three old ladies, just so they could have the entire hotel for themselves. Pemberton didn’t have anywhere else to go, so he’s stayin’ in the room that Millie was usin’.”
“I think Millie would like that,” Jenny said.
“Yeah, I do too,” Charley said. He drew a mug of beer and handed it to Jenny. “Take it up to him, and tell him why.”
