Matt shook his head. “Nothing to speak of. I trust you got all your womanly things done?”
“I did. Do you like the color red?”
“What?” Matt asked, surprised by the question that came out of the blue.
“I’m having Anna make a dress for my trip to Chicago,” Kitty said. “A red dress. Do you like red?”
“Red? Yes, I like red.”
“Are you sure? Because it isn’t too late, you know. She could also do it in either white or blue.”
Matt chuckled. “Katherine, you are a beautiful woman,” he said. “And you would be beautiful no matter what color dress you wear.”
“You’re just being nice.”
“No, I’m being truthful.”
“Then, I’ll stick with red,” Kitty said. “Have you ever been to Chicago? I’ve never been there but…”
Kitty waxed on about Chicago but it faded into the background when Matt saw someone come into the cafe. He was a tall, rather impressive looking man with a closely cropped, graying moustache and brindled hair. He was wearing the same uniform as the men had been wearing in the Sand Spur, but this man was alone, and he carried himself with a degree of self-confidence, almost arrogance, that made Matt think it might be the head of the Auxiliary Peace Officers.
“…sailing on Lake Michigan. Don’t you think so?” Kitty said.
“I’m sorry, what?” Matt asked.
“Matthew Jensen, you didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Kitty asked, petulantly.
“You’re looking forward to going to Chicago,” Matt said, taking a stab.
“Yes. I think it will be a wonderful trip.”
“I’m looking forward to it as well,” Matt said. He looked again toward the recent arrival, who was now being seated at his table.
“Matt, what has your attention?”
“That man over there,” Matt said, pointing toward Sherman. “He may be trouble for us.”
Kitty looked over as well.
“How can he be trouble? He’s wearing a badge. He’s a lawman.”
Matt shook his head. “No,” he said. “He’s not any kind of lawman you’ve ever known before. He’s with the Idaho Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse. In fact, unless I miss my guess, he is Colonel Clay Sherman, the head of the posse.”
“The Auxiliary Peace Officers’ Posse? Yes, I have heard of them. Isn’t that the group that they say Poke Terrell once belonged to?”
“Yes,” Matt said.
“Well, they can’t be all bad. I mean, from what I’ve heard, they kicked him out of the organization. And we both know what a despicable person Terrell was.”
“Yes, I suppose that is true,” Matt said.
“I wonder what he is doing here, in Medbury?” Kitty asked.
“I’m wondering the same thing.”
Matt considered going over to Sherman’s table and asking that very question, but he feared that doing so might bring about some sort of confrontation. He didn’t want to start anything here in the restaurant, and he for sure didn’t want to do it in front of Kitty. So he did nothing.
When he and Kitty finished their lunch several minutes later he glanced over toward Sherman, who, he saw, was looking directly at him. Sherman nodded, and Matt returned the nod.
The Railroad Cafe was appropriately named because it stood directly across from the depot, so it was a short walk across the street for them to take care of ordering the cars.
“Hello, Mr. Montgomery,” Kitty said, greeting the dispatcher. “I’m going to need to order some cars for a shipment to Chicago.”
“All the way to Chicago, huh? That’s a long trip.”
“I know. And a profitable one too, I hope.”
“How many cars will you need?” Montgomery asked.
“I’m going to need twenty-five,” Kitty said.
“Twenty-five cars?” the dispatcher responded in surprise. He gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of cars.”
“I suppose it is.”
“In fact, that’s an entire train.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s not going to be a problem,” Montgomery said. “But it’s going to be pretty expensive. It’s going to cost you a hundred dollars per car and five hundred dollars for the engine.”
