but nearly all of my guests work somewhere, and it’s sometimes hard for them to get off work and get home in time to have supper at six. I hope that doesn’t inconvenience you.”
“No, seven o’clock would be fine,” Matt said.
“Having just arrived in town, though, you might be hungry now. If you would like, I could have Mrs. Black scare something up in the kitchen for you. She is a wonderful cook.”
Had he not enjoyed a good meal at the home of the Fowlers, Matt might have taken Lucy Perkins up on her offer. But he had two weeks of trail dust in his throat as well, so right now, even more than food, was the desire for a cool beer.
“I appreciate that, Mrs. Perkins. But John is going to come by for me in a few minutes. I take it there is some sort of business meeting he wants me to attend.”
“Oh,” Lucy said with a bright smile. “That would be the Fullerton Business Association. I will be attending that meeting as well. As a matter of fact, I am president of the Association.”
“You are the president?”
Lucy laughed at Matt’s reaction. “Do you think, perhaps, that a woman cannot be the president of a business association?”
“No, it’s not that,” Matt said, trying to recover ground. “It’s just that I, well …”
“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Jensen,” Lucy said good-naturedly. “I know it is unusual. Come back downstairs with me to sign the guest book, and I’ll give you a key to your room before you leave.”
Back downstairs, as Lucy watched Matt sign the guest book, an elderly, overweight, and bald-headed man came in. Looking up at him, Lucy smiled.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Proffer. Did you have a good game of checkers with Mr. Conners?” Then, to Matt, she added, “Mr. Proffer and Mr. Conners are old friends and they meet every day in the general store to play checkers.”
“Hrumph,” Proffer replied. “Young man, I recommend that you never play checkers with Dilbert Conners. He cheats.”
Lucy chuckled. “I take it you lost today.”
“Who is this young fella?” Proffer asked.
“This is Mr. Jensen. He is a new resident.”
“Do you play checkers, Mr. Jensen?”
“Yes, but I cheat,” Jensen said.
“Hrumph!” Proffer replied as he shuffled off to his room.
Lucy tried hard to bury her laugh. “You are awful, Mr. Jensen,” she said. “Just awful.”
“What did my friend do that is so awful?” John asked, coming into the parlor of the boarding-house at just that moment.
“Hello, John,” Lucy said. “Nothing. I was just laughing at something he said to Mr. Proffer, is all.”
“Be careful of what you say to Proffer. He’s a lawyer, you know, and would sue you at the drop of a hat. Are you ready to go?”
“I am,” Matt replied.
“Wait until I get my hat,” Lucy said. “If you two don’t mind, Iwill walk down to the meeting with you.”
“We will be happy to have your company, Madam President,” John said.
In addition to John and Matt, there were seven others in attendance at the business meeting, Lucy Perkins being one of the seven and the only woman. They were sitting around a long table, with Lucy at the head. She began the meeting with a light rap of the gavel on the table.
“Gentlemen, the meeting will come to order,” she said. “As you have no doubt noticed, Mr. Bryce has brought a guest. Before I have him introduced, I wonder if I could ask each of you to tell him your name and what you do. Mr. White, we’ll start with you.”
White was a small, thin man, with a closely cropped mustache and wire-rimmed glasses. He started to stand.
“No need to stand,” Lucy said. “We’ll do this informally.”
“I’m Leland White, I’m a pharmacist, and I own White’s Apothecary.”
“I’m Otis Miller, I own the bank,” the heavyset man sitting next to White said.
“I’m Ernie Westpheling. I own the gunshop.” Westpheling was a tall, very dignified-looking man.
“Paul Tobin. I own the Fullerton Livery.” Tobin had a very prominent scar that cut, like a purple lightning flash, across his left cheek.
“Jason Scott, Scott Leathergoods.” Scott was totally bald.
“Troy Jackson. I’m the blacksmith.” Jackson was a very large, very powerfully built man with huge arms and shoulders that strained against the shirt he was wearing.
“Now, Mr. Bryce,” Lucy said. “Since all the introductions have been made, suppose you introduce your guest.”
“Madam President, gentlemen,” John began. “This is Matt Jensen.”
“Matt Jensen?” Westpheling said. “Look here, this isn’t ‘the’ Matt Jensen, is it?”
