“What do you mean, ‘the’ Matt Jensen,” Scott asked.
“You mean you’ve never heard of Matt Jensen?”
“I have,” Miller said. “You are a gunman, aren’t you, Mr. Jensen?”
“Gentlemen, would you please allow me to continue my introduction?” John asked.
When the others quit talking, John nodded at them. “Thank you. As I said, this is Matt Jensen. I wrote to him and asked him to come to Fullerton, because I think we need a man of his caliber and experience.”
“Need him to do what?” Leland White asked.
“Specifically, Mr. Jensen will be in my employ. But, given the recent, let us say, adventures of some of Denbigh’s men, I think it would be good for the town to have someone like Mr. Jensen around.”
“To do what?” Miller asked.
“Just to be a presence,” John said.
“Mr. Jensen, I mean no offense by this,” Miller said. “But we already have one too many gunmen in this town. If you haven’t met him yet, I’m sure you will. His name is Ollie Butrum, and he is pure evil. He is also deadly quick. If I were you, I would leave town right away rather than face such a man.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Matt said.
“But you have no intention of leaving, do you?” Miller asked.
“I was invited by John Bryce,” Matt replied. I will be in town as long as John wishes me to stay.”
“John, you said you intended Mr. Jensen to be a presence,” White said. “What do you mean by that?”
“You do remember when Denbigh’s ruffians tried to destroy the newspaper office, don’t you, Leland?”
“Yes.”
“With Matt as my employee …” John stopped and looked over at Matt before he continued. “The fact is, he isn’t exactly an employee. He is more like a partner, since he bought in to the newspaper. And as a partner in the paper, I do not think we need fear any more vandalism.”
“I don’t like it,” White said. “It looks to me like you are declaring war with Denbigh. And you are bringing in the entire town into your personal war.”
“That’s just it, Leland,” John replied. “It isn’t my personal war. Can’t you see it? Denbigh literally has the entire town under siege.”
“I, for one, am glad to have Mr. Jensen around,” Westpheling said.
“As am I,” Tobin said.
“Count me in,” Scott added.
Jackson, the big blacksmith, reached his long arm across the table. “Welcome to Fullerton, Mr. Jensen,” he said.
“Leland? Otis?” John said.
Otis Miller, the banker, shook his head. “I don’t like him being here, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it,” he said. “Having this man around is going to cause us trouble. You mark my words. There will be trouble.”
After the discussion about Matt, the meeting moved on to other issues, from how they, as businessmen, were going to respond to the city council’s proposal to increase the sales tax by a penny on the dollar, to a vote of support of, as well as a donation to, the town fire department’s plans to hold a firemen’s ball at the end of the month.
When the meeting adjourned, Lucy asked Matt if he would be coming back to the house right away.
“No, I don’t think so. I think I’ll take a look around the town, just to get myself acquainted,” Matt said.
Lucy Perkins chuckled. “That won’t take you very long,” she said. “Fullerton isn’t exactly what you would call a big city.”
Leaving the bank, Matt walked south on Monroe, where he encountered such businesses as an apothecary, a leather goods store, a mercantile, and the Morning Star Hotel. Turning west on South-worth Street, he encountered private houses and a church. He turned back north on Fullerton Street, which was lined on both sides with houses. Then from Fullerton, he turned east on Second Street, which brought him back to Monroe, the main street of the town. Back on the main street, he decided to look for a saloon.
The saloon wasn’t hard to find. The New York Saloon was the biggest and grandest building in the entire town. He started to step up onto the porch.
A rather small, pale-eyed man was standing just in front of the saloon door. He was wearing a leather vest decorated with silver conchos, a string tie, and a large turquoise-studded silver belt buckle. Matt had to hold back a chuckle, because the man was dressed more like an Eastern dandy’s idea of what a Westerner should wear than a real cowboy.
“You’re new in town, ain’t you, mister?” the little man asked. “When did you get in?”
Matt had already heard Butrum described, so he knew who this was the moment he was addressed. His immediate thought was to tell Butrum it was none of his business when he arrived. But, based upon some of the uneasiness expressed in the meeting of the businessmen earlier, he decided not to be confrontational.
“Today,” Matt said.
“Show me your coupon,” the little man said.
“What coupon?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, mister. You know what coupon I’m talking about. The one you got when you paid your toll on the road. Show it to me.”
