to hear about.”
When Matt went in to work at the newspaper office that morning, he was greeted effusively by both John and Millie Bryce.
“How are you feeling?” John asked.
“Fully recovered,” Matt replied.
“Good, good, you would be surprised at how many people have stopped by to ask about you,” John said. “You got here just in time. I’m doing another editorial about Denbigh. And I’m going to send this one straight to the governor.”
“Have you sent any of your previous articles to the governor?” Matt asked.
Millie laughed.
“What are you laughing about?” Matt asked.
“He has sent every article he has ever written about Denbigh to the governor.”
“And the governor has never responded?”
“Not yet,” John said.
“Not yet, he says,” Millie said. “My husband is the eternal optimist.”
“Mr. Jensen! Mr. Bryce!” Jimmy shouted as he and Kenny rushed in through the front door at that moment. “It was awful! You should’ve seen it!”
“What?” John asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Meacham killed Mr. Fowler,” Jimmy said.
“Oh, my God!” Millie said. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am. Me and Kenny—uh, Kenny and I,” he corrected, “seen the whole thing.”
“What happened?” Matt asked.
Jimmy told the story of the encounter he and Kenny had witnessed on the road next to Brewer’s Pond. Whenever there was a break in the narrative, Kenny would jump in with his own observations.
“And you say that E.B. killed Slater?” John asked.
“Yes, sir, he pulled his shotgun out from under his seat and shot Slater, then Meacham shot him,” Jimmy said.
“It’s going to be another case of justifiable homicide, isn’t it?” Millie asked. “The sheriff isn’t going to do a thing about it.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Three days later, a joint funeral was held for E.B. Fowler, Curly Dobbins, and Slim Toomey. Reverend Landers offered to do a separate funeral service for E.B., but Sue said that the three men had died on the same day, fighting the same evil, and she thought E.B. would be proud to be buried with Dobbins and Toomey.
Every farmer and rancher in the valley came into Fullerton for the funeral, and there were so many that the church could not hold them all. As a result, the funeral was held outside on the church grounds. After the funeral and the interment, everyone returned to the church grounds, where they had dinner and expressed their condolences, not only to Sue and Green for their loss, but also to the McCanns for the loss of their friends and the loss of their house.
Marshal Tipton was present for the funeral and the meal, but he was growing uncomfortable at the repeated demands that he do something.
“I can’t do anything about it and you know it,” Tipton said. “It happened outside of town. I have no authority to make any arrests outside the city limits. Besides, from what the two boys said, Fowler fired first, which means even if I did have the authority to act, I couldn’t do anything.”
“What about Curly and Slim? They didn’t fire first. They were defending McCann’s house,” John said.
“It’s the same thing. McCann’s ranch is outside of the town limits. There is nothing I can do. That’s the sheriff’s responsibility, not mine,” Tipton said.
“You’re sure there’s nobody here?” Wilson asked.
“Nobody here,” Carver answered. “They all went into town for the funeral.”
“Burn it.”
Carver put his fingers to his mouth, then let out a piercing whistle. Getting the attention of the two men down by the house, he waved at them. They waved back, then lit a couple of torches and threw them onto the shake roof. Within moments, the Fowler house was on fire.
The same thing was happening at the Byrd, Donovan, Killian, Jennings, and Putnam houses so that, by two o’clock that afternoon, while all the valley farmers and ranchers were in town, their houses had been burned, or were being burned, to the ground.
Meacham carried the report back to Denbigh.
“Excellent,” Denbigh said. “Excellent work.”
“M’lord!” Tolliver said. “Are you saying that every house of every farmer and rancher in the entire valley has been burned?”
“Indeed Mr. Tolliver. Upon my orders,” Denbigh replied.
