Once again, Matt took the star from his pocket, but this time he didn’t return it. This time he pinned it onto his shirt.
“Raise your right hands,” he said. “Repeat after me. I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute all lawful orders given me by the deputy U.S. marshal in charge of this posse.”
The men repeated the oath.
“We will meet here again tomorrow morning at eight o’clock,” Matt said.
Present at the meeting, but not participating, was Marshal Tipton. When the meeting broke up, he stepped up onto the porch to talk to Matt.
“Are you really a U.S. marshal?” he asked.
“I’m a deputy marshal.”
“Why didn’t you come tell me that as soon as you came into town?”
“I believed that it was to my advantage to keep it secret until necessary for me to show the badge.”
“You have no intention of arresting Denbigh, do you? You plan to take your army out there and kill him, don’t you?”
“That is not true, Tipton. I have every intention of arresting him.”
“What if he won’t let himself be arrested?”
Matt raised the coffee cup to his lips, then took a swallow before he replied.
“Then it may be that I will have to kill him,” Matt said. “Either way, he has collected his last toll, burned his last house, and killed his last man.”
Chapter Thirty
When Tolliver heard the pull bell ring late at night, he got out of bed, put on his housecoat, lit a candle, then walked through the house to the front door. Opening the door, he was surprised to see Marshal Tipton.
“Marshal Tipton? Isn’t it a little late to be calling, sir? Lord Denbigh has already retired for the night.”
“Wake him up, Tolliver, this is important,” Tip-ton said.
“I don’t know, sir. He can be quite irritable when disturbed after he has gone to bed.”
“Better to be irritated than dead, isn’t it? Wake him up,” Tipton demanded.
“Very well, sir. Come with me. You can wait in the parlor.”
Tolliver led Tipton into the parlor, where he lit a candelabrum to provide some light. Then he left the parlor to go to Denbigh’s bedroom. He tapped lightly on the door.
“Yes,” Denbigh said from inside. “I heard the door pull. What is it, Mr. Tolliver?”
“Marshal Tipton is here to see you, sir,” Tolliver said. “He said that it is a matter of some importance.”
Tipton was sitting in a leather chair staring at the points of light atop each candle when Denbigh came in.
“Mr. Tipton, I trust that you have a very good reason for disturbing me in my slumber?” Denbigh said, the tone of his voice displaying his displeasure.
“Is saving your life important enough?” Tipton replied.
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you burn all the houses in the valley today?”
“Are you going to try and claim some jurisdiction over that now?” Denbigh asked.
“No. But the ranchers and farmers whose houses you burned are planning on coming out here after you tomorrow.”
“Let them come,” Denbigh said. “They will be nothing but a disorganized mob. My men will dispatch them quite easily.”
“They aren’t disorganized,” Tipton said. “They are being led by Matt Jensen.”
“Jensen is leading them?” At that news, Denbigh showed a little more concern.
“Yes.”
“Well, what are you doing out here? If you know about this, why don’t you stop it? You certainly have jurisdiction over them. A vigilante mob is against the law, isn’t it? Even in a place as bereft of civilization as the Dakota Territory?”
“I have no jurisdiction over them.”
“What do you mean, you have no jurisdiction? They are in town, aren’t they?”
“I don’t have jurisdiction because they aren’t a vigilante mob. They are a deputy U.S. marshal’s posse. As it happens, Matt Jensen is a deputy U.S. marshal, which means his authority supersedes mine.”
“I see. Tell me, when is this supposed to happen?”
“They will gather at eight o’clock in the morning, then come out here. I’d say you need to be ready for them by no later than a quarter till nine.”
