“Yes, Mr. Rittenhouse loaned it to me so I could bring over the string.”
“Just a minute,” Claibie said. “Let me get a closer look.” He made a thorough examination of the horse, then smiled. “I’ll be damn. You say Rittenhouse loaned you this horse himself?”
“Yes. Why, is there something wrong?”
“No, no, nothing wrong,” Claibie replied quickly. “I tell you, Mr. Cavanaugh. You must’ve done somethin’ to impress him, because this is Blue, and Ole’ Man Rittenhouse don’t let just anybody ride him.”
“Blue is a good horse,” Matt said
“You’re needin’ a horse, are you?” Claibie asked.
Matt nodded. “Yes. Do you have one for sale?”
“Not exactly,” Claibe said. “I thought I was going to get one, I showed up at the marshal’s auction last night, but the marshal outbid me.”
“Marshal’s auction?”
“Yes. You see, by law, whenever the city marshal confiscates a horse, like say from an outlaw that’s goin’ to prison, he is required to hold an auction to sell it off. But lots of times he’ll keep news of the auction so quiet that nobody shows up. Then the marshal can buy ’em real cheap.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yep. The marshal’s damn smart, he is,” the hostler said. “He has purt’ nigh become rich by buyin’ horses for a dollar, then sellin’ ’em for seventy-five to a hunnert dollars. He’s got one for sale now, a fine sorrel with a bright, reddish-brown coat. That’s the horse I was biddin’ on but, like I say, the marshal outbid me.” Claibie stroked his chin. “Truth to tell, with this marshal, I don’t know if he actually paid the money he bid anyway. There’s no way of checking since he was buyin’ the horse from his ownself, so to speak.” Claibie laughed. “He may have stepped in it, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hell, Mr. Cavanaugh, there can’t nobody ride that horse ’ceptin’ Matt Jensen. That’s the fella that owned him, and he ain’t likely to ever ride again, seein’ as how he come into town, kilt Deputy Gillis, was tried, then took to Yuma to be hung, all in the same day.”
“Maybe the fact that nobody can ride him will make the marshal sell the horse cheap,” Matt said.
“Maybe, but what good would it do you if you did get the horse? Like I said, there can’t nobody ride him.”
“I’m pretty good with horses,” Matt said. “I’ve broken a few in my day. I’d like to give it a try. What about the saddle? Did the marshal confiscate the saddle as well?”
“I’m sure he did. Lot’s of times he sells the saddle with the horse. Wait a minute, let me step into my office here. Would you like to see the paper the marshal put out?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind.”
“All right, wait here and I’ll go get it. But if you buy it, tell ’im Joe Claibie sent you. He might give me a little somethin’ for suggestin’ it to you.”
Matt waited while Claibie stepped into the office. A moment later, he came back outside with a piece of paper and showed it to Matt.
FOR SALE
Sorrel with red coat and white face
Fine Saddle
$150.00
See City Marshal Andrew Cummins
Matt handed the paper back to Claibie. “Thanks for showing this to me, but I’m afraid a hundred and fifty dollars is a little too expensive for my blood.”
“Yeah, well, that is a little steep, especially for a horse you would have to break in order to even ride him. Listen, are you be staying around town long? The reason I ask is, if you’re looking for a job, I could maybe put you on. Business is real brisk since the railroad got cut.”
“That can’t last much longer, though,” Matt said. “I came by the wreck today. They’re working really hard, and will probably have it cleaned up within a few days. And, I don’t think you would want to be taking on extra help now, only to have to cut back when your business slows again.”
“Come to think of it, I guess you have a point there. Well, I’d better see to the horses. Thanks again.”
“Oh, wait,” Matt called.
“Yes, sir?”
“Let’s say I wanted to have a look at this horse. Where could I see it?”
“When I seen it, it was down at the city corral, but now that it belongs to Marshal Cummins, I reckon you’d probably find it in the marshal’s stable.”
“The marshal’s stable?”
“Yes, it’s just behind his office. Ask one of the deputies, they’ll take you back and let you see him.”
“Thanks,” Matt said.
Matt walked on down toward the town, oblivious of the red and gold sunset behind him. He stayed on the boardwalk, keeping close to the buildings so as not to stand out in plain sight for anyone who might have been in the saloon at the time of his trial.
