Claibie showed the marshal the woodcut picture on the flyer.
“Matt Jensen? Are you tellin’ us that Matt Jensen is the one stole that horse?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m tellin’ you.”
“You’re out of your mind. Jensen is long gone from here.”
“He ain’t that long gone,” Claibie said. “He was here just a couple of days ago.”
“Are you talkin’ about before Gillis was kilt?” Jackson asked.
Claibie shook his head. “No, sir, I’m talkin’ after that. Fact is, I’m talkin’ about after the train wreck, too, ’cause what he done was, he brung in a string of horses from Sentinel.”
“I don’t understand,” Cummins said. “Why would he bring in a string of horses?”
“He done that because we had had to put on extra coaches ’cause of the train wreck.”
“So what you are saying is, after Matt Jensen escaped, he took a job with the stage line, then came back to the same place where he was convicted for murder?” Cummins asked. “Either you are out of your mind, or he is.”
“If this here fella in the picture is Matt Jensen, then yes, sir, that’s exactly what I’m sayin’,” Claibie said.
“All right, suppose it is. Suppose he did bring a string of horses into town. What does that have to do with my horse? What makes you think he’s the one that stole it?” Cummins asked.
“Because after he brung them horses in, we started talking about horses and such. I mean, him not havin’ one, you see. He rode in here on one of the horses that belongs to the stage line. He said he was lookin’ for a horse, so I told him about the sorrel you had for sale and he seemed real interested. I figured maybe he would buy it, and maybe if he done that, why, you’d give me a little somethin’ for steerin’ him to you. Of course, after seein’ his picture on this poster, I know why he was interested. And of course, that bein’ his horse you had, why, he wouldn’t have no trouble ridin’ it or nothin’.”
“It wasn’t his horse!” Cummins said angrily. “That horse was contraband. I confiscated it legal and proper after the trial.”
“Excuse me, Marshal, but when you do that, aren’t you supposed to hold an auction, with all the proceeds to go to the city?” Kyle asked.
“I did hold an auction,” Cummins said. “And I bought and paid for it, with my own money. That money did go to the city.”
“When did you see Jensen?” Kyle asked.
“Two days ago,” Claibie answered.
Kyle looked at Cummins. “And when was your horse stolen?”
“Two days ago,” Cummins admitted.
“Then I’d say that Claibie is right. Jensen is the one who took it.”
“Claibie, if you saw him, why the hell didn’t you report him to someone?” Cummins asked.
“How was I to know who he was, Marshal? He never told me his name or nothin’. And I hadn’t never seen him.”
“You didn’t see him at the trial?” Kyle asked.
“I didn’t know nothin’ ’bout the trial. By the time I heard about Gillis gettin’ hisself kilt and all, why, this here fella had already been tried and was on the train to Yuma to get hisself hung.”
Kyle looked at Cummins. “Are you telling me that the killing and the trial happened on the same day?”
“Yes.”
“And Judge Craig allowed that?”
“Judge Craig didn’t have nothin’ to do with it,” Cummins said. “I held the trial my ownself.”
“You held the trial?”
“In addition to bein’ the city marshal, I’m also an associate circuit court judge,” Cummins said. “It was all legal and proper.”
“It was awfully fast, wasn’t it?”
“We had to do it fast, Marshal,” Cummins answered. “Deputy Gillis was just a real popular man. He was well liked by everyone, and there were folks around here wantin’ to string Jensen up that very day. Only way I could keep order was to have a real fast trial.”
“The only way you could keep order?” Kyle questioned. “My God, man, you’ve got six deputies for a town that has a population of less than three hundred people. Do you expect me to believe that you couldn’t keep order?”
“Like I said, Deputy Gillis was a very popular man,” Cummins repeated. “And feelin’s was runnin’ real high then. I done what I thought was right.”
“You did what you thought was right? Or you did what you wanted to do?” Kyle asked.
Cummins smiled. “Why, Marshal, wouldn’t that be the same thing?” he asked.
“Would you like dessert, Marshal? We have a wonderful cherry pie.”
Kyle, who had eaten a late dinner in the City Pig Cafe, looked up at the waiter. “Cherry pie, you say?”
“Yes, sir, just baked today.”
