“They killed my family anyway.”
“Oh, damn,” Kyle said. “Damn, no wonder you—have problems.”
“Problems with no solution,” Dempster said. “Drinking is no solution.”
“You said that you haven’t had a drink in six days,” Kyle said. “That’s a long time between drinks for an alcoholic, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I hope it goes much longer.”
“What made you stop drinking?”
“Matt Jensen,” Dempster answered.
“Matt Jensen? Are you talking about the convicted murderer?”
“Mr. Jensen is no more of a murderer than I am,” Dempster said. “His trial was a charade and the biggest miscarriage of justice I have ever seen.”
“Was it a real trial? Did he have a judge, a lawyer, and a jury of his peers?” Kyle asked.
“His defense attorney was an incompetent drunk, the judge was crooked, and the jury was fixed.”
“That’s quite a charge,” Kyle said.
“I suppose it is,” Dempster agreed. “But I would gladly make that same charge in an open courtroom. Assuming, of course, that the judge hearing the case would be someone other than Andrew Cummins,” he added.
“Yes, I can see how you might be hesitant to make such a charge to the very man you are making the charge about. But let me ask you this. What makes you think this man, Jensen, is innocent? I was told by Marshal Cummins that there were eyewitnesses to the shooting who confirmed that he killed Deputy Gillis.”
“There was only one eyewitness to the shooting, a young boy, and the story he told me exactly coincided with what Jensen said. Gillis drew first, but Jensen was much faster. He drew his own pistol and shot Gillis. Gillis’s pistol slipped back down into his holster. But it was not until he went into the saloon that anyone else saw him. That’s where he died.”
“I believe you said you sent a letter to the governor?”
“I did indeed,” Dempster said. “I asked the governor to stay the execution until another trial, a fair trial, could be arranged.”
“As it turns out, your letter was unnecessary,” Kyle said. “It would seem that Jensen has arranged his own stay of execution. He escaped.”
“So I’ve heard,” Dempster said. “I hope he gets clear out of Arizona. But I would also hope he could clear his name so this doesn’t hang over him for the rest of his life.”
“Mr. Dempster, if what you tell me is true, then I must say that you have not painted a very good picture of your marshal,” Kyle said.
“Our marshal is a despot,” Dempster said. “He rules this town as if it is his own personal fiefdom.”
“Why does the town council allow such a thing?”
“He has enough of his deputies placed on the council that he quite easily controls it. They pass any law he dictates and authorize any funding he requests. As a matter of fact, the council no longer even serves the town. They are here for one purpose, and one purpose only. They exist for the convenience of Marshal Andrew Cummins.”
“Do the people of the town support Marshal Cummins?”
“Support him?” Dempster replied. “No, they don’t support him, but most are too frightened to do anything about it. There are a few merchants who have been holding secret meetings, I understand, but whether or not they will be able to do anything, I don’t know.”
“Have you met with them?”
Dempster shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I have not earned their trust. But I hope to. Right now, the thing that is keeping me sober is my determination to see Marshal Cummins run out of office and justice done.”
“That is an honorable goal,” Kyle said.
Dempster ate the last bite of pie, then smacked his lips appreciatively. “You know, coming off a three-year drunk, I had forgotten all the good things about life, such as cherry pie. I thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” Kyle replied.
Chapter Eighteen
The Bob Dempster who showed up at the meeting held at Joel Montgomery’s bank did not look like the Dempster everyone thought they knew. Dempster had taken a bath, gotten a haircut and shave, and was wearing a very nice suit. He arrived at the meeting with Marshal Kyle, Mrs. Dawkins, and her son, Timmy.
“It’s good of you to come, Mr. Dempster,” Montgomery said.
“I thank you very much for allowing me to come,” Dempster replied. “I am well aware of the fact that I have not conducted myself in any way that would inspire confidence.”
“I believe everyone deserves a second chance,” Montgomery said. “Marshal, Mrs. Dawkins, Timmy, it’s good to have you as well. Please, come into the conference room and have a seat. The meeting is about to get started.”
Dempster, Kyle, Mrs. Dawkins, and Timmy followed Montgomery to the back of the bank, where Montgomery opened a door to show them into the back room.
“Do you think it will be safe here?” Mrs. Dawkins asked.
