The door to the governor’s office was open and, looking in, Kyle saw John C. Fremont standing with his back to the door, studying a map that was hung on the wall. The map was very large, and included all the states and territories west of the Mississippi River. It appeared that Fremont had not seen Kyle, so the marshal cleared his throat and tapped lightly on the door frame.
“Why does everyone clear their throat to announce their presence?” the governor asked without turning around. “Why not just call out, ‘Hey, you?’”
“Hey, you,” Kyle said, and the governor’s resultant laughter was genuine. The tension was eased as the governor turned to face Kyle.
“So, Marshal, you are here to talk about the town of Purgatory?” Governor Fremont asked.
“Yes, sir,” Kyle replied.
“Do you know the town?”
“I just came from Purgatory,” Kyle said.
“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you know the town.”
Kyle nodded. “I think I do,” he said. “It was more than just a casual visit. I met with some of the town’s most influential people.”
“Robert Dempster?”
“Yes, sir, I met with Dempster.”
“He’s a drunk, isn’t he?”
“Do you know Mr. Dempster?”
“I know him by reputation only,” Governor Fremont said. “From what I understand, he was once a very fine jurist.”
“Yes, sir, that is my understanding as well,” Kyle said.
“And now he is a drunk.”
“I think it might be better to say that now he is a reformed drunk,” Kyle said. “When I met him he was sober, and he stayed sober for the entire time I was there.”
“I see,” Fremont said. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” He stroked his chin, then picked something up from his desk. “He wrote me a letter, you know.”
“Yes, sir, so he said.”
“It was about the trial of Matt Jensen,” the governor continued.
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you know about the trial?” Governor Fremont asked.
“Only what I learned while I was there,” Kyle replied. “And from what I have learned, the trial was a gross miscarriage of justice. In fact, the word justice can hardly be applied. Cummins was both the arresting officer and, in the case of the trial, the judge. And the shooting, trial, and conviction all happened within less than an hour. I don’t see how a trial like that could possibly be fair. The only thing that kept it from being a lynching was the fact that they were sending Jensen to Yuma to be hanged.”
“Do you think Jensen killed Deputy Gillis?”
“Oh, there is no question that he did. But I also heard from an eyewitness who testified that he saw the deputy draw first.”
“Do you believe the witness?”
“Yes, Governor, I believe him. On top of that, from everything I have been able to find out about Matt Jensen, there is nothing that would make me think he could kill a man in cold blood.”
“Do you know Matt Jensen?” Governor Fremont asked.
Kyle shook his head. “Not exactly. I met him at the train wreck, though I didn’t know at the time who he was. He was working to pull people from the wreckage, and he helped Doc Presnell attend to the injured. And also it seems anyone who ran into him has nothing but praise for the man.”
“Let me tell you what I know about Matt Jensen,” Governor Fremont said.
“You know him?” Kyle asked, surprised by the comment.
“No, but Governor John Routt of Colorado does. I checked with neighboring states and this is what I got back from Governor Routt.”
Fremont began reading from a sheet of paper:
“Last winter during an attempted train robbery, some bandits killed both the engineer and the fireman of the Midnight Flyer. Now, the dead-man’s throttle is supposed to stop the train anytime the engineer is incapacitated, but it failed, and rather than stopping the train as the bandits planned, their actions caused a runaway train. Matt Jensen was a passenger on that train. And while he knew nothing about the attempted holdup, he did realize rather quickly that the train was in great danger. He knew also that somehow he would have to get to the engine.
The only way for him to get to the engine was to crawl along the top of the swaying, ice-covered cars on a train that was speeding through the dark at sixty miles per hour. Matt finally managed to reach the engine and stop the train, just before it rounded a sharp turn. Had he not succeeded, the speed they were traveling would have sent the train, and all 131 passengers over the side of a mountain to a sure and certain death.
As governor of the State of Colorado, I issued a proclamation declaring a day to be officially entered into the State historical records, as Matthew Jensen Day.”
Fremont put the paper down. “Does that sound like someone who would kill in cold blood?”
