“So you do want to be governor?”
“No, no, I didn’t say that. And you can quote me on that.”
The reporter looked at him in confusion. “I can quote you on what, Senator?”
“You can quote me on saying I didn’t say that.” With that rather convoluted comment, Senator Daniels left the reporter scratching his head as he walked over to join his wife and their nine-year-old daughter.
“How is Becky? Is she doing any better?”
“No, Jarred, I don’t think she is doing well at all,” Millie replied. “Maybe we should stay here and find a doctor for her.”
“Nonsense. Do you really want to spend Christmas in Pueblo? You know how important it is that I be in Red Cliff for that dinner. Besides, I’ve no doubt the doctors there are just as skilled as the doctors here in Pueblo.”
“Is the dinner more important than the health of our daughter?”
“Of course not,” Senator Daniels replied. “But I don’t think it is any more than a childhood malady of some sort, and I’m sure she will be over it soon enough.”
Parker saw Matt come into the depot, and leaned over to speak to Compton. “Do you know who that fella is?”
“No, I can’t say as I do.”
“His name is Jensen. Matt Jensen.”
“Damn! You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve seen him before.”
“You think he might be goin’ on the same train we are?”
“It looks likely that he is.”
“So, what do we do?”
“If he is in the same car as Santelli and the deputy, we ain’t goin’ to do nothin’.”
“You mean we ain’t goin’ to get Santelli free?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“If we don’t get Santelli away from the deputy, we won’t get paid.”
“Is your life worth five hundred dollars? ’Cause if we go up against Jensen, we’re likely to get ourselves kilt.”
“Hell, there’s just one of him.”
“Yeah, but he’s carryin’ a gun with six bullets,” Parker pointed out.
“So, what do we do now?” Compton asked.
“We wait and see. If he goes to a different car from Santelli, then we’ll do just what we planned to do.”
Matt checked the schedule board and saw that he had at least half an hour remaining until the westbound train was due. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, but he didn’t think he would have time to order a regular dinner. So, stepping up to the depot lunch counter, he ordered a piece of apple pie and a cup of coffee.
As he ate, he looked round the waiting room of the depot, appraising as best he could the people who would be his fellow travelers.
The first ones he checked were the senator and his family. The little girl didn’t look well and Matt was struck by the expression of concern on the mother’s face. He saw considerably less concern reflected in the face of the young girl’s father.
Matt noticed the two men in handcuffs and shackles, and was surprised to see one of them was Michael Santelli. He wondered why there was an attractive young woman sitting with them, then he saw the banner and could tell by her demeanor it was directed at her.
“Hey”—the reporter looked over toward Matt—“you’re Matt Jensen, aren’t you?”
Matt took a swallow of his coffee.
“Yes, you are. You are the one who took down Michael Santelli. He’s here, you know, on his way to Red Cliff to be hanged. He’s sitting right over there, right now.” The reporter pointed toward the bench occupied by Santelli, Luke, Proxmire, and the young woman.
“Yes, I saw him.”
“You know what would be good? If I could get a picture of you with Santelli. We use the half-tone method of reproducing photographs.”
“No, thank you.”
“Is Santelli the reason you are here in Pueblo?” The reporter kept hounding.
“No, I’m just passing through Pueblo. And by the way, I didn’t take him down. He was arrested by Deputy Sheriff Ben Mason. He is a fine officer.”
“Yes, but everyone knows if you hadn’t been there, Santelli would more than likely have killed Mason. You were the hero of that event.”
“I don’t agree,” Matt said. “The fact that Mason took Santelli on, knowing that he could be killed, makes him the
“Yes, I guess you have a point there. But say, would you mind if I interviewed you for a story?”
At that moment a whistle sounded and a bright light illuminated the darkness outside as the beam from the great, mirrored headlamp announced the approach of another train. Everyone in the depot started getting ready to board the westbound train.
“Sorry,” Matt said as he finished his coffee. “But that’s my train.”
As the others began gathering their belongings and getting ready to board, Matt walked over to the telegraph office and wrote out a quick telegram to Smoke.
IN PUEBLO BOARDING TRAIN NINE PM STOP ARRIVE
BIG ROCK SIX AM TOMORROW STOP MATT
Matt paid the telegrapher, then, grabbing his small case, he hurried outside to join the others in boarding the train.
Just before they boarded, Proxmire looked over at Jenny. “Now look here, Mrs. McCoy. You ain’t goin’ to jump back off the train before we get started, are you?”
“Don’t worry, Deputy. I have no intention of remaining in this town.”
“Good. Because after I get these prisoners delivered, if I come back and find you are still here, it’ll be more than just askin’ you to leave town.”
“Leave the lady alone, Deputy,” Luke said.
“Mr. Shardeen, seein’ as you’re goin’ off to jail yourself, it don’t seem to me like you’re in any position to be a’ tellin’ me anything. This here woman’s bein’ run out of town, and I’m charged to see to it that she leaves.”
At Jenny’s assurance she would stay on the train, Proxmire turned and steered his prisoners toward the train. Matt watched them shuffle to the next to last car. The four outlaws quickly followed.
From in the line behind them, Becky asked, “Mama, why are they telling that lady she has to leave town?”
“Hush, darling. I don’t know, and it is none of our business,” Millie replied.
Again, Matt saw the young woman’s cheeks flame in embarrassment and watched as she climbed into the last car. He didn’t recognize her, but at least knew he had seen her somewhere before. He just couldn’t remember when or where. Without that information, he wasn’t able to put a name to the face.
Matt and the Daniels family followed Jenny into the last car, illuminated by kerosene lanterns, three on each side, mounted on gimbals. Two coal-burning stoves—one at each end—were in the car, and the smoke was carried outside by chimneys, which passed through the roof. The stoves were well stoked and burning briskly so the car was comfortably warm, despite the brutal outside temperature.
Matt took the very last seat in the car, which was exactly where he wanted to be. From his position at the back, he could observe without being obvious. He looked at the woman the deputy had called Jenny McCoy. It was
