“If you’re so worried about him, go join him,” Santelli said.
“No, sir, I—”
Santelli pointed his pistol at Pete. “I said, go join him.”
Compton and Morris walked over to Pete. “Are you going to go on your own? Or do we need to send you out the same way we did your friend?”
“No need to hit me. I’ll go, I’ll go,” Pete conceded. He walked over to the door, looked back at the evil smiles on the gunmen’s faces, opened the door, and stepped out into the snow.
Finding Fred, he grabbed him by the legs and dragged him through the snow, far away from the dining car and the eyes of the four gunman. “Fred! Fred!”
Pete leaned down to examine his friend more closely. Fred’s eyes were open and he wasn’t reacting in any way to the snow on his eyeballs. Pete put his ear to Fred’s chest, but couldn’t hear a heartbeat. “Fred!” he called again.
But Fred couldn’t hear him, because Fred was dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
City Undertaker Joe Ponder walked into the sheriff’s office as John McKenzie was pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Sheriff, I just got a couple bodies in I think will interest you. You might want to come take a look at them before I get them ready to send back to Bent County.”
“All right, Joe.” McKenzie poured the coffee back into the blue metal coffeepot, put on his coat, and trudged through the cold to the mortuary.
“Murder victims?” McKenzie asked as they walked.
“No, sir, not exactly. Leastwise, I don’t think so. According to Nugent, he killed both of them while they were trying to hold up the stage yesterday. The driver backs him up.”
They entered the mortuary, where two bodies lay covered by shrouds.
McKenzie nodded to the bodies. “Who are they, do you know?”
“Yes, sir, I know both of them. That’s why I come to get you. I think you’re goin’ to be mighty interested when you see who they are.” Ponder pulled the shrouds back. The massive wounds in the chests were the first thing Sheriff McKenzie saw. Then he looked up at their faces. The faces were without color or any animation, but he recognized them at once.
“It’s Sheriff Ferrell!”
“Yes, and the other fella is his new deputy. His last name is Clayton, but I don’t know his first name.”
“And you say Nugent killed them while they were holding up the stagecoach?”
“Yes, sir. That’s what Jake Nugent and Silas Cambridge both say.”
“Damn. You know what that means? It means Luke Shardeen was more ’n likely telling the truth. I’ll tell Mr. Murchison. He’ll for sure want to file an appeal. And I’ll send a telegram to the Sheriff of Eagle County, telling him to have Proxmire bring Luke back for the new trial.”
“After you see what I found, you may not be able to hold a new trial here.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s likely we won’t have a judge who can hold the trial.”
“What are you talking about, Joe?”
“Well, sir, I found somethin’ in Ferrell’s pocket you might want to see.”
“What is it?
“I slipped it back in his pocket so you could see where it came from. Seth Campbell was with me, and he’ll back me up that it came from Ferrell’s pocket.”
“Are you going to tell me? Or are you just going to keep gabbing?”
“I don’t have to tell you. I’ll show you.” Ponder reached into Ferrell’s shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. There was blood on the paper, but it didn’t prevent the message from being read.
“Ha!” McKenzie slapped the note against his open palm. “We’ve got ’im! I’ve thought all along that damn so- and-so was crooked.”
Julius was standing near the stove when he heard something at the back door of the car. Looking around he saw someone looking in through the window. “It’s Pete!” Julius scurried to the back door and jerked it open.
Pete was covered with snow and shaking uncontrollably. Julius pulled him inside and he and Troy knocked the snow off him. Julius pulled his serape off and draped it over Pete.
“Come on up closer to the stove,” Julius invited, pulling him toward the front. “It’s not puttin’ out much heat, but it’ll help some.”
“Pete, where’s Fred?” Troy asked.
“He’s outside,” Pete said, barely able to speak. “He’s lyin’ in the snow alongside the car.”
“We can’t leave him out there,” Bailey said. “He’ll freeze to death.”
“He’s already dead,” Pete said bluntly. “Those men kilt him ’cause he tried to break off a piece of bread for me ’n him.”
Julius, who had given up his serape, began to shiver. Troy took his off and gave it to him. “Here, Julius, you wear this for a while, then when I get too cold, give it back, and we’ll swap it back and forth.”
“You can do that, or we’ll make another one,” Matt suggested.
“How are we going to make another one? There ain’t no carpet left,” Troy said.
Matt smiled. “Not in this car.”
Matt and Troy went into the next car. There were eight people in this car, a man, two woman, and five children. The body of Deputy Proxmire was slumped in a window seat.
“What do you want?” the man asked anxiously.
“We want to take up the carpet so we can make some more serapes, like this.” Matt indicated the one he was wearing. “We have some people in our car without coats.”
“All right,” the man answered.
Matt looked at the firebox and saw there was even less coal than remained in his car. “It looks like you don’t have much coal left.”
“No, sir, we don’t.”
“What’s your name?”
“The name is Webb, Edward Webb. This is my wife Clara.”
“My name is Timmy,” said a boy about nine. Two younger girls sat next to him, but neither of them spoke.
“The two shy ones are Emma and Molly,” Webb said.
“My name is Jensen—”
“Yes, sir. You are Matt Jensen,” Timmy interrupted. “I’ve read about you.”
“Have you now?” Matt asked with a smile. “Well, Timmy, I’m glad you are reading, but don’t believe everything you read about me. Those are mostly made-up stories.”
