Matt was eating breakfast at the Choulic Café when a woman came in. Looking around for a moment, she saw Matt and came directly to his table.

“Mr. Cavanaugh?”

This was the same soiled dove that had been in bed with Bates when Matt and Bates had had their encounter. By now, Matt had been in town long enough, and had spent enough time in the saloon, to know her by name.

Matt stood up. “Hello, Jennie,” he said.

“Oh, my,” Jennie said, flustered by that gentlemanly act. “You don’t have to stand for me.”

“You are a woman,” Matt replied. “I treat all women with courtesy.”

“Oh, I, uh—I appreciate it,” Jennie said.

“Have you had your breakfast?”

“I’m not much of a breakfast person,” Jennie replied.

“You could join me for coffee, couldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Jennie said, looking around. “Mr. Appleby doesn’t like for people like me—uh, you know, women who are on the line—to come in here.”

“Nonsense, you are my guest,” Matt said. He held a chair out for Jennie, then moved around the table to retake his own seat. He was fully aware of some of the glances he was receiving from many of the other diners, but he paid no attention to them.

“What brings you to my table, Jennie?” Matt asked. “Although I’m enjoying the company, I have the feeling that you didn’t stop by just to be sociable.”

“I hear that you are looking for Moses Schuler,” Jennie said.

“Yes,” Matt said. “Do you know him? You must know him if you know his full name. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned his first name since I arrived in Choulic.”

“Yes, I know him,” Jennie said. “I know him very well.” She paused for a moment. “Moses killed my husband,” she added.

“Your husband?”

Jennie nodded, and Matt saw that her eyes had welled with tears.

“Yes, Mr. Cavanaugh, my husband,” Jennie said. “I wasn’t born a whore.”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to imply that you were.”

“I know, I know. I guess, when I think about it, I’m just a little sensitive,” Jennie said. “Carl and I had been married for a little over a year. His parents didn’t approve of the marriage. After all, Carl was an educated man, a mining engineer, and he met me when I was working as a maid for his family. But Carl didn’t care what they thought—he loved me and I loved him, so we were married, and we left Louisville to come out West. Carl had taken a position with the Cross Point Mine.”

“Oh, I see,” Matt said. “Earlier, when you said Schuler killed your husband, you were talking about the cave-in at the Cross Point Mine, weren’t you? The one Schuler caused.”

“Yes,” Jennie said. She looked surprised. “You know about that?”

“I’ve heard about it.”

“It was an accident,” Jennie said. “I don’t really blame Moses, but he blames himself. That’s why he turned into an alcoholic.”

“Did you know Schuler before the accident?”

“I knew him very well. I told you that Carl’s family was opposed to our getting married. But that’s only true about his mother and father. His brother was very supportive—something that Carl and I both appreciated.”

“His brother?

“Yes, Mr. Cavanaugh. Moses Schuler was Carl Schuler’s brother. My brother-in-law,” Jennie said simply.

“I see.”

“No, I’m not sure you do see,” Jennie said. “I do want to help you find him because I believe he is on the path to self-destruction and needs to be stopped. But before I tell you where to look, I need to ask what you are going to do with him when you do find him?”

“If you are worried about that, don’t tell me where he is,” Matt said, his reply surprising Jennie. “Because whatever I do will be between him and me. I don’t want you saddled with any kind of a guilty conscience.”

“I have to know, Mr. Cavanaugh, was he one of the people who robbed the train?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t the law, and you aren’t a bounty hunter. Why are you after these men?”

“Because of Suzie Dobbs.”

“Suzie Dobbs?” Jennie asked. Then, in a sudden insight, she took in a quick, audible breath. “Was she killed in the train wreck?”

“Yes.”

“Who was she? Your wife? Your fiancée. Your girlfriend?”

“No, she was a little four-year-old girl,” Matt answered. He described how he had pulled her from the wreck, dead with a stake driven through her heart.

“Oh,” Jennie said. “Oh, that’s awful.”

“I then made a vow to myself to find justice for her.”

“I’ll tell you the truth, Mr. Cavanaugh. I know that Moses has done some things he shouldn’t have done since he started drinking. And I’m sure some of it is against the law. Moses is no angel, that’s for sure. But I cannot believe that he would have anything to do with killing that little girl.”

Matt remembered Schuler’s reaction when the train robbers were in the express car. He alone had expressed some remorse and concern over what they had done.

“Of course, I haven’t seen Moses in quite a while. It could be that, him being a drunk and all, that he might—well, I suppose if he needed a drink bad enough, you could talk him into about anything.”

“Do you know where he is?” Matt asked.

Jennie was quiet for a long moment, as if struggling with her soul.

“Jennie, he alone expressed surprise and remorse at the outcome of the train wreck. I won’t kill him unless he tries to kill me,” Matt said. “Right now, the one I am really after is Cletus Odom. I’m just hoping that Schuler can help me find him.”

“You might try Quigotoa,” Jennie said.

“Quigotoa?”

“It’s a small town just a little north of here. That’s where Moses hangs out most of the time.”

“Does he live there?” Matt asked.

“Does he live there?” Jennie nodded her head. “I suppose you could say that he lives there. But a more accurate answer would be to say that the only reason he is there is because the folks in Quigotoa are willin’ to put up with him.”

 

It was now two weeks since Dempster had had a drink, and though it was still hard to abstain, it seemed to him to be getting a little easier. The cravings still occurred, but they were more isolated and did not occupy every waking moment as they once had. He was also taking more pride in his personal appearance, and had just taken a bath, shaved, and put on another clean suit, shirt, and tie. Now it was time for another haircut, so he walked down the street to Tony’s Tonsorial Treatments.

Nobody recognized him when he stepped into the barbershop.

“Yes, sir, friend, are you needing a haircut?” Tony asked. The barber had one customer in his chair, and there were two more waiting. “There are two more ahead of you, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all, Tony,” Dempster answered.

Although nobody had recognized Dempster on sight, they all recognized his voice.

“Dempster? Is that you?” one of the waiting customers asked.

“In the flesh,” Dempster replied.

“It is you. Who would’ve thought it?”

“I hope you don’t mind if I join you.”

“No, not at all, not at all. Have a seat,” one of the men said in invitation.

Dempster took off his hat and hung it on the rack. As he did so, he happened to glance through the window, and that was when he saw Cletus Odom riding into town.

“I’ll be damn,” Dempster said. “What is he doing here?”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Cletus Odom,” Dempster said. “I just saw him ride by, as big and bold as you please.”

“Cletus Odom? Are you sure?” Tony asked.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“How do you know it’s him?”

“I know it is him because I once had the dubious distinction of defending him against a charge of murder, back in the days when he was still a bounty hunter. Tony, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put off getting that haircut until later.”

“Anytime, Mr. Dempster,” Tony replied. “Anytime.”

Leaving the barbershop, Dempster hurried down the street to the bank. When he went into the bank, he caused the same initial reaction he had in the barbershop. People were startled when they recognized him. He walked quickly to the desk of Joel Montgomery, the owner of the bank.

“Mr. Dempster,” Montgomery said, rising to greet him. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Mr. Montgomery, may I speak to you alone for a moment?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Montgomery said. “What is it about?”

“Possible trouble,” Dempster replied without being more specific.

“Bernard,” Montgomery called to his teller. “I’m going to be busy in the back for a while.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Montgomery,” Bernard answered.

Montgomery led the way to the conference room, then closed the door behind them. “What is it?” he asked.

“I just saw Cletus Odom ride into town,” Dempster said.

“The outlaw? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Oh, my,” Montgomery said. He ran his hand through his hair. “Oh, my. If he is in town, it can only be for one reason. He’s planning to rob the bank.”

“I think you might be right,” Dempster said. “Only, we know he is here so that gives us a little advantage.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“We are paying a heavy tax to the marshal and his deputies, aren’t we?” Dempster asked.

“Yes.”

“Then it is time that Cummins started earning his money.”

“I—yes, you are right.” Montgomery was quiet for a moment. “I never thought I would hear myself say this, but I’m glad that Cummins has all those deputies. Surely they can handle Cletus Odom.”

“One would certainly think so, wouldn’t one?” Dempster replied.

“So, what do we do now?”

“Now? Now we go to Marshal Cummins, inform him of the presence of a wanted outlaw, and demand that he do his duty.”

“Who?” Montgomery asked.

“Who what?”

“Who is going to see Cummins and demand action?”

“I’ll do it,” Dempster said.

 

Cummins and two of his deputies were in the marshal’s office when Dempster stepped inside. Evidently someone had just told a joke, because all three were laughing loudly.

“Excuse me,” Dempster said.

The three men looked over toward him and Jackson laughed out loud. “Well, now, look what the cat drug in,” he said.

“Dempster,” Cummins said. “It’s good of you to drop by.” He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, filled a glass, then slid the glass across his desk toward Dempster. “Have a drink.”

“Thank you, no,” Dempster said.

“No?” Cummins looked at his two deputies. “Boys, did you just hear Mr. Dempster say no?”

“I never thought that old drunk would turn down a drink,” Crack said.

“Maybe he thinks he’s too good to drink with us,” Jackson suggested.

“No, it isn’t that,” Dempster said. “I’m sure you understand. I’m an alcoholic. I’m trying to quit drinking.”

“Hah! You’re trying to quit drinking?” Cummins replied. He looked at the others. “Boys, have either of you ever known a drunk who gave it up?”

“I ain’t never known one,” Jackson said.

“Me neither,” Crack added.

“No, and you ain’t never goin’ to know one ’cause it can’t be done.” He looked at Dempster again. “So why are you tryin’ to fight it? You know you want a drink, and here it is, just waitin’ for you. And it is being offered in friendship.”

“Maybe he don’t want to be our friend,” Crack said. “He’s been meetin’ with Montgomery and them other troublemakers.”

Dempster gasped, and Cummins laughed again.

“Well now, Mr. Dempster, you act a little surprised,” Cummins said.

Dempster didn’t answer.

“You don’t think folks can hold meetin’s in this town without me knowin’ about it, do you?” Cummins asked. “This is Purgatory, Mr. Dempster.” Cummins made a fist of his right hand, then used his thumb to point to himself. “And I own Purgatory. Nothing happens in Purgatory without my knowledge, or permission.”

“You are the marshal, not the king,” Dempster said.

“The marshal, not the king? Hmm, that sounds like a political slogan. Are you considering running for some office, Mr. Dempster?”

In fact, though he had told no one, Dempster had considered running for circuit judge.

“If I run for anything, you’ll know it, Marshal Cummins,” Dempster said. “Believe me, you’ll know it.”

“Well now, that sounds like a threat,” Cummins replied. “Are you threatening me, Counselor?”

A quick spasm of fear overtook Dempster, and the hackles rose on the back of his neck. The conversation had gone beyond mere banter and he needed to change the tone.

“No!” he said quickly. “No, I’m not making any threat. I just meant that, uh, if I ever did run for office, why, everyone would know about it.” He forced a laugh. “They’d have to know about it, otherwise, who would vote for me?”

“I can answer that question for you,” Jackson said. “Nobody would vote for you, because nobody is going to vote for a drunk.”

“What do you want, Dempster?” Cummins asked. He picked up the glass of whiskey and drank it himself. The bantering was over.

“I just saw Cletus Odom coming into town,” Dempster said.

“Cletus Odom, you say?” Cummins replied. “You saw him coming into town?”

“Yes. He was riding right down the middle of Central Street, just as big and bold as you please.”

“What about that, Marshal?” Jackson said. “Cletus Odom is in town.”

There was a matter-of-fact tone to Jackson’s comment that Dempster found disturbing.

“Mr. Dempster, why did you feel you had to come tell me about Cletus Odom?” Cummins asked.

“Because you are the marshal.”

“And?”

“And because Cletus Odom is a wanted outlaw.”

“Not in Purgatory, he isn’t,” Cummins said.

“Of course he is. He’s wanted all over the Arizona Territory,” Dempster said.

Cummins shook his head and made a clucking sound with his tongue. “And you once defended him,” he said. “What kind of lawyer are you, Dempster, that you would turn on a man you once defended?”

Dempster had never told anyone that he had once defended Odom, until he shared that information with Montgomery just a few minutes earlier.

“How—how did you know I once defended him?”

“Because Cletus told me you did,” Cummins replied.

“Odom told you? I don’t understand. When did you and Odom ever have a conversation? And why would he have told you that?”

“Because brothers share things,” Cummins answered.

“Brothers? You and Cletus Odom are brothers?”

“Half brothers,” Cummins said. “Cletus!” he called. “Get out here, I want you to meet an old friend of yours!”

A door at the back of the room opened, and Cletus Odom stepped out. Dempster noticed, in shock, that Odom was wearing a star pinned to his vest.

“Mr. Dempster, meet my newest deputy,” Cummins said.