Dakota Ambush

Chapter Twenty-five

To show that he was a magnanimous man, Denbigh let it be known that on Saturday night he would open the tollgate free of charge to anyone who wanted to come to town to attend the Firemen’s Ball. As a result of his action, small ranchers and farmers, and their families, doubled the population of Fullerton on the night of the ball.

The firemen were using the ball as a means of raising money to buy a new pumper. In order to make certain that the people got their money’s worth, they hired a band all the way from Bismarck. Making the trip in a rented carriage the Fullerton Fire Department supplied them, they arrived in mid-afternoon, and went straight to the hotel ballroom to set up.

Green Fowler and several of his friends, boys that he went to school with, were looking upon the afternoon and evening as a great party, and it was a party not only for the young people but for the adults.

Even before the dance started, the band began practicing, and the high skirling of the fiddle, the low thump of the bass viol, and the melodic strum of the guitar could be heard out in the street. Monroe Avenue had been thoroughly cleaned of horse droppings, and now resembled a carnival midway. There were booths where women were displaying their quilting projects, and Kenny Perkins, ever the entrepreneur, had spent the last two days prior to the dance making doughnuts, tarts, cookies, and fudge. Today, he had a booth where he sold the confections, as well as coffee and lemonade. For the occasion, he had hired Jimmy Smith and Becky Carson, one of his classmates, to help him.

Green and the other boys were running up and down the street, darting in and around the booths. One of them suggested that they play the game of “Shooting Ollie Butrum,” and they did so with relish, Green winning the coveted role of portraying Matt Jensen because he had actually met him.

At Ma Perkins’ Boarding House, the boarders were all gathered around the supper table when Lucy came into the dining room, obviously dressed for the dance.

“Mrs. Black has baked a wonderful apple pie tonight,” she said. “And Mrs. Mouser has graciously offered to serve.”

“My, oh, my, Mrs. Perkins, if you don’t look lovely tonight,” Proffer said. “Why, if I were thirty years younger, wouldn’t I be squiring you.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Proffer,” Lucy said, beaming at the compliment.

“Where is Mr. Jensen?” Mrs. Gibson asked. “I thought he would dine with us, tonight.”

“I believe John and Millie Bryce invited him for dinner,” Lucy said.

“Well, I am sure he will be at the dance. Please tell him we missed him tonight,” Mrs. Gibson said.

“If I see him, I certainly shall,” Lucy said.

The ball was well under way, and Matt was standing against the back wall enjoying the music and the movement and swirl of the women in their butterfly bright dresses, and of the men, uncomfortable in their unaccustomed suits as they danced. He watched as one of the cowboys walked over to the punch bowl, took a quick look around the room, then, as unobtrusively as possible, poured whiskey into the bowl. Matt chuckled, because this was the third cowboy within the last fifteen minutes to make such an addition to the fruit punch.

He saw Lucy Perkins the moment she came in. She was clearly the most beautiful woman in the room, and though Millie had told Matt that Lucy was thirty-one years old, which was three years younger than Matt, she did not look a day over twenty-one. Lucy was greeted warmly by several of the men and women, and after returning their greetings, she walked over to the punch bowl, where she picked up a stem of crystal. Matt reached her just as she picked up the ladle.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” he said.

“Oh, tish,” Lucy said, flashing a big smile. “You think I don’t know it has been spiked? This isn’t the first ball I’ve ever attended, you know.”

Lucy turned to Matt and saluted him with a full glass. “It’ssonicetosee you here, Mr. Jensen,” she said.

Lucy took a swallow of her drink, then immediately lowered the glass and coughed. Putting the glass down on the table, she made a fist, then hit herself in her bare chest, just above the cleavage her dress displayed.

“Oh, my!” she gasped. “What is in that? Kerosene?”

Matt laughed. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said.

Lucy joined in the laugh. “No, I can’t say that,” Lucy agreed.

“Ladies and gents, choose your partners and form your squares!”

Lucy looked at Matt expectantly and, with a smile, Matt held out his hand.

“Shall we dance, Mrs. Perkins?”

“Must you call me Mrs. Perkins?” she asked.

“Do you prefer Ma?”

Lucy laughed out loud, and clasped her hand to her mouth. “How about Lucy?” she suggested.

“Lucy it is,” Matt replied.

“Thank you, Matt, I would love to dance.”

They danced two more squares before six of Denbigh’s men rode up. All six were armed when they stepped up to the table to buy their tickets.

“Gentlemen, if you are going to come in here, you are going to have to leave your guns outside,” the fireman who was manning the front door said.

“I don’t take my gun off for anyone,” Meacham said.

“That’s fine, sir. If you want to keep your gun, you may keep it,” the fireman said politely. “You just can’t come in here with it.”

Seeing that there appeared to be some disturbance at the front door, Matt, John, and one of the other fireman walked over to see what was going on.

“Any trouble, Carl?” John asked the fireman at the door.

“These gentlemen don’t seem to want to check their guns,” Carl replied.

“Meacham, isn’t it?” John said to Meacham.

“That’s right,” Meacham replied.

“Mr. Meacham, as I am sure you can tell by looking around this room, nobody is armed,” Carl, the fireman at the door said. “That means you are in no danger here. I see no reason for you and your men to be armed.”

“What about Jensen here?” Meacham asked. “I’ve never known him to be without his gun.”

Without saying a word, Matt opened his jacket to show that he wasn’t armed.

“All right, boys, give up your guns,” Meacham said to the others as he unbuckled his gun belt and handed it to the fireman who was sitting at the table. He forced a smile. “We do want to be sociable, after all.”

Meacham, Slater, Dillon, Wilson, Bleeker, and Carver gave up their guns, then the six of them moved on into the ballroom. For the first few minutes, there was an uneasiness in the room. All knew that these men worked for Denbigh, and Slater, Dillon, and Wilson were frequent troublemakers when they came to town.

“Well, come on!” Slater shouted. “This is supposed to be a dance, ain’t it? How can you dance without music?”

Walter Bowman, the fire chief, nodded at the band leader, and with a few stomps of his foot and nods of his head, the music started once again. Within a few minutes, the dancing resumed, everyone got back into a good mood, and the six interlopers were forgotten.

Unable to get any of the ladies of the town to dance with them, Slater, Dillon, and Wilson cavorted around in their own square, and while they were disruptive with their loud laughter, and sometimes intrusive with their wide turns, they weren’t causing enough trouble to make it uncomfortable for others at the dance.

Meacham made no effort to dance. Instead, he stood to one side, leaning back against the wall, observing. Bleeker and Carver discovered the spiked punch, and they quickly ensconced themselves by the punch bowl, where they did little but drink and exchange obscene observations about the women who were present. That might not have caused any trouble at all, had Matt not overheard one of their comments when he came to the table to get coffee for himself and Lucy.

“They say that Perkins woman runs a boarding-house,” Bleeker said to Carver. “Ma Perkins’, they call it. But look at her. Does she look like someone who runs a boardinghouse?”

“Ha!” Carver replied. “Boardinghouse, is it? It’s a whorehouse just as sure as a gun is iron, and she is the chief whore.”

“Of course she is,” Carver said. “Look at her. You can tell she is a whore just by lookin’ at her.”

“What do you say that after this dance is over, we drop by her whorehouse and do some business with her?” Bleeker said.

Matt put both cups down and stepped up to the two men.

“Excuse me. I wonder if I could ask you two men to step outside?”

Matt’s sudden appearance surprised the two men, neither of whom had noticed him approach the coffee table.

“What do you want us to go outside for?” Bleeker asked.

“Because I heard what you two said about Mrs. Perkins, and I don’t like it.”

“Calling her a whore, you mean?” Bleeker replied with a chuckle. “Seeing as you are probably samplin’ some of her services, I don’t know why you would get all upset over it.”

“Step outside,” Matt said again.

“Why should we?”

“Because I’m going to have to whip your ass, and I don’t want to create a disturbance in here,” Matt said.

“Now which ass are you going to whip?” Bleeker asked. “Because maybe you didn’t notice, but there are two of us and only one of you. And you ain’t wearin’ no gun this time.”

“I know that it isn’t fair,” Matt replied. “I mean, being that there are only two of you. But life isn’t fair, and sometimes that’s just the way it is.”

A big grin spread across Bleeker’s face and he turned to Carver.

“Well, now, what do you think, Carver? Looks to me like he is challengin’ both of us at the same time. Christmas is coming early this year. What do you say we go outside with this fella and teach him a lesson or two?”

“But quietly,” Matt said. “I see no need for disturbing the others at their fun.”

“You mean you don’t want your whore to see you get beat, don’t you?” Carver said.

“Let’s go,” Bleeker said. “This is going to be fun.”

Matt followed the two men outside, but as soon as they reached the street, both of them turned and made swipes at him with knives. Their quick turn, and the fact that both were carrying knives, caught Matt by surprise.

“I thought this was to be a fistfight,” Matt said.

“Yes, well, life is just full of surprises, ain’t it?” Bleeker said as he made another swipe toward Matt. The two men handled their weapons skillfully, but again, Matt managed to avoid the blades.

“Ha!” Bleeker said. “You took away our guns, but you didn’t say nothin’ about knives, did you?”

Carver feinted and as Matt jumped away from him, Bleeker swung his knife in a low vicious arc. Despite the quickness of Matt’s reaction, Bleeker’s flashing blade opened a wound in his side, and Matt staggered back.

Bleeker moved in again, trying to take advantage of Matt’s wound, but to his surprise, Matt sent a booted foot at the Y of Bleeker’s legs. When Bleeker dropped his knife and grabbed his groin, Matt slammed his fist into Bleeker’s neck, crushing his larynx.

Bleeker fell to the ground, even as Matt picked up the knife and turned to face Carver. Seeing what happened to Bleeker, and now realizing that he was alone, Carver turned and ran, leaving his partner writhing and choking to death on the ground behind him.

Matt was in no condition to give chase; in fact, he was in no condition to continue the fight, and he was glad Carver had run. He felt the nausea rising up in him. Bile surged in his throat and he threw up in the street. Dizzy and weak, he staggered back to the hotel, then stepped into the ballroom.

“Mr. Jensen!” Carl called. “Mr. Jensen, what happened?”

At the loud and concerned shout of the fireman, the dance caller stopped, the squares ceased their movement, and even the music, after a few more ragged bars, fell silent. Everyone stared at Matt with curiosity. Then, seeing blood spilling through the fingers of the hand he held clasped over his wound, some of the other women screamed.

“Matt!” Lucy called out loudly.

Matt felt the room spinning, then a weakness, then nothing.