Snake River Slaughter

Chapter Fifteen

When Matt woke up he was lying in a strange bed. He felt some soreness in his side and putting his hand down, felt, not the petticoat he had pressed against the wound, but a well-constructed bandage that was wrapped all the way around his waist.

Matt looked around at the room. Embossed metal tiles covered the ceiling, while twelve-inch crown molding separated the ceiling from the wall. The wall itself was covered with white wallpaper embossed with a pattern of flowers. The furniture, like the bed, was massive and elegant. This was not his room and he had no idea how he got here. The last thing Matt could remember was mounting Spirit and riding away from the saloon, intending to return to Coventry on the Snake.

He tried to sit up, but winced with pain from the effort and had to stay still for a moment until the pain went away. After a moment, he tried again, and this time he was successful. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, then realized for the first time that he was naked.

At that very moment the door opened and Matt looked around, quickly, but unsuccessfully for his pistol.

“What are you doing sitting up?” Kitty asked, coming into the room then. “You shouldn’t be getting up yet.”

Frederica, who was carrying a tray, came into the room behind Kitty.

“Lay back down,” Kitty ordered. “We’ve brought your lunch.”

“This isn’t my room, but I must be at your house.”

“Yes, this is my room. And of course you are at my house,” Kitty answered. “Where did you think you were?”

Matt looked around the room and chuckled. “To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure I wasn’t in Heaven,” he said. “And when I heard someone coming through the door, I thought maybe it was St. Peter coming to tell me that there had been a mistake, and I was going to have to be on the next train out of here.”

Kitty laughed. “I admit, this is much nicer than Captain Mumford’s Home for Wayward Boys and Girls,” she said, “but I wouldn’t exactly call it Heaven. Now, you lie back down like I said.”

“How am I going to eat my lunch if I lie back down?”

“I’m going to feed you,” Kitty said. “Frederica, if you would, please, put his lunch there, on the small table.”

“Si, Señora,” Frederica answered, setting the tray on the table. Matt saw a bowl of soup, a large chunk of freshly baked bread, and a coffeepot.

“Thank you,” Matt said.

“Señor,” Frederica acknowledged with a nod of her head.

“Thank you, Frederica. I can handle it from here,” Kitty said.

Frederica let herself out of the room and shut the door behind her.

“How did I get here?” Matt asked.

“You don’t remember?”

“The last thing I remember is starting to ride away from the saloon.”

Kitty dipped the spoon into the soup, then held it out for Matt. He hesitated.

“It isn’t too hot,” Kitty said. “I let it cool a bit before we brought it up to you.”

Matt took the spoonful, swallowed it, then nodded.

“Oh,” he said. “That is good. That is very good.”

“Thank you. It’s a duck soup that I made myself,” she said. “I even made the noodles.”

Matt took another swallow and smacked his lips appreciatively. “It is very good,” he said again.

He picked up the piece of bread and tore off a piece, then stuck it in his mouth. “Good bread too,” he said.

“So the last thing you remember is riding away from the saloon?”

“Yes. I don’t remember riding out here at all.”

“Not surprising that you don’t remember riding out here, since you didn’t do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you didn’t get very far,” Kitty said. “You got only as far as the school before you fell off your horse.”

“I fell off my horse?” Matt said incredulously. He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. That’s not possible.”

“Don’t get your feelings all bruised. Maybe I worded that poorly. What I should have said is that you passed out from loss of blood, then you fell off your horse.”

“All right, that explains that part of it. But if I didn’t ride out here, how did I get here?”

“Millie brought you here.

“Millie?”

“She works in the saloon. It seems you made quite a good impression on her. Should I be jealous?”

“Jealous?”

“I’m teasing. Evidently, you were pretty badly hurt when you left the saloon, and Millie was worried about you, so she stepped outside to see how you were doing. You weren’t doing very well, you were weaving back and forth in the saddle as you rode away. Then, when she saw you fall from your horse, she ran down to you. She said that, at first, she was afraid you were dead. But when she saw you move, she went to get Mr. Gilmore. Mr. Gilmore rented a buckboard for her, and helped her get you onto it. She drove it out here by herself.”

“Gilmore didn’t come with her?”

Kitty laughed. “Are you serious? A whore comes to his house in the middle of the night, and you think his wife is going to let him go with her?”

Matt laughed as well.

“Well, I owe her my thanks. Not just for bringing me here, but for warning me I was in danger. Because of that, when I stepped out of the saloon last night, I was on my guard. Of course, I have to admit, I didn’t expect a knife attack.”

“It wasn’t last night,” Kitty said.

“What?”

“It wasn’t last night, it was two nights ago. You were out all day yesterday, and all night last night.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m serious. You have slept, if you can call what you were doing sleeping rather than being unconscious, for two days and two nights.”

“No wonder I’m so hungry,” Matt said.

“Now, I don’t know if you actually like my soup, or if you just like it because you are hungry,” Kitty said.

“Couldn’t it be both?”

“I suppose it could.”

“Katherine. Who undressed me?”

“Millie and I both did. And we put on your bandage,” Kitty replied. She chuckled. “Are you embarrassed?”

“No, I reckon not. It’s not like I’ve never been seen by a woman before.”

Kitty laughed out loud. “Then we are even, Matt. It’s not like Millie nor I have never seen a naked man before.”

“Where is Millie?”

“She had to go back into town yesterday. She said next time you come into town, be sure to drop in to the Sand Spur and say hello.”

“I’ll do that,” Matt said. Again, he looked around the room. “I’m sorry I put you out of your room.”

“You didn’t put me out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I spent both nights right here, with you,” Kitty said.

“Oh?”

“Don’t worry, Matt, I haven’t been compromised.” She laughed, heartily. “As if someone like me could be compromised. But you have been drifting in and out of it so much that I thought you needed someone to keep watch over you. Although you are welcome to share my room, and my bed, for as long as you want, you could probably go back to your own room now if you feel up to it.”

“I appreciate the doctoring, and I appreciate you watching over me,” Matt said. “But it would probably be better if I went back to my own room.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Matt. It was delightful to feel you in bed beside me, the truth is, right now you are all I have to protect my investment, so keeping you healthy is more important than anything else,” Kitty said. “I don’t have a choice. I have to watch over you.”

Matt felt up to getting out of bed later that afternoon and Kitty said he could move to his room, but she insisted that he stay in bed at least one more day. To keep peace, Matt agreed to do so, and he did not get up, dress, and come downstairs until noon on the following day. He had eaten nothing but soup for the last two days so when he came downstairs, even though he was in the parlor, he smelled something cooking.

The aroma, which was very enticing, promised a meal that was a little more substantial than soup, so his mood improved considerably.

“Smells good down here,” Matt said.

“I had Frederica tell Maria to put a roast beef on this morning,” Kitty said, explaining the aroma. “I thought you might be ready for some solid food.”

“I’m more than ready,” Matt said. “Truth is, I believe I could eat it whether it was cooked or not.”

Kitty laughed, but her laughter was interrupted by someone banging the front door knocker.

“Wait here, I’ll go see who it is,” Kitty offered and, nodding, Matt walked over to have a seat in the rocking chair.

A moment later, Kitty came back into the parlor with Marcus Kincaid trailing behind her.

Matt stood up.

“No, no, don’t get up on my account,” Kincaid said, holding his hand out. “I heard about your—uh—trouble the other night. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of you tearing something open.”

“I’m fine,” Matt said without further elaboration.

“I must say, you are the talk of the town,” Kincaid said. “I mean, here, two knife-wielding ruffians tried to rob you, and you not only survived, you managed to kill Garcia.”

“Garcia?”

“Carlos Garcia. He works down at the—that is, he did work down at the depot in the feeder lot. The other one who attacked you had to be Lopez. They were a couple of Mexicans who worked together and roomed together down at Mama Sanchez’s boardinghouse.

Anyway, the next day, Marshal Sparks went down to the feeder lot to talk to Lopez, but Lopez was gone, and his boss said he hasn’t been seen since it happened.”

“They weren’t trying to rob me,” Matt said.

“Of course they were trying to rob you. What other reason would they have for attacking you like that?”

“They were trying to kill me,” Matt said. “They came out of the dark with their knives and they attacked me without a word. If they had been trying to rob me, they would have asked me for money.”

“Why would they be trying to kill you? Do you know them?”

“They tried to kill me because someone paid them.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Why was I attacked in American Falls? Why were Gilmore and I attacked on the way out here that first day? When you add that all together, it can only mean that someone wants me dead.”

“As I understood it from the report Gilmore gave, you weren’t actually attacked while you were on the way out here. Gilmore said that you saw someone on the lip of the canyon wall, then you stopped, then you went up to confront them. That’s when you killed Sam Logan.”

“Who shot at me first,” Matt said.

“There’s only your word for that, isn’t there?”

“Kincaid, if you’ve got something stuck in your craw, spit it out,” Matt said.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not disputing your claim. I’m just repeating what Mr. Gilmore said in the report he filed. And it does point out how difficult the marshal’s job is in enforcing the law when there are no eyewitnesses.”

“There were two eyewitnesses.”

“Yes, Mole and Cooter. Perhaps I should have said, eyewitnesses who were would be willing to give testimony.”

“Have they told the marshal a different story?”

“They told the marshal that it all happened so fast they didn’t know what happened.”

“Don’t you think if they could convince the marshal that I was at fault, they would do so?”

“I suppose. I do wonder, though, why someone might be trying to kill you. Do you have any idea who that someone might be?”

“Yeah I got a very good idea who wants me dead. It’s Poke Terrell.”

“Ah, you’ve been listening to Prewitt, haven’t you? Prewitt thinks he saw Poke Terrell the night the rustlers stole Kitty’s horses. But there are eyewitnesses in the Mud Hole who will claim that they were playing cards with Poke the night the robbery happened.”

“That’s funny,” Matt said. “According to what I hear about Terrell, he never plays cards with anyone but himself. Who were the three who were playing cards with him on the night Prew was shot, and his two friends were killed?”

“Sam Logan, Al Madison, and Ken Jernigan.”

Matt laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”

“All three of those men tried to kill me.”

“And all three of them are dead, which means their testimony can no longer be challenged,” Marcus said.

“So, as you can see, your assertion that Poke Terrell is trying to kill you would never be sustained in a court.”

“Are you actually saying that I can’t prove in court that Terrell is trying to kill me?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying,” Kincaid replied. “You can bring charges if you want to, but it will go nowhere. You have no collaborative testimony.”

Matt laughed out loud.

“What is it?” Marcus asked. “What do you find so funny?”

“Kincaid, you don’t understand, do you?” Matt asked.

“What is it I don’t understand?”

“I don’t need any collaborative testimony. I don’t have to prove it in court.”

“Then you are right, I don’t understand. Why don’t you have to prove it in court?”

“Because I only have to prove to me. In this case I am the court, I am the judge, I am the jury, and when the time comes, I will be the executioner.”

“Oh, my,” Marcus replied, obviously unnerved by Matt’s declaration. “If you don’t mind, I would like to give you a word of advice, Mr. Jensen.”

“By all means, feel free to do so,” Matt invited.

“I, uh, would be careful about making threats toward Poke if I were you. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who would take such threats easily.”

“I’m not making threats, Kincaid,” Matt said. “I’m simply stating fact.”

“Oh, what is that I smell?” Marcus asked, breaking off the conversation. “It smells divine.”

“I told Frederica to have Maria prepare a pot roast for lunch,” Kitty said. “You are welcome to stay.”

“Why, thank you, Kitty. I just believe I will accept your kind invitation,” Marcus said.

Because the roast beef was too large for two people, or even three, considering the unexpected arrival of Marcus Kincaid, Kitty invited Tyrone Canfield to dine with them.

“Oh, Matt, I’ve got those numbers for you,” Tyrone said as they were eating, “I meant to give them to you as soon as I came in, but this meal is so good that it plumb slipped my mind.”

“What numbers are you talking about, Tyrone?” Marcus asked.

Tyrone looked over at Marcus, but didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced back toward Kitty.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Marcus said. “I seem to have stepped into something that isn’t any of my business.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I reckon that’s about it,” Tyrone said. “I figure if Mrs. Wellington wants you to know, she’ll tell you.”

“I don’t mind telling you,” Kitty said. “He’s talking about horses, Marcus. The horses we’ll be shipping to Chicago next week.”

“That’s the contract you were telling me about earlier?” Marcus asked. “The army contract?”

“Yes. Matt will going into town tomorrow to arrange for railroad cars.”

“Twenty horses per car,” Matt said.

“You can get a lot more than that in a car,” Kincaid said. “Heck, when I ship cattle, I can get fifty to a car.”

“I’m not shipping cattle,” Kitty said, resolutely. “I’m shipping purebred horses, and if you put any more than twenty in a single car the chances are likely that some might be hurt. In fact, they might be hurt so badly that you would have to put them down.”

“Even so, you should be able to at least double the number per car,” Kincaid said. “I’m just looking out for you, Kitty. The cars are going to cost you at least one hundred dollars per car.”

“I figure it’s going to take a minimum of twenty-five cars,” Kitty said. “That would be with twenty head per car. Now, suppose I doubled the number of horses in each car, and suppose a minimum of two horses per car are hurt. In fact, I would say that the number is too low. I could wind up with a many as three or four, or even five horses hurt, per car. I could be looking at four thousand dollars in losses. On the other hand, if I go along with the idea of limiting it to just twenty horses per car, it will cost me no more than twenty-five hundred dollars in railroad fees, which in the long run could be much cheaper. Also, we will more than likely transfer every horse without injury, and despite the money consideration, there is something to be said for the welfare of the horses.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Marcus said. He lifted his wineglass in toast. “To my beautiful stepmother and all her horses.”

“I’m not your stepmother,” Kitty said, speaking the words in the flat monotone that suggested she had discussed this very subject with him dozens of times before now.

“Very well, then,” Kincaid said, lifting his glass a second time. “To your horses.”

The others lifted their glasses to the toast.

“What time are you going in tomorrow?” Kincaid asked, conversationally.

“I’m going to help Tyrone and Prew select the horses that will be shipped, then put them in a separate field before I start into town. I’d say about mid-morning. Why do you ask?”

“I have some business in town tomorrow as well,” Kincaid said. “Perhaps you would like to have lunch with me.”

“Maybe I will,” Matt agreed.

“Good, I shall look forward to it,” Kincaid said. Pushing the plate away, he stood up. “Kitty, I must be going back into town,” he said. “I know it is poor manners to leave immediately after having eaten, but I really must get back, and you can’t blame me for staying through lunch. It was delicious.”

“You are welcome anytime, Marcus,” Kitty said.

“I don’t like that man,” Matt said after Marcus Kincaid left.

“I feel sorry for him,” Kitty said. “He was so certain that he would inherit everything, and then I came along. I’m sure it was quite a blow to him when Tommy left Coventry to me.”

“Mrs. Wellington, I don’t mean to be talkin’ out of turn,” Tyrone said. “I mean, bein’ as this is sort of family and all. But I’ve known Marcus Kincaid a lot longer than you. I’ve known him since he was a sprout. Sir Thomas had a heart that was just too big, so he either couldn’t see it, or wouldn’t see it, but the fac’ is, even as a boy Marcus Kincaid wasn’t no good. He wasn’t no good then, and he ain’t no good now.”