Jackson made no move to comply.
“Your Honor,” Dempster complained.
Cummins looked over toward Jackson and nodded. “Take them off,” he said.
Jackson complied with the order, and Matt brought his hands back around front, then rubbed the wrists.
“Your Honor, I will need a few minutes to consult with my client,” Dempster said.
“I’ll give you fifteen minutes,” Cummins said.
“And some coffee. Strong and black.”
“Pauley, get the counselor some coffee,” Cummins said to the bartender, who had already taken a seat as the foreman of the jury.
“Back here, please,” Dempster said, motioning toward Matt.
Matt walked back into the corner of the saloon, then sat at the table with Dempster. Dempster’s silver hair was unkempt, and though he didn’t have a beard as such, he was badly in need of a shave. He was wearing a jacket and white shirt, but both were badly worn and, from the smell, had not seen a cleaning in some time.
“Hey, Marshal, while we’re waitin’, could we have another drink?” someone shouted.
“Yeah,” another added. “After all, it’s your saloon. If you keep us from buyin’ drinks, you’re just cuttin’ off your own nose to spite your face.”
That comment brought laughter from everyone, including Cummins.
“All right,” he said. “Pauley, go ahead and open the bar. You can keep it open for fifteen minutes, but when the trial starts, you have to close it.”
“Right,” Pauley said, returning to the bar. The fact that the opening was temporary was very good for business, because nearly everyone in the saloon, including all the jurors, rushed to the bar to get drinks before time ran out.
One of the deputies brought a pot of coffee and a single cup to Dempster’s table.
“Bring a cup for the defendant,” Dempster said.
“He ain’t here to enjoy no coffee,” the deputy growled.
“Give him a cup, Foster,” Cummins ordered.
Begrudgingly, Deputy Foster went into the kitchen, then returned with another coffee cup. By the time he returned, Dempster was already on his second cup of coffee.
“What is your name?” Dempster asked.
“Jensen. Matt Jensen.”
“Did you kill—uh—who is it you killed?”
“I believe they said his name was Gillis. Moe Gillis.”
“Gillis,” Dempster said. “Well, if you were goin’ to kill someone, that son of a bitch needed it more than just about anyone else I can think of. Let me ask you this. Did you kill him in cold blood?”
“No, I—”
Dempster held up his hand. “That’s enough. I’d rather hear you tell your side during the trial. It will give it more spontaneity.”
“All right.”
“Dempster, your fifteen minutes are up,” Cummins called.
“Your Honor, can I request a twenty-four-hour delay so that I can—uh—that is so that I could be in better condition to present my case to the court?”
“Dempster, you know and I know that if I give you twenty-four hours, you’ll do nothing but drink for the entire time. You won’t be in any better condition tomorrow than you are right now.”
Dempster ran his hand across his face, then looked over at Matt. “He’s right,” he said. “A twenty-four-hour delay isn’t going to do me one ounce of good. So, what do you say?”
Matt chuckled. “Mr. Dempster, it doesn’t look to me like I have much say in this at all.”
“You don’t,” Dempster replied. “And I’m glad you can keep your sense of humor.”
“Bailiff,” Cummins said. “Call the court.”
“Oyez, oyez, oyez!” Jackson called. “Ever’body stand up! This here court is now in session!”
Cummins sat, then banged the handle of his pistol on the table. “Be seated,” he said. “Mr. Prosecutor, make your case.”
When nobody responded, Cummins said, “Hayes, that’s you.”
“Oh, yeah,” Hayes said. He stood up and looked toward the jury.
“Here’s what happened,” he said. “We was all in here when Deputy Gillis went out front. Next thing you know, we heard a shot, then Gillis, he come walkin’ back into the room just like nothin’ a’tall had happened. Then all of a sudden he fell on the floor dead. Before anyone could even say a how-do-you-do, this here fella come in behind him. He had a gun in his hand, and the gun was still smokin’. And get this. Moe’s pistol was still in his holster! Now, there ain’t one man in here who didn’t hear the gunshot, and there ain’t one man in here who didn’t see what I just told you. So, there ain’t no doubt a’tall but that the defendant is guilty.”
Hayes sat down to a round of applause. Then, in a bit of showmanship, he stood up and bowed to the others in the saloon.
“That’ll be enough, Hayes,” Cummins said.
“Sorry, Marshal,” Hayes said.
“You will address me as Your Honor.”
“Your Honor,” Hayes corrected.
“Defense?”
Dempster stood. “Your Honor, I call Matt Jensen to testify in his own behalf.”
Matt was sworn in, then took a chair.
Matt testified for himself, explaining how Gillis had confronted him with a demand for five dollars for a visitors tax.
“I didn’t know anything about the tax. I’d never heard of a visitors tax, not in this town or any town I’ve ever visited. So, it was my intention to just ride on out of town,” Matt said. “But the deputy wouldn’t let me. He said that just by being here, I was already a visitor.”
“What he said was correct,” Cummins said, interrupting Matt’s testimony. “And, as the deputy, he had every right to collect five dollars from you. The five dollars is to pay for law enforcement.”
“There’s nothing right about that,” Matt said.
“Uh-huh, and so, since you didn’t agree with him, you shot him, is that it? You shot him down in cold blood,” Hayes said.
“Your Honor, I object,” Dempster said. “It is not yet redirect.”
“I’m going to allow the question.”
“It wasn’t even a question, it was an interruption. I haven’t turned the witness over to him yet,” Dempster complained.
“We’re after the truth here, Counselor, no matter what technique we use to get it. I am going to allow the question. Answer it, Jensen.”
“No, sir, I did not shoot him down in cold blood. He drew on me first. I was faster, and when I shot him, his gun somehow just slipped back into his holster.”
Nearly everyone in the saloon laughed.
“It is the truth, I swear it,” Matt said.
“Mister,” Hayes replied. “There ain’t no one person in all of Arizona who is faster than Moe Gillis was.”
“I am,” Matt said simply.
“I have no more questions, Your Honor,” Dempster said.
“All right. Give your closing arguments.”
Dempster held up his finger, then walked back to the table where he had left the coffee. He poured himself another cup, then drank it, before he returned to address the jury.
“You have heard the defendant say that Gillis drew on him first,” he said. “And since Mr. Jensen is the only eyewitness to the actual confrontation, his testimony should have some weight. We all knew Gillis, we all knew what a hothead he was, and we all know that it would not be out of character for him to draw first, especially if he thought he was right to defend some law, such as collecting a five dollar visitors tax fee. But you have the perception that Mr. Jensen drew first, because the pistol was still in Gillis’s holster.
“Perception,” he repeated.
Dempster held up a finger. “I would like to remind you that, according to the law, you can only find my client guilty if you are convinced, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he is guilty. You cannot find him guilty based upon a perception of guilt.
“In addition to this, I would like to point this out to you. If you find him guilty as charged, there is an excellent chance that the sentence will be overturned on appeal, based upon all the irregularities in this trial.”