“Santa Clara?” Pearlie said. “Is that the name of this town?”
“You mean to tell me you don’t even know where you’re at?” Dawson asked.
“I didn’t notice the sign when I rode in.”
“So what you done is, you just come into a town you didn’t even know, just so’s you could kill one of our leading citizens.”
“If the fella I killed is one of your leading citizens, then your town is in sorry shape,” Pearlie said.
“Yeah? Well, we see what kind of shape we’re in when you’re danglin’ from the gallows.”
“You got a doc in this town?” Pearlie asked. “I mean other than Doc Patterson, who said he was a veterinarian.”
“Yeah, we got a doc. What of it?”
“I’ve got a few shotgun pellets in me. You might of noticed that.”
“Don’t worry about ’em. They ain’t a-goin’ to kill you afore we hang you,” the marshal said.
Chapter Fourteen
When Lenny York stepped into the jail that night, he was carrying a tray covered with a cloth.
“What have you got there?” Deputy Wilson asked.
“I brought the prisoner his supper,” Lenny said.
“Who told you to do that? The marshal didn’t leave me no money to pay for the prisoner’s supper.”
“I paid for it myself,” Lenny said.
“Why?”
“Because I saw what happened and I know this man didn’t have any choice. If he hadn’t killed Billy Ray, Billy Ray would have killed him, and maybe even someone else in the saloon, the way he was using that scattergun.”
“Damn, if you feel like that, maybe I better check just to make sure you ain’t carryin’ him in no gun or nothin’,” Wilson said.
Wilson took the cover off, revealing a bowl of beans and a small plate that had two corn bread muffins. He picked up one of the muffins and took a bite.
“Hey, put that back! That isn’t yours,” York complained.
Wilson laughed. “I’m the deputy,” he said. “There’s been some hard feelin’ about this man, seein’ as he kilt Billy Ray Quentin. I need to make sure you wasn’t poisonin him or nothin’.”
Wilson ate the corn bread muffin with obvious enjoyment, then made a dismissive motion with his hand.
“Go ahead, you can take it to him,” he said.
Lenny nodded, then walked back to the cell.
“I brought you something to eat,” he said.
“Thanks,” Pearlie replied. “I haven’t eaten since this morning and I was getting pretty hungry.”
Lenny passed the bowl and plate through the bars, then turning the tray on edge, passed it through as well so Pearlie would have something to eat on. Pearlie sat on his bunk, put the tray on his knees to use as a table, and began to eat.
“This is very good,” he said. “Or else I’m just very hungry.”
“No, it is really good,” Lenny said. “I know, because my ma fixed it. She runs Kathleen’s Kitchen and Boarding House.”
“Really? Yes, I saw that as I rode by it while coming into town,” Pearlie said. “I almost stopped there before I went to the saloon. I should have. If I had done that I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
“You shouldn’t be here now anyway,” Lenny said. “What you did was in self-defense.”
“Yes, well, when we have the trial, with you, the young lady, and Deckert testifying, I shouldn’t have any problem convincing the jury.”
Lenny shook his head. “Deckert isn’t going to testify in court.”
“Why not? He spoke up back at the saloon.”
“Yes, but remember when the marshal questioned him again, he backed down. He isn’t going to testify because he’s too afraid.”
“Afraid of who? The marshal?”
“He’s afraid of Pogue Quentin,” Lenny said. “Everybody in town is afraid of him.”
“Are you scared of him?”
Lenny nodded. “He is not a man I would want to cross.”
“Does that mean you aren’t going to testify for me?”
“No, I’ll testify for you. I’m scared of Pogue Quentin all right, but that doesn’t mean I won’t testify.”
“Well, Lenny, I appreciate that,” Pearlie said. “From the way the marshal talks, your testimony may not do much good, but I appreciate that you are willing to do it.”
“Your cheek looks like it’s beginning to swell up some from the shotgun pellets,” Lenny said. “How come the doc didn’t take ’em out?”
“I haven’t seen a doctor.”
“That’s not right. The marshal should have gotten him to look at you. I’ll get him to come by.”
“If the marshal doesn’t ask him to come, I doubt he’ll do it,” Pearlie said.
Lenny shook his head. “No, he’ll come if I ask him,” he said. Lenny smiled. “Dr. Urban is a single man, and my ma is a widow. Dr. Urban has been callin’ on her.”
“I appreciate that, Lenny.” Pearlie put his finger on one of the pellet wounds on his cheek and winced. “You think you could get the doctor to come look at me pretty soon?”
“I’ll get him,” Lenny said.
“Lenny, are you sure you want to get involved in this?” Lenny’s mother asked a few minutes later when Lenny told her what had happened.
“Doesn’t seem like I have any choice, Ma,” Lenny replied. “You have always said I should do what is right, regardless of what anyone else thinks. Well, this is the right thing to do.”
“I always said you should play the piano in concerts in grand theaters, too,” Kathleen York said. “And where do you play? In a saloon.”
Lenny chuckled. “How many grand theaters are there in Santa Clara?”
“You don’t have to stay here.”
“I know I don’t have to stay here, but I want to I mean, you are here, aren’t you? Besides, I’m not really good enough to play anywhere except a saloon.” Lenny chuckled. “But I’m not complainin’. Playing the piano certainly beats mucking manure out of a stable over at the livery—and that’s about the only thing else I would be qualified to do.”
“I’m not the only one keeping you here, am I?”
“What do you mean, Ma?”
“Are you still seeing that—uh—woman over at the saloon?”
“Only in a matter of speaking. Mary Lou Culpepper is a good woman, but she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“Surely she doesn’t think she is better than you?” Kathleen asked.
“No, Ma, it’s just the opposite. She doesn’t think she is good enough for me.”
“Well, who am I to judge?” Kathleen said. “After your father died, it was quite a struggle keeping food in our mouths and a roof over our heads. If I hadn’t managed to make a go of the restaurant and boardinghouse, who knows what I would have done?”
“You’ve done well, Ma,” Lenny said. “We never went hungry, and you even found enough money to pay for my piano lessons.”
Kathleen smiled, and put her hand on her son’s cheek. “You think it is important that you help this man the marshal has in jail, do you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Lenny replied.
“All right. I’ll go over to David’s office now, and ask him to step down to the jailhouse to take a look at your friend.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
The lettering printed on the side of the doctor’s medical bag read: DAVID URBAN, M.D. He set it on the edge of Deputy Wilson’s desk.
“What are you doin’ here?” Wilson asked.
“I’ve come to have a look at your prisoner,” Dr. Urban replied.
Wilson shook his head. “Huh-uh, no, you don’t. I ain’t been authorized to pay you nothin’.”
“I’m not asking for any money, Deputy. All I’m asking is that you let me see your prisoner.”
“I can’t let him out of the cell—you’ll have to stay in there with him. And he’s a dangerous man, seein’ as he’s already killed one man.”
“That’s all right. I’ll take my chances with him. And I can work as well inside the cell as outside,” Dr. Urban said.