“What do you mean ‘people like me’?”
“You know what I mean. I mean people who have a reputation like you have. There’s always someone all full of himself, someone who thinks that killin’ you will make him famous.”
Matt had encountered many such people before, so he couldn’t argue with the deputy’s logic.
“You’ve got me there, Deputy,” he said. “It’s not something I want—it’s just something that happens.”
“Ahh,” the deputy said with a dismissive shake of his head. “It ain’t your fault. It’s just that—well, for small towns like American Falls, we simply ain’t prepared to deal with it. Adam,” the deputy called to one of the others, “go get Mr. Prufrock. Tell him he’s got some undertakin’ business to do. We got us two bodies to take care of.”
“Yes, sir, Deputy.”
The young man charged off on his errand. The deputy hung around for a moment or two longer, then he started for the door, but before he reached the door, he turned back.
“I’d appreciate it, if those of you who can write, would stop by the office tomorrow and write out a statement about what you seen here tonight. There ain’t goin’ to be no inquiry, but the sheriff and the judge are goin’ to need to know the facts.”
“We’ll do it, Deputy,” someone called back.
Chapter Eight
Matt waited until the deputy left, then he returned to the table where the little man sat, quietly waiting. Matt had some questions for him, and began, by asking him his name.
“My name is George Gilmore.”
“Just before the deputy came in, you said something about fulfilling an obligation to your client. What were you talking about?”
“I am a lawyer, Mr. Jensen. The client I was talking about is Mrs. Kitty Wellington of Coventry on the Snake.”
“You are the one who sent me the letter,” Matt said. It was a statement, not a question.
“I am.”
“What is Coventry on the Snake?”
“It’s a ranch over in Owyhee County.”
“Owyhee County is in West Idaho,” Matt said. “If your client wanted me to come over there, why did you ask me to meet you here, in American Falls?”
“We didn’t want anyone to know we were hiring you,” Gilmore said. “That’s why Mrs. Wellington suggested that we meet here, in American Falls. Evidently our ruse didn’t work, because as you can see, Madison, Jernigan, and Logan found out, not only that we were attempting to hire you, but also where we would be meeting.”
“You knew these men?”
“Not personally, but I know who they were. The moment I saw them here, I knew there was likely to be trouble.”
“How did you know they would mean trouble?”
“Mrs. Wellington has recently had some trouble with rustlers. One of her hands said that Poke Terrell was behind the rustling, and these three men are associates of Poke Terrell.”
“Is Terrell in jail?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It was one ranch hand’s word against Terrell’s. And Terrell had witnesses who provided them with an alibi.”
“But you believe the ranch hand?”
“I do. And what happened here, tonight, proves it, as far as I’m concerned. I believe they were trying to keep you from going to help Mrs. Wellington.”
“How did they know?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I know how you knew I would be here, since you are the one who sent me the letter. But how did these two men know that I would be here?”
“That is a good question, Mr. Jensen” Gilmore admitted. “I don’t have any idea how they knew I was going to meet you here.”
“I have another question for you. Why did Mrs. Wellington pick me?”
“At one time Mrs. Wellington knew you, and she remembers you fondly.”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t recall ever meeting anyone named Kitty Wellington.”
“That is her married name,” Gilmore said.
“If she is married, why is she trying to hire me? Shouldn’t her husband be the one doing the hiring?”
“Her husband is deceased,” Gilmore said. He chuckled. “But the truth is, Mrs. Wellington is such a remarkable woman, that even if her husband was still alive, she might very well be the one involved in these negotiations.”
“She sounds like an interesting woman.”
“Oh, indeed she is, sir. Have you had your dinner yet, Mr. Jensen?”
“No, Matt replied.
“Let me buy you dinner. And over dinner I shall show you a newspaper article about her. Then, I will show you the letter that Mrs. Wellington wrote to you. I think that will explain everything.”
Matt smiled. “I’ve never turned down a free meal,” he said.
The undertaker arrived just as Matt and Gilmore were leaving the saloon. He had two workers with him, and he began directing them through the grim business of recovering the bodies.
As they left the saloon they saw the undertaker’s wagon parked out front, not the elegant and polished glass sided hearse, but the more pedestrian wagon he used to pick up bodies for preparation.
The two men walked up the street, past the leather goods store, the apothecary, a dry goods store, and a hardware store until they reached a restaurant called Morning Star Café. They were greeted by an attractive brunette, who showed them to a table in the back of the room.
“Now then,” Gilmore said, after they ordered, “we’ll start with the newspaper article. This particular article happens to be from The Boise Statesman. When you read it, perhaps you will have an idea as to who Mrs. Kitty Wellington is.”
Gilmore took an envelope from his pocket, then removed the newspaper article. Gingerly unfolding the article, he handed it across the table to Matt. “Read this.”
Matt unfolded the article, spread it out on the table in front of him, and began to read.
Coventry on Snake Will Be Ready
TO SHIP HORSES SOON.
Mrs. Kitty Wellington of Coventry on the Snake now has upward of one thousand horses on the Range. These are the finest animals one can imagine.
Mrs. Wellington is a strikingly handsome woman, tall and graceful. Her face shows great strength of character and a wealth of blond hair makes a striking frame for it.
Few persons are more entertaining conversationalists. In speaking about her ranch interests, Miss Wellington stated that the ranch was the vision of her late husband, Sir Thomas Wellington, who was the Seventh Earl of Buckinghamshire. However, he died before his ambition could be realized. While some may think that starting a horse ranch may be unseemly for a woman, Mrs. Wellington says that she considered it her obligation to bring his dream to fruition.
Readers may know of Coventry Manor, Wellington’s palatial estate located on the Snake River at the conflux of the Bruneau. The ranch itself, Coventry on the Snake, comprises some 20,000 acres of the best grazing range in Idaho. Among the horses are several fine Arabian saddle horses, as well as imported stallions, including Normans and French coach horses.
Her prize horse is a Hanoverian, which she brought out to the ranch from the East last year. Prince William, a champion jumper, stands sixteen hands high, weighs 1,200 pounds, and has a bright brown coat. Mrs. Wellington is breeding draft, coach, and saddle animals that are as magnificent as any that appear upon the parade grounds of the U.S. Cavalry, or the boulevards of the great cities of the world. Though she has spent the last three years developing her stock, this will be the first year she will actually ship her animals to market.
It may be added that Miss Wellington has quickly established the reputation of being a perfect judge of horses There is no man in Idaho who is her equal and few anywhere who are as good as she. Moreover she is an ideal horsewoman; there is probably no woman in the world who can excel her in the saddle.
“She sounds like quite a lady,” Matt said, handing the article back to Gilmore. “But it still doesn’t ring any bells as to why I should know her.”