CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The government paid for my office and the jail behind it, so
I stayed there. I was sure that Constable Willard Bann, fat, broke, and humble,
wasn’t going to manhandle any randy Texas cowboys and throw them behind bars.
And the first twenty-four hours passed peacefully enough. Rance and his Drag-R
outfit were busy moving their herd across the Arkansas and didn’t get into
town. Chester and I spent the afternoon with Shiloh and the kid, out by
Jackson’s herd, teaching the boy how to throw a rope. Jackson told us that a
third herd was coming to Dodge – the Crowtrack bunch. But it wasn’t too large a
herd, and Jackson told us it wasn’t going to hurt his prices any.
The next day the Drag-R herd was safely grazing and ready for
sale. Jackson had sold his first and so had gotten the best price, but Rance
didn’t do so poorly. There would be herds coming to Dodge for the next month or
so.
Rance’s boys were paid out, and that night it seemed like all
of Texas had come to Dodge. By midnight no man should have been on the street
unless he was armed and ready to fight.
Shiloh had dropped off the runaway with us, figuring there’d
be less shooting at the Marshal’s office than around the Dodge House, if things
got bad. I told him I hoped he was wrong, for his own sake, and told him to
look after himself.
“Sure, Marshal,” said Shiloh, and he ruffled the kid’s hair.
The kid ducked and pulled out a comb. He liked his hair neat, it seemed.
After Shiloh left, Chester and I sat in the office playing a
little two-handed twenty-one, with the kid watching us. Every now and then I
let him play my hand. He learned quickly and clearly liked cards, but he wasn’t
very good at being patient, or at knowing when not to press his luck. Eager.
But then, what kid isn’t?
The kid lost a hand and I took the next one, letting him
watch my play. Chester dealt.
“How long d’you think, Mr. Dillon?” he asked.
“Not long, Chester,” I said. “A few hours, maybe.”
We finished that hand quietly, then it was my turn to deal.
“There’s somethin’ else botherin’ you, ain’t there, Mr.
Dillon?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “It’s this Clay Richards business.
Still doesn’t sit right with me.”
The kid looked at me. “You know that Ziegler fella kilt’im,”
he said. “He said he didn’t even have a gun.”
“Yeah, I guess. Still, doesn’t seem like something Pete could
do,” I said. “But that’s not what’s eating me. It’s Clay and the bank. He
wasn’t a thief – hell, I think he had about as much money as any man in Dodge.
He wasn’t rich, but he was doing alright.”
“Oh,” said the kid. He seemed easier in his mind than I was
at the thought. But then, he hadn’t known Clay.
“I guess that’s true,” said Chester.
“I just can’t figure on why he did it.”
“It sure is a shame, though, Mr. Dillon. Fred Ginnell and
that Chinaman both, for no reason.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s funny, Grinnell was at the Texas Trail
the same night as Clay, when Clay was celebrating –“
I stopped talking. Thinking back, I remembered Grinnell
watching Richards.
“What is it, Mr. Dillon?” asked the kid and Chester at the
same time. It was pretty funny, but I was too busy remembering Grinnell’s
behavior that night.
“He was sitting in a corner,” I said, “sipping beer and
watching Richards, real dead like.”
“Do you think he knew something, Mr. Dillon?”
“I don’t know how he could have, Chester.”
“And even if he did, why didn’t he come to you? If he knew
something was coming, why did he let himself get killed?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”
“Why does it matter?” asked the kid. “If he was dumb enough
t’get shot, he deserved what was coming to him.”
I looked at the kid. “I hope you never have to find out the
hard way, bub,” I said.
The door to the office opened and Doc came through, closing
it behind him. He looked flushed and angry. “Oh, it’s a fine thing when the US
Marshal holes up in his office,” said Doc, “when men are gettin’ shot up and
knived all over town.”
The kid stood up, eagerly. I looked over at Doc. “I hope
that’s not true, Doc.”
“It is true!” insisted Doc. “I just come back from tryin’ to
save the second victim. The first one’s already dead.”
“Someone got shot?” asked the kid.
“Cowboys, or citizens?” I said.
“Cowboys,” said Doc. “If they’d’ve been citizens I suppose
those dunderheads would’ve been in here on their knees, beggin’ you for help.”
What I’d said to the city council was pretty much common knowledge in town.
“I don’t want them on their knees, Doc,” I said.
Doc shook his head. “I know, Matt, but it’s gettin’ worse!
Why, that last fella, they wouldn’t even let me bring him back to my office.
They said he might as well die, right there on the floor of the Texas Trail.”
“They did?”
Doc slammed his hand against the wall. For all his jokes
about fees, I knew there was nothing he hated more than losing a patient. “They
sure did. And they ran me right out of there.”
I bolted up out of my chair. “They what?”
“They took me by the arms and they half-dragged me as far as
the door. Obviously, I called ‘em everything I could think of while they were
doin’ it.”
I walked over and grabbed my coat. I didn’t even bother
pinning the badge to the front. “You think that man’s dead yet, Doc?”
“He will be soon, if I don’t get him to where I can work on
him.”
“Alright,” I said, “we’re going over there and get him. Bub,
you’re staying here.”
“But Mr. Dillon…” the kid began.
I shut him down fast. “You can promise to sit here for ten
minutes until we come back, or I can lock you up. I don’t have time to argue.”
The kid’s shoulders slumped, but he sat back on the couch and nodded. “Come on,
Chester,” I said.
Chester was already up and moving for the door. “Yessir.” He
held the door for Doc and me.
“I told them I won’t make any arrests and I won’t,” I said,
walking out into the street, “but nobody’s going to stand between Doc and a
wounded man.”
There were shouts coming from all over Front Street, and a
block or so over I could hear the occasional gunshot as the cowboys let fly at
the moon or at streetlamps. The streets were crowded with men and a few women.
I didn’t recognize more than a few faces. Every man had a gun.
“You get in the middle, Doc,” I said. “Walk between me and
Chester.”
Doc did as I told him, and we began elbowing and shoving our
way down the street. “I wish there was a tunnel under the street,” said Doc.
“I don’t see Willard anywhere,” observed Chester. “He oughtta
be out here talkin’ his head off, if’n that’s his plan.”
Doc snorted. “He’s lucky if he doesn’t get hung tonight.”
I was eyeing the street with a dead face. I wasn’t seeing
individual people, I was watching the mob. And it felt like they could sense me
coming. Even the ones who didn't see me moved out of our way. It was like they
could feel my anger.
Someone brushed up against me hard, and I elbowed them away,
keeping my hand over my holster. “Watch your gun, Chester,” I said. “Don’t let
anybody grab it.”
“No, sir,” said Chester. “I’m carryin’ my hand on it, Mr.
Dillon.”
We pushed our way through the open doors of the Texas Trail.
I needed to watch the crowd, but I couldn’t help looking for Kitty first. She
was over on the side of the saloon, sitting with some regulars. That meant she
was pretty safe.
Doc started pushing his way through the crowd. “He’s right
over there, Matt. Lyin’ in front of the bar.”
“Alright,” I said loudly. “Alright, get out of the way.” I
started clearing a path for Doc. “Come on, make room here. Move.” I shoved the
last of the drinkers our of the way. There was a man, lying right there in
front of the bar. One of the Drag-R men had practically been standing on top of
him. “Alright, go ahead, Doc, see if he’s still alive.”
Doc knelt while Chester and I stared outward at the sullen
and angry glances from the drunk Texans. “Alright,” said Doc. “Let me look at
him here. Oh, he doesn’t look very good.” Doc set to checking the man’s vitals
and putting a stop to his bleeding.
From somewhere in the back of the crowd I heard a voice say,
“I thought you’d quit, Marshal.”
“I haven’t quit, Rance.”
He came pushing up through his men. “What’re you doin’ here,
then?”
“A man’s dyin’,” I said.
“It was a fair fight,” said Rance, coming to a stop just far
enough away from me. He’d been drinking, but he wasn’t drunk yet. He didn’t
weave. He was sober enough. “We believe in dyin’ where we fall, Marshal. We
don’t need no help.”
“Was he one of yours, Rance?”
“Naw,” said Rance. “He come up with that fool Crowtrack
outfit.”
I nodded. The rest of the Texas Trail had gotten real still.
I could feel Kitty’s eyes on me but I didn’t look over. I knew Chester’s hand
was free, and behind the bar Sam surely had his shotgun ready at hand – though
how well he’d fire it with a broken arm I wasn’t too keen to find out. And if I
started shooting, it would ruin my little object lesson to the town.
But you can’t go into trouble thinking you’re not going to
shoot. Everyone’s got to believe you’re ready and willing to pull that trigger.
Everybody, including you.
“You leave ‘im be, Marshal,” said Rance with some force.
“I won’t even argue with you, Rance,” I said, raising my
voice a little, “but the first man that interferes with Doc’s gonna die on his
feet, and if you can’t understand it any other way, just put it that Doc’s a
friend of mine. Is that clear enough for you?”
Rance was giving me the dead man’s stare and he half-figured
to go for it. But that was the half that’d been drinking. The sober part of his
mind told him that he’d die before he cleared leather. And though one of his
men would probably shoot me in return, Rance wasn’t the kind of man who’d be
comforted by that thought.
He was just trying to figure out how to back off without
losing face when Constable Willard Bann came through the open doors. “Now, now,
men,” he said, trying to sound confidant, but there was a fearful warble in his
throat. He was aware of it, and ashamed of it, but to his credit it didn’t stop
him. “Let’s not have no trouble in here. Let’s talk it over and settle this
thing peacefully.” He pushed through the crowd, smiling and patting men on the arm.
Then he saw me. “Oh. It’s you, huh, Marshal?”
“Hello, Willard,” I said.
“Howdy,” said Chester.
Willard’s smile vanished and he looked at me miserably. “Oh,
I’m havin’ a terrible time, Marshal.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I can see that.”
At my back I heard Doc say, “Matt.”
“How is he, Doc?” I asked over my shoulder.
“He’s bad,” said Doc. “But I just might save him.”
“Okay, Doc,” I said, then eyed the Constable. “Willard?”
“Yes, Marshal?”
“Help Chester carry this man over to Doc’s office, will you?”
Willard nodded eagerly. “Sure, Marshal, sure.”
Rance reached out a hand and grasped Willard’s arm. “Leave
‘im be, Constable,” said Rance.
“That’s enough, Rance,” I said.
Rance looked at me again. “Let ‘im die in peace, is what I
say.”
“Rance,” I said, walking slowly up to him, “I’d throw you in
jail but I said I wouldn’t make any arrests.”
“Then why don’t you get outta here,” said Rance. “While you
still can.”
I nodded. “I’ll get out.” I stepped to his side and he made
way for me. I jerked my gun out of my holster and clubbed Rance hard on the
side of the head. Then I spun the gun around in my hand so it was pointing out
at Rance’s men. Chester’s was out as well, covering my back.
“Alright!” I shouted. “Now I’ll shoot the first man that
touches a gun!” I eyed them all, but no one was looking for a fight against
both of us, with our guns already drawn. “Chester, Willard,” I said,
“get moving. You lead the way, Doc.”
Chester holstered his gun and together he and Willard lifted
the bleeding man and headed for the door. Doc trailed behind them. “Let’s
hurry,” said Doc. “That man won’t live long if we don’t.”
I went out behind them, walking backwards with my gun at hip
level. I made sure not to look at Kitty as we left. It would be trouble she
didn’t need if I singled her out in any way. Then I was out of the door and
through it I saw Rance’s men rush to his side. They’d prop him up and pour
whiskey down his throat and in another hour he’d probably come looking for me –
unless he was the kind of man who’d lay in wait and shoot a man in the back.
I’d just have to wait and see.
I turned around once I was outside, and up the street I saw
the kid slip back into my office. He’d been watching from outside the saloon
window, like I’d known he would. I was glad I hadn’t had to shoot anyone.
But the night was still young.
