My Town, My Responsibility

Chapter One

A January Day

Jangling spurs announced the deputy's entry into the Long Branch. "It shore 'nuff pure oldee smells like snow out thar."

"Snow! It's gotta be more than forty degrees you…you…nincompoop. In fact, I was just thinking about asking a certain pretty lady if she'd do me the honor of accompanying me on my rounds into the country this afternoon."

"I know it's right nice out there now, Doc, but a Haggen nose kin sniff out snow surer 'n a baby kitten can sniff out its mama. And my nose a-tells me—and I'm a-tellin' you—it's gonna be snowin' 'fore this day is over."

Doc lowered the newspaper he was reading and sniffed the air. "By golly, I do smell something, but it's not snow. Festus, what in tarnation have you been doing this morning?"

Festus squinted his right eye at the old physician and poured himself a cup of coffee from the speckled enamel pot on the edge of the bar. "Wael, I mighta done stopped out ta ol' Miz Ritter's place t'is mornin', and she mighta give me somma them big fat oozy cimm-a-non buns she makes."

"That's not cimma—dang it, Festus—cinnamon I'm smelling!"

"I ain't finished tellin' ya, Doc. Miz Ritter, she said iffen I was to milk Bessie and Bitsey fer 'er whilst she was takin' them buns outta the oven, she'd kindly give me some fer my trouble." He took a swallow of coffee and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Now, Doc, you know how tastesome Miz Ritter's cimm—how tastesome them buns is."

"Yes, Myrtle Ritter is a mighty fine cook, but that doesn't explain why you smell like you were wallowing in the hog trough."

"That's perzackly whut I'm tryin' to tell ya. Ya see, I wuz a-wallerin' in t' hog trough. Leastways my boots wuz…"

Kitty Russell emerged from the office with the whiskey drummer, walked him to the door, and joined her "boys" at the table in time to hear Festus' words. "What are you two fussing about so early this morning?"

"Don't even ask," Doc harrumphed and rose from his seat. "I'm glad you're here. I have an important question to ask you."

"What is it, Doc?" she asked as she walked to the bar to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"You available in about an hour to accompany an older—but totally charming and debonnaire—physician on his rounds in the country?"

Kitty shook her head and walked back to where the doctor still stood at the table. "I wish I were, Doc, but I have drummers coming in all day—whiskey just left, beer distributor is coming at one, and in between I have another salesman coming to demonstrate some bar equipment that both he and the catalogues insist I just can't live without." She chuckled. "I'll be the judge of that, of course. Can I get a rain check on that buggy ride?"

"You bet you can. Might be a while, though. Days like this don't come around often this time of year." He swallowed the last of his coffee. "Now, I'll leave you to see if you can make any sense outta what this…this…" He ticked his head at Festus. "At what he is saying."

"Miz Kitty, I was only jist tryin'… ."

Kitty turned to the deputy in an effort to distract him. "Matt get back yet?"

"No'm. But I 'spect he should be ridin' in direckly. Fact is, I better git on over t'the jail and make sure things is cleaned up jist the way Matthew likes 'em."

It was early afternoon when Kitty bid the beer distributor goodbye and left the outer doors wide open, welcoming in the unseasonably warm winter day. All along Front Street, townspeople lingered in shirtsleeves or light jackets, enjoying the sun on their faces and the balmy breeze on their backs, completely oblivious to the fact that, at that very moment, a fierce wind was moving out of the Dakotas and making its way swift as a prairie fire across the wide expanse of open plains that was Nebraska and Kansas.

XxXxX

Thirty miles and still two hours out of Dodge, surrounded by nothing but open countryside and swirling snow, Matt Dillon pulled his hat down and his collar up and leaned lower into his mount's neck, hopeful that he would make it back to town before the worst of the storm hit. As the buckskin protested the stinging assault of icy pellets against his face, the lawman whispered, "Easy, son, we've seen worse, you can do this."

xXx

Nearly four hours passed before a tired, wet, and half-frozen Matt Dillon rode down a deserted Front Street. Stopping first at the Long Branch, he tied his tired mount to the hitch rail and stepped inside. He took in the grim faces gathered around the old stove and moved quickly to Kitty's side. "What's going on? Something happen?"

Before she could answer, Tom Ashburn burst through the doors. "Sure am glad to see you back, Marshal. My little ones, Hallie and Henry—they're just six years old—they ain't come home from school yet, and the missus is gettin' mighty worried. You didn't happen to see nuthin' of 'em on your ride in, did ya?"

Matt shook his head at the farmer. "I'm sure they're safe down at the schoolhouse, Tom. Surely Jenny Kurtz didn't dismiss the children in this storm."

Pete Kreider stood up from the group of men gathered around the fire. "She didn't, Marshal. According to my boy, that windbag Winthrop Wheatley went to the school to pick up his granddaughter and ordered Miss Jenny to dismiss the students. When she said it wasn't safe to send them out in this weather, m'boy said Wheatley waved that fancy walking stick of his in her face and yelled that if she wanted to continue to teach in this town, she'd do as he said. M'boy and the Heckard boy, they put the littlest of the town children on their shoulders and carried 'em on home. Had the others hold hands and walk in a line behind them so's they all stayed together—and they all got here safe." Kreider sat down, accepting an offered beer and muttering that it's a sad day when the president of the school board doesn't have the sense of two fifteen year olds.

Matt swore under his breath. He felt Kitty's soft fingers brush his as she handed him a mug of hot soup. Aloud he asked, "Anyone else missing?"

This time it was Quint who spoke from the end of the bar. "Only the twins that we know of, Matt. No other reports so far. The town children are all accounted for. Of course, some of the homesteaders live so far out that maybe no one has been able to get word to us yet. And no one has seen Jenny Kurtz. Doc's not around either, but he was doing rounds out in the country today, so we figure he's hunkered down with one of the farm families."

"Okay, men," Matt spoke around a swallow of soup. "I'm going out there, and I'd sure appreciate some help. I can't officially order you to ride out into this storm, but…"

Quint cut him off. "That's why we're here, Matt. These men and I, we were the first search party. Rode for about two hours. That's about as much as we can ask of the horses in this weather. While we were out, Festus raised another group of men, and soon as we got back, they rode out. Just left about half an hour ago." He paused for a sip of coffee and nodded at the redhead who had yet to say a word. "We've kind of made this our headquarters, and Kitty here is keeping us supplied with sandwiches, soup and coffee."

Matt smiled his thanks into the sapphire blue eyes turned up to his. "All right, then, I'm going to head out there, but first I want to talk to Pete's boy." He turned back to the men gathered round the fire. "He at home now?"

"He sure is, Marshal. His ma has him thawin' out in front of the fire. He's not goin' nowhere. And will you tell the missus where I am so she won't worry?"

Matt nodded. "You men wait for Festus and his boys to return. No point in everyone being out there at once." He started out the door, then turned back to Tom Ashburn. "You want to go with me?"

"No, Marshal. I'll start on home to Martha. The twins might be there by now."

Matt nodded again and moved back to the bar for a quiet word with Kitty, who had been placing thick slices of ham on slabs of warm buttered bread and wrapping them in a cloth napkin. She followed him outside and slipped the package into his pocket as he untied his horse. "Be careful out there, Matt. This storm is the scariest one I've ever seen." She shivered and pulled her black shawl tighter around her shoulders.

He settled into the saddle and looked somberly down at her. "Think how scary it must be for a pair of six year olds." He held her eyes for a moment, then turned and rode down Front Street toward the livery.

xXx

As he rode the short distance to the stable, Dillon considered his options, and none of them were good. As he saw it, he was searching for two small children and one adult. He could ride out again on the already tired buckskin and trail a pack horse, but that meant having to maneuver and control a riderless horse in the foul weather. He could take a fresh mount, but no other horse in the stable was as steady and reliable as the big gelding he was riding. Or, he could take a wagon, but that would slow him down and presented its own set of challenges on the icy trail. When he reached the stable, he blew out a deep breath and handed the reins over to Hank with instructions to take care of the buckskin, adding that they would be riding out again within the hour. He saw Hank's eyebrows go up, but the stableman only nodded and said, "I'll have him ready for you, Marshal."

Then he walked the three short blocks to the Kreider home on Third Street and knocked on the door. He accepted a cup of coffee and listened while a still-shivering Petey repeated the story his father had told of the incident that took place at the school house. In answer to Matt's question, he added that the Ashburn twins, along with Jerry Jacobs, a fourth grader, had headed west toward the scattering of farm houses that populated the prairie about three miles outside of town. They were accompanied by their teacher, Jenny Kurtz. "Miss Kurtz had some kinda rope, Marshal—mighta been a piece of washline—and she told the kids they all had to hold on to it real tight. Last I saw of 'em, they was all walkin' side by side holdin' on to the rope."

"Thanks, Petey, you've been a big help. And I thank you for what you and the Heckard boy did to get the other children into town safely. I'm obliged to you, son."

"Weren't no big deal, Marshal. What we shoulda done was punch out old Windbag Wheatley."

"No, Petey, you boys did what was right. Now I'm gonna follow the lead you gave me and see if I can find your teacher and the children." He finished his coffee and turned to Lena Kreider, "Fine boy you have there, ma'am. Oh, and Pete said to tell you he's over at the Long Branch waiting to ride out again if necessary."

"Let's hope it's not necessary. I hate to think of anyone being out on the prairie in this storm. You take care now, Marshal."

TBC

xXxXx