Chapter 1 - The Challenge
"Are you gonna allow Reverend Campbell to hold his meeting out at Moreland's farm tomorrow night? Either way I plan on holding a meeting to circulate a counter petition among my customers for them to pledge to register and then vote no at the special election."
"I was thinking of letting Campbell hold that meeting, but even with Dingo dead your plans could still lead to trouble, Kitty. Wally and the Lazy O bunch are in town for another day at least."
"Do whatever you have to, Matt. I'm gonna fight for my livelihood."
"I know you won't back down and neither will he. That's what worries me. It's not easy to keep the peace around here, you know."
"Are you referring to the entire town or just this bed?"
"The town. Most times keeping the peace right here is a simple matter," Matt replied, drawing her into his arms, his lips seeking hers.
US Marshal Matt Dillon knew he couldn't be seen to favor one side over the other. He'd have to somehow protect both sides if another melee broke out like earlier tonight. Campbell had already requested it. The two factions would somehow have to be kept apart and unarmed. He'd told Kitty as much before he finished dressing the next morning, leaving her to get the rest of her beauty rest. Now all he had to do was find the reverend. He spotted Amos and Bess Campbell walking from the Dodge House to Delmonico's for breakfast.
By the time Doc and Festus joined Matt and Kitty for dinner at a table in the surprisingly crowded restaurant there were posters advertising both meetings up and down Front Street and even in the windows of the businesses that weren't on Dodge City's main street. Moss Grimick's stable, Quint Asper's blacksmith shop and every other public building in town prominently displayed one or both flyers. Private homes whose residents felt strongly about the issue displayed posters that favored their side of the temperance issue. Most businesses sported handbills for both sides. All the notices specified all guns were to be placed in barrels outside the meeting place.
While Matt tried to figure out how he could outwardly maintain a neutral stance, Kitty set about chatting with every man who frequented her saloon and, in some cases, their wives if she thought they'd sway the men in their lives to her way of thinking. She made sure even those who couldn't read would know to come to her meeting.
By eight that night both factions assembled. Reverend Amos Campbell held the group at the Moreland farm spellbound while his daughter took advantage of his persuasive oratory to gain as many signatures as she could on the petition to force a vote on drinking in Dodge. Meanwhile, Kitty used her not insignificant powers over men to convince those gathered in the Long Branch to sign pledges to not only make sure they were registered voters but to actually vote when the day came.
Matt had deputized extra men to stand by the barrels and make sure neither faction was armed. He, Festus and Quint made rounds looking for anything that smacked of trouble. By midnight he'd begun to relax, but he still kept a sharp eye on all the saloons, gambling dens, dance halls and brothels for men itching for a fight. It didn't come from the Lazy O cowboys. They remained in the Long Branch. It came from the lowlifes that the feisty redhead sent to do their drinking elsewhere. A dozen of these shady gamblers and drifters marched from the Lady Gay, Oasis and Bull's Head west down Front Street, gathering their horses as they moved toward the Moreland farm, two miles outside town.
The dozen spoilers took their time so as not to alert the marshal to their plans. They moved at different rates and mounted their horses at different times to hide the fact they were heading for one place in particular. However, Matt Dillon hadn't remained alive this long by being easily fooled. Therefore, it came as a big surprise when the group reached the small brick building with the plaque proclaiming it as the US Marshal Office, Dodge City, Kansas that three men stood in the street with shotguns blocking further progress.
"If you want to hold a third meeting the same rules apply. You can leave your guns at my office and pick them up tomorrow morning."
"What meeting, lawman? We got a right to take our guns with us when we leave your dusty excuse of a cow town. Besides, we out number you four to one," the man in the middle of the first trio declared as he let the reins of his horse drop from his hand.
From the way he stared at Matt, Quint and Festus, the smartly dressed man with the scar on his left cheek was a gunman, not an ordinary cowhand. He was not about to give ground and neither were the 11 other men who fanned out across the broad expanse of Front Street. In response the tall marshal and his two friends also spread out while never taking their eyes off the men they faced.
"We'll get half of you with these shotguns before we go down. It's a good chance we'll get a few more before we die. Are you willing to risk it?"
The man who'd issued the challenge said nothing in reply. He only wriggled the fingers of his gun hand, moving it ever so slightly closer to his holster.