An outbreak of grippe fell on Dodge City with the cold hard rains of late spring. Smiting Matt, Chester, Doc and Kitty, the illness died out when the first summer days dawned cloudless, warm and sunny.
Doc prescribed a week recuperating and fishing at a place he discovered some twenty miles from town while driving his buggy home from a sick call. A creek flowed from the Arkansas to a deep-water pond surrounded by sycamore and redbud trees, bulrushes, blue sage and sunflowers, and a large, flat-topped rock mound sprawled on the embankment.
"What say we all take the trip together," said Doc, as he sat in the Long Branch with Matt and Kitty.
"Sounds like fun, Doc," said Kitty lethargically, with a shade of a smile. "I am desperate to get away." She was droopy as she convalesced, her blue eyes dimmed from their usual pert brightness. She picked up her mug and looked into it, sloshing the beer to froth. "I'll invite Lilah Rose," she said.
"Lilah Rose," said Matt. "The gal who works here?"
"Only Lilah Rose I know of in this town," said Kitty.
"Kitty," said Doc, "I have nothing against Lilah, but why take her with us."
"For Chester," said Kitty.
Matt gave her a baffled grin. He'd lost a lot of weight while bedridden, and his face looked chalky. Kitty wondered why he stretched his mouth in that humorless grimace. She thought of a skull, and was at once shocked at herself, as she never had unkind thoughts about Matt.
"Kitty, Chester hasn't shown any interest in Lilah," said Matt. "And he's mourning Nancy, besides."
The town schoolmarm, Chester's fiancee Nancy Sparrow had died of the grippe when they were all sick. At thirty-seven, she was some years older than Chester, and despite her benevolence, sweet face and pleasant features, considering his fondness for young beautiful women, they marveled that he'd fallen in love with her.
"Lilah's taken a shine to Chester a long time," said Kitty. "He'll notice her now Nancy's dead. Lilah's just what he needs to forget his grief. I sound mighty cold, I know. I liked Nancy; she was a fine woman. But I never thought she was the woman for Chester." Kitty looked expectantly from Doc to Matt, her eyes pleading for reassurance and understanding.
"You're not yourself, Kitty," Matt soothed, as though that brief assertion settled everything.
"None of us are ourselves," said Doc. "Question is, who are we?" Matt and Kitty looked at Doc, who winked and drank from his beer. Doc was habitually poker-faced and his jesting could be enigmatic. They couldn't at times tell when he was joking.
"What I mean is," said Kitty, "Accomplished ladies like Nancy expect a lot from a husband. She'd have wanted Chester to provide for her, of course, find a job befitting her social standing, and wear a suit and tie every day. He'd never have kept up with Nancy's charity work and sociables, and he would've tried to do all that to make her happy. Lilah expects nothing from her beaus; she likes them for themselves."
Matt and Doc solemnly nodded, esteeming Kitty's womanly wisdom. If she thought Chester needed a girl like Lilah now, then Kitty knew best.
"I trust your opinion, Kitty," said Doc. "We'll take Lilah along if she wants to come."
"Oh she will," said Kitty. "She's that sweet on Chester."
"Doc . . . " said Matt, "I'm thinkin' on a fishin' trip with just Kitty and me, and you can take Chester and Lilah to your pond off the Arkansas. Kitty and I'll find another spot." Kitty smiled at Matt.
Doc frowned. "Well, that's confounded selfish, Matt. It was my idea to go fishing to begin with, and you're tryin' to muck it."
"Doc, how can Kitty and myself enjoying some time alone affect you any," said Matt.
"Like I said. Selfish. You spare no thought for me at all. I was sick as the rest of you," said Doc, raising his voice and talking faster, "and not only that, I had to tend the townsfolk while you were layin' abed, by thunder. This is no time to hog Kitty all to yourself, Matt. Chester and I need her, too!"
"Oh, Doc." Kitty rose from her chair and hovered over Doc, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll go fishing with you."
Doc lay his hand over hers.
"Is Doc alright, Miss Kitty?" Sam called from the bar. He sounded older than he had before the grippe struck him, his voice weaker.
"Yeah," said Kitty. "He's a little distressed. Bring him a whiskey, will you, Sam? You want one, Matt?"
"No thanks. Doc, I just don't know what you're so troubled about," said Matt. "You and Chester will have Lilah with you, you want a woman on your trip."
"Matt . . . ." said Kitty.
"Lilah's a child," said Doc.
"She's twenty-five," said Matt. "Not that much younger than Kitty."
Sam appeared at their table and set a glass of whiskey in front of Doc. "Thank you, Sam," Doc said. "Matt, I don't just want a woman. I need Kitty. And so does Chester."
"Kitty said Chester needed Lilah," Matt argued.
"Matt, I promised to make the trip with Doc," said Kitty, her hands cupped around Doc's shoulders. "I want you along, but I'm goin' with Doc whether you come or not."
"It's a big fishing hole, Matt," said Doc. "Plenty of trees and quiet places where no one can see you, when you and Kitty want some time alone."
"I guess I'll have to take what I can get, Doc," said Matt. "I don't want Kitty leaving town without me, so I'm coming."
"Chester at the office?" said Doc.
"He's in bed with his coffee and romances," said Matt.
"Romances," said Doc and Kitty in unison.
"What happened to his frontier stories?" said Doc.
"He put 'em away in a sack under his bed," said Matt. "After Miss Nancy died, Chester asked me for the loan of a dollar to go to Jonas's store, and he came back to the office with a pile of ten-cent love stories."
"He did," said Doc. "Well I'll be goshswoggled." He looked amused.
"Now Doc," said Kitty, "don't you go joshin' Chester. He's not up to that."
"No. No, I agree with you, Kitty," said Doc. "Ya know, them little stories, Chester's helping himself heal with them. He has his own way of doing things, and it works out fine for 'im."
The thought of Lilah joining them on the fishing trip disquieted Chester. With puckered brows he regarded Matt from his pillow; his soulful round eyes, shadowed in the aftermath of grippe, burned with some inscrutable emotion. A dime novel titled Melancholy Mina, with a picture on the cover of a weeping woman in a nightdress crumpled on a crimson rug, lay opened on his chest.
The marshal shifted his boots uneasily, wondering if the romances caused Chester's fervent expression. Matt knew he'd only confuse his friend if he asked Chester what he felt to make his eyes look that way. Sometimes Matt just did not understand Chester at all.
"Why does Miss Kitty want Lilah to come 'long," said Chester. "She aint even our friend."
Matt seated himself on the end of the bed. "Lilah's very fond of you, Chester, and Kitty believes she can help you get over mourning Miss Nancy. You like Lilah, don't you? You think she's pretty?"
"Well my goodness, of course I do," Chester said thoughtfully. "She's the most beautiful in Dodge 'cept fer Miss Kitty. And I s'pose I like Lilah 'nough, maybe. I never thought on it much 'fore now, seein' as I was in love with Miss Nancy."
Chester sat up, closed his book and put it on the floor beside his coffee cup. "Mr. Dillon," he said.
"Hmm?"
"You know, don't you?" Chester said in a hushed tone. " 'Bout Lilah?" Normally brown in summer, his face was drawn and pale from the illness, and now red color flooded his cheeks. "She's a woman of the night," Chester whispered. Matt let out an impulsive burst of laughter and clapped Chester's shoulder.
Chester smiled tightly, embarrassed. "Reckon Miss Kitty figgered me to like havin' Lilah 'long fishin' cuz ah'm always sweet on the pretty gals. 'Twas so even whilst I was courtin' Miss Nancy, 'fore I asked for her hand. On account of her bein' a lady, and well, the gals was there. At the Long Branch. Lilah likes me so she don't say I haveta give her money. She knows I got none. Miss Kitty might be right at that, Mr. Dillon. 'Bout inviting Lilah ta come fishin' with us."
Matt's face, gaunt and pale as Chester's, likewise flushed, but with repressed mirth rather than embarrassment. His mouth slightly open, the marshal looked a moment at Chester, then a chortle escaped Matt and he slapped his knees. Chester stared at him like he was addled, as Mr. Dillon didn't laugh much, not so hearty, particular.
Surprised at himself, Matt figured his weakened state loosened the taut reins he kept on his feelings. In truth, like Doc said, they weren't themselves.
M D~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
None of the fishing party expected to see the embankment inhabited when they arrived early in the morning at the pond three days later. Doc and Lilah rode in his buggy, and Chester drove a wagon with Matt on the seat and Kitty between them.
A man sprawled in the bulrushes at the edge of the pond. He laid his pole on the ground, climbed to his feet and watched them approach.
"Morning," said Matt, climbing down from the wagon.
"Good morning," said the man, his round dark eyes staring at Kitty. Of middling stature and compact build, he was a few years older than Matt, with small eyes, a sharp prominent nose and long thin mouth. His face was rugged and angular, with an open yet rather serious expression. Although he wasn't handsome, when Kitty and Lilah discussed him, the women found the arrangement of his form and features attractive when viewed together as the whole man.
Matt lifted Kitty down from the wagon while Doc helped Lilah out of the buggy and Chester hopped nimbly from the wagon to the ground. The man looked at Chester with an inoffensive curiosity, then his eyes turned to Lilah Rose and lingered there. She had an ethereal beauty, and many in Dodge, Matt and Chester excepted, thought her prettier than Kitty.
The man removed his hat, uncovering thick, unruly dark hair waving over his forehead and long on his neck, gray-white at the temples. "Are these lovely ladies your wives?" he said.
"We're all friends," said Kitty.
"I see," said the man. Her answer seemed to please if not excite him. Kitty guessed he wasn't a smiling sort, but his eyes brightened and his face lit up. "I'm Zeb Woodman," he said.
"Kitty Russell. This is Marshal Dillon, and Chester Goode, Doctor Adams over by the buggy, and Lilah Rose."
"You folks have a lot of provisions," said Zeb. "Looks like you'll be fishing a few days here."
"A week," said Matt.
"Mind if I join you?" said Zeb. "I don't keep company with people much. I made a fortune prospecting at Windham Bay in Alaska, enough to live in comfort the rest of my days without earning another cent. I roam the country and spend my summers fishing."
Chester paused in unloading the wagon, holding a tin tub filled with mud and wriggling worms. "By golly," he said. "That's a dream I wish 'ud come true."
"You'd never survive Alaska, friend," Zeb said genially. "You're too puny. And you're . . . not equipped for it."
"Chester looks stronger when he's well," said Lilah. She was soft-spoken, with a light musical voice. "He's convalescing from the grippe," she said. "We all are."
"I heard about that sickness," said Zeb. "A lot of souls were taken in these parts. Folks say it was a regular plague, Doc."
"It was," said Doc. "Particularly virulent. It's normal for grippe to cause either sore throat and headache, or stomachache and vomiting. This sickness hit the throat and belly at the same time, which is unheard of. Not hardly a body come down with it didn't think they were dying. I'm minded to think cholera brought on the belly sickness. Struck same time as the grippe."
"I wasn't touched by it," said Zeb. "I never get sick."
"You're welcome to keep company with us, you want to, Zeb," said Matt. "We've got plenty of food to share."
"I'm obliged," said Zeb. "My provisions run out a while back and I haven't rode to town in a spell. The fish make tasty vittles, but you can get too much of a good thing."
When the wagon was unloaded and camp set up, the horses tethered to sycamore branches and twigs gathered and piled for a cooking fire, Doc said he was too tuckered to fish and would nap until lunchtime. He spread out his bedroll in the long grass under a redbud tree, and was about to take off his shoes and socks and lie down when he saw Chester standing close by, wistfully watching him.
They had all helped set up camp, Zeb Woodman lending a hand. Lilah, who enjoyed cooking and was good at it, would gut and cook the fish they caught for lunch. Matt and Kitty stood some yards away face to face, talking low-voiced to each other, and they weren't holding fishing poles. Zeb apparently had for the time being lost interest in fishing, as he sat on a rock staring at Kitty.
Doc saw Chester was tired, and knew he wouldn't let Lilah catch and clean the fish by herself so he could sleep. While Doc was drowsy and his muscles sore, he felt sure that Chester was wearier than himself.
"Open your bedroll under the sun, Chester," Doc ordered. "Lay down and sleep. Lilah and I'll do the fishin'."
"But you're tired, too, Doc," said Chester.
"Not nary a bit," said Doc. "I can doze and fish at the same time."
"Well alright. I am powerful sleepy." Chester took his bedroll to a sunny patch of grass, lay on his back with his hat off, and fell asleep at once.
As Doc sat next to Lilah and cast his line into the water, Matt took Kitty's hand, and the two of them walked away along the bank. Zeb stood and followed them at a distance.
"That Zeb fella's sneakin' behind Matt and Kitty," said Doc. "He's fallen for her already. He better not make trouble for Kitty. She can't rest and get her strength back if that man starts botherin' her."
"He seems nice enough," said Lilah. "Not good-looking, but nice to look at, somehow. Maybe Kitty will like him."
Doc enjoyed sitting beside Lilah, and was pleased now that he'd told Chester to take a nap. About as tall as Kitty, Lilah was graceful and womanly of form, neither plump or thin. She had thick, loosely curling hair, silky and so pale blonde it looked silver, and a dazzling smile. Her eyes were large and dark-green, and her fair complexion flawless.
Doc thought Lilah's face the epitome of female beauty, her features as close to perfection as any woman's he'd seen. She wore a light flowery perfume which mingled with the soapy clean scent of her skin and made Doc heady.
He knew Lilah was a scarlet woman, and was fairly sure that Chester wouldn't seriously consider courting her. Doc calculated she had bedded well over half the men in Dodge.
Doc leaned over and whispered in Lilah's ear. Her eyes widened and she giggled, then she and Doc put down their fishing poles and walked together into a stand of sycamores and overgrown flora.
Across the pond from their companions, Matt and Kitty lay entwined in each other's arms on a bed of grass surrounded by high dense vegetation blooming with blue sage. The sun was hot yet not scorching and the sage smelled earthy and sweet, heightening their lovemaking. Mesmerized, Zeb Woodman hid amid the plants and watched them. His trim body throbbed with wanting Kitty.
Chester saw no one around when he woke from his short yet deep and refreshing sleep. He walked to the edge of the pond and saw two fishing poles in the dirt, and no string of dead bass or catfish waiting for the pan. The sun had risen almost to the peak of the sky, and Chester's belly growled for lunch.
He drank from a canteen, opened one of the food baskets, unwrapped the cloths and pulled out a cold pork sandwich. About to take a bite, he heard Doc and Lilah talking, and a moment later they walked out of the sycamore wood, holding hands.
They stopped when they saw Chester, and Doc let go of Lilah's hand, his face reddening. Chester stared an instant, then smiled wide and laughed, his face blushing redder than Doc's. "What're you laughin' at, Chester," Doc demanded. Chester dropped his sandwich in the dirt and guffawed hiccupping laughter. Lilah put her arm around Doc and giggled.
"Can't a man go for a stroll with a pretty young woman without you brayin' like a donkey?" said Doc. "Here now, don't go into hysterics, Chester," Doc said, concern overcoming his embarrassment. "It's not that funny."
Lilah moved to Chester, lifted his head in her small soft hands, and kissed him at length, pouring into the kiss all her tender affection and desire for him. Chester took her in his arms and eagerly returned the kiss. He wanted to take her on the grass in the warm shade among the sycamores, and let Doc catch the fish for their midday meal.
Lilah pulled out of the embrace and took Chester's hand. "Chester and I are going to take a little walk through the trees, Doc," she said in her lilting voice.
"Doc won't have no one to help with the fishin'," Chester half-heartedly said.
"Go on along; enjoy yourselves. I'll catch enough fish for the six of us in no time flat," Doc boasted. "You two young folks are looking at an angling expert."
"I'll be back to help with the guttin' and cleanin'," said Chester.
"And I'll do the cooking," said Lilah.
Doc sat on the ground, warm from the sun and soft from the spring rains, cast his fishing line, lay down and closed his eyes, inhaling the fresh gritty tang of fecund dirt. A breeze fanned his face, buffering the sun's heat. Doc felt strong as he had before the grippe struck him, and sound in his mind and emotions. He was sure that Lilah would help Chester mend from the vestiges of the sickness and Nancy's death.
"Button me, honey, will you?" said Lilah. With his own shirt half-open over his union suit, Chester fumbled at the small covered buttons at the back of Lilah's light-green, sprigged cotton dress.
"They're slipp'ry dinky," said Chester, laboring. "It's hard to git a purchase on. Makes ma hands feel like a giant's."
"Take your time," said Lilah. "It'll give us a chance to talk a little before we walk back to camp."
"Ah jest hope I don't pull none of 'em off on accident," said Chester.
Lilah plucked a sunflower from the earth, her sensitive fingers with their long red-painted nails stroking the petals. "I love you, Chester," she said, and he felt his face flush hot. Her words touched him like a gentle pat on his heart, and his eyes moistened.
"More than Nancy Sparrow ever loved you," said Lilah. "She wanted a husband, and thought you good-looking and gentlemanly, and genteel in a natural sort of way. Miss Sparrow planned to use you for the life she wanted. To tell the truth, Chester, I don't think she ever loved you. She was fond of you. But she wanted to mold you into her ideal husband, and I'd never do that. I love you for yourself, Chester, for who you are. Were I your gal, I wouldn't expect you to do anything you didn't want to do."
Chester did not understand everything Lilah said, which didn't much bother him, as he was used to that, particularly with women. He'd understood little more than some, maybe, of what Miss Nancy said to him, and at times couldn't wrap his mind around Miss Kitty's talk, either.
Chester took no offense when Lilah spoke against Miss Nancy, which was something of a wonderment, as he'd fancied himself in love with the schoolmarm and wept over her grave. Like the sun shining too brightly in his eyes when he turned his face to the summer sky, the knowing hit Chester of a sudden that he no longer loved Nancy Sparrow, if he ever had, no longer mourned her passing, no longer missed her even. It did not occur to him to feel guilty. He felt only a mildly unsettling perplexity.
Chester knew he didn't love Lilah, either, although he liked her well enough; and he briefly wondered, before the musing flitted out of his head like the butterflies fluttering through the hot air, if he'd ever really loved any woman, or ever would.
"You alright, honey?" said Lilah. "You're so quiet and still. You finish buttoning me?"
"Huh?" said Chester. "Oh yeah. It tuk a heap of pickin' and tuggin', but I got it done." He hummed softly to himself, searching for a note, then started singing The Old Chisholm Trail as he rose to his feet and held out his hands to help Lilah up.
Amused and a little impatient, Lilah smiled as he pulled her upright. "Chester," she said, "you haven't answered me."
"Answered you 'bout what," he said, smiling back at her.
"Do you want me for your girl."
"Wahl, you know, we kin be friends, Lilah Rose. We best head back ta camp. Doc likely got the fish ready for cookin'. Come a-ti yi youpy youpy yea youpy yea, Come a-ti yi youpy youpy yea," Chester sang.
"Oh . . . that doesn't answer me," said Lilah, vigorously shaking out the skirt of her dress. "But I shan't nag you about it. I trust you'll give me an honest answer when you're ready."
Chester stopped singing and his face sobered. "That's ma answer in truth," he said gently, his kind brown eyes looking warmly down at her. "We can be friends, Lilah."
Lilah's cheeks turned pink in her fair face and her green eyes sparkled in distress. Chester thought of ivy leaves, then of strawberry pulp mixed in milk, which made him both thirsty and hungry. The troubled look faded from Lilah's eyes, which glowed softly up at him. "You look strained, darling," she said. "I'm sorry."
"Forevermore, Lilah, you didn't say nothin' to apologize about. I jest need lunch and some lemonade out them jars Miss Kitty brung along."
Chester made no move to reach for Lilah's hand as they walked through the trees toward camp, and her heart tripped with foreboding. This was no time for tears, though she wanted to cry. She blinked hard and swallowed it down. "Chester . . . ." she said. "Do you need more time to grieve for Miss Sparrow? Before you court another woman?"
"Ah thank um all done grievin', maybe," Chester said easily. "I ain't doin' no courtin' a spell."
"I see," said Lilah. "When you're ready to take up courting again, might you change your mind about me?"
Chester didn't know how to answer her, as he already had, twice. He thought of just saying "No",but feared that would hurt Lilah, and it seemed to him an impoliteness beside, for a man to say such to a woman.
Lilah sighed. "Never mind, Chester," she said, patting his arm. "Perhaps you can answer me later."
Doc had gutted and cleaned the fish when they returned to camp, and Lilah rolled up her sleeves to cook them and prepare lunch.
Matt and Kitty sat close together on the embankment, and Zeb Woodman sat at Kitty's other side. Matt wanted to tell Woodman to get up and sit somewhere else, or find another spot to set up camp. The marshal felt he had no right to tell Woodman to move, though, if Kitty voiced no objection to him. Accustomed to admirers, she paid Zeb no attention.
"I'll bring you a plate, Miss Kitty," said Zeb, jumping up when Lilah announced lunch was ready.
Matt gave him a chilly look, which Zeb interpreted as disdainful. "I consider myself a friendly man," Woodman said slowly in a low tone, his small dark eyes boring into Matt's large blue ones. "But even a longsuffering fellow such as myself won't tolerate mockery for long," said Zeb.
"What's the matter with you, Woodman," said Kitty, frowning. "Matt didn't say a word to you."
Chester hurried to them and held out his hand to help Kitty up. "Come on, Miss Kitty," he said. "Let's go over by Doc and Lilah."
Kitty looked questioningly at the marshal. "Go on, Kitty," said Matt. Kitty took Chester's hand and he helped her up, and she went with him to stand by Doc and Lilah.
Matt rose, towering over Zeb. "Nobody's askin' you to hang around, Woodman," said Matt. "You're welcome to stay, long as you act neighborly. It's a big pond, and we don't want any fightin'."
"You got a bee under your hat, Marshal," said Zeb. "Miss Kitty said you were friends. You're not married, she doesn't belong to you."
Matt held Woodman's stare and said nothing. "You're still doin' it," said Zeb.
"What," said Matt.
"You're looking at me like I'm dirt."
Matt made no reply. He figured Woodman would swing at him, giving him the excuse he wanted to punch Zeb and send him on his way.