Chapter One
Clad in black, the stranger appeared like a shadow one cloudless summer morning at the marshal's office, where Matt, Chester, Doc and Kitty had met to walk to Delmonico's for breakfast. The visitor removed his hat in a courtly manner, uncovering impeccably combed, glossy dark hair waving at his forehead, and nodded to Kitty. "Ma'am," he said.
Looking at the stranger's hard face, Kitty took hold of Doc's arm, as she knew the marshal could need his arms free to fight with his fists or his gun. Though the newcomer's features were flawless, the tight set of his downturned mouth and his grim dark eyes gave him the look of a gunman. Kitty breathed deeply. Despite the hot breeze wafting through the opened windows, the tall trim form in black silk and linen seemed to suck the air out of the room.
"Marshal Dillon?" the stranger said.
"That's right," Matt said. "What can I do for you."
"I'm Cole Radcliffe. I'll be in town awhile. Just letting you know." They all recognized the name, though the stern brown face was not on any Wanted poster. Radcliffe was a cunning gun for hire who'd never spent more than a fortnight behind bars.
"Get back on your horse and ride out of here, Mister," said Matt.
"No," said Radcliffe. "I've business to attend to here, Marshal. I'm not wanted for any crime; I have a right to stay in this town 'til I die if I want to."
"That might happen sooner than you think," said Matt.
"Maybe. I'm still not leaving Dodge until I get ready," said Radcliffe.
"What's your business here," the marshal said.
"You'll find out real soon," said Radcliffe. He looked at Chester. "You the deputy?" said Radcliffe.
"No," Matt said.
"He has no tongue?" said Radcliffe. "I asked around, Marshal. I know you have an assistant.
"What's your name," Radcliffe said to Chester.
Matt stepped close to Radcliffe, blocking his view of Chester. Matt's chin was a hair's breadth away from touching Radcliffe's nose as the marshal looked down at him, but Radcliffe stared into Matt's eyes without flinching or stepping backward, the gunman's eyes like cold dark pits.
Radcliffe stirred no unease in Matt. He'd looked into the eyes of many gunmen for hire, and his reaction was always the same; he wanted either to beat them with his fists or shoot them, depending on what he saw. The desire burned in Matt's gut to draw his gun and shoot this one through the heart.
"Listen, Radcliffe," said Matt. "Whatever you have to say, say it to me. Any gunplay you try around here'll be your last fight."
"Maybe," said Radcliffe. "I'll find out your assistant's name. I'll ask around." His eyes fixed on Matt, the gunman moved backward to the door and reached behind him for the knob. "Ma'am," Radcliffe said, tipping his hat to Kitty. He opened the door and backed out, closing it quietly.
"What did he want with Chester?" said Kitty.
"I don't know," said Matt.
"You shoulda killed him, Matt," Kitty said. "We'd all say he drew on you first."
"I would've backed you up, Matt, if you shot 'im," said Doc.
"He spooks me in those black duds, askin' them questions," said Chester.
Cole Radcliffe's black clothes looked stark in the sunlight, his shiny boots thudding the walk as he headed for the Long Branch. As Matt, Chester, Doc and Kitty walked to Delmonico's, Chester saw Radcliffe a long stone's throw in front of them. "My goodness, there he is up yonder," said Chester.
"Chester, you and Doc and Kitty go on to breakfast," said Matt.
"You gonna follow him, Mr. Dillon?" said Chester.
"I'm gonna find out what he's up to if I can, Chester."
The only patron in the Long Branch at that morning hour was a young man of twenty-five years named Seth Lawrence, a junior associate at the bank. As the bank was closed Saturday, Seth sat chatting and drinking coffee with saloon gal Holly Piper. Holly had two beaus, Chester and Seth. The men liked each other, and were too affable for anything beyond a good-natured rivalry for Holly's affection.
Radcliffe entered the Long Branch and paused inside the batwings, narrowing his eyes. He tipped his hat to Holly and walked to the bar.
"What'll you have, Mister?" said Sam.
"Beer," said Radcliffe. He looked back at Seth and Holly, who were staring at him, and raised his voice a bit so it carried through the saloon. "You know Marshal Dillon's assistant?" Radcliffe said to Sam.
"Sure," said Sam.
"What's his name?"
"Chester Goode," Sam said.
Seth leaned on the table and moved his patrician face close to Holly's exotically pretty one. Though he wore the fine clothes of a professional man and bowler hats, folks said Seth looked like a pilgrim. A man of medium height and build on the slim side, he had a faintly smiling expression, fair skin, uniform features neither large or pinched yet slightly prominent, and rather small gentle brown eyes. Women found his looks pleasing, though he wasn't classically handsome.
Lowering his voice, Seth said to Holly, "What do you suppose that fellow wants with Chester?"
"I don't know," said Holly, "but I don't like the looks of him. He looks like a gunman."
Matt walked through the batwings and to the bar.
"Marshal," said Radcliffe. "You're following me."
"Beer, Marshal?" said Sam. Matt nodded.
"I'm telling Marshal Dillon that man asked Chester's name," Holly said to Seth.
Holly had not revealed her ancestry so far as the townsfolk knew, though they figured she was at least half Gypsy. Her beauty permitted her to work un-harassed at the Long Branch, while her honey-colored complexion kept the men from serious courtship.
Older by two years than Seth, Holly was a slender yet shapely woman. She had luminous dark eyes with hints of gold, shining, loosely curling dark hair, a delicate nose and full mouth.
Seth put his hand on her arm as she started to stand. "I'll tell the marshal, darling," he said. "You stay here." He rose and moved to the bar.
"Seth," said Matt.
"Marshal." Seth looked into Radcliffe's hard eyes and felt a chill, though the air in the Long Branch was summery warm. "This man asked Sam for Chester's name," said Seth.
"That's so," said Radcliffe. One side of his mouth jerked up in a disdainful grin as he looked at Seth.
"I see," the marshal said to Seth. "Seth, why don't you go back and sit with Holly." Matt touched his hand to Seth's shoulder.
"Yes, sir."
"What's your business with Chester," Matt said to Radcliffe.
"You'll find out."
"I don't like tricks, Radcliffe," said Matt. "And I don't like gunmen. If you're gunnin' for him, I'll kill ya."
"I'm not gonna shoot him," said Radcliffe. "This isn't a hired job."
"Then what do you want with him," said Matt.
Radcliffe's mouth turned up in his tight crooked grin. "Don't worry, Marshal," he said. "It's nothing fatal."
C~~~~
Chester liked to stand between Kitty and Holly at the Long Branch bar, so rather than stand in his usual place by Kitty's side at the end of the bar, he switched to the corner facing Kitty, with Holly at his other side. Chester was content in this position, not feeling on the outside of things as he did at times, smiling and talking while the marshal walked his nightly rounds.
Absorbed in the women's company, Chester didn't see Cole Radcliffe come to the bar. "Chester," Kitty said, grabbing his arm, her eyes widening at Radcliffe. Chester looked at her, then his smile faded at sight of Radcliffe.
"Ladies," said Radcliffe, tipping his hat. He leaned on the bar. "I saw the marshal patrolling the streets, Chester," he said. "You don't go with 'im?" Chester straightened up, looking at Radcliffe. "It's a dangerous job at night," said Radcliffe. He picked up his whiskey and examined it, sloshing it in the glass. "You can't be much help to the marshal, you're not wearin' a gun," he said.
Holly took Chester's arm. "Let's sit at a table, Chester," she said, tugging at him.
"You always run and hide from strangers, do you, Chester," said Radcliffe.
"Don't answer him," Holly said to Chester, pulling his arm.
"Why don't you do your drinkin' somewhere else, Mister," said Kitty. "He's not botherin' you."
"You let women do your talkin' for you, too?" said Radcliffe, one side of his mouth turning up in his tight-lipped grin.
"Chester, please," said Holly.
"It's alright, Holly," said Chester, gently removing her hand from his arm. "You always prowl around in them black spook togs, askin' a bunch of fool questions?" he said, scowling at Radcliffe.
"Chester," Holly whispered.
"Huh huh huh haahh hah hah huh huh huh," Radcliffe intoned, his laughter sepulchral. Then his grin vanished. "Don't mock me, lackey," he said.
"You wanna fight, why don't ya git to it, 'stead of jawin' all night," said Chester.
"No, Chester," said Kitty.
Radcliffe squared his shoulders. The two men were matched in height, though Radcliffe had a larger frame. "You're afraid of me, aren't you, Chester," he said. "Oh, I gotta hand it to you; you put on a brave front. Tell me something. Does the marshal know how timid you really are?"
"Get out," Kitty snapped at Radcliffe. "And if you ever come back, you better have a civil tongue in your head." Radcliffe hesitated.
"You heard Miss Kitty," said Sam. Radcliffe turned. His face expressionless, Sam aimed a shotgun at Radcliffe.
Radcliffe raised his hat. "Ladies," he said. "See you around, Chester." He left the Long Branch.
"Whiskey, Chester?" said Sam.
"No . . . ." said Chester. He looked numb. "I think I'll go back to the office, now, maybe."
"Don't mind what he says, Chester," said Kitty. "He's nothin' but a devil, and he ain't in disguise, either. Matt oughta beat him senseless, tie 'im to his horse, and run 'im outa town."
"Do you think the marshal would do that, Kitty?" said Holly. "Since he can't shoot that man outright. Will you suggest it to Marshal Dillon?"
"No need tellin' Mr. Dillon," Chester said distantly. "A man's gotta handle his own fights."
"That's ridiculous, Chester," said Holly. "You can't take that gunman on by yourself."
"Holly's right, Chester," said Kitty. "If you won't tell Matt, I will."
"But, Miss Kitty—"
"There's no use arguing," said Kitty. "My mind's made up."
"Oh. Gracious," said Chester. "I'll tell Mr. Dillon. Let me do it. At the office. "
"Alright, Chester," said Kitty, touching her hand to his face. "You make sure you do. I can't think why a gunman would go after you. This must have something to do with Matt."
"I expect . . . I 'spect it does," Chester said. "Goodnight, Miss Kitty," he said, tugging his hat brim.
"Goodnight, Chester."
"I'll walk you out, Chester," said Holly. "I need a breath of air." On the walkway, Holly cupped Chester's face in her hands, pulled his head down for a kiss, then put her arms around him.
"Don't you worry none at all, Holly," he said, holding her. "It'll turn out. You go back inside, now. A woman oughtn't be standin' in the dark by herself."
Headed for the marshal's office, Chester saw Matt approaching from down the walk. "Oh . . . Mr. Dillon . . . ." Chester said, flustered. He looked back toward the Long Branch, then turned his head in the direction of the office.
"Chester," said Matt. "Everything alright?"
"Well, I cain't tell you out here on the street," said Chester.
"Tell me what," said Matt.
"I cain't, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "It's too shamin' for outa doors speakin'."
"This have to do with Radcliffe?" said Matt.
"I haveta tell you at the office," said Chester.
"Alright, Chester," said Matt, giving his friend's back a pat. "We'll go to the office."
"I didn't like botherin' you about it, Mr. Dillon," said Chester, sitting with Matt at the table in the marshal's office. "Only I told Miss Kitty I'd tell you, to ease her mind. There's not any much the law can do about a feller houndin' another 'un."
Matt sipped his coffee. "Yes, but why is Radcliffe hounding you," he said. "It must have to do with me."
"That's what Miss Kitty said," said Chester.
"He won't tell me what he's up to," said Matt. "I'd choke it out of 'im if I could."
Matt left town at dawn the next morning, riding to a fledgling settlement sixteen miles from Dodge. Ford County had recently appointed a sheriff and deputy to Spearville. Matt would oversee the new lawmen for a few hours, returning to Dodge that night.
Leaving town for any length of time with Cole Radcliffe there worried the marshal. He'd almost told Chester to put a gun in his belt, then decided against it, figuring the gun might invite trouble from Radcliffe. Matt considered paying a man the marshal knew to be quick on the draw, to guard Chester while Matt was away, but dismissed the idea, knowing it would mortify Chester.
Worn down from the encounter with Radcliffe at the Long Branch, Chester fried fatback and pone for breakfast, and sat in the sun outside the marshal's office, relieved there was no one to tend to in jail. For awhile anyway, he had no desire to talk with Doc, or Miss Kitty or Holly.
Chester felt differently about Holly since last night at the bar, not that she'd said anything to displease him. Although her beauty had not diminished in his eyes, he no longer wished to keep company with her, and he didn't know why. He only knew that Holly's charm for him had blown away like dust on the breeze, as happened in a short spell with most women he courted. Grateful that Holly had another beau, Chester yawned and stretched in his chair. She got on easier with Seth Lawrence anyway.
Chester wasn't whittling that day, or practicing rope tricks or braiding rawhide strips. He just wanted to sit the day long in the sun, and go to bed at nightfall. He closed his eyes for a doze and saw in his mind Cole Radcliffe's hard face, cold eyes and scornful crooked grin.
You're afraid of me, aren't you, Chester, Radcliffe said inside Chester's head. Tell me something. Does the marshal know how timid you really are?
Chester sighed and opened his eyes. Radcliffe scared him, and had riled him at the Long Branch, though he felt no anger toward the gunman when not in his presence. Men of Radcliffe's ilk were a breed apart, like living corpses. As Radcliffe now was nowhere in sight, Chester saw no reason not to mash to a smear in the farthest corner of his mind the gunman's taunting words. Chester closed his eyes, thought of a gunshot, made Radcliffe's image disappear in a puff of black smoke, and drifted into a light sleep.
Chester awakened when he felt a hand tightly gripping his shoulder. Radcliffe stood over him. "Chester," the gunman said.
"My goodness," said Chester. "Where'd you come from." He took hold of Radcliffe's wrist and tried to pull his hand loose. Radcliffe grinned, squeezing. Chester tried to rise, and the hand held him down. "Huh huh huh haahh hah hah huh huh huh," Radcliffe laughed.
"You're mad," said Chester, glowering. He took the gunman's arm in both hands, quickly stood, and twisted the arm up behind Radcliffe's back. Chester had seen Mr. Dillon use the move, which drained the fight out of a man fast. Radcliffe grunted and struggled, and Chester yanked the arm up higher, his fear of the gunman waning although Mr. Dillon wasn't there.
"My gun hand," Radcliffe panted.
"I oughta pull it clean off," Chester said through gritted teeth, and released the arm, which flopped uselessly by Radcliffe's side. He backhanded Chester with his left, which didn't hurt much as he was right-handed.
"You tryin' to rile Mr. Dillon into a gunfight?" said Chester. "That why you're houndin' me?"
Radcliffe hugged his right arm to his side. "You be sure and tell 'im that," the gunman said, nodding. "You tell him I'm gonna kill 'im. Fair fight. Whenever he gets ready. If he's man enough." Radcliffe rotated his arm, flexing his fingers.
"Who paid you to fight Mr. Dillon," said Chester.
"No one paid me." Radcliffe formed a fist, moving his arm up and down. "The marshal makes it too hard for a man like me to ply my trade. You remember and tell him what I said."
"You mean he stops men like you from killin' for money," said Chester.
"That's what I said," said Radcliffe. He swung his right fist and punched Chester. Chester staggered back and fell.
Radcliffe grabbed two handfuls of Chester's shirt, pulled him upright, dragged him to the middle of Front Street, and shoved him. Chester sat down hard in the dirt, and the gunman lifted a shiny boot and swung his leg back for a kick.
They heard a gunshot, and dirt puffed into the air some two yards behind Radcliffe. His habitually smiling face stony and his eyes glinting flashes like needles in the sunlight, Seth Lawrence stood on the walk, breathing hard and pointing his gun at Radcliffe. "Reach for that gun and the next shot goes through your head," said Seth. His arm outstretched with the gun aimed in his hand, he cautiously approached Radcliffe. The gunman held his arm out away from his holster.
"You alright, Chester?" Seth said, his eyes trained on Radcliffe.
"Yeah." Chester stood and dusted off his pants.
"You want him jailed?" said Seth.
"You jail a man for fighting in this town?" said Radcliffe.
"He can go," said Chester.
"Remember, Chester," said the gunman. "Tell Marshal Dillon what happened here." Chester and Seth watched Radcliffe move down the walk, where he nearly collided with Jonas hurrying in the opposite direction. Jonas sidestepped into the street and rushed to Chester.
"I saw it, Chester," said Jonas. "I was goin' to where the stage stops to pick up a package comin' in, and I saw him hit you and pull you in the street. I saw the whole thing. You hurt, are you?"
"Nah . . . . " Chester swatted the air. "I'm fine. Don't take on, Jonas."
"The marshal not here?" said Jonas, looking at the office. "That fella looked like a gunman!"
"Mr. Dillon rode to Spearville," said Chester. "He'll be back tonight."
"Well, you let him know about this, so he can run that man out of town," said Jonas.
Chester didn't answer. "You don't tell the marshal, I will," said Jonas. "I'll be by the office tonight."
"Oh, forevermore, Jonas . . . . "
"This is not somethin' to dance around, Chester," said Jonas. "I have to meet the stage." He hastened away
"Oh, for heaven sakes," said Chester.
"Let's get out of the street," said Seth. "You will tell the marshal?"
"I wanna tell Mr. Dillon without Jonas interferin'. He'll make it sound like I cain't take care of myself.
"How'd you come to be 'crost the street jest at the right time, Seth," said Chester.
"The bank hired a special armed transport to ride a shipment of gold bars in from Fort Dodge," said Seth. "I'm headed to the livery. I'm going out there to ride into town and keep an eye on things. Make sure none of the bricks go missing."
"Oh . . . ." said Chester. "Seth . . . . "
"Mm-hmm."
"If you wanna maybe . . . if you want to, pass the time more with Holly . . . you know, do more courtin' and sech, then maybe she won't miss me keepin' company with her. So much," said Chester.
Seth smiled. "You break it off with Holly, did you?"
"Well, maybe I won't have to. If you pay her more special attentions," said Chester.
"I'll be happy to do that, Chester. Holly's very fond of you, though. She told me. It'd hurt her if you stop bein' her friend," said Seth. Chester nodded. "She's right fond of your looks, too," Seth said.
"I'd like to marry her, but I want her to be more in love with me before I propose," said Seth.
"Chester . . . ." Seth put his hands in his pockets and looked down at his boots, toeing a line through the dirt at the edge of the walk. "I never spent a night in Holly's room at the Long Branch, on account of respecting her as my future wife . . . hopefully. She asked me to her room more than once, but I said no." Seth looked up at Chester. "Did you . . . ever go to her room?" Seth asked.
Flushing deep red, Chester gave Seth a scandalized look. "You hadn't oughta talk about Holly thataway," Chester scolded. "Her bein' a Long Branch gal no matter."
"Uh-huh," said Seth. "But maybe she'd fall passionately for me if she knows I'm a good lover. She'd compare me to you."
"You got hardly a speck of decency," Chester said in a hushed tone. "For all you look like one a them Puritan fellers. I am obliged to you for lendin' a hand in the street there, though."
"That wasn't anything," said Seth. "You didn't answer my question, Chester." Seth smiled widely.
Chester sat down in the chair in front of the marshal's office, slouched and pulled his hat brim over his eyes. "You best ride out to your gold shipment," he said.