Chapter One

Long Branch gal Tillie Swann belonged to lumber mill owner Ned Callum, and Ned was mighty jealous. Any man caught chatting with Tillie when Ned swaggered through the batwings was a man begging trouble.

Quiet and serious yet cordial, Tillie looked discomforted in her short sleeveless costume. Though the men thought her tolerably pretty, she wasn't popular even before Ned courted her. A curvaceous woman of thirty, Tillie had clear mild eyes, soft brown hair, round features, a full mouth, and a fair complexion that needed none of the paint and powder she liberally applied with her outfit. She carried herself like an educated lady and spoke like one, and other than tipping their hats and saying, "Howdy, Tillie," the men had little conversation with her. Kitty kept her on the payroll nonetheless, for Tillie needed the job until she married Ned.

Sipping her coffee, Kitty leaned on the end of the bar and watched Tillie, who sat at a table by herself, ankles crossed and hands folded in her lap, her shoulders straight. If Ned had any decency, Kitty thought, he would have told Tillie to quit the Long Branch directly after proposing to her, or married her the same day. Kitty had heard Ned speak harshly to Tillie, and he handled her roughly at times. Though Kitty never saw him hit Tillie, her fair skin bruised easily and the marks were visible when Tillie washed at night or before she painted her face in the morning.

Chester stood beside Kitty, absently turning his untouched beer mug on the bar. "It's a shame," he said, "a lady like Tillie workin' in a place like this."

Kitty wasn't offended. She liked Chester's honesty, and as she shared his sentiment, she was too forthright herself to take affront.

"Yeah," she said. "But Tillie might be better off workin' here than married to Ned Callum."

Chester shifted his position to face Kitty. "Why?" he said. "Does he hit her?"

"Sometimes."

"Then she oughtn't marry 'im. She best forget him and take interest in a nice feller."

Chester picked up his beer.

Kitty frowned. "What nice feller?"

"Me."

"Chester, no." Kitty fumbled her pendant watch open. "It's six-twenty," she said. Ned always gets here by six-thirty."

"He don't scare me."

Kitty grabbed his arm. "You stay right here with me," she said.

"Now Miss Kitty." Chester pulled at her fingers.

"Sam!"

As Chester pried Kitty's fingers loose, Sam hurried over and impassively took hold of his arm.

"I wouldn't thought you to interfere, Sam," said Chester.

"Why'd you frighten Miss Kitty that way?" Sam said. "Ned Callum'll take you apart if he sees you with Tillie."

"Barkeep," a voice called from the other end of the bar. Sam gave Chester a warning look and moved away. Chester sullenly contemplated his beer.

"There he is," said Kitty, as Callum entered the Long Branch. "Right on time."

"I'm not afraid of him," Chester said into his beer. "Fellers like him ought not be allowed to hit women. He oughta be throwed in jail next time he does it."

"That's not what Tillie wants," said Kitty. "She's made up her mind to marry Ned no matter how he treats her. There's Matt."

Matt joined them at the bar. "Hello, Kitty," he said. "Chester."

"Hello, Matt," said Kitty.

"Mr. Dillon," Chester said.

"Callum's here," Matt said. The marshal and Kitty watched Ned walk to the bar.

"He won't leave her side except to buy them drinks," said Kitty. "Far as he's concerned, he and Tillie are the only ones in the room." She abruptly straightened up, looking around. "Where's Chester? Matt, look." Chester had seated himself at Tillie's table and was smiling and talking with her.

Matt looked down the bar to where Callum stood waiting for his drinks. "Hold Ned's attention, will you, Kitty?" Matt said. "Don't let him turn around until I get Chester out of here."

"Alright."

Matt moved to Tillie's table. "Hello, Tillie," he said.

"Hello, Marshal."

"I need Chester to come with me," Matt said. "You'll excuse us."

Chester pushed his chair back and stood, tipping his hat. "Hope we can talk again soon," he said.

"That'd be nice," she said, returning his smile.

Callum stepped up to the table, a beer in each hand. Kitty followed and shrugged helplessly at Matt. Chester's smile disappeared and he looked defiantly at Callum.

"Why're you talkin' to my girl," Ned said to Chester.

"We were just chatting a little, Ned," said Tillie.

"You keep out of this," Ned snapped at her.

"No call talkin' to her thataway," said Chester. "I'm the one come up to her. You got a quarrel, it's with me."

"Alright." Ned thumped the beers down on the table.

Matt moved between Callum and Chester so neither of them could see the other.

"Get out of the way, Marshal," said Callum. "This ain't your fight."

"You're not fightin' anyone ," said Matt. "Unless it's me."

"He's tryin' to steal my girl."

"Chester's leaving," Matt said. "Sit and have your drink with Tillie."

"Please sit with me, Ned," said Tillie. "I don't want you fighting. I look forward to our time together all day. Please?"

"Well . . . ." Ned sat. "You stay away from her, Chester," he said.

"You jest treat her right," said Chester, "or I might pay you a visit."

"Don't threaten me." Ned rose from his chair. "You ain't nothin' without the marshal here to do your fightin' for you. You better watch out, Chester."

"Come on, Chester." Matt gave his partner a small push toward the batwings. "Sit and have your drink, Ned."

"I could've handled him, Mr. Dillon," said Chester.

"Not hardly you couldn't. You'll get your head knocked off, you don't leave Tillie alone. How many beers you have?"

"A sip or two is all. Couldn't swallow it that close to Tillie." Chester sighed. "She flutters my belly."

"She's engaged to Ned, Chester."

"He's not the sort should marry a lady like Tillie."

"Kitty says she's devoted to him."

"That makes no sense at all, Mr. Dillon. Miss Kitty told me he hits her sometimes."

"It's her right to be with him if that's what she wants. You'd better stay out of it."

Matt opened the office door. He'd left the lamp on and a fire burning in the stove. Nights and early mornings had grown cold, though the days were warm and sunny.

Chester rubbed his hands in front of the stove. "Reckon I'll wear my coat tomorrow night," he said.

"You goin' to the Long Branch tomorrow night?"

"Well I most always do, Mr. Dillon."

"You'll stay away from Tillie?"

"She seems lonely, like she don't like workin' there." Chester put the coffee pot on the stove. "If Callum was the man for her, he'd tell her to leave her job. He'd take care of her."

"That's between Tillie and Ned," said Matt.

Chester ran a hand over his hair, met Matt's eyes a moment, then moved to his bed and lay on his back with his boots on, linking his fingers behind his head.

Matt sat at the table. "It's too early to make my rounds," he said.

"Coffee's boilin'," said Chester.

"Chester, I can't force you to stay away from Tillie. But you're askin' for trouble if you don't."

"You're right," Chester heard himself say, gazing at the ceiling. "You can't force me." He sounded insolent to his own ears. He couldn't remember ever talking such a way to the marshal. Chester wondered how he'd fare if Mr. Dillon ordered him out into the cold, told him his job was through. The thought surprisingly elicited no dread. He felt only guilty and sad.

He sat up and looked at the marshal, who was looking at him. Chester couldn't figure Matt's thoughts, though his eyes didn't look angry.

The wherefores inside Chester's head confounded him when he tried to ponder them. He knew he'd changed the last two years or so, aged a lot. He still liked Mr. Dillon while feeling differently toward him without understanding how. Chester thought more now and then about going away. He'd always wanted to see California.

"Alright," Matt said. "I'll make the rounds early tonight."

"Mr. Dillon?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, alright." Not looking back, Matt walked out.

Chester lay back on his bed. His eyes were teary, so he took out his harmonica and played a lament.

The marshal heard the mournful ballad as he patrolled Front Street. He knew he and his partner were drifting apart, but that was the way of things. Matt would let Chester keep his job as long as he wanted it, and look out for Chester as long as he needed it. Chester might eventually leave Dodge. Matt might leave too. Wherever they were, he would always consider Chester his friend.