Chapter 1 – A Trip West

Wyatt Wellington knew accounting. That's why he currently served as the chief accountant for Adams Express with only the company's comptroller above him. Usually Wyatt would send an underling to a frontier town like Dodge City, Kansas but they were all already on assignment. Still, someone had to visit the office in Dodge. The new manager Nathan Burke had been running the office for nigh on to six months without a thorough audit of his business practices. Wyatt made plans. While he was gone his wife Ellen and newly wed, expectant daughter Laura would stay in Laura's home with her husband Stewart Granger to await the birth. The only servants the small, yet well-appointed household employed, a capable husband and wife team, would remain during his absence. His and Ellen's son Trent would accompany him.

Wellington was satisfied. All was arranged for the nearly 900-mile trip from Chicago. The company expense account paid for his round trip train fare, lodging at The Dodge House for three nights and food for the duration. Wellington willingly paid the additional costs for Trent. He felt the experience would render the expenditure worthwhile. He was certain witnessing the drudgery of life in a frontier cow town would dispel the boy's childishly romantic notions of life out west that he'd picked up from reading those dreadful dime novels. At the very least he'd disabuse Trent of the image he held of Matt Dillon, US Marshal, if the man existed at all outside those dreadful novels.

"Pop, this is great!" Trent enthused as they took their seats aboard the express train to Kansas City. "I can't wait 'till we get to the real west. How long you think it will take?"

"Let's see, son," Wyatt mused as he quickly calculated the answer. "It's about 12 hours, even though we're making very few stops. We'll have time for a late supper in Kansas City before we transfer to the Santa Fe train through Wichita to Dodge City. If all goes we'll arrive tomorrow evening."

"I reckon I'll get some readin' done while its still light then. Tomorrow's soon enough to maybe spot outlaws or Indians between Wichita and Dodge."

"Son, you're nearly 16. It's time you quit reading dime novels and started thinking about earning a living," his father stated, grabbing Trent's copy of Marshal Dillon and the Outlaw Siege."

Trent managed to wrest the book from his father so he could continue reading while the light lasted. He knew his dad had it all wrong. These stories came as close as he'd get to his gaining whatever knowledge he needed to pursue the career he dreamed about. It may not be the sort of job his father hoped he'd pursue, but this trip could start him on the path toward really learning the necessary skills. When they arrived in Dodge City he'd use the birthday money from his grandparents to buy a six-gun and gun belt. He'd then find somewhere to practice his aim and fast draw while the old man was busy going over the local Adams Express office ledgers.

Wyatt Wellington sighed as his son alternated between reading and observing the passing scenery while he used the time to scan the monthly reports Burke provided. There was hope this trip would help the boy reach a proper level of maturity. Trent was willing to try. He did everything expected of an Adams Express office boy after Wyatt got him the position. Father and son despite differences in temperament mostly got on well. They actually talked with each other in more than single syllables. He grinned at the lad when they became hungry and between them downed the roast beef sandwiches and cookies Ellen had packed. The food from home went down smoothly thanks to the lemonade Wyatt managed to buy in Independence.

The express reached the Missouri side of Kansas City at dusk. The Wellingtons picked up their carpetbags, Wyatt's valise and the satchel with their remaining food after exiting the train. They made their way cautiously in the unfamiliar small city toward its heart for a much needed meal. An hour later they boarded the Santa Fe train. Alas, Trent failed to spot a single outlaw or Indian between Wichita and their destination.

Long, boring, overnight train rides tire a body out. They were tired and hungry when the two travelers stepped onto the dusty streets of Dodge. Feeling totally lost they nevertheless chose to walk to the supposedly best hotel in town where Mr. Burke had reserved a room with two beds for them rather than hire a carriage. Their city honed habits proved unexpectedly utile in the surprisingly crowded main thoroughfare. The pair were nearly run down by an unruly cowboy about Trent's age who decided to ride his horse onto and across the boardwalk that served as a pedestrian walkway straight through the swinging doors of a saloon that bore the name Bull's Head on its window.

Unharmed, the Wellingtons continued on toward the Dodge House. Wyatt was annoyed. Trent was thrilled. The horse stood poised to enter the saloon. A scraggly bewhiskered man with a gun at his hip and a star on his chest announced his approach with a jangling of the large spurs he wore. Curious as to how this breach of common sense and propriety would be handled, both turned to watch him confront the cowboy, still astride his horse.

"Even this place don't allow no horses inside, Sonny," the man said resting his right hand on his sidearm.

"My horse has a thirst too. That gun of yours won't stop us. We're from Texas!"

"Yer drunker than I thought. Climb down an' give me yer gun. 'Fraid I'll have ta lock yah up fer the night."

Trent was so fascinated by the drama playing out in front of him that he failed to notice his father had turned back in the direction they'd been going and was several feet beyond him. When the cowboy didn't obey the scruffy man reached out with his left hand to grab the cowboy's left leg and pull him off his horse while the lad went for his pistol. It was just like in his books. Before the young drover could react the lawman unhorsed him, disarmed him while he was off balance and was now shoving him toward the jail. The excitement over, Trent turned to catch up with his father.

The rest of the evening was mostly quiet. Some loud singing and even a couple of gunshots outside disturbed their supper in a second rate restaurant by Chicago standards the hotel clerk Mr. Uzzel said was the best in town. In short order their meal eaten, the weary travelers left Delmonico's for their second floor hotel room. Trent drifted off to sleep his head filled with exploring the town, starting with the jailhouse. Perhaps that deputy would be willing to talk with him. If he were lucky, Marshal Dillon would be there.