Chapter One
Handsome, talkative and generous, Vin Donati was favored in Dodge. He headquartered banditry from his ranch, robbed only banks, trains and stages, and never shot a man. He swore he wouldn't go to prison, so when bounty hunter Landry Weeks walked into the Wichita mercantile and aimed at Donati as he tried on new boots, Vin went for his gun, and Landry shot him dead.
"I let the Wanted posters pile up," Marshal Dillon confessed, when his townsmen started hounding Landry. "I was waitin' for one on Donati. Couldn't jail 'im unless I caught him in the act or a circular with his face showed at the post."
"I thought goin' through the circulars was Chester's job," said Doc. "Seein' as he's our expert at remembrances."
"Well, there's jest so much a body can do in a day, Doc," said Chester. "And I am not either good at remembrances at all."
"Matt, blaming yourself won't make folks quit bedeviling Weeks," said Doc.
As they sat drinking coffee in the marshal's office, Kitty took Matt's hand in both of hers, which she rarely did except when she and Matt were alone together. Chester and Doc watched her, and Matt looked a little stunned. "I wish you'd gone after Donati first, too, Matt," Kitty said. "Not a man in Dodge would dare bully Matt Dillon. I have no love for bounty hunters, but it's not easy watchin' this town persecute Weeks."
"Makes it harder on him, since he gave up bounty hunting," Matt said. "He doesn't wear a gun, and he won't fight. I can't protect him every minute."
"Landry ain't a big feller," said Chester. "He don't look like no fighter."
"It's not just that, Chester," said Matt. "He says he has blood on his hands, and the hatred from the townspeople is his penance."
Landry was a New England dandy. He told Matt all about himself his first night in Dodge, his voice growing louder as the Long Branch men gathered to listen. "The West is too violent despite its grandeur," he said. "It's mighty presumptuous of me, but I thought if I took up bounty hunting, I could make this land a safer place.
"I lost the stomach for it after I killed Vin Donati. Folks say he never shot a man in his life," said Landry.
The men and gals at the bar went quiet. "You killed Vin Donati?" said a ranch hand standing next to Landry. Word had reached Dodge three days ago of Donati's death from a bounty hunter's gun.
"I didn't want to shoot him," said Landry. "I had no choice. He drew on me." The ranch hand punched Landry, who fell back against Matt. The marshal caught him before he hit the floor, and set him upright.
"You got a lot of nerve, comin' in here braggin' about murdering Vin," the cowboy said. "I worked his ranch. He was the best boss I ever had."
"I'm sorry," Landry said.
The cowboy smacked him, and he staggered back into Matt again. "So am I," said the cowpoke, and wound up to take another swing.
Matt reached past Landry and grabbed the cowpoke's wrist. "That's enough," said the marshal.
"You ain't seen the last of this fist, Weeks," the ranch hand said. He shook his fist in Landry's face, and stalked out of the Long Branch.
A trim man of thirty-five with a medium height and build, Landry had fine features, a clean light-tan complexion, very dark bright eyes, and curly yellow-brown hair. Matt hadn't seen a man who looked less like a gunslinger.
"You didn't hit that cowboy back," said Matt.
"I'm through with violence, Marshal," Landry said. "I killed so many men, any man hits me, I'm just reaping what I sowed."
"You might wanna think about movin' on for your own safety," said Matt. "A lot of folks here were real fond of Vin Donati."
"I'm not much with my fists, but I am mule-headed," said Landry. "I am not leaving Dodge until I get ready. A man runs away once, he never stops, Marshal. The same deviltry finds him wherever he goes.
"I like Dodge . . . maybe in time, Dodge will forget Donati and like me. And if they don't . . . if I'm to be a target of hostilities, it's providential judgment I'm fated to endure. Perhaps I'll write of it in my journal." Landry massaged his face where the cowboy hit him.
"Whiskey's good for that," said Chester, who stood at the bar on Matt's other side.
"I think so," Landry murmured, flexing his jaw.
"Whiskey, Sam," said Matt.
"I don't often drink it," said Landry. "It's strong."
"It's medicinal," said Chester.
Landry sipped the whiskey and sloshed it in his mouth. "The bounty hunting fixed me for life so far as money goes," he said. "A man can't do just nothing, though, so I've begun writing penny serials. I figure Dodge will inspire me."
"You got any I maybe could buy?" said Chester. "I ain't read none by Landry Weeks."
"I always carry some with me," said Landry. "Come by my room at Dodge House. I'll give 'em to you free."
As Kansas summers were oppressively moist and blistering hot, Dodge settled into its yearly torpor, resting for the coming hard work of harvest season. The town could do little under the blazing sun save talk, much of which drifted to the attack on Landry's horse. Matt said Landry should have shot the animal as the merciful thing, but he wouldn't hear of it, and Moss Grimmick understood.
Moss chloroformed Landry's horse, set his broken leg and tightly bound it, wrapped splints in place, and injected a morphine solution into the leg, then asked Landry to wait at the livery while Grimmick fetched Marshal Dillon.
"I don't need to see the horse, Moss," Matt argued. "I'll take the report here at the office." Het up, Grimmick insisted, so the marshal and Chester walked with Moss to the livery.
Landry's horse, a chestnut Morgan gelding with yellow mane and tail, lay in the stall. Unconcerned about his expensive suit, Landry sat in the straw, stroking the horse's neck. "Friend's awake, Moss," said Landry. "I don't think he can get up."
"He'll get up by the by," said Moss. "He's building his strength."
Landry stood and brushed the straw off his pants. "He should've come after me, Marshal," said Landry. "Whoever did this to Friend. Who'd attack a poor beast this way. Friend's not a man."
"This wouldn't of happened if you'd left Dodge," said Matt.
Friend started nickering and moving his three sound legs. "He's bracing himself to stand," said Moss. "Knows he has to do it three-legged. This might help." Moss put his hand in his pants pocket.
"Sugar lumps?" said Landry.
"Nope," said Moss. "Don't wanna risk inflaming his leg. Apple bits'll be alright, though." Moss held a handful of apple slices over the horse's head. Friend raised his muzzle, snuffling for the fruit and scrabbling his three legs in the straw, then quickly stood.
"He'll walk on that leg without much trouble after a spell," said Moss. "Won't hurt him much more than the rheumatiz would a man. He's not fit for riding anymore. I'll take 'im off your hands if you want, Landry. He'll get good care here."
"I'm obliged to you, Moss," said Landry. "I'll ride loan horses from now on. I won't risk another animal brutalized on account of me.
"You must think me strange, Marshal, carrying on over a horse when I've shot scores of men."
"Horse don't know things like a man," said Chester, patting Friend. "Them you shot most probably had it comin'."
"Some did," said Landry. "Some of them weren't all that bad. I had to shoot them when they drew on me. Like Donati."
"I never did like Donati," said Chester.
"Nor I," said Moss.
"You had no liking for Donati, neither, ain't that so, Mr. Dillon," said Chester.
"I didn't like 'im," said Matt.
"Marshal," a woman's voice called. "Good. We found you." Her name was Anne Jenkins, and she waited tables as a new hire at Delmonico's. A brawny man holding onto a small thin fellow followed her.
"I saw the whole thing through Delmonico's window, Marshal," said Anne, her brown eyes gleaming with anger. "Landry comes in most mornings for breakfast. His horse was tied to the hitching rail."
"I planned to take Friend for a ride after I ate," said Landry.
"I was refilling Landry's coffee cup," said Anne, "when this man here runs up with a poker, swings at the poor animal's leg, and runs away. The horse whinnied so long and loud, everyone in the restaurant heard it.
"I told this gentleman here," Anne said, gesturing at the big man, "to catch this little brute." She swiped her hand fiercely through the air at the small man. "I said I'd pay to have him caught."
"Took me awhile," said the big fellow. "I found 'im hidin' in a shed on the back street."
"Let go of him," Landry said to the big man.
Matt guessed what was coming and said nothing, figuring the little man deserved it.
The big man let go, and Landry hit the small man, who fell straight onto his back without bending, his skinny arms and legs splayed out on the floor. "I wouldn't have hit him if he'd gone after me instead of poor Friend," said Landry.
Chester stepped over to the little man and bent down next to him. "He's out cold," said Chester. "Him bein' sech a little feller, a smack open hand would get your point acrost," he said to Landry. "Mr. Dillon's gonna jail 'im, anyhow."
"I didn't intend to hit him that hard," said Landry. "I was mad. It's the devil in me, same as drove me to kill."
"He got off easy, seeing what he did to the horse," said Matt.
Chester patted the little man's face. "Here, you," Chester said. "Wake up."
The man opened his eyes and looked up at Landry. The little man had small glittering eyes, sharp features, a long nose and crafty visage. Chester thought he looked like a rat, and backed away without helping him up. The little man's face crinkled with loathing as he stared up at Landry.
Matt set the little man on his feet. "What's your name," said the marshal.
"Lou Donati." The man listed to one side, and Matt held him up. "I'm Vin's cousin," Lou said. "He looked out for me. Vin deeded me the ranch in his will."
"I'm sorry I had to shoot Vin," said Landry. "He went for his gun."
"He wouldn't had to go for his gun if you'd a left him alone, you scum," said Lou. "I hope you get shot in the back, I do. Wish I had the belly to do it myself."
"This changes things," said Landry. "Him being Vin Donati's cousin. I don't want him jailed, Marshal."
"Alright," said Matt. "You ever pull a trick like this again, I'll ask the judge to throw you in prison for a year, understand?" he said to Lou.
"Yeah," said Lou. "I wanted to take that poker to you," he said to Landry, "only I'd for sure get prison if I did."
"It's been a hard morning," said Landry, after Lou and the big man left the livery. "Folks won't hardly pass the time of day with me. Less so all the time.
"I wish you didn't have to work, Anne," Landry said. "So you could keep company more with me. I always can count on you to be kind."
Anne took his arm. "I left work for the day," she said. "Will you lunch at Ma Smalley's?"
"I've nothing against Mr. Weeks, Marshal, nothing at all," Ma said to Matt, after the disturbance in her dining room. "Though I wish he'd stay out of my place. My boarders despise him. That is, most of them do. I told Anne not to invite him to my place anymore. No matter he stopped hunting outlaws. Even a retired gunman is trouble anywhere he goes. Particularly as all of Dodge knows Mr. Weeks killed Vin Donati. I never could understand why folks were so fond of Vin Donati. Makes me wonder about this town; it surely does," said Ma.
"Can you tell me what you saw, Ma?" said Matt, his voice strained as he reined in his impatience.
"Yes, yes, of course," said Ma. "I served a nice summer luncheon today, and my boarders were in good spirits before Mr. Weeks showed up. "We had roast chicken, fried potatoes 'n onions, cucumbers and tomatoes in cream, and lemonade.
"Everyone was chatty 'til they saw Mr. Weeks, then the room went silent. Anne said, 'Hello, Ma, I invited Landry to lunch. I hope you don't mind.'
" 'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I s'pose it'll be alright.'
"Mr. Weeks and Anne sat down, and the boarders started passing the serving dishes around the table. Mr. Simon the peddler sat next to Mr. Weeks, and when the lemonade was passed to Mr. Simon, he poured some, then threw the whole glassful in Mr. Weeks' face, and said, 'There. That's for you. Vin Donati was one of my best buyers.'
"Nearly all the boarders at the table laughed, but it was mean laughter, Marshal," said Ma. "Made my scalp prickle hearing it."
" 'Mr. Simon, how dare you,' I said.
"Then Anne picked up her water glass, reached around Mr. Weeks, and dashed the contents in Mr. Simon's face. 'How do you like it, Simon?' she said. No one laughed that time.
" 'You let a woman do your fighting for you, eh, Weeks?' said Simon.
"Mr. Weeks rose from his chair. 'I'm dreadfully sorry, Mrs. Smalley,' he said. 'This is my fault. I shouldn't have come.'
" 'Why don't you get out of Dodge, you murderer,' Mrs. Henrietta Kale said to Mr. Weeks. 'We don't want your kind here.'
"Now, I happen to know the widow Kale never even met Vin Donati, Marshal," said Ma, "And she'd have no dealings with him if she had met him. Mrs. Kale wouldn't care what happened to a man like Donati. She just seized the opportunity to say something hurtful. Like a dog in a pack rending one animal.
"Well, Anne stood up beside Mr Weeks and said, 'Why don't you shut your loud mouth, Henrietta.'
"Mrs. Kale gasped. 'Well,' she said. 'I never. I won't sit here and be insulted by this serving woman. Mrs. Smalley, since you allowed that murderer to come here, kindly bring my lunch to my room.'
" 'Come, Landry,' Anne said. 'We'll find somewhere else to eat.'
"Mr. Simon left the table to stand in front of Mr. Weeks. 'Well, Weeks, how about it,' said Simon. 'A man gets somethin' thrown at 'im; that's cause for a fight. Or is your belly yeller as those purty curls of yours.'
"Mr. Simon's on the hefty side as you've seen, Marshal," said Ma. "I knew it wouldn't go well for Mr. Weeks.
" 'I'm going for Marshal Dillon, Ma,' said Anne. She picked up her skirts and ran for the door.
" 'I don't want to fight you,' Mr. Weeks said to Simon.
"Simon's lip curled. 'You cowardly fop,' he said, and pushed Mr. Weeks.
"Oh, Marshal," said Ma, "I'm grateful no children are staying at my place just now. Supposing there'd been children in the room.
"Well, Mr. Weeks stumbled backward, but he didn't push Simon back. All the boarders left their chairs, and I sensed their excitement, Marshal, though not from all of them. A few went to their rooms, or walked out of the house. The rest of them craned their necks. They were that eager to see a man come to harm.
"Simon pushed Mr. Weeks again, then struck him. I thought Simon would leave him be when Mr. Weeks fell, but Simon straddled him and started beating his face. None of the men stopped Simon, so I grabbed the water pitcher and ran at him from behind, intending to smash the pitcher over his head.
"Someone shouted, 'Simon! Look out!' Simon turned, jumped up and snatched the pitcher from me.
"Get your things and get out of my house," I said.
"Simon kicked Mr. Weeks in the side, then stomped upstairs to his room. Mr. Weeks looked half-conscious. His mouth and nose, and a gash under his eye were bleeding.
"I knelt beside him. "Mr. Weeks," I said, patting the right side of his face, which was untouched by Simon's fist. The light seemed to darken in the room, and my heart skipped when I looked up and saw my boarders hemming us round.
"Mr. Weeks opened his eyes, and I helped him to sit, keeping my arms around him for my own comfort. 'Oh, Mr. Weeks,' I whispered.
" 'You people are scaring Mrs. Smalley,' Mr. Weeks said.
"The boarders backed away from us then, and left the dining room. I helped Mr. Weeks to a bed in one of my rooms, fetched some ice in a cloth for his nose and mouth, and washed the gash under his eye with cold water. That's when you and Chester came in with Anne, Marshal," Ma Smalley said.
The marshal stopped Simon as he was headed out the door, carpetbag in hand. "Hold on, there," Matt said. "Are you Simon?"
"It was just a fight, Marshal," said Simon. "You arresting folks for fighting, now?"
Talking the incident out at Delmonico's over dinner, Chester and Doc and Kitty agreed that Matt's decision to jail Simon for two days was a judicious one, despite Landry's protests.
"I'm alright, Marshal," Landry insisted, holding Ma's icepack to his eye. "I don't want him thrown in jail."
"Mr. Simon might have seriously injured you, Landry," said Anne.
"Anne's right, Mr. Weeks," Ma said. "Simon would've kept hitting you if I hadn't threatened him with that pitcher."
"I wasn't meaning to hurt him bad," said Simon. "Just enough to teach him a lesson."
"If anyone's gonna learn a lesson around here, it's you, Simon," said Matt. He took the carpetbag from Simon, opened it, sifted through the contents, removed a gun, and handed the bag to Simon.
"Ah, Marshal," Simon whined.
"Take him to the office and lock 'im up, Chester," said Matt.
"Yessir. Come on," Chester said to Simon, gesturing with the shotgun.
"I'll walk you to Doc's to get that eye fixed, Landry," said Matt. "We need to talk."
Matt walked slowly, staying a few yards behind Chester and Simon. "You know you could've saved yourself a beating if you'd pushed Simon back?" Matt said. "He don't seem like a tough sort to me, not if you stand up to 'im."
"I vowed never to hurt another man, even in self-defense, Marshal," said Landry. "I must endure retribution for those I killed."
"Why," said Matt.
"It's either that or kill myself," Landry said, his voice raspy. His nose trickled blood as Matt looked at him.
"Your nose is bleedin' again," said the marshal. The ice in Ma Smalley's cloth had melted, and Landry moved it from his eye to his nose.
"Did it occur to you how selfish you're being?" said Matt. "You won't defend yourself, and you won't leave Dodge. My job is to keep order in this town, and you're makin' it blamed hard. You're kicking up a ruckus everywhere you go. You won't stand up for yourself; Ma might've been hurt trying to protect you.
"I'll tell you straight, Weeks," Matt went on, feeling his chest heat up. "I have no use for any gunman, you lay down your gun no matter. You're all nothing but trouble."
Landry didn't reply. He and Matt caught up with Chester, who was opening the door to the marshal's office, Simon standing next to him. Landry sniffed loudly, and pressed the cloth over his eyes.
Chester looked at him. "It's jest a little ways more to Doc's," said Chester. "Doc'll fix you up so that eye don't hurt at all." Landry inhaled noisily and sniffed again.
"He's cryin'," said Simon, staring curiously at Landry.
"Take him on to Doc's, will you, Chester?" said Matt. "Have Doc talk to 'im. I'll lock Simon up."
"You must not ate lunch to Ma's, seein' as what happened," Chester said to Landry as they walked to Doc's.
Landry cleared his throat, blotting his face with the cloth. "I'm not hungry," he said.
"You want coffee?" said Chester. "Doc'll have some on."
"Coffee'll do me well, I think," Landry said.
"I read one a your books," Chester said. "The Weeping Woman. It was right good for a penny book. Best I read, 'cept maybe Deadwood Saloon, Part III. Cain't hardly get better than Mr. Ramrod Dakota for story writin'."
"Ramrod Dakota." Landry laughed. "Chester?'
"Yeah."
"Do me a favor? Don't ask Doc to talk to me like Marshal Dillon said?"
Chester sympathized, as Doc's talks exasperated him betimes. "I won't," he said. "You still need your eye sewed, though."
"Yes," said Landry. "Unfortunately."
Following the trouble with the gambler Nick Weyland at Jonas' store, Matt, Chester, Doc and Kitty concluded over beer at the Long Branch that Landry was feeble-minded to stay in town. "I'm thinkin' his sensibilities were tenuous long before he came to Dodge," Doc said. "Some folks are just born tender-headed."
That day was the hottest of the summer, too hot by noon to sit out even under the awnings. Matt was dozing in a chair against the wall in the marshal's office, boots crossed on his desk, while Chester snored on the bed, when Jonas came in, red-faced and breathing hard.
Matt opened his eyes and stood up. "Jonas," he said.
"Marshal," Jonas panted. "Nothing happened, thank goodness. Not this time. Not that there won't be a next time if something isn't done."
"Sit at the table there and get your breath," said Matt. "I'll get you some water."
Jonas gulped the water, draining the cup. Matt refilled his cup, poured a cup for himself, and sat with him at the table. "Take your time and tell me what happened," said the marshal.
Jonas looked at Chester, who still lay snoring. "Does he always sleep that sound?" said Jonas.
"Yep. What happened, Jonas?"
"Well," said Jonas, "Landry Weeks come to the store, looking for some new vests and neckties. Hats too, if he could find some matching."
"Him again," said Matt.
"It wasn't his fault, Marshal. He was minding his own business. He likes fine duds richly colored, and he spends a lot.
"That durned Nick Weyland," said Jonas. "I itched to smack him a good one, only he spends a lot, too. He collects fancy guns."
"Nick Weyland," said Chester from the bed. "The gambler?"
Matt and Jonas looked at Chester, whose hair was mussed in damp dark spikes.
"The same," said Jonas.
"Oh." Chester nodded gravely, yawned wide and lay down again, closing his eyes.
"What'd Weyland do?" said Matt.
"Weyland came in the store while Landry was tryin' on vests," said Jonas. "Weyland asked to see a silver six-shooter with a mother-of-pearl butt. He was looking at the gun and watching Landry at the same time.
" 'You don't wear a gun, Weeks,' Weyland says.
"Landry was buttoning a blue silk vest in front of the glass, and he paused, looking at Weyland's image in the mirror. 'No, I don't,' says Landry.
" 'You own one, though, no?' says Weyland, and Landry said 'Yes.'
"Weyland asked me for bullets, and then he did a strange thing, Marshal. Not proper decorum at all, seeing as he hadn't paid for the gun. Still looking at Landry, Weyland loaded the gun.
" 'Smart man always keeps a loaded gun near,' says Weyland. He talked in this slow voice, Marshal, mesmerizing like, and waved the gun in the air so the silver reflected the sunlight through the window. Landry had on the blue silk vest, his eyes wide and his mouth open, staring at Weyland.
"Then Weyland walks to Landry, takes his right hand, and closes Landry's fingers round the gun butt.
" 'Mr. Weyland,' I said, 'What are you doing?'
"Weyland took no notice of me," said Jonas. "And Marshal, what he did next, I about had a heart attack. He turned the gun in Landry's hand, and pressed the barrel against Landry's temple," Jonas said.
"Oh, my goodness," said Chester, sitting up in bed.
" 'No,' I said," said Jonas. "I said, 'No. What are you doing!' "
Chester moved to the table and pulled out a chair, resting his arms on the tabletop and leaning close to Jonas, who went on with his story.
" 'You stay easy there, Jonas,' said Weyland. 'We wouldn't want an accident, now would we?'
"Landry looked at me; I could see his chest heaving from where I stood behind the counter. Looking right up close in Landry's eyes, Weyland carefully moves his hands away from Landry's hand holding the gun. And Marshal, that's when I got powerful scared, 'cause Landry did not lower that gun. He kept right on holdin' it to his head, lookin' Weyland in his snake eyes.
" 'You feel terrible 'bout killin' Vin Donati, don't you, Weeks,' said Weyland. 'Vin and I were friends; I played cards with him. Why not go on and click that hammer and pull that trigger, put yourself out of your misery.' "
"That old devil Weyland never cared one mite 'bout Donati nor nobody," said Chester. "That Weyland's jest a bloodthirsty buzzard wants to see Landry shoot hisself."
"Stop interrupting, Chester," said Jonas. "I'll forget where I was in the story."
"Landry didn't shoot himself, did he?" said Matt.
"No, thank goodness," Jonas said. "I said, 'Stop it, Weyland.' Marshal, my heart was knocking in my throat, but I had to do something. I moved to Landry, held out my hand, and said calm as I could, 'Give me the gun, Landry. You don't want to shoot yourself.' He handed the gun to me then, his hand shaking.
" 'Unless you're gonna buy this, Weyland,' I said, waving the gun in his face, 'why don't you leave now, please.'
" 'Be careful with that,' says Weyland, holding his hands up, palms out. 'I was just funnin'.'
"Funnin'," said Matt.
"That's what he said, Marshal," said Jonas. "And he left without even buying the gun.
"I told Landry to set and calm his nerves, and I'd bring him water, but he said no, he was alright, and he bought a bunch of vests and neckties, some shirts, too. He acted numb the whole time, and left the store in a daze.
"I don't suppose you can jail a man for urging another man to kill himself, Marshal," said Jonas, "but you will talk to Weyland, won't you?"
"I'll talk to him, Jonas," said Matt.
Weyland was unrepentant when Matt confronted him playing cards at the Long Branch. "I told Jonas I was just playin' with that dude," Weyland said, shuffling the deck. "Jonas sells some fine wares, but he's too nervous about every blasted thing."
Matt snatched the cards out of Weyland's hands, tossing them on the table.
Weyland cursed. "I woulda got that shufflin' move right this time," he said.
"Listen, Weyland," said the marshal. "Stay away from Landry Weeks. Pull a stunt like that again, I'll run you out of town."
"Sure, sure, Marshal. I won't bother 'im no more. Well, speak of the devil," Weyland said, as Landry walked through the batwings.
"Get movin', Weyland," said Matt. "Stay out of here the rest of the night." Weyland cursed again and left.
Matt walked to Kitty at the end of the bar, and tipped his hat. "Hello, Kitty."
"Matt." He and Kitty watched as Sam filled a whiskey glass, and set the glass and bottle on the bar in front of Landry.
"First time I saw him order a bottle," said Kitty.
"You haven't made him welcome here," said Matt impassively.
Kitty shrugged. "Why should I? He was a bounty hunter. I'm not rude to him; his money's good. I got nothing against him like most folks in this town do."
"Chester likes 'im," said Matt.
"Chester probably feels sorry for 'im," said Kitty. "And Weeks gives Chester free penny books."
"Landry had a hard day," said Matt. "Nick Weyland came in Jonas' store when Landry was there, put a gun in his hand, and tried to talk him into shooting himself in the head."
"Is that what you were at Weyland about?" said Kitty. "He's a snake."
"Do me a favor, will ya, Kitty?" said Matt.
"If I can."
"Chat with 'im," Matt said. "Landry."
"You want me to make friends with him, Matt, I will," Kitty said. "I wonder why Anne Jenkins can't lift his spirits. She gives him a lot of special attention at Delmonico's."
"Ma Smalley says that's pretty much one-sided," said Matt.
"Oh," said Kitty. "Well, befriending Weeks will be easy. He's mighty nice to look at."
"Just talkin', I mean," said Matt.
"This is your idea," said Kitty. "No promises."
Matt watched Kitty move to Landry and lean on the bar close to him, smiling as she talked. Landry returned her smile, looking nothing like a man who'd nearly shot himself.
The Long Branch was noisy with a team of drovers, and Matt couldn't hear what Kitty and Landry said. Landry took a wisp of Kitty's hair, playing with it between his thumb and finger as he talked, then took off his hat. Chatting and smiling, her animated face making her natural beauty more breathtaking to Matt, Kitty twirled one of Landry's yellow-brown curls around her finger.
Jealousy pricked Matt, and he rebuked himself for suggesting that Kitty chat with Landry. Though Matt advised passing time with Kitty when Chester grew droopy or Doc seemed more irascible than usual, Landry Weeks was not Chester or Doc. When Kitty touched her palm to Landry's face, Matt decided he needed some air, and headed for a stroll down Front Street.
Matt, Chester and Doc tolerably liked Kitty's gals, except for Cass Littleton. She persistently attempted to seduce Matt, who said she was too forceful for a woman. Doc said her perfume was too strong, and Chester was afraid of her. Cass took up the challenge of trying to intimidate Kitty, and had thus far failed entirely.
Kitty kept Cass on the payroll, as she was a favorite with many men. Tall and buxom, she had pale-blonde hair, large blue eyes, and a sultry expression. Cass sashayed to Landry and Kitty at the bar, and stood with her hip jutted to the side. "What're you doin' makin' sweet with Anne Jenkins' man, Kitty?" said Cass. "Matt ain't givin' you enough?"
"Watch your mouth, Cass," said Kitty.
"I think you'd be ashamed to take on with the man who murdered Vin Donati," said Cass, "seein' as Vin brought you so much business. It ain't that I don't understand your wantin' this pretty boy, mind you," said Cass, her gaze wandering over Landry's trim form. "But Vin was good to me. He bought me dresses and jewelry, squired me around fancy. Gave me money whenever I asked. I take exception to you makin' sweet with his killer, Kitty," said Cass.
"I don't want to start trouble between you ladies," said Landry. "I'll move to a table."
"You'll do no such thing, Landry," said Kitty, laying her hand on his arm. "Unless you want to. You wanna stay at the bar here with me awhile, then you stay here."
Cass stepped close to Landry. In her high-heeled slippers, she was taller than him. Her blue eyes looked hard, hot and hungry all at the same time. "You want some of me, don't you, pretty?" she said to Landry. She enveloped him in her arms and kissed him at length, mashing her mouth against his, then pulled away and slapped him.
"Cass!" said Kitty.
Landry pulled Cass back into his arms, kissing her hard in turn. When he released her, Cass smiled at Kitty. "Guess he prefers me," Cass said. "Not that I'd ever keep company with the likes of him. He's just your kind, though, Kitty." Cass snorted. "Every man's your kind," she said.
Sam heard, and said, "Mind your talk, now, Cass."
"Oh, go do your job, why don't ya, Cass," said Kitty. "You're makin' me tired."
"You can play the lady, sure, Kitty," said Cass. "You ain't foolin' me none. I heard tell of your past, and your present ain't all that much different." Cass brayed laughter.
"Now, you quit talking to Miss Kitty that way, Cass," said Sam.
"See here," said Landry to Cass. "Why don't you stop bothering Miss Kitty. Let me buy you a drink."
"I ain't drinkin' with Vin's killer," said Cass. "I'll use you for my womanly needs. I won't drink with you.
"I guess I can't blame you for cozying to pretty boy, Kitty," Cass went on. "On account of Matt's paleness with women. I guess he's too weak to take you more often than not, even if you hike your skirts in front of his face."
Kitty's eyes narrowed to slits, her mouth tightened into a thin line, and she slapped Cass hard. Cass gasped, and swung her arm to slap Kitty back. Kitty knocked Cass' arm away, and slapped her again.
Cass screeched like an angry cat, grabbed two handfuls of Kitty's hair, and pulled. Kitty snatched at Cass' hair, jerking her head back while Cass batted at Kitty, trying to scratch her with long crimson nails.
Landry tried to pull Cass away from Kitty, and Cass elbowed him. Sam hurried around the front of the bar and stood between the two women, struggling to separate them.
"Get out of the way, old man!," Cass shrieked, and smacked Sam's head.
Kitty screamed in anger at this. She reached around Sam, grabbed Cass' shoulders, and shook her so her head flopped.
The drovers and Long Branch regulars whooped and guffawed. One man leaped up on a table and jumped up and down.
Matt heard the fracas from down the street, and started running. He burst through the batwings, ran to Kitty, put his arms around her, and moved her backward. "Hold on to Cass," Matt said to Landry.
"I'm tryin' to," Landry said breathlessly.
Sam took one of Cass' arms, and Landry took the other. "Calm down, Cass, or I'll put ya in jail," said Matt. Cass stopped bucking, and jerked her arms away from Sam and Landry.
"Everyone alright?" said Matt, releasing Kitty.
"Yeah," said Kitty, smoothing and re-pinning her red tresses.
"Yeah," said Cass, pinning her abundant hair into place.
"You men quiet down," Matt said. "The show's over.
"Kitty, what happened?"
"A misunderstanding," said Kitty, tucking her lime-green silk blouse into her skirt.
"It's all his fault, Matt," said Cass, glaring at Landry. "It's all over Dodge, the trouble he stirs up. You shoulda run him outa town awhile back, Matt."
"Don't you dare blame this on Landry, Cass Littleton," Kitty said shrilly. "You wanna keep your job, leave him alone."
"Why, Kitty," said Cass. "You mean I ain't sacked? I don't haveta get out?"
"No," said Kitty. "You're good for business. Just don't smack Sam anymore. That's not allowed."