April 2013

The Return

Prologue

Hays City

Charlie Nesmith had been the telegraph operator in Hays ever since the lines had reached that town a few years back. He was surprised one afternoon when a young man showed up at the office saying the company had sent him to learn how to become an operator. He even had a letter that looked official, to back up his story. He seemed to have a good working knowledge of Morse code and knew how to send and receive messages, he told Nesmith he had learned it all in the Army. The young man's name was Alvin Shires, and Nesmith quickly grew to like him. He made himself useful fixing coffee and keeping the office clean. It was late on the third evening after Shires had arrived and they both sat drinking coffee that the young man had obligingly fixed. When Nesmith got up to accept an incoming wire, he found he was suddenly very tired and even a little dizzy. It was late and not much traffic would be coming through after this one so the young apprentice told him to go on home, he would mind the station. The old man was grateful for the offer and left the depot. As soon as he was gone the apprentice turned to the key and taking a sheet of paper with writing on it from his pocket, he carefully tapped out a message. Next morning Nesmith felt fine, and when he got to the office the apprentice was sleeping on the bunk and everything seemed in order. It was the day after that Alvin showed him a wire he had received from the company telling him to move on to some small town to the west where a new office would be opening. He bid farewell, got on his horse and left town.

-XX-

Chapter 1

The moon was waxing and would be full in another night or so. The clear air brought with it a slight chill, which not only helped to clear his head, but also made the moonlight just bright enough that he could keep his horse moving forward at a steady trot. The light was eerie because of the lack of color and the darkness of the shadows, but still they moved forward. Up till now the urgency of the situation had played a big part in giving him the energy to keep going but soon he knew that would run out and both man and horse would be forced to rest for a while.

The rider guided the horse off the trail and towards some cover offered by a group of scrubby bushes. He moved carefully as he dismounted and did not try to remove the heavy saddle from the animals back, he just lifted up a stirrup and loosened the girth, then made his way over to a fallen tree limb and slowly lowered himself onto it. A half hours rest should be enough.

Where did he go wrong? It is never easy to admit you had made a mistake about something, but he had sure been taken in this time.

It had all started four days ago. It caused such distress in his mind that he hated to think back on it. She had really been mad at him, angrier than he had ever seen her before. She had stalked out of his office with head held high and determination in her step, telling him not to hurry back on her account.

Now, looking back, it had all been for nothing.

The telegram had seemed genuine enough. It was from Tom Gilmore, the Sheriff in Hays City, asking him to come there immediately, the Spencer gang was trying to tear his town apart, and they had already killed one of his deputies and he needed Matt's help.

Kitty had begged him not to leave until the next morning. She had been planning something for several days, a special evening for the two of them. She had even had Sam arrange the bar help schedule so that they would not need her help. Just one evening, that was all she had wanted, after all it was not that long ago that he had been gone for almost a whole month. Surely it was not a lot to ask of him. Then the telegram came.

He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. She had asked him why would Gilmore need help like that, he had two good deputies of his own. He should have listened to her.

Now he just had to get back to Dodge, he was sure something must be happening there, something for which someone had a good reason to need him out of way.

He should have checked – should have listened to her, should have at least stayed that night, but no, as usual he had felt that overwhelming sense of responsibility to the badge, and it made him saddle up and ride off, then and there, leaving her standing watching him from behind the double doors of Long Branch.

What a fool he was. He had ridden the approximately hundred-mile trip in under two days, only stopping to rest when his horse began to tire. Even then he didn't make it into Hays. Maybe he was too tired – maybe his mind was elsewhere, but he did not see the men who jumped him. He was lucky that they did not want to kill him, they could easily have put several rifle slugs in him and that would have been the end. He still had no clue as to what they had wanted. If it hadn't been for Tom Gilmore's deputy returning to town along that same trail, he would he would probably be dead by now. As it was he woke up in the Sheriff's office with a pounding headache and a painful set of ribs.

He remembered Gilmore's question.

"Where were you headed Matt?"

He had managed to push the pounding aside for a minute to answer.

"Here Tom, I was coming here, you telegraphed and asked me to come to Hays."

The Sheriff looked at him with a blank stare, "Not me Matt."

"You didn't send a wire? The Spencer gang in town."
"No Matt, everything is quiet here."

He had been stunned by that answer. It took him a moment to absorb the information and what it might mean. Someone had wanted him out of Dodge was the only conclusion he arrived at. The pounding in his head reached new proportions as the truth settled in and he thought of the possibilities; a planned bank robbery, a stage holdup, what was going on? Kitty. Was someone out to harm Kitty? The trail herds had already started coming in, that made him think about events from a year ago, trail herds and Lou Gannon. Again he thought of Kitty. He had to return to Dodge immediately.

"I've got to get back," he grunted as he started to sit up.

"You should wait on Dr. Freeman, I think you have a couple of busted ribs there and you took a pretty good lick to your head. He'll be back in an hour or so."

"No I can't do that. Where is my horse?"
"Ben took him down to the livery."

"How long have I been out."

"About three hours," the Sheriff replied as he walked over to his desk and opened a drawer from which he produced two glasses and a bottle. He poured a little of the expensive liquid into each glass and took one to the Marshal.

Despite the screaming in his ribs and the pounding in his head Matt managed to sit up and swing his legs to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had been lying on a cot in one of the cells.

"I don't think too much of the accommodations, Tom," he said, trying for humor to disguise how he really felt. He took the offered glass and sipped slowly on the smooth whisky knowing it would help a little.

"Can you get my horse for me, he should be pretty well rested by now. I have to get back to Dodge. I know something bad is going on there."

"Matt you can't start back tonight, wait till tomorrow and I'll get Ben to go with you."
Matt shook his head and discovered that was not the thing to do. He emptied the rest of the drink in one swallow then handed the glass back to Gilmore.

"No I have to leave now." He reached in his pocket and handed over the telegram he had received – the one purporting to be from the Sheriff himself, "Here see if you can find out how this got sent and let me know."

-XX-

Another night of waiting lay ahead. Kitty Russell watched Sam leave the Long Branch after he had cleaned the bar and set the room back to rights. It would be another cold and lonely night. Marshal Matt Dillon had barely been gone for four days and so far she had heard nothing from him. As his absences went, four days was not long, but she had been so infuriated with him when he left, and now, as the days had passed, her anger had subsided only to be replaced by worry. If anything were to happen to him, if for some reason he never made it back, the memory of that anger would haunt her forever. She made her way behind the bar and, finding a bottle of good whisky hidden on a shelf behind the usual stock, she poured herself a generous measure before starting towards the stairs. Her foot barely found the first step when there was a banging on the door. At first she ignored it, probably some drunken cowboy looking for another drink. After a pause there was a second round of knocking followed by a voice, a very familiar voice.

"Kitty it's me."

"Matt." The cry escaped her lips as she rushed to the door. There he stood, dirty and cold, looking tired and totally exhausted. Considering the short time he had been gone she wondered if he had even made it to Hays.

"Don't just stand there," she took his hand and pulled him inside. Glancing up and down Front Street and seeing no one around, she firmly closed and locked the inside doors, then turning to face him put her arms around his neck and whispered, "Welcome home."

She was looking up at him with those clear blue eyes and relief washed over him, nothing had happened to her during his absence. Without speaking he bent his head down towards her and placed a gentle kiss on her soft lips. She thought she felt a slight hesitation for a moment before the warmth of his strong arms gently encircled her and drew her slowly towards him.

"Kitty you're all right." A question or a statement, she couldn't tell which. They stood there, holding the moment, feeling the comfort it gave to both of them and not wanting to break it.

Eventually he released her and she stepped back to look into his eyes, those eyes would always tell her the truth, it was like looking into his mind. Tonight she could see relief, exhaustion, love and concern. He would hardly ever express that love in words, but sometimes she could see it plain as day, right there in his eyes.

"When did you get back?" she asked him.

"About half an hour ago, just long enough to leave the horse with Moss and walk along to the jail. Chester was sound asleep and the cells empty, so I figured I might be able to find a bed here."

"We'll just have to see what we can do about that," she said with a laugh.

Slowly they made their way up the stairs and along the landing to her private rooms. Once they were inside and the door was closed, she noticed for the first time that there was pain in his eyes along with lack of sleep.

"Are you hurt Matt?" somehow she could always tell. He said nothing, but now he was safe behind the closed door she could see him fading.

She helped him take off his coat and noticed how stiffly he moved.

Finally as she undid his shirt she saw the multiple purple bruises.

"I got jumped by three or four men just before I got to Hays," he admitted by way of explanation, "I have no idea what they wanted, they just came at me, knocked me out and left. Fortunately one of the sheriff's deputies was passing that way and probably scared them off. He took me on into town."

The big Marshal made his way wearily across the room to the bed, carefully sat himself down on the edge and was trying to remove his boots. Now that he was home and he knew that Kitty was safe, the strength and determination that had got him here were rapidly running out. Gently she helped him with the boots and encouraged him to lie back. She could clearly see the pain in his eyes now.

"I'm going to get Doc, it looks to me like you may have a couple of broken ribs."

He wanted to protest but knew he didn't have the ability to do that successfully.

She was only gone for about ten minutes, but it seemed an empty eternity to him before she returned. Without having to open his eyes he felt the instant she was back, it was as if a comforting presence wrapped itself around his aching body.

Quietly she walked over to the bed and stood looking at him, wondering how many times she could go through this, how many times he would drag himself back to her, wounded or exhausted or both until one terrible time when he would never return. She angrily pushed that evil thought aside.

"Come on Matt let's get your shirt off. Doc will be here in a minute" He gave little resistance as she helped him get first one arm and then the other out of the sleeves. The bruises looked even worse now that she could see their full extent in the yellow light from the oil lamps. He had also taken some hefty punches to the stomach by the looks of things.

"When did this happen," she asked him with concern in her voice.

"Just before I got to Hays, about two days ago I think."

Now that he was lying still he could feel is body tightening up and any slight movement he made caused pain in one part of him or another

"You mean you rode home like that?" Her voice rose higher in exasperation. "You could have died out there on the trail and we would never have known what happened to you."

She set about removing his gun belt and hung it on the peg by the door with his hat.

Matt closed his eyes; he was trying not to show how bad he really felt. Somehow the goal of getting home had kept him going, but now that was gone, pain and exhaustion were taking over.

He felt grateful for her presence and knew that as long as she stayed with him he would have something to focus on other than the bruised and battered feelings that had plagued him all the way home.

"There is a doctor in Hays, you know. At least you could have got those ribs strapped up before you left."

"He was out of town, I didn't want to wait."

Kitty heard knocking coming from the downstairs doors.

"That'll be Doc." She got up from the bed where she had been sitting and pulled the sheet up to cover her man before hurrying down the stairs to let the physician in.

Doc was always leery of what he would find when Matt came back into town. Sometimes it was a bullet wound or broken bone. Deep down he dreaded the day that he thought would inevitably come, the day when the Marshal's injuries where such that he couldn't do anything for him. The life expectancy of a good lawman was not something anyone in their right mind would put money on. Matt Dillon had been the law in Dodge for about 5 years now, which in itself had exceeded all expectations. He hoped this would not be the time that luck ran out on him.

He put his hand on the bedroom door and ushered Kitty in ahead of him.

The figure on the bed looked drawn and still.

"Hello Doc." Even the voice seemed faded, and came between two gasps for breath.

"What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time Matt?"

He went to the bed and sat on the edge, pulling back the sheet and searching for a wrist. At least the pulse was steady and even.

He used his experienced fingers to feel around the multiple bruises; there were two ribs that were definitely broken, possibly more. Matt was a good friend, he drank coffee, ate meals and played checkers with him. It hurt the physician to see him like this. How many times had he begged him to give up that badge? He undid the Marshals belt and loosened his pants, being as gentle as possible he felt around the abdominal bruises hoping there was no internal bleeding. He hated hearing the occasional moan that escaped his friend's lips as he completed his examination, but he needed the answers his experienced hands would give him. Unconsciously he pulled on his ear while he thought for a moment.

"Matt I am going to have to strap those ribs for you."

He went to his bag and brought two wide bandages and binders to the bedside.

"Come on, let's sit you up and get this over with." He reached towards the big man's shoulder, slipping a hand behind it to give a little leverage and so help relieve the strain on the bruised abdominal muscles.

With Kitty's help they had the big man sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor. He was none to steady and Adams could see the beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Before he started to apply the rib bindings he examined the bruises that extended onto his patients back, the gentlest of probing elicited a sharp intake of breath.

"I'm sorry Matt," he whispered.

He leaned over to pick up the bandages and the big man nearly fell forward off the bed. Kitty took the Marshal's arms and put them firmly onto her shoulders so he could balance his weight there. Doc reached through the space between his two friends and began to apply the strong wide bindings to the offending ribs. Dillon barely managed to stifle a groan and his head fell to Kitty's shoulder. She raised her hand and placed it on his dark curls, trying to soothe him.

"Hold on for a few minutes Cowboy." She looked at the physician, but he did not want to meet her gaze, he just continued with his work, trying not to hear the sharp intakes of breath as he tightened the bandages and tied them off.

"Hold him there a minute," he instructed his red headed assistant.

The doctor took his bag and withdrew a small dark bottle. He poured a measured amount of the contents into a glass that he found on the sideboard and brought it over to the bed.

"Come on Matt, drink this down so you can get some sleep."

He knew how badly the big man was hurting when he obligingly took the glass and swallowed the bitter contents without complaint.

As gently as possible they laid him back down against the pillows. Matt accepted the help and tried to breath through the pain as he waited for the drug to cloud his mind and bring some form of relief and the sleep he so badly needed.

Carefully they pulled the sheet and blanket over him, and Doc took Kitty aside.

"He should sleep for a few hours now. I'll leave another dose of laudanum in case he needs it. It looks like he hasn't had any sleep in days, so make him rest." Doc gathered his stuff together and packed it back in his faded black bag then he quietly opened the door to leave.

"I'll come down and let you out Curly."

The pair headed down the well-worn stairs walking silently side by side. As they reached the bottom Doc turned and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Just watch him for fever and we'll see how he does. I think mostly he is just exhausted and a good twelve hours sleep will help more than anything, but come and get me if you are worried."

"I will and thanks Doc."

He smiled. "Just watch him," he repeated as she unlocked the door and let him out onto Front Street, 'I'll come check on him first thing tomorrow." The elderly physician gave a comforting squeeze to her hand before heading off into the night. She watched him drawn into the darkness then locked the big double doors and made her way back up the familiar staircase.

The Marshal had not moved during her brief absence. Quietly she got ready for bed and after completing her night time routine, crawled softly beneath the covers to lie close to the man who was the source of so much that was good in her life, but also the bringer of so much heartache. She knew that by lying next to him, if his condition worsened she would feel it, even through a deep sleep.

TBC