MONDAY
"I sure wish I could sit around doing nothing all day," said Doc Adams, breezing into the marshal's office.
Chester Goode, assistant to Marshal Matt Dillon, leapt from his chair and grabbed a broom. "Well forevermore Doc, I've been hard at it all morning."
"Is that so?" said Doc, with no great interest. Hands in pockets, he shuffled to the window.
"I was just taking a breather, that's all.' In defense of his good character, Chester took to sweeping the floor. "Course if you don't think I'm entitled to a little breather."
"Who's talking about you? I'm talking about him."
"Wh-what?" Chester sidled up beside Doc, and peered through the window. Across the street, a stranger in a black hat lay slumped in a chair.
"He was there when I opened up this morning," said Doc. "Hasn't moved since."
"He's not dead is he?"
Doc scratched his ear while he thought about it. Then he stroked his mustache while he thought about it some more. "From this distance it's hard to say. I don't think so, though I might be tempted to check his pulse if he's there much longer. No Matt?"
"He's out and about somewhere."
"Got any coffee?"
"Get it yourself. Can't you see I'm busy?"
Doc coughed. "That's how it is, huh?" He coughed again, and then checked his timepiece. "Well, that's alright with me. I didn't come here to choke on dust, anyhow. I'll go to Delmonico's instead, and relax in the company of people that aren't so touchy."
"Oh, go take a pill," muttered Chester as the door closed. If he hadn't opened his big mouth and told Doc how busy he was, he might have gone to Delmonico's too, but he had, and since he couldn't backtrack without leaving himself open to more of Doc's lampoonery, the rumble in his gut would just have to wait. To pass the time he opened the front door, wedged it, and resumed sweeping the floor.
The man across the street was still slumped in a chair. Alive, presumably, since he was now smoking a cigar. Curious, Chester took his broom outside, where a perfunctory sweep of the sidewalk allowed him to get a better look at the mysterious stranger. He glanced once and he glanced twice, but three was a glance too many, he realized, when the man rose to his feet and stared back at him.
Chester gulped as the man stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street. Overcome with anxiety and a heartfelt wish for Mister Dillon to suddenly appear, he kept his head down and took to some serious sweeping.
"Chester! Chester Goode!"
Anxiety gave way to confusion as the man drew up alongside him. Tall; confident; patterned silver vest; gun slung low. He appeared to be around thirty years old. Beneath a wide brimmed hat, a neatly trimmed beard did little to conceal a smile a mile wide.
"Chester, it's me… Billy Wendell!"
Chester's jaw dropped. "Billy… is that really you?"
Chester Goode and Billy Wendell, boyhood friends from Sapling, Texas, reignited their friendship with a whoop and a holler that had heads turning all the way down Front Street.
"Oh my, it's good to see you again Billy," said Chester, once they'd done back-slapping. "You know for a moment there I thought I was in big trouble."
Billy roared with laughter. "Scared you, huh? Hell, I knew it was you right away. You ain't changed at all. How are things back home?"
"I wouldn't know; I left Sapling not long after you did. I had it in mind to go back after the war but Dodge is a far as I got. I've been here ever since. C'mon in Billy, I'll rustle up some coffee and we can talk some more."
Billy Wendell's eyes darted to the Marshal's office, then back to his old friend. "Are you some kind of lawman?"
"Well, I do help Marshal Dillon and…"
"You're a deputy?"
'You could say that, I reckon, kind of."
"But you don't wear a badge?"
"Well, no."
Billy shook his head. "Well, it pains me to say it Chester, but that broom don't exactly give you a look of authority."
"I guess not." Chester threw the broom into the office. "Course we could go someplace for a bite to eat... then maybe we could go for a beer?"
Billy grinned. "Sounds good to me."
That night
It was getting late when Matt Dillon wandered into the Long Branch saloon that evening. In the ten strides it took to reach the far end of the bar, Kitty Russell had a beer poured and waiting.
"Good evening Matt. Little late tonight, aren't you? I thought you were gonna miss the celebration."
"Thanks Kitty. Thought I'd catch up on some paperwork while things are quiet. What celebration?"
An explosion of laughter drew the marshal's attention to a table in the center of the room, where Chester and Billy were sitting with Doc.
"That celebration," said Kitty, with a nod in their direction. "I bet you can't guess who our guest is."
"Beats me," said Matt, between sips of beer.
"Billy Wendell."
"You mean…"
"Yup, the very same. That Billy Wendell."
"No wonder Chester looks happy."
"He ought to be, he's only been here seven hours and he's on his third beer already."
"Hmm, I don't suppose it occurred to him to leave me a note. I thought he'd been kidnapped when I found the office door open and his broom on the floor this afternoon. How about Doc, has he been here all this time?
"No, Doc rolled in about an hour ago. Good thing he did, I didn't feel so bad about excusing myself."
"You've met Billy then?"
"Sure"
"And?"
"And what?"
"Well, you said you excused yourself. Didn't you like him?"
"Sure, I like him; I've just got a job to do. He says please and thank you, and he takes off his hat for a lady. Why shouldn't I like him? The girls have taken a shine to him too. Take a look around and see for yourself; there's only one person they're looking at. He's quite something, isn't he?"
"If you say so."
"Oh Matt!" Kitty clasped Matt's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Go on, go and say hello to Billy."
Chester wasn't to be denied his big moment when Mister Dillon joined the party. If anyone was gonna get Mister Dillon a chair and conduct the introductions it was him, with pride abundant and a no shortage of fuss, and how he puffed out his chest when Mister Dillon duly acknowledged him as his right hand man.
"So, what brings you to Dodge, Billy?" asked the marshal, once they'd all settled down.
"I'm just passing through. Leastways, I was. At a loose end in Pueblo, I found myself drifting this way. A sign of the times, I guess, for a drover."
"A drover, huh?"
"Yup, for more years than I care to remember, only the way the railroad is expanding, the days of the long hauls are numbered. I'm seeing it already. One time I only had to go back to Texas and sign on for the next drive, but it ain't that easy no more. Everyone's looking for new ways to make a living, and plenty have hit hard times."
"There's a herd due in Dodge next week; it might be worth having a word with the trail boss. If he can't put you on to something we're not exactly short of ranches around here. I'm sure someone could use a wrangler, if you were interested."
"I'll keep that in mind. Much obliged Marshal."
"Matt," said Doc, seizing a chance to cut in. "You wouldn't believe the tales I've been hearing about these two."
"Oh, Mister Dillon, I haven't laughed so much in a long while," said Chester. "We were talking about old times and how Billy got thrown out of school. Tell him about it, Billy. Go on, tell Mister Dillon."
"You tell him," said Billy, looking a little uncomfortable. "You tell it better than me."
"Alright, I will." After a sly look to make sure Miss Kitty wasn't in earshot, Chester leaned across the table. "Billy asked the girls if they wanted to see his weasel, only the weasel he showed them wasn't the kind of weasel they had in mind, if you know what I mean. Well, Miss Shelley, our teacher, heard the screams and she came running." Chester snorted, and fought through his laughter. "… and it was such a happy weasel!"
"Well, boys will be boys, I guess," said the marshal, when the laughter subsided. With one gulp he finished his beer and rose from the table.
"You're not leaving us already, are you Mister Dillon? You only just got here."
"I'm afraid I am, Chester. I'm running late and I've not done my rounds yet. I just came over to say hello to Billy." Matt nodded to Billy. "Nice meeting you Billy. Maybe I'll see you again soon."
"Nice fella," said Billy, as the marshal departed. "Nice girls too," he said, as he returned the admiring gazes of Clara and Loretta, sitting at a table nearby. "I'd sure hate to disappoint them. Would you mind if I…"
"Not at all, go right ahead," said Doc.
Had Chester been cast from the same mold he might have followed, but Chester was Chester and he could only watch, in awe, as Billy sauntered over to the girls and put his arms around them. "Same old Billy," was all he could say.
"Come on, let's have another beer," said Doc.
"Alright, but I'm paying," Chester replied.
"You paid for the last one, it's my turn."
"No Doc. If I can't dip into my special-occasions pocket on a day like today, I never will." So saying, Chester called for two beers and instructed Sam the barkeep to take Billy and the girls anything they wanted.
"You think an awful lot of him, don't you?"
"Yes Doc, I do. You might find this hard to believe but when I was a boy, I was timid and shy, and I found it real hard to make friends. Then Billy came along; bold as they come, scared of nothing and nobody. Sure, he had a wild side and not everyone took to him, but they didn't know him like I did. Well, he kind of picked me up and swept me along. Together we did everything young boys should, and maybe some things they shouldn't, but we went ahead and did them anyway with no mind for consequences… like a crippled leg."
"Wait a minute; I thought you got your leg shot up in the war?"
"Sure, but only because I couldn't run fast enough. Falling out of Clem Randall's apple tree, that's what did for me, when I was nine years old. Ain't smart to move someone with a busted leg, I know, but Uncle Wesley would have skinned me for sure if he knew I'd been stealing, and I begged Billy to get me out of there before he ran for help. Well, he did, and Uncle Wesley had no call to be suspicious when Billy brought him back to the oak tree by the schoolhouse. Course my leg never did set right, but that didn't stop us going back to that apple tree the following summer, with me keeping lookout while Billy picked it clean. We figured we were the finest apple rustlers in history. Old Clem came close to catching us a time or two but we were always a step ahead, right up till the day he bought a couple of dogs, only it didn't much matter by then. We'd grown sick of apples anyhow."
"The finest apple rustlers in history, huh?" said Doc. "Well I hope Matt doesn't get to hear of it."
"Oh for pity's sake Doc, Mister Dillon wouldn't trouble himself over something I did as a boy in Texas… would he?"
Doc fought back a smile and reached for his beer.
TUESDAY
By nine o'clock the cells had been mopped. By ten the stove was gleaming and by eleven, the office windows were sparkling in the sunshine. Leaving Mister Dillon to concentrate on his reports, Chester went to collect the day's mail, with a smile and a friendly word for everyone he encountered on the way. With a happy heart and a spring in his step, he returned to the office just in time for a visit from Doc.
"Good morning Doc, can I get you some coffee?"
Doc replied with a grunt.
"Is that a yes grunt or a no grunt?"
"It's a tired grunt, that's what it is, as befitting of someone not long out of bed, but specifically, in answer to your question, it's a yes grunt. I'd like a cup of coffee, thank you."
"Just out of bed? That's not like you, Doc. Some of us have done half a day's work already. Did you ever see windows so clean?"
"And some of us have been catching up on some sleep after being out half the night delivering Mrs. Johnson's latest."
"How many is that now, Doc?" asked Marshal Dillon. Sitting behind his desk, he set aside the report he'd been writing.
"What number in the alphabet is L?"
Doc waited patiently while his hosts worked it out on their fingers.
"Twelve," they answered together.
"Well there's your answer. She started off with Asa. Then along came Beulah and Charles. This one's called Leah and before you say it, no, I wouldn't bet against her having a little Zachariah someday."
Chester handed Doc a cup of coffee. "I don't suppose you've seen anything of Billy this morning, have you Doc?"
"No and I wouldn't expect to after seeing him leave The Long Branch with a girl on each arm last night. Could be he's had a longer night than I've had."
"Why don't you take the rest of the day off Chester, and go and catch up with him?" said Marshal Dillon.
"Well, if you're sure you don't need me, Mister Dillon?"
"You might as well. There's nothing left to scrub and things are pretty quiet anyway."
(Chester exits)
"That's a fine thing you did there Matt."
"It's not hard to read Chester's mind, Doc. He's had one eye on that window all morning but a fine thing, I'm not so sure."
"Something wrong?"
"I don't know. I understand Billy was sitting across the street yesterday."
"That's right; it was me that noticed him. He was there early morning and he was still there at noon."
"What do you suppose he was doing?"
"Aside from minding his own business, I'd say he was taking it easy and watching the girls go by, and who's to blame him, if he's spent as many years driving cattle as he says he has. Why do you ask?"
"I think I saw him when I walked the town this morning. Only thing is he ducked down an alley when he saw me coming."
"Are you sure it was him?"
"No, but if it was, I'm bound to wonder why."
"That's the way a lawman's mind works, I guess."
"Yup. Anyhow, have you been awake long enough to work up an appetite yet?"
"A light snack, sure."
"Alright, c'mon."
Meanwhile...
Chester caught up with Billy by a corral on the outskirts of the town.
"Billy! I've been looking all over for you. What are you doing out here?"
"Howdy Chester. Oh, I've just been mooching round, you know, seeing what the town has to offer, getting to know the layout."
"Well I hope you like what you see. Dodge is a fine town. Ideal for anyone looking to put roots down."
"Where does that go," asked Billy, indicating a track running into open country.
"You ought to know, since you must have rode in this way. That's the road to Pueblo."
"Yeah… yeah, you're right. I remember that ridge over there. Just didn't recognize it, you know, from this side."
"I thought you might have looked in on me at the office this morning."
"It crossed my mind, but I figured it wouldn't be right to take you away from your work, two days running and all. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with the marshal."
"There'd be no trouble. Mister Dillon's as much a friend as a marshal. As a matter of fact he's given me the afternoon off."
"Well, just make sure he pays you for it. Sure is hot, ain't it?" Billy took his hat off and wandered to the shade of a tree, where he hunkered down and lit a cigar. Chester followed, propping himself against the tree.
"Ain't you gotta wife to go home to?" asked Billy.
The question threw Chester. "Wh-what wife?"
"You're not married?"
"No."
"Sorry, I figured you were married when you didn't join me and the girls last night. I saved one for you, too. No matter, I took care of her myself."
"Well, it didn't seem right to leave Doc sitting all alone," said a flustered Chester. "I came close to getting married once, even got betrothed but… well, it just wasn't to be."
"What about now? Got yourself a woman?"
"Well, no, not right now, but I've had my moments."
"You have, huh?"
"Sure, not as often as some, maybe, but I've had them."
"They don't come along so often then?"
"Ain't that what I said?"
"Tell me something Chester, and don't go getting yourself all tongue tied and persecuted. I just want a straight yes or no answer. When we were back home in Sapling, did you or did you not poke Florentine Mabbs?"
"Well no, of course not. She was only fifteen, for Pete's sake."
"What's that got to do with it? We were only thirteen. She did come and see you though, didn't she, before her family moved to California?"
"Sure, I remember it well. I was in our den by the creek when she came to say goodbye."
"Go on."
"Well, she lay down beside me and asked me if there was anything I wanted, and when she puckered her lips, I kissed her."
"Go on."
"Well, that's it, there's no more to tell. Cross my heart."
Billy flipped his cigar in the air and let out the cry of a beaten man.
Not for the first time in his life Chester Goode felt like a failure. A disappointment to himself and his friends, he'd come up short again and, as always, he was overwhelmed with inferiority. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed he couldn't do right for doing wrong, and when Billy's interest strayed to tracing the pattern on his snakeskin hat band, Chester's desolation felt complete. "What are you thinking?" he asked, when he could stand the silence no more.
Billy sat up, a wistful look on his face. "Right now I'm wishing there was some way of getting my fifty cents back from Florentine Mabbs."
"What?"
"Okay, listen to me." Billy jumped to his feet and held a hand in the air. "This ain't a hand you're looking at, it's a pretty woman, got that? Give her a smile."
"Oh for goodness..."
"C'mon, c'mon, give her a smile. Don't look at me; just listen to the devil on your shoulder. C'mon, give her a smile. No, don't grin like a halfwit, just give her a nice dirty smile."
"What's a dirty smile?"
"A smile that tells her what's on your mind, c'mon, that's it, now squint your eyes a little and burn your innermost desires into her. C'mon, smolder!"
"How's that?"
"Well, it's a start, but that smolder needs working on. Alright, now try some sweet talk."
"What do I say?"
"Try whispering something in her ear."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, anything, whatever's on your mind. Ask her if she wants to see your weasel."
"Oh, I couldn't do that."
"No, I guess you couldn't," said Billy, with a sigh.
A growl in his gut told Chester it was a good time to change the subject, but when he suggested his old friend to join him for a bite to eat at Delmonico's, Billy declined. He'd eaten already and was intent on getting a bath.
"Maybe I'll see you in the Long Branch tonight?
"Sure," said Billy as they parted, though he hardly seemed thrilled about it.
Later
The Long Branch was quiet when Chester pushed through the doors that evening; four men at the card table, two barflies and a lone drinker in the corner didn't add up to much of a clientele but at 7pm on a weekday, Kitty Russell was glad of them.
"Good evening Chester," said Sam the barkeep, twixt cleaning glasses.
A sway of the shoulders and a tilt of the head returned the greeting, a token gesture and no more, from a man with his sights firmly set on the lady at the end of the bar. Walking tall, Chester closed in.
"Good evening Chester." Kitty smiled.
Narrowing his eyes, Chester leaned across the counter and grimaced at his prey.
"Chester?"
He squinted up his eyes some more.
"Chester, are you alright? Do you want me to send for Doc?"
"N-no! It's alright Miss Kitty, I'm fine. I-I just had something in my eye," he said, blinking furiously.
"Good, for a moment there I thought you were having a seizure. Here… you'd better have a drink."
Relieved to have wriggled out of a dumb mistake, Chester sipped the cold beer and thanked Kitty for her kindness. "Sure is quiet in here, isn't it?" he said, by way of moving the conversation on.
"It'll pick up later, it usually does. I'll be glad when the cattle drive gets here next week. Whatever their faults, those cowboys are good for business. What brings you in so early anyhow?"
"Billy said he'd be here tonight. I just thought it'd be nice to be here when arrives."
"Has he said how long he's staying in Dodge yet?"
"No, he's not even talked about it. He'll make his mind up soon enough, I reckon."
"Well lookee here, another early bird," said Kitty, as Doc joined them at the bar. "What's your reason for being this early?"
"Need you ask?" Doc raised his hat and dabbed his brow with a handkerchief. "By Golly it's a warm one."
"Here, have a cold beer," said Kitty. "On the house."
"Kitty, you're an angel. I don't know how you stay in business but I'm mighty grateful, thank you. Say Chester – did you catch up with Billy this afternoon?"
"Yeah."
Doc exchanged glances with Kitty whilst waiting for more. Only there was no more. "Well, is that it?"
"Well, yeah, I caught up with him."
"Hmm, you mean you're not gonna thrill us with tales of why Billy got thrown out of school and the like?"
"What did he get thrown out of school for?" asked Kitty.
"You don't want to know," said Doc.
"Well whatever it was, I think it's wonderful that Billy's here in Dodge," said Kitty. "I'm thrilled for you, Chester. It's a wonderful thing to catch up with a childhood friend."
"It most surely is Miss Kitty. S'funny, I'm thirty three now and I still look up to him the way I did twenty years ago. Billy started growing into himself about then, spending less time at our den in the wood and more time pursuing… well, grown up things. Me, I was more interested in a little kitten I found."
"Aw, that's really sweet," said Kitty.
"I called her Twinkle. I cherished her and took her everywhere I went. Then one day I was down at our den and a bunch of gypsy boys came along. Well, they set on me, and then the biggest of them, a kid with long hair and a few chin whiskers, swung Twinkle by the tail and smashed her against a tree."
"Oh no!"
"Course I ran for Billy. Soon as he heard what they'd done he took off for the wood, with no mind for the numbers. He was spying through the trees when I caught up with him. A dozen or so of them gypsy boys were a little ways ahead, fooling around in a clearing. Then one of them started hollering and we knew we'd been spotted."
"I'm not sure I want to hear this."
"Billy figured it was important to step out and show them we weren't scared. Course that was easy for him to say, but I stepped out anyway. I thought we were in for a hiding when they drew up in a line, and when Billy started pointing this way and that, I thought he's gone crazy but no, he was waving reinforcements into position. Course it was all a bluff but the gypsies didn't know that. Just as soon as he'd assembled the biggest Texan army since San Jacinto, Billy yelled charge! Well, them gypsy boys turned and fled, leaving Chin Whiskers all alone. As big as he was, he was no match for Billy in a rage. Billy beat the hell out of him. It prides me none to admit I stomped him too, but I don't regret it. It still sorrows me to think what he did. A lesson for the learning I guess, that some folks are downright mean."
"Well I'm glad he got what was coming to him," said Kitty.
"You know it took an awful lot of courage to do what you did," said Doc. "What Billy did is commendable but you'd taken one beating and you could easily have got yourself another, yet your sense of duty prevailed. Well done Chester. I'd like to buy you a drink. Set 'em up, Kitty."
Ten o'clock
Though the Long Branch, half full, was livelier than The Long Branch of three hours previous, there'd been no sign of Billy, or even Mister Dillon. Miss Kitty had long gone circulating, Doc had retired after a long day and Chester, standing alone, was feeling morose. Not even the sight of Clara, unaccompanied for once, could raise him from his melancholy. He'd smolder her another day when there weren't so many witnesses around. Setting his glass aside, he was about to turn in when Miss Kitty reappeared.
"Sorry Chester, I didn't realize you were all by yourself."
"S'okay Miss Kitty, I'm fine. It's good for a man to keep his own company sometimes."
"Is that why you've got a face like a hound dog with a toothache? Here, have another beer. Let's drink a toast to absent fr... well, look what just walked in."
Side by side and locked in conversation, Matt Dillon and Billy Wendell strode up to the bar.
"Sorry we're late," said Matt. "You can pin the blame on me Chester. Billy would have been here a couple of hours ago if he hadn't run into me outside the Dodge House."
"Well I'm just glad you're here," said Chester, smiling again. "You know it warms my heart to see you two getting along."
"Hello Billy," said Kitty, with a nod to Chester. "Here, have a drink on the house, in approval of your conduct in a skirmish with some gypsies a long time ago."
"Thanks, that's mighty kind of you, Miss Kitty," said Billy, tipping his hat.
"What about me, don't I get one?" asked Matt.
"After keeping Billy out all evening, you can buy your own. Poor Chester came special early for him. So where have you been till now?"
"Well, we were outside the Dodge House when Harvey Slate ran over and said there was a fracas at The Bull's Head. Billy tagged along and when we found Lester Garrett and Albie Neilson beating the hell out of Joe Spooner, he helped me break it up. But Lester and Albie weren't for taking a telling and started up again, so we threw them in jail. Then Billy accompanied me on my rounds. Any further questions Your Honor?"
"No. Here, have a drink. You're forgiven."
WEDNESDAY
"Am I glad to see the back of those two," said Chester, after he'd turned Garrett and Neilson loose. "That Albie Neilson sure can snore. There ought to be a law against people snoring like that. Ain't you drinking your coffee Mister Dillon?"
Sitting at his desk, Matt Dillon was deep in thought. "Sorry Chester. I'll drink it now."
"Want me to warm it some?"
"No, it's fine, thanks. Listen, how would you like to ride out to old Mrs. Pearce's place?"
"Sure, if that's what you want. Got any special reason?"
"No, it's just that she's been alone out there since her husband died, and though I stop by when I can, I'm pretty sure she'd appreciate seeing a face other than mine."
"I'll be glad to, Mister Dillon. Want me to go now?"
"Whenever you're ready. Do that, and the rest of the day is yours."
Chester hesitated as he reached the door. "Mister Dillon, about the rest of the day… are you gonna pay me for it?"
"Don't I always?"
As the door closed, Marshal Dillon sipped his lukewarm coffee, opened his desk drawer, and reached for a telegram. Received a month earlier from the sheriff in Wichita, it cited an attempted bank robbery that left two innocent people dead and four suspects on the run, believed heading in the direction of Dodge City.
"Good morning Matt!" said Doc Adams, bursting through the door.
Matt slipped the telegram back in the drawer. "Good morning Doc. You sound cheerful this morning."
"I'm just reaping the benefits of a good night's sleep. I see Chester's got his tail up, too."
"You've seen him, huh?"
"Just now; acting like he's on a special mission. I just hope he made some coffee before he left."
"On the stove; help yourself. I'd hardly call a goodwill visit to Mrs. Pearce a special mission but it was the best I could come up with to get him out of the way."
Doc poured himself a coffee and pulled up a chair. "Now why would you do that?"
"I hate to say it Doc but I think I'm being taken for a fool." Marshal Dillon opened the desk drawer. "Here, take a look at his," he said, handing Doc the telegram.
"Hmm, you've had this a month?"
"Yup, and it's lain in that drawer ever since."
"Have you seen anything of these four men?"
"Nope"
"So what's the problem?"
"Read the last detail in the description."
"One of them wore a black hat with a snakeskin hatband."
"That's the problem. Billy Wendell wears a black hat with snakeskin hatband."
"Pshaw! A lot of men wear black hats, and a snakeskin hatband isn't exactly unusual."
"I know that Doc, but there's something about him that just doesn't sit right. Remember that hard luck story he told about cattle drives being squeezed out by the railroad? Well, I've thinking about that. It might happen one day but I've seen no sign of it yet. Not in Dodge, that's for sure."
"That doesn't make Billy a bank robber."
"No, but it sure springs a leak in his account of why he's here. Could be he's watching the bank and scouting the town while the gang's holed up somewhere."
"Well, he spends a lot of time watching the world go by, I'll give you that, and it might be that he's playing two hands at the same time, but I sure hope you're wrong, for Chester's sake."
"I don't like it either Doc, but while Chester's out of the way I'm gonna do some poking around."
Late afternoon
Marshal Dillon trudged up the wooden steps to Doc's office. Jaw hard set, he knocked and entered.
"Hello Matt," said Doc. Sitting in a chair, he set aside the medical journal he'd been reading. "How did you get on?"
"After stabling his horse at Moss Grimmick's on Sunday, Billy booked into the Dodge House and paid a week in advance, as J. Smith. Though the aforementioned Mister Smith asked for a room overlooking front street, he didn't seem too fussed that none were available. Not a lot to go on, is it?"
"You could try having a word with Louie Pheeters?"
"Already have. He doesn't know anything that we don't know already."
"So what are you gonna do?"
"Well, I can hope I'm wrong, do nothing, and put the lives of innocent people at risk, or I can set a trap and hope nothing comes of it. Doc, will you do me favor tomorrow?"
"Sure."
"Be at the office early and keep Chester there for as long as you can."
"Suppose I get an emergency?"
"Then you'll do as you see fit. Otherwise, I'm counting on you."
Shortly after
"Oh Matt, no!" said Kitty, in her office at The Long Branch.
"That's pretty much how Doc feels about it. A few little arrows: that's all I've got, but they're all pointing the same way. Mister Bodkin's opening the bank for me at 6 a.m. Just make sure Sam's there with his shotgun. Mister Bodkin will come back and open at nine, as usual."
"Are you sure there's no other way?"
"I wish there was Kitty, but if I've figured this right and I've nailed Billy for what he is, they need smoking out."
That evening
A burst of laughter greeted Marshal Dillon when he walked into The Long Branch that evening. At a table in the corner, Billy and Chester were entertaining Clara and Loretta.
"Sounds like they're having a good time," said the marshal, as he approached Kitty at the bar.
"Yup, for a couple of hours now," Kitty replied through taut lips. "Can I get you a drink?"
"No, I don't want to drag this out any longer than I have to."
Kitty rolled her eyes in Sam's direction. "Alright, Sam will see you first thing in the morning."
"Okay, I'll catch up with you tomorrow sometime." With a nod to Sam, Matt strolled over to the merrymakers in the corner.
Clara and Loretta were the first to see him coming. "Good evening, Marshal!" they chorused.
"Good evening."
Billy spun in his chair and returned the greeting. "Good evening Marshal."
"Good evening Mister Dillon," said Chester, pushing back his chair and jumping to his feet. "Can I get you a drink?"
"No thanks Chester, I'm not staying. I'm done for the night and I'm off to bed. I've got a long ride ahead of me tomorrow and I aim to set out at first light. Oscar Weiss has filed a complaint against Wilbur Teal and I need to get Wilbur's side of the story. If everything's straight forward I should be back by noon. Just thought I'd let you know. By the way, how was Mrs. Pearce?"
"Oh Mister Dillon, she was so pleased to see me and give me a slice of her blueberry pie. I felt real sorry for her, poor soul and I felt real bad for leaving her. You know I think we should try and see her more often. And don't you worry; I'll take care of things till you get back, like I always do when you leave me in charge."
"Blueberry pie, huh? Maybe I'll stop by at her place on my way back. Oh well, goodnight everyone."
"Goodnight Marshal." Billy smiled.
One hour later
Marshal Dillon was sitting in his office, sipping coffee in the dark when someone knocked on the door. It was Louie Pheeters.
"Marshal, that man you asked me about… he just left town."
THURSDAY
Chester wrestled his crippled leg onto the desk, and threw his good leg up beside it. Then he rocked back in the marshal's chair, and clasped his hands behind his head. The epitome of an assured, confident lawman, he was still glorying in his interim status when the door swung open and Doc Adams appeared.
"Good morning Ches… what in tarnation are you doing?"
"Morning Doc. Well, speaking as the law around here I'm… well, I'm upholding the law, that's what I'm doing, till Mister Dillon gets back."
"Well, speaking as your physician I'd advise you to do it without upholding your legs; it's bad for your circulation. Got any coffee?"
"Freshly made, help yourself."
Putting his feet up hadn't been such a good idea, Chester realized, when it came to getting his legs off the table. Even his good leg had gone numb. That he succeeded at all was one mercy. That he succeeded before Doc had finished pouring his coffee was another, and when he heard female voices outside, it relieved him to stretch his legs and mosey over to the window.
"Are you being inquisitive or are you just plain nosey?" asked Doc, turning from the stove.
"I thought it might have been Clara and Loretta. They were with me in The Long Branch last night when Mister Dillon told me I'd be running things this morning. Well, Clara said she might look in on me and the way she said it, well, I ain't one for blowing my own bugle Doc, but I think she's taken a shine to me."
"Is that why you're strutting like a peacock?"
"No, no, I'm just…"
"Sure you are, just look at you; stomach in, chest out and twanging your suspenders."
"Well, like it or not Doc, ladies look up to men of influence and you're looking at a man with infacto responsibilities here."
"De facto"
"What?"
"De facto, that's the expression you're looking for, though in loco is probably a whole lot closer to the truth. Was Billy there last night?"
"Sure, he was there. Came down a little queasy though, shortly after Mister Dillon left, and turned in for the night."
"Hmm, that's sensible. Send him to me if he's no better today."
"I will. Well, it's time I was doing my duties…" Chester opened the door.
"Why, where are you going?"
"Mister Dillon always walks the town after coffee in the morning."
"Oh, sit down, you can swagger later. You haven't told me how Mrs. Pearce is yet."
"Oh Doc, what a sweet old woman." Chester closed the door and came back inside. After telling Doc everything nobody needed to know about Mrs. Pearce, her blueberry pie and the greater part of her life story, he finally stopped to draw breath. "Doc, why do you keep looking at your watch?"
"I was wondering if we had time for more coffee."
"What time is it, anyhow?"
"Just gone nine o'clock."
"Well, you just help yourself Doc. I'm taking that walk now."
"Hold on, I'll come with you. If there's an eligible lady in her fifties out there I might do some swaggering myself."
Bang!
"What in thunder was that?"
"A gunshot! Come on!" Chester raced to the door.
Out on the street, Chester's eyes darted this way and that. With townsfolk scattering in all directions, the source of the shot was unclear until someone shouted there'd been a hold up at the bank. Heart pounding, Chester hopped and skipped along the sidewalk at a speed that had people leaping out of his way, and Miss Kitty taking a sharp step back into The Long Branch. Four horses outside the bank indicated the robbers were still inside. Cursing his lack of forethought for rushing to the scene unarmed, Chester burst through the door.
Shock: Sam Noonan was there. Standing beside Mister Bodkin the bank manager, he was pointing a shotgun at three would-be bank robbers with their hands in the air. Confusion: Mister Dillon was there, gun in hand. Horror: Billy Wendell lay dead in pool of blood.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way Chester," said Mister Dillon. "He gave me no choice."
Chester's gaze wandered from a gun on the floor to Billy's empty holster, and then to Mister Dillon. Though it was clear what had happened, he struggled to take it in. Shock turned to sorrow as he stared again at the body on the floor, and when a great swell of grief rose up inside, he bit hard on his trembling lip. His only thought then was to get out of there, but even as he brushed past Doc and Miss Kitty, in the doorway, tears were rolling down his cheeks.
Doc took Kitty's arm as she made to go after him. "Let him go Kitty. There's nothing you can say to him right now."
"Maybe not," Kitty replied. "But I'm damn well gonna try."
A DISTRAUGHT CHESTER WALKS DOWN THE STREET
KITTY IS SEEN HURRYING AFTER HIM
FADE OUT