the valley
…when we find ourselves in the place just right, twill be in the valley of love and delight- simple gifts – a shaker song…
Dillon shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. His leg was stiffening up on him again; the cold weather always seemed to remind him of its nagging soreness. He kicked his boot out from the stirrup and grimaced as he straightened the bent leg, easing the kinks from his knee and calf muscle. Buck must have been feeling his age as well. The big horse stumbled on the trail and Dillon grabbed reflexively for the saddle horn to steady himself. "Easy," was all the advice the marshal had for his horse. He pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck. Night was coming on and it was going to be a frosty one. He knew he should give thought to finding a place to camp.
He'd be in Hayes City by tomorrow afternoon and then he would get the details of the Sharlows escape. Matt sighed to himself. He felt old and tired. The hard cold ground, dusty bedroll and small campfire would provide no consolation tonight. He let his mind drift as the horse plodded along on the trail. He was smiling and he didn't realize it. He had felt the baby move, he had held Kitty in his arms and felt the baby move; the sensation still lived in his thoughts. Several times in the last weeks Kitty had taken his hand and placed it on her expanding belly telling him to feel the baby as it moved. He had done as she asked, but had felt nothing out of the ordinary. But today, when he'd said good-bye, when he held her to him, he had felt the baby move and in that instant it became real to him. He heard himself chuckle and reached out to share the moment with another living creature. The big gelding's neck was given a little pat and rub of head, Matt saw the campsite he was looking for off to the right of the trail. He guided the horse down a slight embankment and up against an outcropping of granite. He could hear a small stream gurgling somewhere off in the distance. This was as good a spot as any to bed down for the evening. He thought glumly about all he was missing this night – a sturdy ranch house roof over his head, a home cooked meal in his stomach; a warm soft bed to keep the night's chills away and most important of all the love of his family. He untied his gear and carried it over to a level spot on the ground. He dropped it in a heap at his feet. Buck had followed him and gave his shoulder a hard nudge with his nose.
Matt reached up to remove the bridle and bit from the gelding's mouth. "Just you and me again," he told his horse. Dillon's mind filled with memories of Christopher and Kitty and the baby she carried, as he undid the cinch and removed his saddle he was filled with a longing just to be home. He realized what was bothering him tonight. For the first time he resented the badge for pulling him away from them. As he set up camp on the lonely prairie he made a suddenly simple decision. He knew this was going to be it. He didn't want to spend any more nights alone and he didn't have to. He had paid his dues to both duty and the badge and now could walk away without regrets or guilt. His priorities had changed and they centered on a small ranch outside of Dodge. His last act as a U.S. Marshal would be tracking down the Sharlows. He could picture Kitty's face when he told her his decision. Her image warmed his spirit like no campfire could even as the wind picked up and tumble weeds blew around his feet.
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He sat before the campfire with a tin mug of lukewarm coffee in his hands, and his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was vaguely uneasy and he suspected it all had to do with missing Kitty. He stared into the fire imagining it was the one burning in the front parlor. His mind traveled back to the ranch as he tried to conjure up a picture of what Kitty and Chris were up to. He smiled. She had been teaching the youngster to play the piano; he supposed her reluctant student was in for another lesson tonight. Dillon chuckled as he remembered a night earlier in the week. Kitty had been attempting toteach the child to play "Simple Gifts" and Matt had made the mistake of saying the song sounded vaguely familiar. Kitty had given him one of those looks, "It should Cowboy; it was our wedding song…" She had reminded inhaled deeply and tossed the last of his coffee into the fire. He squinted as he tried to remember the words. "Damn," he thought, "women put such stock in sentimental things like wedding songs."
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Tom Lynott paced back and forth within the stark confines of the Hayes City Sheriff's office. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Matt should be here by now, he thought, but even as he thought it, he knew that it was almost impossible for Dillon to have made the journey in such a short time. Still when the Marshal walked through the door an hour later, Lynott showed no surprise at his entrance. The two men exchanged the briefest of `hellos' before Tom began filling his friend in on the sketchy details of the Sharlow brothers' escape.
The prison wagon had been transporting three convicts, Ray and Howard Sharlow to Jefferson City, Missouri to stand trial and another prisoner who was being transferred to the state facility at Leavenworth, Kansas. Not much was known of the third man at this time, other than he was a two-bit bank robber, and certainly not in the same class as members of the notorious Sharlow Gang. The prison wagon had been traveling through the Smokey Hills flats on its way to Abilene, when the convicts had somehow overpowered the two guards and killed them. The wagon and its victims had been found several days after the actual escape. The prisoners had exchanged their clothing for that of the guards and were heavily armed. Lynott felt the need to remind Matt. "Pard I know they vowed to get even with you and the boy."
"Yeah," Matt nodded grimly. "But I don't think they would be headed to Dodge – at least not yet. My guess is they're holed up somewhere waiting to meet up with the rest of the gang - but where" Dillon walked to the window to stare at the street, he'd always had an instinct about matters like this, "I don't think they'd head back to the Wind River hideout." His hands wedged in his front pockets, Matt turned to look back at Lynott. The scowl on his face didn't hide the worry in his eyes. "It would help if we knew who they were with Tom; did you get a wire off to the prison? We need the name of the third convict."
"Got a wire off first thing, all we can do is sit and wait for the time being. I don't like it any more than you." Tom grumbled; he reached for a rifle on the gun rack. His hands needed something to do and cleaning a Winchester suited him more than writing a report.
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Penny Lynott busied herself with setting the table. She had to work around Matt and Tom who were already seated and had a territorial map spread out in front of them. It didn't bother Penny; she was a lawman's wife and had long ago learned the hazards of the profession. Seeing Matt reminded her of the wedding, what a pretty ceremony it had been she thought. Kitty had looked beautiful walking down the aisle and the music had been just right, Penny reflected. Without realizing it she began to quietly sing the song. Her voice was soft and sweet. Dillon looked up from the map to listen to the words. "And when we find ourselves in the place just right, t'will be in thevalley of love and delight, when true simplicity is gained to bow andto bend we shan't be ashamed. To turn, turn will be our delight till by turning, turning we come round right."
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The response to the wire came later that evening, as Penny Lynott was serving apple pie and coffee. There was a knock and a young man stood at the door. The envelope in his outstretched hand told his purpose. Lynott grabbed the envelope and tore it open. "The third prisoner is a fella by the name of Harold Linder. It says here that there ain't no more information available about him right now."
Matt stood up and took the telegram from Tom's hands. He read its contents and then crushed the paper in his fist. His frown deepened as he repeated the outlaw's name. "Harold Linder…"
Lynott looked at Matt, "You know him Pard?"
Matt frowned, "Something about the name, I can't put my finger on it." He shook his head. "How far did you say it was to the site of the prison wagon?"
Tom scratched his head before answering, "Well I'd say twenty to twenty- five miles. You reckon we oughta go out there and take us a looksee?"
"We gotta start somewhere."
It was first light when the two lawmen left the tidy little home. Dillon watched uncomfortably as Tom kissed Penny good-bye. It only served to remind him of the decision he'd made out on the trail. He hadn't changed his mind. A half hour passed before either man said a word. To Matt's surprise Tom's sentiments echoed his own, "It don't get no easier… leaving her…" Matt merely gave him a nod of understanding. Tom didn't require anything more than that from a friend.
It was close to sunset on Monday when they finally came upon the wreckage of the prison wagon. Both men took careful inspection of the area, looking for any clue, which might give them some idea where the Sharlows had gone. Matt scoured the ground, his keen eyes scanning for signs of extra riders and wondering if this had been a planned ambush. Too much time had passed; the harsh prairie winds had erased track and trail. The two lawmen left the scene in frustration. They headed for the town of Russell, Kansas to meet with prison officials. They needed more information about Harold Linder, and lost another few hours in the saddle.
The warden of the dreary brick walled prison had precious little to tell them about Linder. The man had been in the Russell prison for about eight months before the transfer orders came through. All of his papers had gone with him on the prisoner exchange. The guards remembered little about the run of the mill man. With him in his cell had been an elderly inmate who'd lived the last twenty years in prison. They tried to communicate with him, but his mind was gone. Discouraged and tired the two lawmen headed back to Hayes and knew another day had been wasted. Matt turned to Lynott and struggled to keep the bite from his voice, "They could be anywhere by this time… even back in Dodge."
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They were bone weary by the time they arrived back in Hayes. It was by sheer chance that they rode past the train station that morning shortly after the arrival of the 840 from Dodge. Among the passengers leaving the depot was Bertha Wagner.
"That's it!" Matt said as the light of truth came into his eyes, "Harold Linder is Harry Wagner. Why didn't I think of that before?"Dillon's exhausted mind suddenly became alive with questions. "What was Bertha doing here? If she was in town was Harry here as well, what had been in the letter that he had delivered to Bertha himself a few days ago. More importantly – what about Kitty and Christopher back home?"