A friend in need
Prologue
The boy stood watching the dust blow around his feet as two deputies emerged from the jail-house of a small Missouri town. A woman dressed in what had once been fashionable city clothes stood beside the boy with her face buried in a sodden handkerchief. Her shoulders heaved from time to time as tears flowed from her reddened eyes. The boy couldn't have been more than six years old, but he stood there quietly and still, until slowly he lifted his head to focus on the scene unfolding in front of him. A third man in handcuffs now stood between the two deputies and in a moment they pushed him towards one of the three horses tied to the hitching rail. The man in handcuffs exchanged a few words with the men wearing badges. At first they shook their heads, then one turned and looked at the waif-like boy standing by the wearied woman. Eventually he nodded and indicated for the boy and the woman to come closer. The man in handcuffs looked at the sheriff's deputies and raised his hands, pleading. Seeing no threat in letting him give a final farewell to his wife, the stockier of the two lawmen stepped forward and produced a key. The other deputy had a rifle aimed at the prisoner's back - there was no way he could escape.
The handcuffs were released and the man crossed the short distance to the tearful woman and held her close for a moment or two. Then he turned to the boy and pulled him into a tight embrace. Quietly so that the guards didn't hear, he whispered hurried instructions into the boy's ear. The child didn't understand the meaning of the words he barely heard, but he would remember them forever. They would be almost the last ones his father ever spoke to him.
The man stepped back a little from the lad. "Take good care of your mother, Son!" These words were spoken louder and more clearly as the man held out his arms to the deputies, and the handcuffs were once more locked in place. He was hurriedly ushered towards the waiting horses then the three men mounted up and moved out. The animals' hooves stirred up the dry, dusty dirt in the street as they made their way from the town. The boy and the woman stood watching until even the fine cloud of dust which followed the three men finally dispersed, and the horses and the men were gone from their lives forever.
Chapter One
It was almost noon, just a few days after the last of the trail herds had left Dodge City. The town seemed relatively peaceful now except for a handful of stragglers who were sleeping off their final drunk at the Dodge House hotel.
Kitty Russell sat working on the large ledger in front of her. There had been a significant amount of havoc wreaked by the drovers this year. During the last three or four months she'd had to spend money replacing numerous tables and chairs. A new mirror now hung behind the bar, and the front window had been replaced twice. Now that she was part owner of the Long Branch Saloon, she wanted to make sure that putting up with the turmoil caused by drunken Texas trail hands was worth all the effort. As she finished adding up the columns of income and expenses, it became clear that in spite of all the damages, the business had managed to turn a decent profit.
It was quiet for now. The usual lunch time crowd consisted mostly of business people from the town and local ranchers who had ventured into Dodge on some errand or another. Not a drover in sight. She breathed an inward sigh of relief.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard the morning westbound stage arrive. That only happened twice a week so it was always a big event. Since the cattle business was over for the year, she didn't expect to see the stranger who walked in through the batwing doors ten minutes later. He stopped for a moment to look around before walking up to the bar and ordering a beer. Jessie, one of the two girls working at this time of day, went up to him to see if he wanted company, but he waved her away.
Kitty watched him for a while, hoping he wasn't in town to cause trouble. He was a little under six feet tall, she guessed, but his build was stocky. He wore a long well-tailored jacket which partly hid the gun he carried at his right hip. He was too well-dressed to be a ranch hand or a cowboy, but not well enough to be a gambler. She only hoped that the gun he wore wasn't his way of earning a living.
Standing up from the table she closed the books she'd been working on. She handed them to Clem and asked him to return them to the small room behind the bar which served as a storage space as well as an office. Bill Pence, her partner in the saloon business, had left earlier that morning on a short trip, so technically she was in sole charge of the place now.
She stood watching the man carefully for a while, trying to figure out what he was here for. He drank his beer slowly studying the glass between mouthfuls as if he'd never seen a beer mug before. He was down to the last few gulps when she picked up a clean glass from the sink and filled it from the beer pull. After wiping off the excess foam she carried it to end of the bar where the stranger was leaning.
"First drink's on the house, Mister!" She placed the mug in front of him and getting no response she decided to introduce herself.
"My name's Kitty Russell. I'm part owner of this place." As usual her expression was open and welcoming, but inside she was worried.
The man looked at her with a half smile but didn't say anything. He dragged the beer she had just brought towards him, and drank half of it before lowering the glass back to the bar. He turned slightly towards her so he could look at her more easily then stood there for a few seconds before replying.
"I've heard your name before," he said at last, barely changing his expression. "This place has quite a reputation." He indicated his immediate surroundings to show he was referring to the Long Branch Saloon.
"You have me at a disadvantage, stranger. I have no idea who you are."
"I don't think you'd recognize my name if I told you. I'm here to see the marshal."
Kitty's heart skipped a beat when he said those words. She had enough control that the anxiety the words caused didn't show on her face.
"You know him?" she asked trying to sound unconcerned.
"We were friends at one time." That never boded well. How many old friends of Matt's had come through Dodge looking to kill him, or to break the law in one way or another? "You have any idea where I might find him?"
She knew that Matt had ridden out of town that morning to check on a rancher's complaints of cattle being stolen. He wouldn't be back till late evening.
"Did you try his office?" she asked cautiously.
"I did, but no one was there."
"He'll show up eventually I'm sure. Are you staying at the Dodge House? If I see him I can tell him you're looking for him."
She was already trying to think of a way she could warn Matt about this new threat. What happened next took her by surprise. The stranger leaned back and laughed. His coat gaped open and she caught a glimpse of the badge pinned on his shirt.
He gathered himself together and reached towards her, extending his right hand, still laughing. "Marshal Jim Cutler, ma'am. I'm based in Springfield, Missouri."
Kitty relaxed a little. So he was a fellow lawman - several of those had passed through Dodge before too, and not all of them were committed to upholding justice. Some were even down-right unfriendly. At least it seemed this man wasn't a gunfighter looking to boost his reputation.
"What brings you to Dodge City, Marshal Cutler?"
"Please call me Jim, Miss Russell. I came here hoping to get Marshal Dillon to help me with a small problem."
"It must be a pretty big problem if you came all the way from Missouri. And you can call me Kitty." She was hoping he'd tell her a little more but instead he changed the subject.
"Tell me Miss ... er Kitty, what does a fella do for entertainment here in Dodge? I heard it was a lively place with all kinds of excitement, but today I arrived to what seems to be a quiet and peaceful town."
"If you'd been here a week or two ago you wouldn't have said that. The last cattle drive of the season left a few days back. Now it's time for those of us who live here to recuperate. If you'll excuse me I need to go relieve Clem at the bar so he can get some lunch." She carefully took her leave of him - somewhat less concerned than she had been but still keeping a little caution in the back of her mind.
"Nice talking to you, Miss Russell. I'm sure we'll meet again soon."
She walked to the far end of the bar, wondering what she could do to forewarn Matt. When she looked back, Marshal Cutler, if that's who he really was, had already passed through the batwing doors and was standing on the boardwalk looking up and down the street.
TBC