I said I wouldn't do it, but those folks from Dodge kept coming back. So here is another story.
I am just borrowing these characters for fun, not profit.
The Train
Chapter 1
After all the events surrounding Eli Rathbone, everything was back to normal. I was back at work with no ill effects at all. Andy McIntyre had stayed on for a couple of extra weeks to help with the trail hands from the spring cattle drives, and then he had left for another temporary assignment in another town.
Spring worked its way towards summer, and I had taken to making early morning rides out onto the prairie. The big buckskin had grown fat and a little lazy from being turned out to pasture for almost four months and it was time to get him back in working shape. Some mornings Kitty would ride out with me, those were rides I would remember.
This morning I was alone. I had galloped the horse up over the rise and then came to a walk down the other side towards the trail headed east back towards Dodge. Pushing the buckskin to a jog, I start along the road.
"Marshal Dillon! Marshal Dillon!" That is coming from behind me. I turn my horse to see who is calling me. Fred Willis's boy, from the relay station, probably about fourteen years old now, is riding an old sorrel mare as fast as the poor animal can go.
"Easy there," I call out "what's the problem?"
"Marshal, the stage was held up. There were about four men. They shot the driver and my Pa. They were both hurt pretty bad, but still alive when I left. Not sure what the men were looking for. There was no gold on that stage. Pa told me to come into Dodge and get help."
"Is the stage at the station?"
"Yes I just unhitched the team, and turned them out in the corral."
"Alright I'll take care of it."
I'm glad I've been working this horse. This will be an opportunity to try him out.
"You just go on into Dodge and wait for me. Give that mare of yours a chance to get her breath. No sense in winding her."
I dug my heels into the flanks of the Buckskin and urged him forward. Even so it was going to take me about an hour to get to the relay station. He could not keep up this pace all the way.
It takes just over an hour to reach my destination. The horse is still a little slow.
When I get there I find Joe Platt, the driver, in a bad way. He is bleeding from a bullet wound in his right side. I did what I could for him. Fred Willis, who runs the relay station, has a bullet in his left shoulder. He tells me he saw four or five men attacking the stage. He thought he hit one of them but he was not sure.
There are three passengers from the stage, all unharmed. The gentleman introduces himself as Juno Burr; he is dressed like he came from back east somewhere. One of the ladies he introduces as his wife, the other as his sister.
Having fixed Joe up as best I can, I go out and looked at the stage. It had been a long time since I had driven a team of six, but it is the quickest way to get everybody back to Dodge, and from there the stage company can handle things.
I go out to the corral and look at the six horses there. The two biggest ones are probably the wheelers, they are the most important horses, the ones hitched closest to the stage. The smallest ones would be the leaders – those in front and the others in the middle. Joe is in no condition to advise me, and poor old Fred is not in a good state of mind. I am not planning to run them fast anyway. That wouldn't be good for Joe, or for the buckskin that would be running behind.
I get work gloves from my saddlebag and hitch up the horses. Then I get Joe and lay him across one of the seats inside the stage. Fred would have to ride up on the box with me. I tell the passengers to board. Meantime I unsaddle the Buckskin, offer him some water, and tie him to the back of the stage. I throw my rig into the luggage compartment and checking everyone is safely inside I climb
up onto the box.
Picking up the reins, I thread them between my fingers, release the brake and urge the horses forward. These animals are used to running full speed, I need to keep them at a slower pace.
It is exhilarating to feel the power of the six horses under my control. I would like to let them run.
Less than two hours later we pull up in front of the stage depot in Dodge. I could see Doc and Chester sitting in front the jail. The astounded look on their faces, when they see me driving, is worth all the effort.
I set the brake, secure the reins and climb down from the box.
"You got yourself a new job?" yelled Doc
"No Doc but you've got a couple of new customers."
I get some cowboys to get Joe up to Doc's office. Fred can make it on his own.
I hand the stage over to the depot clerk, untie the Buckskin, and take my saddle and head towards the office.
Chester follows me "Can I take yer horse fer you Mr. Dillon"
"Sure thanks, I worked him fairly hard so walk him a bit and have Carl give him some grain later."
"Sure thing Mr. Dillon."
As I enter the office, the youngster who met me on the trail comes running across the street.
"Your Pa's gone up to Doc's," I tell him. "He'll be fine. Come and tell me what happened today."
"There were four of 'em, Marshal, they tried to stop the stage before it got to the station, but Joe didn't pull up so they gave chase. They shot Joe, but he made it to the station and Pa started shooting at 'em till they hit him. Then they had all the passengers get out and they searched the stage from top to bottom. Seems they didn't find what they were looking for. Eventually they just took off. I think Pa wounded one of them because he seemed to be moving slower than the rest."
"Did you hear any names or see their faces."
"No Marshal. I don't believe they said anything, and they had their faces covered."
He left the office and I sit down to go over the morning's mail. Then I start to write a report of the morning's events, including the possibility that the man who ran the relay station wounded one of the outlaws.