Chapter Two

Chester lay sleeping at dinnertime, and Tip was not in the marshal's office. Matt touched Chester's shoulder. "Chester." Chester jumped a little and snorted, then snored some more. "Chester," said Matt, shaking his partner's shoulder.

Chester's eyes opened and he rolled onto his back, gazing sleepily at Matt. "Mr. Dillon," Chester said.

"Where's Tip?" said Matt. "I need him to find some men to carry Damien back to the jail."

"Tip said he was goin' to pass the time with Moss." Chester yawned. "He said Moss has a mess of smoked antelope and cornbread needs eatin' afore the rot sets in. I didn't go even though I'm powerful hungry. Fixins on the edge sours ma belly. It won't hurt Tip most likely, but Moss oughtn't to eat it, him bein' an old timer."

"Get two men, will you, Chester?" said Matt. "Take forty cents from the till to pay 'em."

"Yes, sir." Chester slowly sat up. "I'm so hungry, I'm swimmy-headed," he said. "You eat dinner yet, Mr. Dillon?" Chester yawned again and rested his head on the wall, his face going slack.

"You're not goin' to sleep again, are ya?" said Matt.

"Huh?" said Chester, his eyes closed.

"I'm going to ask Kitty to Delmonico's for dinner," said Matt.

Chester's eyes opened. "I seen their menu for tonight on the board," said Chester. "Roast duck and yams and fried tomatoes. And berry pie."

"Come on, Chester," Matt said. "We'll find the men and get Damien back to the jail, then we'll get Kitty and go to dinner."

"Damien take a good turn, did he?" said Chester. "That might could help him face the noose."

"Doc iced the fever, but Damien's head's still bad off," said Matt. "Doc thinks it best we move him back to the jail."

Kitty was not at the Long Branch. "You know where Kitty went, Sam?" said Matt.

"She left with Trent Wainwright," said Sam. "I heard Miss Kitty say they were going to Delmonico's."

"He cain't keep Miss Kitty to hisself like that," said Chester. "You need to do something about him, Mr. Dillon."

"I thought I did," Matt said reflectively.

"What'd you do," said Chester.

"I . . . spent more time with Kitty."

"So now we don't get our dinner on account of that Wainwright," Chester fretted. "Cuz you don't wanna see him and Miss Kitty eatin' together."

Matt pondered a moment. "Well, I'm not gonna miss out on roast duck and yams on account of Trent Wainwright," he said. "We'll take a table next to Kitty. I don't think she'll mind. So we can talk to her, too."

Kitty and Trent sat at a table against the wall. Matt moved to their table with Chester behind him. "Hello, Kitty," said Matt. "Trent."

Trent looked up at Matt and paled. The man clearly was afraid of him, though Matt didn't know why, as he'd always been civil to Wainwright.

Kitty smiled. "Hello, Matt. Chester," she said. "Why don't you two sit at this table by ours."

"You're being rather boorish, Marshal, don't you think?" said Trent. "Kitty and I are having a private conversation." Wainwright was still afraid. His chest rose and fell through his vest, and his eyes were wide.

"Matt's never boorish," said Kitty, "and we're not talking about anything he and Chester can't hear."

Trent sighed noisily and threw his napkin on the table. "Kitty, either you want me, or you want the marshal," he said. "You can't have both of us. Which is it to be, my dear."

Kitty cut a generous piece of duck and put it in her mouth. "I like you both," she said, chewing. "If you can't live with that, don't let me keep you, Trent. You might be happier with your sweetheart in Laredo."

Trent rose from the table and stared at her a moment, his eyes growing wet, and Kitty quickly stood. "I'll walk you out," she said softly. He fumbled in his pocket and put some coins on the table, and Kitty took his hand. "I'll be back," she mouthed over her shoulder to Matt.

Kitty and Trent walked a few steps away from the restaurant, and she took his hands. "Trent, I'm sorry," she said. "I never meant to hurt you. You're a good man, and a gentleman. It's just that . . . ." Kitty's voice caught, and she felt her eyes watering. "Every time I start to feel for another man, I realize I love Matt." A hot tear from each eye dripped down her face.

Trent blinked his eyes dry and cleared his throat. "He makes you unhappy, Kitty, because he won't commit to you," Wainwright said. "Will you wait for him all your life? Maybe you should think long and hard about that." Trent wiped her tears with his thumbs. "Dearest Kitty," he said. "This is goodbye. I wrote a letter, and she's waiting for me." Kitty put her arms around him, and he hugged her, then turned and walked toward his room at Dodge House.

She went back to Matt and Chester in Delmonico's. "Good," Kitty said. "You two haven't been served yet. Let's move to that roomier table on the other side." Matt and Chester rose, and with Kitty between them, walked across the dining room. She linked her arms through theirs on the way to the table, and Matt pulled out a chair for her, touching his hand to her shoulder before seating himself.

M~~~~

Tip and Chester didn't ask why Matt chose to spend the night at the marshal's office. Chester tended more often than not to accept Matt's decisions without question, and Tip seemed too easygoing to care one way or the other.

Chester wanted Tip to sleep in the bunk in the empty jail cell, and Matt to take the bed in the office while Chester bedded down in his roll on the floor, but Matt told him to take the jail bunk, and Tip to sleep on the floor in the office. Whatever the particulars, the marshal distrusted the safety of Doc's plan for Damien Hunter. Though Tip's gunbelt would hang on the wall as he slept, he was surer and faster in his thinking than Chester. Matt draped his gunbelt on its hook before he lay down, figuring three unarmed men would lessen the risk of anyone getting shot. When the marshal heard Chester and the deputy snoring, he moved silently to the office door and unlocked it, then lay down with his boots on and waited, wide awake.

After about three hours, the office door opened, and a big man holding a gun stood on the threshold. "Don't move," the man said, stepping inside.

"Mind if I sit up?" said Matt.

"Please," said the man. "You look strong enough to carry him out, unless he can walk."

Tip woke and sat up on his bedroll on the floor. "Oh, good gracious sakes alive," he said.

"It's alright," said the big man. "Just do as I say, and no one gets hurt."

"What is it you want?" said Tip.

"I'm busting Damien Hunter out of jail."

The night was dark with no moonlight, the stars covered by clouds. Matt and Tip couldn't make out the big man's features, and Matt knew the man wanted it that way.

"I'll get Damien," said Matt. He took the key from its hook, moved to the cell, and unlocked the door.

"Mr. Dillon?" said Chester from the other cell.

"Stay where you are, Chester," Matt said in a low voice. "A man's here holding a gun on us. I have to free Damien."

"Oh, my goodness," Chester whispered, sitting up.

"I'm not expecting anyone to bust me out," said Damien. He sounded scared.

"I won't tell the fella to leave," said Matt. "He has a gun."

"But Mr. Dillon," said Chester.

"Chester," Matt said. "You don't need to be afraid," the marshal said to Damien. "This man's not gonna hurt you."

"Well . . . what've I got to lose," said Damien. "If I don't go with the man, I'll hang anyway."

"That's right," said Matt. "Can you walk?"

"Yes," said Damien. "I feel much better. The pain's gone. I'm just mighty weak and fuzzy. The room's tilting every which way."

Matt put Damien's boots on his feet, then remembered Doc's words about Tip and Chester as witnesses. "Follow me out, Chester," Matt ordered. "And don't reach for a shotgun. I don't want anyone hurt." Matt helped Damien walk through the door between the jail and the office, where the big man stood holding his gun.

"Everyone out," the man said, waving them outside with the gun. "I don't wanna get shot at."

"Do as he says," Matt said quietly to Tip. "Only what he says." Tip nodded, and they all walked through the door ahead of the big man, Damien leaning on Matt.

A covered wagon with two armed men on the seat was outside the marshal's office. "Help him inside the wagon," the big man said to Matt. Matt helped Damien lie on a mattress inside the wagon and stepped back. "All the way to the door," the big man said. Matt, Tip and Chester moved back to the office door. "Thank you," the big man said, and climbed into the wagon bed with Damien.

The man holding the reins clucked to the horses, setting them off at a canter down Front Street, headed out of Dodge. Matt, Chester and Tip moved into the street and watched them ride away.

"Can't recollect ever seein' jest such an escape as that," Chester said in a hushed tone. "You reckon they'll treat Damien alright, Mr. Dillon?"

"I'm sure they will, Chester.

"I have to see Doc about something and have breakfast before I write a report on the breakout, and the three of us need more sleep," said Matt. "Then I have to mail the report to headquarters, maybe by tomorrow afternoon.

"At the rate they were driving that wagon, they'll be out of my jurisdiction by then, so there's no point trackin' 'em. Damien will be filed away as an escaped fugitive, and hopefully that'll put an end to it."

"I sure hope he gets away over the Mexican border," said Tip.

"So do I," said Chester. "You hope Damien gets away, too, don't you, Mr. Dillon."

"Yes, Chester," said Matt. "I do."

Matt was surprised to see Maya Lind at Doc's the next morning. "Maya," said Matt.

"Matt," said Maya. "Good heavens, you were long getting here. I wanted to run with Doc to the marshal's office at sunup, but Doc says for their protection, Chester and Tip mustn't hear we planned this. Did Damien Hunter get away safely? Do hurry and tell us, Matt."

The marshal looked at Doc. "I needed help with my plan," said Doc. "No way I could do it alone with so little time. Maya knows a lot of folks who save people sentenced to death, people who killed for an understandable reason and most likely won't kill again. It's sort of an underground railroad for the condemned. Maya donates to the cause."

Maya pulled up a chair for Matt, and poured him a cup of Doc's coffee. The marshal looked into her fervent dark eyes, and her radiant strength and refinement surrounded him, like a door opened into a dazzling land. "The people who serve this cause are mainly Catholics and Quakers," she said. "Damien is traveling to a parish in Costa Rica. The nuns there will nurse him to health, and the parish will give him some farmland. Costa Rica abolished the death penalty a few years ago, Matt," said Maya.

"I know of some very poor folks never hurt a soul would count it a blessing to get half what they're givin' Damien," said Matt. "He's being rewarded for murder." The marshal sipped his coffee and frowned at Doc.

"Oh, no, Matt. It isn't like that at all," said Maya. "You must come to my luncheon sociable Sunday after church. We have an ongoing debate over the death penalty, and it needs livening up. Our circle is always honored and excited to see you. You make such an interesting contribution, Matt.

"You come too, Doc, if you like," said Maya. "The doctor has an open invitation."

Matt looked curiously at Doc, who was looking intently at the marshal. Matt occasionally wondered how well he knew Doc. The look he wore struck Matt as peculiar. Doc's face, not normally expressive, appeared at the same time triumphant, crafty and mischievous.

Matt grinned slightly, more amused than vexed. "You think busting a condemned man out of jail is funny, do ya, Doc?" he said. Doc sniffed silent laughter. "We oughta do it more often, since it makes you so happy," said Matt.

"Of course we'd never laugh if a villainous man went free," said Maya. "But Damien's always been so mild-mannered and civil."

"He never broke the law so far as I know, before he killed Filbert," said Matt.

"And Councilman Filbert was a horrid person," said Maya. "Beyond taking Damien's wife in their bedroom while he mocked poor Damien. Filbert always acted ill-bred. So you see, Matt, it all works out for the best."

Though Maya was a genteel lady, her loud low-pitched laughter reflected her naturalness. Matt smiled widely as Maya's laughter drifted through the window.

Down below on Front Street, Chester heard the mirth and looked up in wonder. "That's Maya Lind," said a man in a fine brown suit, as he came up beside Chester at the foot of the staircase. "She surely has a hearty laugh for a lady." The man had a thin waxed mustache, and wore spectacles.

"That's Mrs. Lind?" said Chester.

"Would you be Chester Goode?" said the man.

"I am," said Chester. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Jules Simeon."

"You here to visit Doc?" said Chester.

"Well, Dr. Adams told Maya about your problem, Chester, and she hoped I could come here and see you. She wired me from Wichita," said Simeon.

"Why would Mrs. Lind wire you to see me?" said Chester. "I'm not sick, and when I am, I jest go right up these stairs here and see Doc. I don't know what gets into Doc. I ain't got no problem."

"Maya said you were stricken by nervous prostration," said Simeon.

"You mean the fit?" said Chester. "Twas jest one tiny fit. Doc tole me not to work a spell, and rest myself."

"Yes, yes," said Simeon. "Rest is always recommended for nervous exhaustion. I specialize in minds, Chester. I can help you think and feel better about yourself."

"Are you a lunatic doctor?" said Chester.

"I'm a psychiatrist."

"I'm not mad," said Chester.

"A person doesn't have to be mad to benefit from my services, Chester."

"Ain't naught wrong with me," said Chester. "I jest need to talk to Mr. Dillon. He's up to Doc's." Chester started up the stairs, and Simeon followed him.

"Don't you think you should let Dr. Adams decide if you need me to treat you, Chester?" said Simeon. "There'll be no charge. I treat charity cases as well as paying patients."

"No," said Chester. "And I ain't no charity case."

Chester opened the door to Doc's office, and Simeon followed him inside. Matt, Doc and Maya rose from their chairs.

"Jules," said Maya. She held her hands out to him, and they shared a light kiss.

"You look well, Maya," Simeon said.

"Jules, this is Marshal Dillon, and Doc Adams," said Maya. Matt and Doc greeted Simeon and shook hands. "I see you've met Chester," said Maya.

"Yes, ma'am," said Chester, taking off his hat.

"Mr. Dillon, Tip took the stage to Topeka. A boy come to the office with a telegram. Tip's father took sick with consumption, and Tip might not be comin' back to Dodge.

"That means I gotta go back to work. Never thought I'd get a hankerin' for chores," said Chester. "Doin' nothin' sech a long spell does wear a body down."

"I want you to go back to work, Chester," said Matt. "If Doc says it's alright."

"Well," said Doc, "You look sound and steady, and you haven't had another fit. Just don't overdo it."

"I don't think there's any chance of that," said Matt.

"Doc," said Maya. "I know I shouldn't have interfered without asking you and Matt first. I only wanted to help Chester, and I was overeager as usual.

"Do forgive me, Chester," said Maya. "I should have asked you first, too."

"That's alright, Mrs. Lind," said Chester.

"This have something to do with you?" Matt said to Simeon.

"I'm a psychiatrist, Marshal," said Simeon. "Maya thought perhaps I could help Chester."

"That's up to Chester," said Matt. "Doc says he's ready to go back to work."

"I am, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "I'm not mad. I don't need no lunatic doctor."

"Why, of course you're not mad, Chester," said Maya. "Not at all."

"Well," said Simeon. "Since I won't be treating a new patient, I'd like to take you for a buggy ride, Maya. Just you and me. It's a beautiful day for a ride, and we've a lot to talk about."

"I'd like that," said Maya. "Will I see you at my sociable, Matt?"

"Thank you, Maya," said Matt. "I have plans for Sunday."

Maya smiled at him. "Tell Kitty I said hello," she said, and went out the door with Simeon behind her.

"Chester. Doc," said Matt. "How about breakfast? I'd stop by the Long Branch for Kitty, but she's probably just now wakin' up."

Chester was quiet as they walked to Delmonico's, fiddling with a rawhide tie around his neck.

"What have you got there, Chester," said Doc.

"Big feller what broke Damien out the jail last night hung it on the inside doorknob at the office," said Chester. "I seen the feller do it out the corner of my eye, and I took what he hung on the knob off as I was first back in the office afore you and Tip, Mr. Dillon. I scrunched it in my hand, and looked at it when I was fixin' to lay back down to sleep.

"I shoulda tole you 'bout it afore now, Mr. Dillon, only I thought you might put it as evidence in your report letter for the post, and I wanted to wear it so as to sleep without troublin' dreams. I didn't think it would do no harm to wear it," said Chester. "I'll give it to you straightaway if you need it."

Chester raised the rawhide tie in his fingers, and pulled out a small silver cross from between his shirt and his union suit. "Last night was the first since I killed them three outlaws I had no troublin' dreams," he said. "I didn't dream at all, and my head don't skitter none since I'm wearin' this."

"You keep it, Chester," said Matt. "I can mail my report without it."

"Oh," Chester sighed, looking relieved and pleased. "I will." He tucked the cross inside his shirt.

"You didn't tell me about havin' bad dreams, Chester," said Doc. "Come back to my office after breakfast, and I'll give you some sleeping powders."

"I don't think I'll need your powders, Doc."

Doc patted Chester's arm. " 'This is the rest wherewith you may cause the weary to rest; and this is the refreshing,' " Doc said.