Chapter Two
The bullet wounds in Matt's shoulder and side swell and redden with infection, fevering him. Doc says there's no telling when the marshal will heal enough to get out of bed, let alone pin on the badge. After the incident with the storekeeper Jonas and the man called Ness, I hope the townsfolk stand in awe of me if they refuse to esteem me, and I want an assent at the least from the marshal.
Ness is a sneaking drifter who keeps to himself. Word has it that he's a thief. When Ness creeps into Jonas' store, I'm looking at the stock of silk ties while Jonas fills our provision order, although buying the supplies is Chester's job. He's passing a lot of time at Doc's since Matt caught infection, so I understand.
Jonas goes into the back room, and Ness shifts his cagey, belligerent eyes to me. I turn my back without looking at him and hold two ties against my vest, pretending to match the colors.
Ness tips by me, and I watch him through my eye tail. Like a thin, long-fingered shadow, he slides behind the counter, eases open the cash drawer, pulls out a stack of bills, stuffs it in his pocket, and glides by me to the door.
Carrying a big wooden box, Jonas comes out of the back room, and I wait until he sets the box on the counter.
"Hold it," I say, not drawing my gun.
"Hold what," says Jonas, adjusting his spectacles. He's one of the few folks I like in this town, as he treated me the same as everyone else from first greeting.
Ness freezes in the doorway, then looks cautiously back over his shoulder. He sags in relief when he sees my gun holstered, then spins to face me, his eyes flashing mad. "How dare you play with me, you mongrel," he says.
"Shut up," I say.
"What's going on," says Jonas.
"This worm just stole a stack of bills from your cash drawer, Mr. Jonas."
Ness tenses up and turns to run for it. He's about my height, wiry while I'm muscled, and I calculate he can outrun me. I pull my gun and shoot over his head. He yells, leaps off the floor and falls. I laugh.
"Goldurn you," Ness growls, jumping up. "Two can play at that game. I'll make you dance proper."
He draws his gun. As I loathe shooting a man, and felt like some sport as well, I risk a trick I practiced with a friend in San Antone. I draw, aim for Ness' gun barrel, and squeeze the trigger. The bullet rips the gun out of his hand, propelling it through the door into the street. "Oww!" Ness howls, clutching his hand. I holster my gun and laugh, stomping my boots.
"Good gracious," says Jonas.
His face twisted in a snarl, Ness lunges at me. I swing my fist, knocking him on his back, then jump on top of him, plunging my hand in his pocket and pulling out the bills. Calls to mind the gambler who owed old Grimmick, only this is more fun.
I hold the money above my head, and Jonas hurries over and takes it. "Thank you," he says.
"Sure," I say.
Ness is friskier than the gambler was, wriggling like a snake as I sit on him. I backhand him. "Be still or I'll choke your gullet," I say.
He purses his mouth to spit, and I smack him. He reaches for my gun, and I grab his hand, bending the fingers back. Jonas cranes his neck from behind the counter, watching us intently.
Ness shrinks against the floorboards like a skinny paper lantern losing its air, and I climb off him, rising. "Get up," I order. "You're goin' to jail."
We move out the door and I pick up his gun, putting it in my belt. "Why'd you steal from an honest hardworking storekeeper like Mr. Jonas," I scold as we walk. "You wanna take up banditry, rob those indolent rich fellas at the bank."
When I tell Matt, he sighs and shakes his head. Miss Kitty sits on the bed, Doc sits in a chair by the bedside, and Chester leans against the wall. Doc iced out Matt's fever, and the marshal's face is pale and drawn. "The Service doesn't pay you to play tricks, Rush," Matt says. "You could've got yourself or Ness killed. Situation like that, just take the man's gun and arrest him."
Doc rises from his chair. "Now, don't you start in on Matt," he warns me.
Dillon's words sting, and I'm more shamed than mad. I want to call him a conceited lawdog, but he's bedrid from the infection and I'm not cruel.
"You can't make people approve of you," Matt says. "You'll have an easier time if you understand that."
"You mean either resign myself to folks in this town looking down their noses at me, or looking through me like I'm not there," I say. "Since you don't like me, it's well and good that no one in Dodge likes me."
"It's got nothing to do with whether or not I like you," Matt says. "I won't pretend I approve of the way you do things when I don't."
"So you expect me to reverence the ground you walk on, like Chester does," I say. I glare at Chester, who glowers back at me.
"Why don't you help yourself to Doc's laudanum, Rush," Chester says. "You need it worse'n any woman in Dodge."
Miss Kitty snickers, which makes me more riled at Chester. I know the marshal's too weak to get out of bed, and if I smack his friend, Matt can't do anything about it. I move close to Chester, who pushes away from the wall, straightening up.
"Rush, don't you dare hit Chester," Miss Kitty says in her tough voice.
"You just better watch your tongue, Chester," I say.
"Can't you talk to anyone without stirrin' up trouble, Acton?" says Doc.
"Oh, I'm jest shakin' in my boots," says Chester.
"You wait until I get you in the marshal's office alone tonight," I say. I'm only blustering, and I think Chester knows it, as he doesn't look at all distressed.
"You're not paid to fight Chester, either, Rush," says Matt.
"No cause to worry none, Mr. Dillon," says Chester, his eyes fixed on mine. "He's jest spewin' out air. If he tries fightin', I'll wrap that fancy tie around his neck."
"You cain't fight me worth nothin'," I say. "I can tell by the look of you."
"Yeah, well . . . ." Chester limps out of the room.
"I'll be back, Matt," says Miss Kitty. She strokes Dillon's hair, then stands, her eyes shooting daggers at me, and follows Chester.
"You seem to know a lot about what I'm not paid to do, Matt," I say. "I know I'm not paid to mimic you and trot at your heels like a sniveling dog. If you and this town set your face to shun me, I'll dynamite all of Dodge City if I have to, and I won't leave even then. I'll spit on the ruins."
"What in thunder are you talkin' about, Acton?" says Doc. "No one's shunning you. Folks aren't thinking about you, in case you didn't know it. You're so busy trying to be the important man around town."
"Some doctor you are," I say. "Do you shame everyone who's not in your special set? Well, don't fret, Doc Galen. I won't expect an invitation to your next society tea party."
Doc stares up at me like I'm addled, then shakes his head, pats Dillon's shoulder, and joins Chester and Miss Kitty in the other room. Doc appears again in the doorway an instant later. "Come out of this room," he orders me. "You're not to be in here by yourself with Matt."
"Alright, I'm goin'," I say. "Don't get your pantalets in a twist."
"You watch your foul mouth, or I'll push you down those stairs," Doc snaps.
"I believe you," I say. "I best keep an eye on my back."
"You can take some laudanum with you for your nerves if you want," says Chester, as I open the door to leave.
"Why don't you drink the whole bottle, lackey," I say. "Poison yourself to death."
Doc tracks me to the door, and I hurry out and down the stairs. I don't hear the door close, and my back starts itching as I imagine him kicking me down the steps or throwing something at my back. I glance over my shoulder up the flight. Doc stands on the landing watching me, and I run down the remaining stairs.
I need whiskey, so I head for the Long Branch. Jade is at the bar, and smiles when she sees me. "Hello, honey," I say, and kiss her. "You forget about Rufus Mangrove yet? We can go up to a room if you need some more lovin' to get him outa your head. You want a whiskey?"
"Alright," she says.
"Two whiskeys, Sam," I say.
"Barkeep's supposed to listen to your troubles as you drink, Sam," I say. "That's part of your job."
"If you talk, I'll hear you," Sam says.
"Yeah, but you don't want to hear me," I say. "You won't look at me. I bet you don't know how I look."
Sam glances at me, then turns his gaze away. "And I bet you look at yourself in the glass enough for both of us," he says, with no hint of a grin.
I temper of a sudden, and grab his vest in both fists without thinking on it. "I ain't takin' no guff off no barkeep," I say, low and quiet. "I'm Deputy U.S. Marshal in this town, and you best remember that." Sam jerks at my wrists, and I clutch his vest tighter.
"Rush, let go," says Jade. "You'll tear Sam's vest."
"You want it that much, you can have it," says Sam, his face stolid. He'd make a good poker player.
I smile a little in spite of myself, and let go of him. "You smart off quite a bit for a bartender, don't you," I say.
"No more than I need to," he says, straightening his vest. He's not cowed by me in the slightest.
I gulp my whiskey. "Let's go upstairs," I say to Jade.
A frown wrinkles her smooth dark brows. "No," she says.
"Why not?"
"You order me too much," she says. "And I don't like how you treated Sam."
"That's no matter, Jade," Sam says.
"Rufus never ordered me around," Jade says.
"He's weak-kneed," I say. "And I thought you forgot about him."
"I didn't say that," says Jade, as Miss Kitty walks through the batwings. "I could never forget dear Rufus. I want him so much right now I could die. I gotta go to him," says Jade.
"Jade, wait," I say, taking hold of her silky soft, bare shoulders. "You best leave Mangrove alone," I say. "He wants nothing more to do with you. He might hurt you if you show up at his saloon. He's a fool for not wanting you," I say, stroking Jade's shoulders as Miss Kitty approaches us. "If he hurts you, Jade," I say, "I could hurt him real bad. Much as I want you for my girl, when I think of Mangrove shutting you out, I want to break his neck, and I'm not a man likes killing."
"Rush is right, Jade," says Miss Kitty. "You better stay away from Rufus, or he might hurt you bad. You hounded him so he can't stand the sight of you. I'm not sayin' you're to blame. He made you love 'im, then threw you aside. He's not worth it."
"I know. He's dung," Jade says huskily. "No one wants to touch dung, right? But I do. I hate Rufus, and I love him. I must make him love me again."
Jade pulls away from me and tries to run for the batwings, and I take her in my arms. "Rush, please," she says, struggling.
"Mangrove never loved you, honey," I say. "And you can't walk on the back street in your costume. You could be attacked."
Kitty touched her palm to Jade's face. "He might attack you if you show up at his saloon, Jade," she says urgently. "Rufus might."
"Rufus wouldn't do that to me," Jade says.
Kitty looks into my eyes. "Give her some loving, Rush," Miss Kitty says. "You're ten times more good-lookin' than Mangrove, and he can't compare to you as a man."
Miss Kitty's eyes seem at that moment like the enchanting, powerful eyes of a goddess. I feel a heightened awareness of the strength I pride myself on, and an invigorating warmth surges through me. I tenderly kiss Jade, and she clings to me. I pick her up and head for the stairs, and as I carry her, I look back at Miss Kitty, drawing her power into myself.
I dream while awake, upright in my boots. Wandering the streets, I gaze at images of Jade in my head as I give her loving, and images of Miss Kitty's beautiful blue eyes looking into my dark ones.
My boot slips off the walkway, I stumble over the end of a horse trough and splash in face down. Then I open my eyes, and I'm lying on my back on the walk, with a lot of folks gathered round. Doc's face is close to mine, his hands on my shoulders.
I cough hard, choking, and Doc pulls me by my shoulders so I sit up, moves behind me, and pushes my back until my forehead almost touches my legs. I heave and gag up water on my pants, and water streams through my nose.
"I musta knocked myself out," I gasp.
Doc's small strong fingers probe my neck, then he puts his hands against my temples, moving my head from side to side. "That hurt any?" he asks.
"No," I say.
Doc moves in front of me and peers at my forehead. "What about your head," he says. "You'll have a bump there."
"It's nothing," I say. My head feeling muddled, I scan the crowd surrounding us. "Where's Chester," I say, not knowing why I say it. If Dillon tripped over a horse trough and almost drowned, I doubted he ask for Chester. Not that Matt Dillon ever is befogged about anything, and he surely never is clumsy enough to fall into a horse trough and knock himself out.
"Chester's visiting Matt at my office," Doc says.
"I'd a pulled you out the trough, Deputy," a cowboy says. "Only Doc got to you before me. He dragged you on outa there fast before anyone could help 'im, and put his hands together and pumped on your chest, and water spouted out your mouth and nose."
I look at Doc still looking at me. "How you managed that, I can't imagine," he says. "There're easier ways to take a bath if that's what you wanted."
As my head clears, shame sweeps through me like fever. I look at my hat floating on the water. "My gun won't shoot right now," I say, and quickly stand up. The folks drift away when they see I'm alright. "Thanks, Doc," I say.
Doc nods soberly as though I've said something of consequence, and walks on his way. I calculate Doc would save anyone's life, and maybe that cowpoke would, too. Dodge won't accept me because the doctor rescued me from drowning in a trough. Follks will think me a fool, more likely. I am beholden to Doc, though. I figure after all he didn't think on pushing me down the stairs when he kicked me out of his office.
The thief who stole from Jonas' cash drawer spends three days in jail, then I release him, give him his gun and order him to leave Dodge. When Ness protests he has no horse, I escort him to the stage, paying for his trip out of the marshal's till. "Get off wherever you want," I tell him. "Just don't come back here."
An outlaw wanted dead or alive takes Ness' place in the jail. At the Long Branch passing the time with Jade, I recollect Gore Polk's hard features and glittering eyes from the circular, draw my gun, and arrest him.
"I'm gonna kill you," Polk growls as we head for the jail. I soon realize he's not just growling from anger. Polk has a voice like a mean dog snarling, and he's always riled.
He's not as tall as me, nor as big. I took his gun, a wicked-looking blade, and two sets of brass knuckles from him. This dog has no teeth or claws.
"You go loco on me, I'll blow your head off," I say. "Poster says you're wanted alive or dead. That means I can shoot you whenever I want to, and the State'll thank me."
"Shoot me now so's I ain't gotta hang," says Polk. "Get it over with." I think he means it.
"I don't like shooting men, Polk," I say. "Not even men who act like vicious animals. You cross me, though, I won't hesitate."
"You best shoot me, now," he says, "cuz I'll kill you if you don't."
Reading one of his frontier penny books, Chester lays on the bed in the marshal's office.
"We got a mean one, Chester," I say, as I walk Polk through the doorway at gunpoint. "He's wanted dead or alive."
Holding his book, Chester sits up and looks at Polk. "I'm gonna kill you," Polk growls at Chester.
His eyes a bit wider than usual, Chester looks at me, and I smack Polk's head. "Roof," says Polk. I tense, waiting for him to lunge at me, but he doesn't. He's not as dumb as he sounds.
Chester takes the jail key from its peg on the wall, unlocks the door to the near cell, and opens it wide. Looking at Chester, Polk's tight mouth twists, and he pauses in front of the cell. "Hah," he says at Chester.
I shove Polk hard, and he stumbles inside and falls on the bunk. Chester closes the cell door, and turns the key in the lock. "You mock up your face like that again, I'll break it," I say. "And don't say "Hah" no more."
"I'm gonna kill you both," says Polk.
When I pondered later on how Polk got his hands on me, I blamed Rufus Mangrove, the man Jade couldn't stop wanting any more than a drunk can let loose of a whiskey bottle. Miss Kitty said Jade decided on a shotgun wedding with Rufus, only she used a derringer.
"She walked down the back street in her Long Branch outfit," Kitty told me. "You warned her what might happen to her if she went dressed like that. Jade said a drover grabbed her, and she was already so mad at Rufus, she pulled the derringer out of her bosom and pounded the drover with the end of the gun barrel. He called her a dirty harlot and ran off, so she threw a rock at his head. Hit 'im square on, too," Kitty smiled.
"Jade should've killed 'im," I said.
"Yeah," said Kitty. "But she didn't wanna go to prison. Anyway, she told Mangrove she'd kill 'im if he didn't marry her, and he said he'd been a fool to throw away a wildcat like Jade; if she was spirited enough to hold a gun on him, he had to have her. So they went direct to the courthouse and married. She quit here and went to work with Rufus at the Back Street Saloon."
I think about Miss Kitty since I lost Jade. I want Kitty, but know she's no easy take like the saloon gal Frannie.
Chester has gone to see the marshal at Doc's, and I wonder if I should fetch Doc to take a look at Polk. He's lain unmoving on his back all day with his eyes closed, seemingly in a deep sleep, not waking to eat or drink.
"Polk," I say. He doesn't stir. My gut tells me he's faking it, though I don't know what trick he's playing. I'm uneasy with Doc getting close to examine him.
Miss Kitty's blue eyes fill my mind, and I lean back against the cell bars, trying to clear my mind and think what to do about Polk. I want direction from Dillon, yet he'd never seek advice from me if I lay convalescing abed instead of him. Matt would know straightaway what to do.
I sigh and shut my eyes a moment, seeing Kitty's face behind my lids. I think later that I wouldn't have acted such a fool if Rufus hadn't broken it off with Jade to begin with. I'd not have entangled myself with her, which left me weak and craving Kitty when Jade went back to Mangrove. It's his fault, the worm.
I don't sense Polk sneak up behind me. His belt is of a sudden tight around my neck, and the back of my head slams against the bars. My fingers scrabble at the belt as he squeezes tighter. No bigger than most men, Polk is stronger than his size. I feel his iron grip through the leather as I choke, struggling wildly.
My vision dims as I lose strength, and I hear the front door open and close as though from far away. Chester's limping gait on the floorboards reaches my ears; he shadows the doorway, then disappears.
"I'm gonna kill 'im," Polk growls, his grip on the belt loosening slightly in his distraction.
My vision clears as I gasp in a chestful of air through my burning throat, and slip two fingers of my right hand under the belt. Polk yanks the belt tight, and my fingers dig into my skin.
Chester rushes through the doorway with a shotgun, thumbs back the hammer, and presses the barrel against Polk's ribs under his arm. "Turn 'im loose," Chester says.
I shift my eyes to the side. Chester's brown eyes look nearly black and cold to their depths.
Polk says, "Go on and shoo—" The shot cracks out, and the belt falls from my neck. I hear Polk hit the floor.
My legs fold and I slide down against the bars and sit on the floor, holding my neck and coughing. Chester helps me to a chair at the table. "I'll get you some whiskey," he says.
"He dead?" I rasp. My throat feels raw, and my neck burns.
"I think he is," says Chester, filling a coffee cup with whiskey to the brim. "I gotta check though afore I go for the undertaker to bring his wagon."
Chester takes the jail key from its peg, and I hear him unlocking the door. I gulp the whiskey, and squeeze my eyes shut as it scalds my ravaged throat on the way down. "He's dead," says Chester from the jail.
He hangs up the key, limps to the door and puts on his hat. I fill my mouth with whiskey and gulp again. As it burns through my chest and gut, the pain in my neck and throat dissolve and my nerves relax.
"Thanks, Chester," I say. He nods. I slurp from the cup, and a lightness swirls through my head. "You got a way," I say hoarsely, slurring a little. Chester waits patiently by the door to hear me out.
Another big swallow of whiskey. Chester's eyes have returned to normal, mild and guileless. "Yep," I say. "A way."
"I best get to the undertaker's," Chester says.
"You don't want no whiskey after what happened?" I say.
"I don't need none."
"That's what I mean," I say. "I'd need whiskey if I was the one shot Polk and you were the one bein' strangled."
Chester looks troubled and confused. He doesn't understand what I'm getting at. "Fellers choked me up once through the bars," he says. "Looks like Polk done you a lot worse'n what them men done to me."
I drained the cup, "Thing is," I say, "I think you'd save me if I was anyone else. I know Doc would. And that cowboy who was by the horse trough when I fell in. But I'm much obliged to you, Chester," I say, feeling a tightness in my throat that has nothing to do with the strangling. I hold my mouth steady and blink hard. "Much obliged," I repeat, with no quivers this time.
I was once on a riverboat in choppy water. The room feels like that boat, swaying.
"I gotta go," says Chester. "You best lay down a spell."
I blink at him, feeling light yet weak and awkward. He moves to the table, and helps me to the bed. "At least you folks don't wanna kill me," I say. "I reckon times a man must content himself with that, Chester."
Chester lifts my legs onto the bed and covers me. "Mr. Dillon's comin' back, today," he says looking down at me. "Soon, I expect. Nothin' to worry on."
"Not for you," I say. "You're too good to worry. Must be nice." Chester gives me a benign look, pats my shoulder and leaves. I sleep.