The Next Afternoon
Jeb Mason rode to the top of a ridge and ran his hand across his thick, brown mustache. He was vain about that mustache. It hid an ugly scar he'd gotten 12 years ago when he made his first kill at the age of 16. According to his thinking, killing a man was the first sign of manhood, a good-looking mustache was the second.
A clean-shaven, baby-faced man rode up beside Jeb. His coloring, large eyes and husky build spoke to their family resemblance. Jeb reached over and patted his 18 year-old brother's arm, "Jimmy, I sure am glad you kept to our plan to meet up." Jimmy Mason's eyes shone with admiration. "I knew you wouldn't get hung in Hays City, and killing that sheriff is another notch on your belt."
"Damn right little brother, and no more hauling hay and sweeping stables for you. You had to do that stuff when Ma was alive – you being her baby boy and all. Now that she's gone, I can learn you to be a man. To start with, it's good to see you wearing that gun I sent you. You been practicing, like I said?"
"Sure have. I had to do it on the sly so Ma didn't notice, but I can draw and hit a jack rabbit before he knows I'm there."
"Good, you'll be putting notches on your belt soon. We're heading to a small, dusty stage stop about 15 miles from here. It don't get used much. The only stagecoaches that stop there are the ones taking the long route to Topeka, but that's what we want. It stops at a little town called Tecumseh, just outside of Topeka. There ain't much there, but they got a bank. We'll rob it and then ride to Mexico and the good life. When we run out of money we'll come back and rob another bank.
"Why take a stage? Can't we just ride to that Tecumseh place?"
"Stage is better, our horses are near wore out. We'll grab us some better ones in Tecumseh."
"Jeb, I sure hope to be smart like you some day. Say, you don't think anybody's tracking us, right? I mean the law."
"Nah, the deputy in Hays wouldn't have the guts after I killed Sheriff Bates."
"What about that Marshal Dillon, I hear he's a tough lawman."
Jeb shrugged, "Dillon's reputation is a lot of made up stuff, but he might follow eventually. Thing is he'll never catch up, he don't have wings. Anyway, we'll kill the old man that runs the stage stop. If Dillon follows us there, there won't be anybody to give descriptions and such." Jeb patted his brother's back, "Jimmy, that old man will be the first notch on your belt."
Matt
Matt took a long swig of water from his canteen and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. The sun was high in the sky and he'd been riding since sun-up. He flicked the reins to continue on faster, he'd covered a lot of territory in the past two days, but knew it wasn't good enough. He saw no sign that he was closing in on Jeb Mason and his companion. Why Jeb had even picked this direction stumped him. There was nothing for miles and miles - no place to hide, no one to rob, nothing. As he rode he mapped out the territory in his head and thought hard. A small smile tugged at his lips – Jeremiah's place. Old Jeremiah Thomas had a cabin that served as a stage depot of sorts – a place for folks to clean up and get coffee before continuing on the long ride to Topeka. Jeb could be heading there. Of course he could also change directions, he'd always been a tricky type.
He pulled his horse to a stop. There was a choice to make, either follow Jeb's tracks and try to catch up, or trust his hunch and take a short cut to the stage stop. He paused for a second and turned his horse. If he headed east and forded Stone River, he had a good chance of getting to the Jeremiah's cabin before Mason got there. If he was wrong he'd just have to try to pick up Jeb's trail and start all over.
Dodge
George Parker paused behind the batwing doors of the Long Branch and scanned the room for Kitty. A cowboy reached around and pushed through, Parker stumbled in. The cowboy scowled. "Ya was blocking the way." Parker smiled weakly, recovering his footing and his dignity. He saw Kitty at the far end of the bar talking to Sam and walked over, "Good afternoon, Kitty."
"Hello George, it's nice to see you again."
"I saw a sign outside that promised free lunch with the purchase of a beer. I consider it part of my exploration of this part of the country to try it out."
Kitty laughed, "We have the best ham sandwiches and hard boiled eggs in Dodge. Matter of fact, I doubt you'll find hard boiled eggs of this caliber in San Francisco or anywhere else. Don't ask how I boil them. It's a secret."
George laughed. "Well then, I'll grab a sandwich, two of those amazing eggs and order a beer. I hope you'll join me."
"Happy to George. I'll grab one of the incredible eggs myself." She looked across the bar. "Sam, please bring over a couple of beers."
Matt
Stone River was as shallow as Matt expected, given the time of year, and he rode across with no trouble or resistance from his horse. He turned south, and took off at a gallop. A small cabin came into view on an otherwise barren landscape. An old nag was nibbling on the grass outside. When he neared the cabin, the door creaked open and a tall, but stooped old man stepped outside. He tugged on his long, grey and squinted in Matt's direction. A smile lit his wrinkled face.
"Marshal Dillon, what brings you way out here? I ain't complaining mind you. I don't see many folks, except for when the stage comes by, or I get to Dodge for supplies twice a year. Of course I'm pleased to see you in particular. I won't never forget how you stood up for me when those cattlemen wanted my land. And you and Miss Kitty – well – when my wife, Mabel died, you both were kind, real kind. Losing my Mabel was - we were married more than 60 years and …" The old man sighed and cleared his throat, "But, I got a feeling you're here on account a trouble. That's the business you're in."
Matt shook the old man's strong but gnarled hand. "I'm glad to see you too Jeremiah, but you're right, I am in the trouble business. I think a couple of men are heading here. One's a cold blooded killer."
"The other?"
"Not sure, but he's keeping company with a murderer who escaped jail - a husky man with a bushy, brown mustache. He hasn't been here yet, has he?"
"Nope, so I expect you'll be waiting for him. Come on in, coffee's on the stove."
Dodge
Doc leaned against the bar of the Long Branch and took off his hat. "Sam, it's been a long couple of days, I could use a shot of whiskey – the good stuff."
Sam filled a shot glass to the brim, "I haven't seen you around, Doc. You been busy?"
"Went out to the Carter farm a couple of days ago. Quite a scene. Mrs. Carter was in labor with twins, Mr. Carter had a broken wrist, 3-year-old Bess was feverish and their milk cow had the croup. I'll tell you something, things at the Carter place were a lot better when I left then when I got there." Doc took a sip of whiskey and looked around the saloon. "Sam, who's the man in the fancy suit sitting over there with Kitty?"
"Name's George Parker, a lawyer on his way to some big job in San Francisco. He seems to like hanging around here, but he's been bragging about his fancy job so I expect he'll be moving on to it soon." Doc rubbed his mustache, "Well, it's nice to see Kitty have something to distract her while Matt's off chasing a killer. We all worry about Matt, but Kitty worries more than anyone." Doc dropped a coin down on the bar. "Give me a refill Sam, I think I'll go say hello to Kitty and that Mr. Parker - friendly looking man."
TBC