"Watch the windows, Chester," Matt directed, engrossed in his copy of the Topeka Daily Commonwealth. "Keep your eye out for Ranger." The marshal had strapped on his gunbelt after Doc stopped by early on his way to visit patients and told Matt that Ranger returned to Dodge House.
"Yessir," said Chester. "You want I should trail Ranger if he leaves his room, Mr. Dillon? Let you know what he's doin' and who he's talkin' to?"
"No," said the marshal. "He has sharp eyes; he might notice you."
As Matt read and sipped coffee, he heard Chester checking a cylinder and loading chambers. Matt at first thought nothing of it, as they kept one shotgun loaded. Then he realized from the sound that Chester was loading a six-gun, and Matt looked up from his paper in time to see his partner slip the weapon under his belt.
"What are you doing with the gun, Chester," said Matt.
"I got it out the desk drawer when you warn't lookin'," Chester sheepishly said.
"Well, put it back. If I need you to cover me, you'll use a shotgun. On my say-so only."
"But Mr. Dillon, I might need the six-shooter ta hand, too," Chester argued. "I kin git a purchase on it faster'n a shotgun."
Matt put down his paper, came from behind the desk, stood in front of Chester and held out his hand. "Give me the gun, Chester."
As Chester looked at him, Matt knew his friend was caught inside the turmoil of his feelings. Matt took the gun out of Chester's belt and returned the weapon to the desk drawer.
"I'll carry the shotgun, then. For when we go outside," said Chester.
"Only if I tell you to," Matt said with calm patience.
"Yessir."
The day passed with no sign of Ranger. They didn't see him on Front Street, or at Delmonico's or the Long Branch. The sun still burned brightly when Matt and Chester went to see Kitty at the Long Branch after dinner. Doc was there, and the four of them sat at a table with beers in front of them to talk things over.
"I figure Ranger either stayed in bed at Dodge House all day, or he's hiding out waiting to ambush me in the dark," said Matt.
"He's poorly from the bullet wound," said Doc. "I told him I'd come by his room today to check on him, but he wasn't there."
"Be careful walking your rounds tonight, Matt," said Kitty.
"I'll take a shotgun and go the rounds with Mr. Dillon, Miss Kitty," said Chester.
"No, Chester," said Matt.
"Fer heaven sakes, Mr. Dillon. How kin I be any use to you when yer always protectin' me?"
"Chester, you can be of use by trusting me to take care of myself."
"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Dillon, but you aint tuk care of yourself every time. You jest aint is all."
"He got you there, Matt," said Doc.
"Matt. It won't help you to stay safe if you keep quarreling with Chester," said Kitty.
"Gracious, Miss Kitty," said Chester. " 'Taint—"
"I know, Chester. You don't think it's Matt's fault," said Kitty. "But the two of you need to put what happened with that gunfight behind you so you can back each other if you need to fight this Ranger again."
"Kitty's right, Matt," said Doc.
"I know, Doc," said Matt. "I'm not ignoring you, Kitty."
"You never ignore me, Matt. I do wish you'd take heed, though."
Not knowing how to answer Kitty, Matt looked into her eyes and nodded, waited a courteous moment and said, "I'll sleep nights in the office 'til Ranger plays his hand. I calculate it won't be long before he does."
Matt walked his rounds without incident. The night air was warm and thick with moisture, and after staying indoors to escape the sun all day, folks had come out to the restaurants and saloons, to Varieties Theatre or to play pool. Sleepy and quiet during the sweltering summer days, Dodge City came to life at night, a cacophony of piano music filling the air on every street.
Chester was asleep when Matt returned to the office. His friend had dragged out a bunk from one of the jail cells, leaving the bed near the desk so the marshal and Chester would sleep positioned on either side of the windows. Chester had placed a shotgun on the floor at the head of his bed, and Matt followed suit with his handgun, still in its holster so he could easily grab hold of the gun in the dark.
The marshal figured if he attuned his ears before dozing, he could hear Ranger's stealthy bootsteps on the walkway outside and sense his presence at the window. The thought of Ranger gunning for him elicited no apprehension in Matt, and though he only meant to doze, he fell into a sound sleep.
Chester awakened when Matt lay down. Worriment for Mr. Dillon had invaded Chester's sleep, and he thought he should stay awake now, keep his ears open and his eyes on the windows.
He lay quietly in wakefulness for what seemed a long spell. Matt's deep even breathing was making Chester sleepy again, and just as a wide yawn took him over, he heard a board creak outside.
Chester dared not move or call in a hushed voice to wake Mr. Dillon, for fear Ranger would start shooting, if Ranger was even out there. Fully clad except for his boots, Chester reached for the shotgun on the floor by the bed, slowly and noiselessly rose to his feet, and aimed the shotgun at the window closest to his bed.
Inside the office the morning of the gunfight long enough to get the lay of things, Ranger would likely recollect where the bed was, and hope that Matt slept there.
Chester saw the dark outline of Ranger's profile through the window and thumbed the shotgun hammer. The metallic click woke Matt, and the finely hewn contour of Ranger's face jerked and froze. "Don't move," Chester said, "or I'll blow your head off."
Matt jumped up from the bed, leveling his six-gun at the window. "Put your hands up," said Matt, and two shadowy hands appeared in the window.
"I'm going out to get him, Chester," said the marshal. "If he moves, shoot 'im." Matt went out in his socks, took Ranger's gun from the holster and put it in the marshal's belt.
"Get inside," Matt said to Ranger.
"Can I put my arms down?" said Ranger.
"Go ahead," said Matt. Chester put the shotgun in its place against the wall, lighted the lamp, took the jail key from its peg and opened the door to the near jail cell.
"Just a minute," said Ranger. "I've committed no crime. I have a right to walk the street at night."
"I'm locking you up this time, Ranger," said Matt.
Ranger stood still in front of the cell. Mindful of his gunshot wound, Matt took his arm and forced him inside the cell, and Chester locked the door. Ranger's fingers closed around the bars as he looked at Matt.
"Doc witnessed our talk in his bedroom," said Matt. "He had his ear to the door and heard every word." Already pale from his wound, Ranger's face turned ashen under his clear brown skin, his gold eyes murky. He wore a cream silk vest and shirt and tan linen suit, and Matt and Chester saw in the lamplight that one side of his vest was bloody.
"Mr. Dillon . . . ." said Chester.
"And you threatened to shoot me and Chester when we were unarmed, if I refused to fight you that morning you called me out," Matt went on.
"That's sufficient evidence of malicious intent to lock you up until a judge hears your case. Maybe you won't go to prison, but you'll get some jail time, and I'll recommend a proviso on your release that you'll be sent to the State Penitentiary if you ever show your face in Dodge again."
Ranger's eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed like a dropped rag doll in a tangle of lean arms and legs. "I knowed it," said Chester, unlocking the cell door. "I cud see he's gonna faint away, but I figgered you for wantin' to finish yer talk howsoever, Mr. Dillon. It aint no matter; it's as much as he deserves. We done 'im a kindness by not shootin' him dead."
Matt put his hands under Ranger's arms while Chester took hold of his legs, and they lifted him and carried him to the bunk. "Ah'll go fer Doc," said Chester.
Chester could see from the softened shining cast of Mr. Dillon's eyes and the upward curve of his mouth that he was fixing to tell Chester what a good job he'd done, how highly Mr. Dillon regarded his work and such. Chester had done what he had to do, and he considered his day-to-day work nothing much. Mr. Dillon's praise embarrassed Chester while at the same time making him warm, sure and strong, and all the feelings to once made him nigh afraid to listen.
He limped fast out of the jail cell, Matt following. Chester closed the cell door and turned the key in the lock, fumbling in his hurry, then slid the key ring on its peg and sat on his bed, rushing to pull on his boots.
Matt sat on the other bunk to put his boots on. "You did good work tonight, Chester," said Matt. "I'm proud of you."
"Oh . . . well." Chester tried to repress his grin. "I best go for Doc," he said, reaching for his hat. "Ranger's a layin' back there moanin'."
The marshal stood up. "If he's making all that noise, he's not dying," said Matt.
"Doc'd want me ta hightail it up there and wake 'im though, seein' the time he spent diggin' out the bullet and nursing an' sech."
"We'd better keep Doc happy, then," said Matt.
"I dunno as he'll be happy 'bout it," said Chester. "It's what he wants is all."
"Chester," said Matt, as his friend opened the door.
Chester turned, anxious to be off to get Doc yet patiently waiting. "Yes, sir?"
"I uh . . . ." Matt put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "I just want to say we did fine by Ranger when all's said and done, and we're both alive and well. I'd say that's all that counts." Chester smiled wide and went out into the hot night. Matt heard him singing as he hastened away to get Doc.
Ranger's groaning grew louder, and Matt moved to the jail cell. Ranger had come to and was hugging his ribs. There was a spreading blood stain on the mattress.
He went quiet and still when he saw Matt. "I'm bleeding to death," said Ranger.
"You'll live," said Matt. "Doc's coming. He'll give you something for the pain. You want some water?"
"Whiskey."
"Not with that wound," said Matt. "The hole's too close to your entrails."
"Coffee," said Ranger.
"I'll fix some." Although Chester made better coffee, Matt didn't wait for him to return with Doc. Ranger's misery needed easing, and the coffee would help a little. Matt would do his best to make the coffee palatable.
END
