Although not forceful or vindictive, Chester at times took a potent aversion to a lawbreaker. Matt worried that if locked up again, Cain might bide his time, waiting for the shadow of a chance to strike like a rattler and spew his anger on Chester yet again. Chester lacked the shrewdness, reflex and sureness to safely jailkeep Cain; and as the marshal was now too busy to see to Cain's needs in jail without Chester's assistance, Matt petitioned the judge to hear the cowboy's case on the day Doc said Cain would be recovered enough to leave Doc's office.
"Ah'm thankful you'll ride with Cain on the stage, direct to prison from court, Mr. Dillon," said Chester, "so's we won't haveta tend to 'im in jail. I'd end knockin' the venom outa him with a two-by-four, contrariwise."
"Stay away from Doc's, so long as Cain's there, Chester," said Matt. "Doc'll come here to the office to see how your wound's healing. It took me and Doc and the guard to keep you and Cain from each other's throats, those three days you mended at Doc's."
"It warn't my fault Cain fell off Doc's table tryin' ta jump on me," said Chester. He and Matt sat outside the marshal's office under the warm sun. Doc said Chester was taking longer to mend than a healthy young man should, and the sun would help cure him.
The gash on his head had scabbed though not scarred, and Doc told Chester to set outdoors with his hat off, since hot days were some time down the road. When Doc probed Chester's side where Cain shot him, Doc said the hole was open and raw deep inside under Chester's skin, and ordered him to take three spoonfuls of tonic every day instead of two.
The wound hurt when Chester moved a heap of ways, and the pain along with an unfamiliar simmering hostility made him tetchy. Doc gave Chester laudanum for the pain and his nerves, and assured him the riled feeling would go away, and he'd heal fast as he usually did, when the marshal rode with Cain on the stage, bound for Lansing prison.
"Mr. Dillon," said Chester, "I wisht you wouldn't talk like me an' that Darius Cain are the same breed, like me an' Cain, talkin' of me together with him. You and Doc done it somewhat, maybe. Miss Kitty never done it. I'm her friend like as I always been." Chester's voice was husky with feeling. "Miss Kitty knows what Cain is," he said. "She says he's a born brute, and all his talk of reforming is jest so he kin make it through the pearly gates when he dies."
"Chester, you're my friend too," said Matt. "That hasn't changed and it won't. I can't speak for Doc, but I think he feels the same. If anything I said sounded like you and Cain are of a kind, I'm sorry. That wasn't my meaning and I didn't know I was doing it. Doc will agree in a heartbeat, you ask him."
Matt pushed his hat to the back of his head, looking at Chester, who gazed straight ahead at Front Street. "Chester, you're nothing like Cain," said Matt. "You're . . . like today with the sun shining, and Cain's the night with no stars."
Chester looked at Matt. "You mean that in truth, Mr. Dillon?" Chester's voice quavered.
"I know it," said Matt.
"I guess . . . maybe I should go inside a spell," said Chester, his eyes moist.
"Alright," Matt said, and patted Chester's hand.
In the absence of witnesses, the court ruled self-defense in the deaths of ranchers Jim Malik and Anse Underwood, and sentenced Cain to a minimum of five months and a maximum of ten months in prison for shooting Chester.
When Matt rode back into Dodge on the stage after escorting Cain to Lansing, Doc was waiting alone to greet him. "Doc," said Matt. "Chester's usually here to meet me when I come in on the stage."
"Oh, Chester's doing well," said Doc. "He perked up soon as you left town with Cain, and I'd swear his injuries are already healing faster. Kitty's the best medicine for him. They're out fishing."
"Good to hear," said Matt.
"You say any parting words to Cain, did you?" said Doc, walking beside Matt to the marshal's office. "The way he poured out his heart to you, I figured you two got to be friends."
"Doc, I can't say how much I miss your wit when I'm away," said Matt. "I told Cain if he ever shows his face in Dodge again, I'll document him as a public menace and throw 'im in jail until he agrees to get out of town. It was hard, seeing what he put Chester through. I should've protected him, Doc."
"Matt, you did protect him," said Doc. "And Sam, and who knows whoever else that day at the Long Branch."
"I should've stopped Cain from hurting Chester at all."
"Chester's just fine now, and he still reveres the ground you walk on. You think you can save him from ever getting hurt, in this land and this town particular, you're expecting too much of yourself. You saved his life when you shot Cain. You're a good lawman, Matt," said Doc. "I . . . wouldn't want you to forget that."
Matt stopped in front of the marshal's office. "I'll try and remember it, Doc," he said. Doc patted Matt's arm, and turned to walk back to his rooms.
Facing Front Street, Matt dropped his traveling satchel on an outdoor chair, planted his boots apart and hooked his thumbs in his belt. He was not one to hum tunes or whistle, or he would have done both.