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Part Three
The Mirror Cracks
"Now don't be surprised if I'm not around much over the next few days." J.T. looked into the fearful green eyes of Lila. "I've got me a job to do, and I intend to take it seriously."
Lila rested her small hand on his forearm, and dipped her head before speaking. "I'm proud of you J.T., but I'm a little scared too!"
"Now you've got nothing to worry about, if them Wells' boys show up, they ain't going to get anywhere near you," J.T. softly stated as placed his finger under Lila's chin and turned her face toward him.
"I'm not worryin' about me Jeremiah Branham." A slight pout formed on her pink lips. "I'm worried about you!"
"I've been taking care of myself for a while now Lila. I'll be alright. It's time I proved I'm a man whose worth his salt." J.T. pushed his shoulders back and stood tall.
"You already proved that to me. I know you rightly admire Marshal Dillon, but you got nothing to prove to him. These other men, well, I guessed it be safe to say that they've faced this kind of danger before." Haltingly she continued. "J.T., I love you, but you're just a farm boy, why do you think you gotta pin on a badge and face off with some outlaws?"
J.T.'s face hardened as he let his hand drop from Lila's arm. "I've been told all my life I ain't nothing, I ain't ever been given no kind of chance. Now you too, Lila? I'm just a farm boy; I ain't never gonna be a man like Matt Dillon?
Soothingly, Lila placed her hand on J.T.'s cheek. "That's just not true, don't you see? Why do you think we don't want you the middle of trouble? It isn't because we don't believe in you, it's because we care about you."
J.T. turned his face from her and with a choked voice uttered, "I gotta go now, Lila." He turned and hurried out the doors of the saloon. The conflicting thoughts swirled through his head much like the dirt devils swirled down Front Street. A man like Matt Dillon wasn't ever discarded or ignored. J.T. had hoped that in being around him, acting like him, would command him the same kind of respect. But hearing Lila call him "just a farm boy," a disturbing thought had surfaced from somewhere deep in his heart. He realized that what he really wanted, what he felt he needed, was to prove the marshal and everyone, including himself, wrong. J.T. Branham was something and J.T. Branham was a man who was not afraid to die to be something.
As had been forewarned the Wells' brothers rode into Dodge three days later. Hoyt Wells led the way on his brown gelding, sitting tall in the saddle, with a look of pure malice pasted on his rugged face. Harvey Wells followed, obviously a position he was accustomed to. His gaze only following the path of his elder brother, only looking at the things and people that seemed to draw his brother's attention. It was dusk when the pair made their way down Front Street, Hoyt's icy glare daring the townspeople to say anything to them, never needing a word to convey what their fate would be if they dared challenge the pair.
Burke was the first to recognize the brothers, and without delay made his way through the alley, arriving at the side of the Marshal's office. He burst through the door breathless, calling for Festus before the door had even cleared the frame.
"They're here, by God, they're here!" the freight man anxiously informed the deputy. "They come riding right down Front Street, just as bold as you please! I'm tellin' ya Festus, they're going to be trouble!"
"Burke, stop yer squawkin'! Whose here?" Festus asked as he rose from the desk chair, his spurs jangling as he made his way over to the harried man.
"Why the Wells brothers of course! Who'd ya think I was talking about?" Exasperation evident in Burke's voice.
Tugging at his whiskers, Festus thought for a moment and then replied, "Jest whar did you spy them at, Burke?"
"Coming down Front Street like I said. You gonna waste a bunch of time asking questions, or are you gonna do something about it?" Burke fidgeted from foot to foot, his apprehension apparent on his creased brow.
Squinting an eye at the flustered man, Festus retorted, "Course I'm gonna do something. That thar's my job, taint it? But what I'm fixin' to do right now is to have you go and fetch Sam and Bernie and have them get a wiggle on over chere."
"I'll get them over here alright, but I'm telling ya, we aren't a match for the likes of them two!" Burke turned sped toward the door and out of sight, on his way to summon the only help Dodge had.
Twenty minutes had passed when Burke, Sam Noonan and Bernie Fitch entered the office, closely followed by a flushed J.T. "Burke said you didn't send for me Festus, but you did, didn't you?" J.T. queried, his eyes darting about the office.
"Well, I just plumb forgot to mention yer name, J.T. Course I need ya, youse been depy-tized , aint ya!"
"I don't want special treatment Festus; I'm as much able to handle myself as any of these men!"
"Well now you little ornery..." Festus began to berate.
"Of course you are, J.T.," Sam smoothed, knowing the deputy was in no mood for confrontations. "What do you need us to do, Festus?" Sam turned the conversation back to the deputy.
"Wahl, like I sees it, these yahoos don't give a continental whether they's lives or theys dies. And they wouldn't break no sweat to take any of us out with them. Theys knows thars wanted papers on 'em, and they'll draw on any one that comes at em with their gun drawn." The group could see the deputy formulating his plan right before their eyes.
"So you planning a surprise attack, an ambush?" questioned Bernie.
"Naw, that wouldn't be right no how, we's got to stay in the law. I aim to let em know I knows who they is, and that I'm takin' em in. What happens next is bound to be their call." Festus knew his next statement would be met with opposition, at least from most of the men gathered. "They way I see it, you four is all the law that would be left in Dodge iffin' something was to happen to me, so I wants you to stay back, let me face them muggins."
Immediately Sam and J.T. began to voice their protest. "Festus, we knew what we were getting into..." Sam began, before he was cut off by a livid J.T. "There ain't no way in God's green earth we're gonna let you face them Wells brothers alone! You're gonna need steel behind you Festus, and you know it!"
"I don't know nutthin of the sort. Who's ta say them mudsills won't give right up or skedaddle out of town soonst as they is called out?" a less than convincing Festus challenged.
"You know it, and so do we. They'll put up a hell of a fight before they let you take them in," Bernie replied softly.
"Wahl, I'm in charge here, and that's just how it's gonna play, and I don't want none of you showin' up on the shoot! You place yerselfs far enough away to take them out iffin' they get me and start shootin' up the town, but else wise, you stay back." The finality was evident in the hard stare the deputy shone on each man individually.
With resignation, the men followed Festus to the dim, shadowy streets of Dodge.
The Wells brothers' location had been easy enough to find. Their horses had been tethered outside the Long Branch, and most of the other customers had suddenly realized they had more pressing matters to deal with, matters that would take them as far from the Long Branch and the dangers that had recently bellied up to her bar. With the exception of a man passed out at a table and another not far from oblivion leaning against the bar, the Wells brothers were the saloons lone customers. Kitty Russell held her usual place of court at the end of the L shaped oak bar, and Lila and two other girls sat at a table a safe distance from the outlaws. Since Sam had been called to duty as a deputy, Kitty had played bartender to the pair, a bottle of rye between them, each with a glass raised. Festus caught bits of conversation floating through the doors.
"Ta Dodge and all she'll give us!" chortled Hoyt.
"Yeah, all she'll give us," echoed his subdued brother.
"Speakin of all she'll give us, Red, come have a drink with us!" Hoyt motioned toward Kitty with his glass.
Kitty looked up from the ledger she had been perusing, fixed the men with a cold stare and replied, "I'd rather drink swill."
Hoyt began to inch down the bar toward the owner, leering at her as he did. "Now come on Red, we ain't gonna be here long, don't ya wanna get better acquainted?"
"Mister, I already know you. I see lots of men, just like you, slithering in on their bellies, letting their whiskey and their guns do the talking for them." Contempt radiated from her blue eyes.
Momentarily taken aback by the lack of fear the woman displayed, Hoyt stopped, looked around the near empty saloon and decided to play his hunch. "Well, if you're too good to drink with me and my brother, I bet one of 'em pretty fillies would be willing." Turning toward his brother, he commanded, "Harve, bring me one of them sweet young things over there." He inclined his head toward the table where the girls were sitting, but never allowed his malevolent gaze to wander from Kitty.
Just as he had surmised she would, Kitty's back straightened and she looked quickly from her girls to the man standing near her. "Leave them alone. You need company; I'll be your company."
As he began to worm his way toward her, Kitty's stomach began to lurch. Something in the man's gaze told her he would be trouble. For about the twentieth time that day, she wished Matt were home. Suddenly a movement at the batwing doors caught her attention.
"Now I reckon you best not move one more hair in that lady's direction, Wells." Festus stood just inside the doors, his single action revolver in his hand.
Both Harvey and Hoyt wells spun toward the twangy voice, hands immediately starting toward their gun belts. "I wouldn't do that iffin I twas you." Festus glared, one eye squinted. "I done got mine drawed and I'd take one of you out fer sure, and I'd give my all whilst I was going down to get the other."
Hesitantly, Harvey looked toward Hoyt, seeking direction. A brief shake of his head indicated that for now at least, the brothers would stand down. "Aw, come on now whiskers, we weren't doing her any harm. Just a couple of plumb tired souls looking for some warmth."
Warily, Festus began to make his way further into the saloon. Kitty had made her way closer to the table where the girls now stood in anticipation. "I knowed who you are, and I ain't inclined to believe you gots yerself a soul. Thars a paper over in the jailhouse sayin' who you are and what you been doin', and I'm the one whose gonna lock you in the hoosegow."
Adapting a posture of defiance, Hoyt sneered at Festus, snorting as he said, "Hunh is that a bluff or do you mean it for real play? Seems you are a might lacking in numbers deputy."
"Don't need me no numbers, got me a mighty good gun. Now real slow like, drop them gun belts, and I best not see you twitch none, or your gonna be lookin' down the barrel of this here gun."
Sam had been positioned with J.T. along the alley of the Long Branch, far back in the shadows. J.T.'s constant tapping of his foot gave the seasoned bartender insight to his state of mind. Attempting to sooth the young man's nerves, Sam leaned in and said, "No need to be nervous, J.T., Festus is as good as they come. He'll be fine."
"First off, I ain't nervous," bit back J.T., "and secondly, I got me a mind to go in there and see just what's going on. Shouldn't take him this long."
"We aren't going anywhere, remember what Festus told us. We wait." Sam put emphasis on the last two words, hoping to impart the seriousness of the command.
"Would the Marshal wait, Sam? Would he wait If he knew Festus was up against two outlaws on his own?" When Sam didn't respond, J.T. pushed on, "Well would he, hell would any man worth his salt wait?"
"You aren't the Marshal, J.T., and if we go busting' in there now, we could cause Festus more trouble."
J.T. spun toward the older man, stopping inches from his bulldog like face. "What'd you just say to me?"
Sam took a step backward, caught off guard at this sudden, unexpected outburst. Not one to intimidate easily, Sam spoke clearly, but slowly to the young man. "I said you aren't the Marshal, J.T., I said we'd wait. I won't let nothing or nobody put Festus or Miss Kitty in danger."
The swirling sensation returned with a vengeance, overcoming J.T.'s thoughts. He had heard what Sam said, but somehow it was now spinning around in his head, taunting him, sounding oddly like his father. He no longer heard the words of wisdom from the old bartender, but he heard his father's taunts, mixed with voices that sounded like Dillon's, Festus' and even Lila's. These inner voices taunted "you're not the man the Marshal is; you're nothing; you're nobody;" on and on until he was unable to take it anymore.
From what seemed like a great distance away, he could vaguely make out his name being called. "J.T., are you all right? J.T.!" But his decision had been made by the hurt and anger that the voices brought to the surface. With his hands over his ears, J.T. bolted through the shadows and onto the boardwalk, bursting through the batwing doors before anyone could stop him.
TBC
