Chapter 4 – Shootout
AN: Grace, Matt makes his appearance in Chapter 5. Again thanks to all I can't thank personally for your reviews.
Trent Wellington thought his father gave him the best present yet, even better than bringing him to Dodge City. As they left the upstairs room he kept his arm around the waist of the young woman who'd shown him what a man needed to know. He'd never experienced anything so thrilling in all his 16 years like the previous 15 minutes. It far exceeded seeing Deputy Haggen deal with that drunken cowboy. It even topped sharing with his new friends everything else his father paid for this evening - his first pitchers of beer at the birthday party, complete with cake, Miss Russell, the saloon's owner, threw him.
The teen and young woman barely reached the landing when angrily shouted accusations and the crash of broken glass and furniture assaulted their ears. Trent pulled Holly toward the railing so they could watch the scene unfolding below them without being seen. She clung closer to her companion as, following a short lull, three antagonistic groups of cowboys simultaneously drew their pistols to begin firing at each other and anyone else with the bad luck to be within range of the flying lead.
The barrage of bullets lasted less than a minute, a hidden signal stopping the melee as suddenly as it began. The relatively healthy among the combatants and spectators moved as one to return to their original spots at tables or the bar as if the carnage was part of an elaborate stage play. Only, once the smoke dissipated to reveal a bloody battlefield of dead and wounded, it proved all too real. Gradually, those who were still able sneaked off one at a time or in small groups, as if they were never there. It didn't matter anyhow. Marshal Dillon was elsewhere. His fulltime deputy lay slumped over by the bar, having been caught in the crossfire while his tall, young part-time assistant had his hands full in the jailhouse babysitting the drunks sleeping it off in the cells.
"C'mon Holly, I've got to find my pop. Looks like the gunplay's over," Trent said as he roused himself from the hypnotic effect of the panorama that had played out before them.
"I'll stay up here until I'm sure it's safe, but you go ahead," Holly replied, not quite able to shake off her fear. "Once Doc and Thad get here I'll do what I can to help."
Trent reluctantly let go of her hand to descend the stairs alone. He reached the surprisingly still upright table but only a pile of birthday cake crumbs and empty pitchers, bottles and glasses remained. There was no sign of his father, Mr. Burke or anyone else who'd occupied the table. He looked nervously around for any sign of them, his worry increasing with each passing second. Then a head topped by a derby poked out from under a table halfway across the room followed by the rest of his father. Boy and man waded through the scattered bodies toward each other to embrace in relief, Holly forgotten for now.
Glad neither was hurt the visitors from Chicago visitors surveyed their surroundings. They barely noticed a short elderly man shuffle through the batwing doors, a black bag in one hand, and cross the room to the bar. Their eyes were focused on the tall cragged-faced bartender's attempt to rise to his feet seemingly impeded by Deputy Haggen. Trent, excitement welling up inside, pulled his father along until they were close enough to hear what the deputy, barkeep and old man were saying.
"Festus, get out of the way, you clumsy oaf," the short, gray-haired man growled as the deputy stumbled in his attempt to rise. "You're in Sam's way. If you don't', you just might crush Kitty!"
"Doc, don't be so hard on Festus. Both of them could have been killed protecting me," Kitty exclaimed rising to her feet once her two heroes could brace against the bar to keep them semi-upright.
"That's tellin' the ol' scutter what fer, Mz Kitty," Festus managed to quip while attempting to hide a bleeding right shoulder. "Matthew would never forgive Sam an' me if'n we hadn't a been here ta keep them bullets from yah. It's nothin' but a scratch, yah quackety-quack," he added to annoy the doctor.
"Oh, pshaw. Sit down before you fall down, Festus. You too, Sam!" Doc added as Sam made a feeble attempt to stand without aid. "Kitty, get one or two uninjured regulars to fetch as many clean bandages from my office and from your girls' petticoats as they can carry while you boil water so I can sterilize my instruments. There's far too many needing immediate treatment. I declare the Long Branch a hospital."
With that pronouncement, the Wellingtons joined the other recruits helping to arrange chairs and tables so the crotchety physician could examine his plethora of patients. Eight men, six of them Texans, and one of Kitty's girls were dead. Alas, Moss Grimmick and Wilbur Jonas were the other two. Doc didn't relish having to tell their wives. However, with Matt still out of town, it fell to him. That would come later. Making use of what he had in his medical bag, he set about the task of saving, with Kitty's help, those he could, whether they were transients or local citizens.
In a show of solidarity the able-bodied kept Doc supplied with all the medicines and tools he needed. They gathered cots for those who couldn't simply be patched up and sent on their way. Not all the wounded accepted the situation as graciously. Many complained they were being ignored because were more favored. Burke groused when Doc, after applying four stitches to his upper left arm, sent him home to rest rather than to one of the few available cots. The freight office manager believed he was more deserving than his more seriously wounded friend Halligan. Sam and Festus by contrast belittled their wounds. Now that the bullets were removed they lay semi-conscious on two of those cots.
Thad Greenwood locked the jailhouse before racing down the street toward what sounded like a warzone to burst upon a chaotic scene when he stepped through the batwing doors to assert his authority. Maybe his six-foot four inch height or simply that young as he was he was the only representative of the law available caused the men and girls milling around in the saloon to heed him when he spoke.
"Holly," he said spotting the blond saloon girl who hadn't moved from her spot on the balcony. "See if anyone's in the upstairs rooms. If they are, bring them downstairs with you if they're able."
Doc and Kitty were still treating the severely wounded when Thad began asking how the whole mess started. He didn't get as far as he hoped with those still in the saloon and able to talk. All Thad learned from the Texas cowboys, gamblers, drifters, locals and two respectable visitors seeking entertainment still in the Long Branch was that the Three Forks, Bar K & Lazy S drovers began the melee that as if on cue escalated from punches and kicks to bullets flying in all directions leaving the dead and injured for Doc and Kitty and Thad to deal with.