Chapter Four: The Train

It was the smile Matt hated. It was the smile that damn near had him using a rifle butt on Tonneman's face, but Festus' cautioning hand on his arm pulled him back from the brink. The four men started their walk from the jailhouse to the train, heading slowly down the middle of Front Street as the citizens of Dodge drew back onto the wooden sidewalks, peering out through doorways and windows as the men passed – their fear and hatred was palpable, and Tonneman just kept smiling. He walked, shackled hand and foot, with Festus a few feet away on one side and Newly on the other, both men scanning alleys and balconies for trouble. The deputies carried Winchesters and wore gunbelts. Behind Tonneman Matt Dillon walked slowly with a short-barreled 12-gauge scattergun held in both hands and pointed directly at the prisoner – his intention was to fire at the first sign of trouble. Brad Tonneman was going to board that train or die, and Matt didn't care much which it was.

Matt contemplated briefly the consequences of tripping and letting off the gun. He gave himself pretty good odds on his reputation carrying him through the 'accident' without discredit. Years as a lawman kept him walking steady. He glimpsed Kitty standing outside the Long Branch, Doc to one side with a hand on her arm and big Sam Noonan looming over the two of them from behind. Matt didn't turn his head as their slow march passed the saloon and continued on to the station.

There was never an intention of taking Tonneman into a passenger car. The state of Kansas had agreed to add an extra caboose to today's train, siting it midway down the train with sealed freight cars fore and aft. Newly entered first, checking out the small main room and the tiny attached kitchen and toilet facility. When he gave the all clear, Dillon nudged Tonneman forward up the stairs and into the car. Inside the door a small open bunk lay on either side of the narrow center aisle with the brief open space beyond occupied on one side by a table and two chairs and on the other by the stairs up to the lookout seat with its windowed and timbered cupola for viewing the track ahead and behind.

The first thing was to lay Tonneman out on one of the bunks and use extra handcuffs to attach his shackles to the sturdy frame at hands and feet. The back door and the heavy wooden door to the kitchen area were both bolted and locked. Festus took a seat on the remaining bunk and Matt traded him the scattergun for his rifle. Newly headed up to the lookout seat, and Dillon stood foursquare in the doorway until the conductor came by to confirm they were ready to travel. With the front door locked, Matt sat down at the table, rifle in his hands, and settled himself to endure the first part of the trip.

The prairie flowed past. The three men guarding the prisoner changed positions after an hour. The first few stops were weathered without incident, but no one relaxed. Dillon was sure there would be an attempt on the train. He was prepared to shoot the prisoner, bound as he was, rather than release him. His only surprise was how quickly things happened. He hadn't expected the attempt to come until nightfall, and he'd expected it to come while the train was in motion. He'd been wrong.

When it came down to it, it was tragically simple. All of their preparations were for naught because no one tried to break in and rescue Tonneman; they just made it impossible for the marshal and his deputies not to give him away. Whoever planned Tonneman's rescue knew that Dillon couldn't let another family burn.

"Sumthin's a-goin' on up t' th' water stop, Matthew," Festus called down from the cupola, and Matt took three steps up the stairs until he could look out through the windows. What he saw stopped his heart – bodies tied to a stake and a fire ready to flame. What the engineer saw started him stopping the train – a wagon of women and children pulled across the track.

"Festus, you stay up here and keep your head down," Matt said. "You stay no matter what happens and just watch. If you can live through this, you're our ace in the hole." He grasped his friend's arm, hard. "Festus, I need you to do something you're going to hate, and I need you to do it because I ask you. I can't explain and I can't argue."

"What's that, Matthew?"

"I need you to give me your word that you'll take care of them. And to do that I need you to be a coward today. You do that for me, old friend, and you can tell Kitty I died well."

"You're a hard man, Matthew Dillon," the hillman said, his eyes squeezed nearly shut, "I'll do 'er. You have m'word."

The train had almost stopped when Dillon descended and pulled the handcuff keys from his pocket. He began releasing the smiling Tonneman.

"What is it, Marshal?" Newly asked, "What's happening out there?"

"We have to give up the prisoner. They're going to want me, too," Matt said.

"There's three of us, Marshal, we can take them…" Newly began, but Matt shook his head, pulling Tonneman to his feet.

"No, Newly, we can't. Not this time." Dillon told him, "Part of winning is knowing when to quit. You tell Kitty I love her. And Doc too. Stay alive for me so you can do that."

"Yes, sir." Newly replied, not knowing what else to say.

Matt grabbed Tonneman's arm and pushed him out the door onto the back platform of the caboose. A heavy wagon, hitched to a double team, pulled up next to where the two men stood. A woman and a young girl cowered in the back. Almost directly in front of them, as if someone had known their car's exact position in the train, a tall post was set into the ground. Another woman and two children were tied back to back around it. Brushwood was piled deep around the pole, and men with torches stood mere feet away – close enough that any shot would drop the torches into the pyre. The woman and one little boy had bright red hair.

Tonneman jumped lightly down into the wagon bed. "Come on down, Marshal," he invited, still smiling, "We're going for a ride." Matt stepped steadily down into the wagon, and watched as two men brought the engineer forward from the front of the train.

"Now, Marshal, you tell that man to drive the train on to Topeka," Tonneman told him. "You tell him there will be men watching up ahead, and that if he stops, if he even slows down, that my men here will light up this fire and these fine folks will burn." Tonneman looked up into the Marshal's eyes and smiled, "You had enough of burning children yet, Marshal?" Dillon looked straight into his eyes, expecting to see madness, but all he saw was hate.

His voice calm, and loud with authority, Matt gave the engineer his instructions.

"You ready to die, Dillon?" Tonneman asked with pleasant malice.

"Let the women and children go, Tonneman. You don't need them anymore. I won't fight you. My word on it." Matt said bluntly.

"Oh, you're not quite as important as you think you are, Marshal. I may need hostages yet to get out of this."

"You'll have me, you don't need them." Matt said.

"But you, Marshal, will be dead," Tonneman told him, drawing the marshal's own gun from the holster at his side. Matt Dillon stood tall and still. There was a gunshot and a rush of blinding pain as the world went black around him. Watching and listening in horror, Newly and Festus both saw him fall as the train pulled slowly away.