Detour 7
Author's Note: To the best of my knowledge there is no town or fort by the name of Wickham Creek. I just liked the name.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Matt pulled Buck to a stop and dismounted, gingerly rubbing his aching shoulder. He'd been riding for two days now and he figured he was getting close to Fort Wickham, named after a nearby stream which also lent its name to the small town west of there.
The response to the wires, Chester had sent, stated that was where the army detail had left from in search of the missing stage and its passengers. Nothing was stated to indicate why an army detail was dispatched to find a stage, but Matt had his suspicions.
Giving Buck a drink of his water, Matt patted his faithful steed on the neck, before mounting back up and riding on. Another two hours and he could see the fort in the distance. Spurring his tired mount on, he rode swiftly on, anxious to get there.
The guard, at the gate, looked askance at the tall man with his arm in a sling and dust covered clothes. But he recognized the badge Matt wore and in no time swung the gate open and ushered him in. "Where ya from, Marshal?"
"East." Was Matt's only answer. He had no real jurisdiction in this area but he didn't feel like trying to explain it. "My name's Matt Dillon and I want to see whoever's in charge here."
The young scrub faced private, with a mop of golden hair and light blue eyes, looked him up and down for a moment but stopped once again at the badge and then the glowering countenance of the lawman. "Follow me." He said in a high voice.
Matt dusted himself off the best he could as they walked and fought hard not to show how tired he was or how much pain his shoulder was giving him. He was there for information, not sympathy.
Showing Matt into a plainly furnished outer office, the private pointed to a chair. "Have a seat, sir and I'll see if the Colonel's in."
Matt nodded but made no move towards the offered seat. He didn't plan on waiting long enough to need a seat.
The young man crossed the room and knocked on the door beside the currently empty desk across from the chairs. "In." A voice called from inside the other room. Taking a quick glance at Matt, the skinny private opened the door and disappeared inside. A few minutes later, he emerged and motioned to Matt. "This way, Sir."
Matt took his hat off and walked through the door the young man held open for him into a large office which was dominated by a huge oak desk in the center with a large map on the wall behind it and a US flag just to the left. The rest of the office was bare, except for a bookshelf and a small table near one of the two windows, holding a liquor decanter and shot glasses.
"Sir, this is Marshal Matt Dillon. Marshal this is Colonel Martin Lowder." The young man introduced them.
"Colonel." Matt unsmilingly greeted the short, pudgy, balding man with the handlebar mustache.
"You're dismissed, Private Mullins," Colonel Lowder told the curious private.
"Yes, sir," Mullins snapped a salute before backing out of the office and closing the door behind him.
"Matt Dillon." Jones finally said as he looked up, and up, at Matt standing in front of him. "I've heard of you. But you're from Dodge City, Kansas aren't you?"
Matt nodded. "I am."
"What are you doing in Colorado then?" The Colonel looked intrigued. "Don't tell me you chased someone clear up here."
Matt shook his head. "No, Colonel, but I am looking for someone."
Jones pursed his lips for a moment and pointed to chair as he rose and stepped over to a small table bearing a decanter and several glasses. "Have a seat, Marshal, and tell me about it. Would you like a drink?"
Considering the grief his shoulder was giving Matt decided that wouldn't be a bad idea. "Thank you, Colonel." He responded gratefully as he lowered himself in the chair.
Lowder poured a generous amount of amber liquid into Matt's glass and handed it to him. "Best brandy to be had, this side of Dodge City." He proclaimed.
Matt said nothing. He knew the best place in Dodge City for brandy but unless he found Kitty it would never taste as good.
Lowder took his own drink and then moved back to his desk, leaning on the edge. "So, you're looking for someone. Might I ask who and what that has to do with the United States Army?"
"I'm looking for a woman, Colonel. She was on the stage that went missing." Matt took a swallow of the brandy, relishing its warmth and hoping it would dull the pain in his shoulder.
"Ah," Lowder stood back up and paced over to the window. "Why didn't you just send a wire, Marshal? It would've saved you an awfully long trip."
Matt sat up. "Then you found it?"
"Yes, sir, we did. Several days ago. All but three of the passengers were dead. And only two of the living ones were located. This woman… was she an older woman, traveling with her husband?"
Matt shook his head. "No, she's young with red hair. Her name's Kitty Russell. Was she one of the ones you found?"
The colonel dropped his head. Finally he turned back to Matt with a regretful look. "No, sir, I'm sorry she wasn't. She was the one they took."
"They?" Matt got back to his feet. "Who are they? And what do you mean 'took'?"
"Indian renegades, Marshal, run by a man called Chu'a or Snake. They split off from the main tribe and have been raiding this part of the country for the last few months. That's why the army got involved. We were hoping to find the stage and its passengers safe, but as I told you, we failed in that. Apparently they were attacked on the trail."
"And you're certain she was taken by them?" Matt's heart was in his throat. He was all too aware of the kind of treatment she might receive at the hands of desperate rebels who knew no law but their own.
Lowder sighed deeply as he nodded. "When we found the stage, it was at an old abandoned shack. There was a young woman there with her two year old son and four dead people. She told us they were attacked and the driver was shot and killed. One of the passengers took over the reins and drove them there before he too died. According to her, a red headed woman, calling herself Kitty Russell, hid the young mother and child in a crawl space beneath the cabin floor, just before the warriors broke in and took her. Miss Russell protected that young woman at risk to her own life."
Matt licked his lips and dropped his head, willing himself to hide the emotions currently flowing through him. What the Colonel said rang true. It would be something Kitty would do and he silently cursed her for doing it while at the same, he swelled with pride at her bravery.
Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the colonel. "Where did they go after they took her?" He asked.
The colonel shrugged. "The best we can tell is north, up into the mountains. The lieutenant in charge dispatched a detail to follow the tracks but they lost them in the foothills. They searched around for a couple of days but couldn't find anything. It's impossible to find any tracks up in that country."
Matt straightened his shoulders and replaced his hat on his head as he turned for the door. "Well, then I guess I'll have to do the impossible." He said as he left the office.
TBC