The Only Man I Can Trust
Chapter 9
Matt had watched as Carp left the cells. He knew he'd had the desired effect on the man, but he'd paid a heavy price for it. His ribs were hurting so badly now that it was hard to take even a shallow breath, let alone a deep one. He eased himself back to the rusty cot and carefully sat down. Eventually he found the strength to raise his feet up onto the bed and lay back. It took an effort but at last he managed to relax, close his eyes, and wait for the worst of the pain to subside.
Maybe he dozed off for a while. He could hear voices coming from out front. A man's voice that he recognized as belonging to Farrell, and a woman who he thought was Fleur. What was she doing? It sounded almost as if she was flirting with the man who Carp had left to guard the jail. He managed to sit himself up, trying to hear what was going on. The conversation got louder. He wasn't able to make out words, but from the tone, he could guess what was happening. Suddenly there came a thud, as if something heavy had landed on the floor. Then for a few moments, nothing, just a deathly silence. Not being able to see what was happening was the ultimate frustration for him. Maybe Fleur was hurt. He was helpless to do anything at all, and that didn't sit well with the lawman. A few endless minutes passed before the door to the cell area opened. He wasn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't Chester, who was somehow standing there now.
"Mr. Dillon, we're here to rescue you." Dillon's assistant gazed at him earnestly, adding "Just like I promised ya." For Chester, he seemed surprisingly calm as he went through several keys looking for the right one to open the cell door. Finally, the lock clicked back. Matt had got up from the cot and walked somewhat carefully towards Chester.
"You hurt Mr. Dillon?"
"Just a bit sore. I'll be fine."
"We've got horses outside, all ready to go."
"Chester," Matt instructed, "before we leave, put that guard in here and lock the door, and then see if you can find my gun."
"There's another man outside too. I had t' hit 'im over the head, Mr. Dillon. What ya want me to do with him?"
"Better lock him up as well."
As far as they could tell, no one outside on the street had noticed anything strange - or if they had, they hadn't raised any alarm. The three men mounted up and headed off with Tebbers in the lead.
The ride to the old nester's shack, which they planned to use as a temporary hideout, seemed long and painful for Matt. Once or twice he nearly fell from his horse. The second time Chester had come up alongside and steadied him.
"Hang on, Mr. Dillon. We're almost there."
Dillon brushed his remark off. "I'll be fine," he assured his assistant and tried to sit up a little straighter.
Once they got to the deserted farm house, Chester helped his boss inside while Tebbers went to hide the horses out back.
The shack only had one room. A tattered piece of fabric hung across one corner to curtain off a sleeping area. There was no bed or even a mattress. Instead the remnants of a faded quilt lay crumpled on the floor.
"Mr. Dillon, there's not much here to make you comfortable. I'll clean out that corner there and bring in a saddle blanket and bedroll t' make a pallet. Maybe you 'll be able to rest a spell."
Chester looked around - the only furniture in the place was two chairs and a table, and none of it looked in very good repair. He picked up one of the chairs and checked to see if it was safe to use, then he set it next to the table.
"You jest set down here, Mr. Dillon, an' I'll take care of things."
Matt was about to object - but Chester seemed to be taking charge of the situation, and this was something he wanted to watch. If he had to admit it, the ride had taken a toll on him. Sitting here watching gave him a chance to recover, as well as decide what they needed to do next.
Chester had arranged a bedroll and saddle in the corner, hoping it would at least be somewhere his boss could be fairly comfortable. Meantime Fleur had arrived and Hugh Tebbers had taken care of the horses.
Chester helped his boss over to the corner and made him as comfortable as possible, easing him onto the bed-roll with his back leaning against the saddle.
"Are y' all right there, Mr. Dillon?"
"Yes, I'm fine Chester."
"You want me to ride for Doc, or find a wagon to take ya back to Dodge, or anythin?"
"I came here to find the man who killed Sheriff Hicks, and we're not going home without him. Before all this happened, I was planning to bring Carp to you, so you could take him back to Dodge. Then I was going to get Holcombe and wait for his brother to arrive." Talking was becoming quite painful so Matt stopped to take a breath or two.
"Whatta ya want me t' do?" Chester was concerned. The marshal looked in no shape to go face the likes of Carp and Holcombe. "Maybe I could send Tebbers for Doc."
"No, Chester. You're going to need all the help you can get right here." He stopped to take a couple of shallow breaths. He knew from experience that shallow breaths wouldn't hurt as bad as breathing deeply.
"If we can take Carp, I think his followers….will not have much stomach for a fight." Again he stopped for a minute. No one interrupted. "Tad Holcombe somehow arranged for his brother to escape from prison, probably by using money from his gambling tables. We have to get both of them, Chester."
The talking had exhausted him, and Chester watched as his boss used the saddle to rest against, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He figured it was up to him now. He certainly wasn't used to taking charge - but the sooner he could carry out the marshal's instructions, the sooner they could get back to Dodge. He looked around at his two companions, still considering sending Tebbers to Dodge. Maybe he could bring back a few more men, but that could take days, and right now Carp would be looking for them, and he had a whole army of men to back him up him. Like Mr. Dillon had said, they had to get Carp quickly.
Chester had been sitting on the floor next to his boss while Tebbers and Fleur sat at the table. Vaguely he had an idea. He knew that, by this time Farrell would have told Carp that Fleur was involved - but there was a good chance that no-one knew about Hugh Tebbers.
Tebbers spoke up. "Maybe I could ride out to the Hancock ranch, Chester. He has about fifteen or twenty men working for him, and I know he'd be happy to see Carp taken down - he was a friend of Sheriff Hicks."
Chester considered his idea. "How long do ya' reckon that'd take?" he asked.
"Probably three hours each way to ride, then maybe a day for him to gather up all his men."
Chester thought that was too long. Besides, with that many men, who knew if any were friendly with Carp? "What about that telegraph operator?" He was more or less thinking aloud, "You think he could be trusted?"
"I think so," Tebbers replied. "After all he sent that telegram for the marshal and never told anyone - he got beat up for it too."
"Mr. Dillon, how long a ride is it from Hays City?"
Matt opened his eyes briefly and looked at his assistant, "Maybe a day and a half, at most, with fresh horses."
Still too long. Chester knew that by first light, Carp would have his men out searching for them. He figured they had a day at most before being found. He had an idea. It was dangerous, but that had never stopped him from helping Mr. Dillon before.
"Hugh, do you think Carp suspects you of helping us?"
"I don't think so - he doesn't like me much, but I don't think he knows I am set against him any more than other folks in town. He kinda tolerates us as long as we don't get in the way of his schemes."
Chester glanced at his boss again. He was still leaning back against the saddle with his eyes closed.
"Mr. Dillon, me and Tebbers gotta leave ya now. We got work to do."
Dillon looked up at him.
"Be careful, Chester. Remember, I need you around." Matt couldn't help but think about the last time he had let Chester go and take care of what was really his job. His assistant had nearly died after being dragged halfway across Kansas by Stobo and his friend Treavitt. Chester must remember it too, but here he was again, ready to risk his life for the marshal.
Chester let a half smile of pride invade his face.
""Miss Fleur, you stay right here and watch the marshal for me." He remembered the pistol he had gathered from the desk back in the sheriff's office, and pulled it from his belt to hand to his boss. " And Mr. Dillon, here's yer gun. Just in case they come here before we git back." Chester's gaze was unflinching. "I hope you don't hafta use it."
TBC
