Flame Series #8: Death Train

Chapter 9

The Marshal's Shopping Trip

Calleigh pulled the buggy up to the jail. It had been two days since she was released for good behavior, after Newly determined her behavior was as good as it was going to get. Today, she hopped out onto the boardwalk and held up her arms to catch the tiniest redhead. "Jump! Sissy will catch you."

Just like her sister, Hadley had no fear as she launched her giggling body forward. "Get me."

"Whoa!" Calleigh caught the child and swung her around in one fluid move. "What a brave girl. Come on, let's surprise daddy." Shifting the toddler to one hip, the older sister walked through the open door of the Dodge City jail.

Matt threw his pencil down onto the stack of papers and readied himself for the curly-headed tornado rushing toward him. He came up from his seat, with a squealing toddler in his arms.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit from both my pretty girls?"

His oldest child remained in the doorway. Neither she nor the marshal could get a word in, as the little one had taken control of the conversation. Hadley rattled off words that Matt was pretty sure that Webster fella didn't give an account of in his book. A few intelligible words surfaced, but for the most part, it was all Greek. The best they could do was respond with a few uh-huh's and ahh's, which was more than enough to pacify Hadley.

"It's not really a visit, Matt." Calleigh offered a shy grimace. "Tray Mathison caught me at Jonas' store. His brother, Tygh, broke his cast and I need to run out to their house. I don't want to take her out there, but I don't have time to take her home. Those boys are too rough for her to be around."

Matt readjusted the squirming child on his arms. "Broke his cast? You mean broke his arm."

Cool blue eyes rolled under arched brows. The young physician shook her head in a condescending gesture. "No, I meant he broke his cast. His brothers, Tray and Tipper, put it in a vice to see how strong it was. This is the third cast I have put on that boy. Like I said, I don't want Hadley around those ruffians. Can you watch her for me? I won't be long."

"What do you say?" He held the toddler higher up on his chest. "Want to help daddy marshal this town?"

Red curls bounced with every nod of her head as she agreed. "I help daddy." Finally! Words they understood.

Calleigh met them in the middle of the room, giving the little one instructions to behave and a kiss good-bye.

Matt felt his heart swell behind the badge as he held one daughter, while kissing the other. It was a reminder to the piece of tin: You may define me, but you no longer rule me. He closed the door behind Calleigh and turned around with his little charge. "What do you say we go on rounds to make sure the town is safe?"

"Sissy go wif us?" Hadley traced the letters on his badge with a pudgy little finger.

"Nope. Just you and me on this one, moppet." Matt grabbed his hat from the peg and slipped it on, before heading out the door.

"I want a daddy hat." Curious fingers moved from the badge to the Stetson.

"Didn't momma just buy you a pretty yellow bonnet?" He shut the door behind them as he stepped out onto the boardwalk.

Hadley leaned back, framing Matt's face with her hands. "Momma buyed a baby hat. Pwease daddy, I wanna a gwowed up hat. I want a daddy hat. Newie got a hat."

"Well. Baby girl, those are for big men. Pretty ladies wear bonnets. Like your momma. You've seen all her pretty hats." All ten thousand, he mumbled under his breath.

For a moment she seemed to be contemplating his words, but only briefly. "Sissy not got pwetty hats. Her got a daddy hat."

Matt looked around the boardwalk. He could convince hardened men to put down their guns, but he couldn't win an argument with his two-year-old daughter. "I got an idea. Let's go down to Jonas' store and see if he can order us a hat."

"No baby hat!" Hadley stared at him with the same sapphire eyes her mother flashed when she meant business.

"No baby hats." He promised.

The walk down Front Street was a bit of a social event for the marshal and his young lady. She was quite the charmer and attracted attention from everyone that passed by. Wilbur Jonas was no exception when they entered the store.

"Mr. Jonas, we need to order a hat." Matt looked at his daughter as if to verify his request.

Blue eyes and a streak of freckles peered up at the storekeeper. "No baby hats!" She said emphatically. "A daddy hat."

"Ahhh, I see. A cowboy hat." Jonas winked at the marshal "Sounds like she knows exactly what she wants." He reached under the counter, producing a measuring tape, pencil and paper. "Cavanaugh's' Millinery in Wichita will make one, but it's…uh-" Jonas paused letting a grimace speak for him.

"Expensive." Matt finished for him and turned to his youngest. "Hear that moppet? It's expensive."

"Not pensive hat! Cowboy hat." Frustration came quickly to the little redhead. She held her daddy's gaze, frightening him almost as much as the other two redheads when they were angry. This one was learning way too quickly.

Matt turned back to Jonas. "Start measuring. Let's get this thing ordered."

The store clerk stretched out the tape and started to work."Did you hear they're not having Sadie Nethers funeral until Friday?"

"Friday?" Matt made a face of disgust that made Hadley giggle. "That's four more days. No wonder it's a closed casket. Why are they waiting?"

"Boyle can't get here until then. I guess the whole town will be going." Jonas finished jotting down the last of the measurements. "Will you be there?"

"Probably. I'm not so impressed with Boyle, but Sadie and Clint were good people."

"True. They were a nice down-to-earth couple." Jonas turned to his customer. "All right, Miss Dillon. What color cowboy hat do you want?"

"Do you want a brown one like Daddy's, or a white one, like Newly's?" Matt waited while the tiny waif seemed to weigh her options. It put a slight touch on his pride that she hadn't chosen his right off.

Hadley redeemed herself with the correct choice. "Bwown. Like yors daddy." She thanked Jonas, like Matt instructed and the two Dillons headed back toward the jail. His little moppet babbled all the way down Front Street. Some of which, he actually understood.

"Look there." The marshal pointed to the buggy in front of the office. "Sissy's back."

No sooner had they stepped into the office, than Hadley began to tell Calleigh all about the new hat. Calleigh cast a smug grin at the marshal. "What's momma going to say about that? She says you spoil her too much already."

"I don't spoil her anymore than I do the rest of my girls." The marshal handed off his youngest to his oldest and tossed his hat back onto the rack. Calleigh had just settled the toddler on her hip, when the office door flew open.

Billy burst into the jail, more irritated than excited. He was eager to get this chore done and be on his way. "Marshal Dillon, Howie sent me to get you. Somebody needs you over to the Dodge House."

Matt stared momentarily at the boy. Why was it, he wondered, every time something happened, Billy Tandle was the one to come running breathlessly into the jail? He quickly crossed the room and retrieved his hat from the peg, as he followed the boy out. "Calleigh-"

"I know, you have to go. We'll be fine. You be careful." She had adopted that same concerned expression that Kitty always wore when Matt left to confront trouble.

Matt caressed the chubby cheek of his baby before turning back to Billy. "What happened?"

"I don't know Marshal; he just said to come get you. Can I go now?"

The lawman followed the boy out the door. He had barely given him permission to leave, when the towheaded boy took off. "Must not have been any gunplay or he would have hung around." Dillon mumbled, knowing the attraction boys had for a good shooting.

With his long legs, the marshal reached the hotel in a matter of minutes. Dusk had brought with it an eerie darkness that shrouded the Dodge House. Howie's thin frame appeared, then disappeared from view, as he paced back and forth inside the lobby. Matt hurried as he stepped up onto the boardwalk.

"Howie, what's going on?" The clerk rushed toward him in such a panic, Matt thought for sure the man was going to hug him.

"Oh, Marshal. She says someone attacked her, but I swear I didn't see anyone!" He pointed a trembling hand toward the billiard room. "I only went in there for a minute-to make sure the light had been put out. Aside from that, I never left the front desk."

"Okay." Matt held up his hands to slow the man down. Between his rapid-fire speech and shaking hands, Howie looked as if he were about to pass out. "Who was attacked?"

"That Mrs. Helton." He pointed up to the room at the back of the hall. "She started screaming and I ran up there. Her clothes were torn, her hair messed up…" Howie paused, reflecting on what he had seen. "She did look as though something happened, but I didn't hear anything or see anyone."

Matt couldn't decide if the name enraged him or frightened him. Truth was, it was a combination of both. Benita Helton was a predator, not a victim and she was after his wife. Kitty was a strong woman, but she wasn't in the same league as Helton. A battle between these two women would be like pitting a lamb against a ravenous wolf.

"Don't worry Howie; I'm sure it's going to be all right." The marshal readjusted his hat, pulling the brim down close to his eyes. There were twenty-two steps leading to the second floor of the Dodge House and not once as he climbed them, one-by-one, did the marshal ever consider this attack to be legitimate. He announced himself as he knocked on the door of room twelve.

The door opened a crack, then a little wider, revealing a frightened, disheveled woman. At least that was the image, Benita was presenting. Her blond hair was messy, but oddly, still sensual. Long, sultry lashes swept upward over tear-filled eyes that refused to spill down her cheeks. She clutched at her torn gown, letting her grip slip with each heaving breath. "Oh, Marshal I'm so glad you're finally here." She stepped aside to let the lawman come in.

"You want to tell me what happened here?" Matt looked around, taking notice of the broken glass next to the dresser and the tangled bedcover.

Benita sniffled softly, dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes as she perched herself on the edge of the bed. "I know you don't like me, Marshal and I'm sorry about the way I acted at the Long Branch."

"Let's just stick to whatever happened here." Matt struggled to separate his personal feelings from his professional obligations as a lawman.

"I knew you wouldn't help me." Now, the tears were set loose. "That man tried to attack me and you aren't going to do a thing about it."

Matt stared at the woman, surprised that the sight of this crying female had no effect on him. Especially since a single tear rolling down Kitty's cheek would cause him to melt like hot butter. "If you were assaulted, I will find out who did it." He glanced around the large room again. "Where's your husband, Mrs. Helton? Shouldn't he be here to help you?"

"He's playing poker at the Lady Gay." She stood up slowly, pulling the tattered robe over her shoulder. "I didn't want to…upset him. I thought it would be wiser to go to the law." She wandered over to the open window and pulled back the curtain. "He ran out here when I started to scream."

Matt was curious as to the real reason she had lured him up here. Was she going to shoot him? It crossed his mind that this might have been a ruse to get him out of the way, so that they could get to Kitty. That was not going to happen, at least not tonight. Kitty was safe at home with Newly and Festus standing guard.

He was becoming more curious as to her motives. It took some effort, but he managed to inflect a note of concern into his tone. "I have a few questions to ask, if you feel up to it." She responded with a heavy sigh and nodded. "Have you ever seen the man before?"

"No. We've only been in Dodge a few days." She stopped abruptly, gazing up at him with deceitful eyes and speaking in a voice that was as thick as molasses. "But you already knew that. We came in on the same train."

"Yes, I remember." The image of Kitty hanging on the side of that train came rushing back. Matt turned away quickly, before Helton could see the rage in his eyes. He walked over to the window to regain his composure. "If he went out through here, maybe there's a witness." Matt struggled to maintain a casual tone. "I'll check around and see if anyone saw him."

"Thank you, Marshal." He could tell by her voice that she was moving around the room. When he turned around he discovered her at the parlor table in the corner of the room. She had pulled out one of the Victorian high back chairs for herself and motioned for him to take the other. "My hands are still shaking I wonder if you would pour me a drink." He spied a crystal decanter and matching glasses in the center of the polished walnut surface. "Please, have one with me?"

Matt studied the woman for only a moment before pouring the two drinks. Again, she nodded toward the empty chair and he sat down.

"I heard that your wife used to own the Long Branch." She held the small glass to her lips barely taking a sip.

It seemed to be an odd question, but Matt decided to play along. "That was several years ago. Where did you hear that?"

"Oh, I forget. You know how rumor mills go in a small town." Helton pulled her chair a little closer to his. "That must have been interesting, owning such a lively place."

"I broke up my share of fights. That's for sure." He toyed with the glass without actually drinking the whiskey.

Helton leaned forward allowing the torn robe to slip just enough to reveal most of her bare breast. "Do you miss it? I mean the wild nights." Matt felt as if she were devouring him with her eyes. "I know how boring being married can get-especially if you've been used to a more exciting nightlife. One not constricted with children."

The marshal settled back in the flimsy, spindle-legged chair. He was being seduced! So that was her plan. He sat the full glass on the table. "Being married is different, I will agree." He watched as her long, slender fingers played across his thigh.

"Arthur and I enjoy a…free…open…marriage." The robe hung so loose now, nothing remained hidden.

Matt's gaze barely skimmed across the blond's generous display. Pinching her wrist between his thumb and forefinger as if it were diseased, he pulled it from his leg and dropped it back into her own lap.

"Kitty and I…don't!" He rose to his feet, looking down now at the pathetic creature "Maybe your husband wouldn't be so quick to share-if he had what I have."

Matt turned to leave the room. He was not surprised to hear the shattering of glass, as it hit the wall beside his head. The smell of whiskey permeated the air and he knew that the heavy crystal decanter had died a valiant death. The screams that followed him down the hall were not those of a helpless female victim, but the vicious threats of a woman scorned. Arthur Helton was wrong; this time, his wife took rejection very personally.

Howie hurried around the desk. "Oh, my, she really is angry now!" He wrung his hands anxiously, his eyes drawn in the direction of the shrieking woman. "What should I do?"

Matt readjusted his hat, this time pushing the brim back on his head. "Do what I'm doing, Howie. Ignore it." He offered the frightened man a smile and walked out of the Dodge House.

TheDillonsTheDillonsTheDillons

The youngest Dillon slept soundly in her daddy's arms. He stood up slowly, so as not to awaken her. A glance to his right revealed his wife and son, nestled together, asleep on the sofa. The book Kitty had been reading to Cooper rested on her chest, face down. A contented smile crossed Matt's lips, as he made his first trip up the stairs in order to tuck his daughter in for the night.

When he returned to the living room, he was careful to pull Cooper from Kitty's sleeping embrace. The boy barely stirred as his father climbed the steps again. Matt pulled the covers over his son, just as he had done with the boy's sister. Before making his final trip, the marshal visited each of the sleeping children just one more time.

"Constricted," Matt repeated to himself, as he started his final run downstairs. What an odd word Benita Helton had chosen. When his children hugged him, he felt loved; needed; wanted, anything but constricted.

Matt knelt beside the sleeping redhead, letting his fingers brush through her fiery locks. Helton's words echoed in his head again. Free, open marriage. The marshal released a haughty snort. "Share her? Not on your life."

Kitty stretched out in the space that had been filled by Cooper. She licked her lips, leaving them slightly parted. That simple sleepy act rendered Matt weak in the knees. It was her pure heart that endowed her with a sense of innocence, despite all she had endured over her lifetime.

"Kitty..." His voice was as soft as the kiss he left on her cheek. "Come on, sweetheart. Let 's get you to bed."

She roused only enough to wrap her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a sleepy kiss. Even half awake, this woman could bring his body to attention. Matt stood up and gently pulled her to her feet. She leaned into him with his arms circled around her waist. His lips brushed along her neck, coming to rest by her ear. "Ready for bed?"

He could feel her smile inside the kiss. Her hands slid down his body coming to rest on the hardness that she had created. "My goodness, Mr. Dillon. Isn't that uncomfortable?"

When he laughed, she could feel his breath on her face. "Very, Mrs. Dillon. Can you help me with it?"

Kitty stepped out of his arms and pulled him toward the stairs. "I think I have just what you need.."

HMZHMZHMZHMZ

Hobie Newsom balanced his size nine boots on the narrow railroad track. He held his arms straight out for balance, as his heavy frame wobbled back and forth with each step. Today was going to be his turn to face the train. Zeke Pilser and Myron Franks had already done it and Hobie wasn't going to be the only boy in their secret club to chicken out.

The White King Boys wasn't much of a club. The name came off of a box of soap that Zeke found on one of their reconnaissance trips along the tracks. All three of the boys were impressed with the picture of the king on the front of the package and quickly adopted it as their moniker. It didn't take much to impress three nine-year-old boys-with too much spare time and too few brains to split between them.

Even their clubhouse was nothing but a dilapidated tool shed, with two of the walls leaning so badly that the boys had to stoop over just to enter the door. Still, the rickety shack was good enough to hold all their treasures, most of which had fallen from the trains.

None of the boys would ever forget the discovery made today. As Hobie wobbled along the rail, Myron and Zeke had gotten into a shoving match and the smaller boy went tumbling over the bank. When he landed in the gulley below the train trestle, Zeke was terrified to see that he was sharing the spot with a half-rotted corpse.

TBC