Nine

Hootie Watson had spent ten years waiting for Homer to return from prison. The outlaw was the only link the boy had to his sister and the dreams they had shared for the future. While Fargo and Gundrum were awaiting trial in Dodge the boy had snuck into town. Late at night he had gone to the jail house window. Lying on his belly in the dirt, Hootie had whispered through the barred window. Despite his injuries Fargo had made his way to the window to talk with the child. "Don't you spend one red cent of that loot boy, you keep it safe, you hear me? As soon as Gundrum and I get out of this, I'll get word to you and I promise you kid, you'll get a fair cut. I mean to take care of you. Lois Mae'd a wanted it that way. Me and you is family now."

At night the boy would comfort himself with the image of the two of them riding together. Maybe they'd use the money to buy a ranch or head to California and he'd try to remember the plans he'd heard Fargo whisper to his sister in the dark of their room at the Lady Gay. Keeping the money safe became the paramount issue of his life and the thirteen year old boy had spent a week digging the grave to bury the loot in.

He was barely surviving on his own. He left the cabin and headed closer to civilization. He sold his horse and his dead father's pocket watch. and took odd jobs when the opportunity presented itself. The work paid poorly and barely kept his growing body from starvation. With winter coming on his future looked bleak and he knew it. He'd gotten a job as a stable boy in a small town near the Kansas border He made his nightly bed in the hay loft and ate scraps the stable owner gave him. The passing months took their toll on the child. Hootie had taken a fever and his body was nothing but skin and bones. Finally the local sheriff took control and sent the sick boy to the Mission House in Old Lebanon, Kansas. There he had been treated well and had learned to work hard and get along with others. In spite of the gentle surroundings Hootie never gave up the image of Homer coming back for him.

GSGSGS

The trio headed back to Dodge some ten days later. They waited for the weather to calm down and the snow packed trail to open up. It would be weeks before the spring thaw took the frost from the high ground and allowed the outlaws to unearth their treasure. Gundrum wasn't happy about the decision to leave the loot and return to Dodge and voiced his concern. "We got even with Dillon fer what he done to us, there ain't no need to risk our necks not with all that money buried up here."

Homer disagreed. "I still have a score to settle, I mean to put Dillon in his grave. There's a bonus too. If my plans work out, we'll all be rich men by the time we leave that hell town."

There was no arguing with Fargo when he made up his mind on something. A pure evil surfaced in the outlaw whenever Dodge City was mentioned and Gundrum knew he wasn't man enough to fight it. Hootie took Fargo's side, shaking his head at Will in disgust he tried to make him understand. "It's because of Dillon you spent ten years in prison. It's because of Dillon my sister's dead."

Though they planned to keep a low profile in Dodge City, the two outlaws had let their facial hair grow to serve as a disguise. Fargo's gray sprinkled beard made him nearly unrecognizable from the man he'd been on the last trip to Dodge. Will Gundrum had opted for a shaggy moustache to conceal his identity.

After the years in prison, nothing felt so good as freedom and the open air, so the ex-convicts had taken their time on the ride to Dodge City, spending their afternoons hunting or fishing for their evening dinner. For Hootie it was his childhood dreams come true. Homer was the brother he'd never had and he felt a sense of family at last.

They made their last camp ten miles out of Dodge; it was while Hootie was frying up a mess of pan fish that a stranger rode into camp.

He was a young man in his middle twenties cleanly dressed with a pleasant face, "How do. That fish smells mighty good." He complimented. "Got room for one more? I got me some fresh coffee grounds and a half an apple pie the wife gave me before I headed out. I'd be pleased to share in return for a bite or two of that cat fish."

"Where are you from stranger?" Fargo asked.

"Name's Ollie Newcomb, I work for Mr. Lathrop at the Dodge City General Mercantile. I'm headed for Freistadt, there's a dry goods store closing up shop there. Mr. Lathrop wants to buy out the stock."

An unnatural smile curved the line of Homer Fargo's mouth, "Welcome stranger. Make yourself to home."

"Why thank you, thank you kindly, I'm telling you, I had no desire to sleep out here alone. You can't be too careful you know." He busied himself by bedding his horse down and spreading out his bedroll.

As they ate their dinner, Fargo proceeded to question their visitor. "Nice place that Dodge, heard tell it's getting damn near peaceful these days."

"Oh that's for golly darn sure. Marshal Dillon keeps a tight lid on it. Of course he's only one man and there are plenty of bad ones out there, if you know what I mean."

Gundrum chewed on the end of a cigar a bit before replying, "Yeah, I think I catch your drift. Too bad about that Miss Kitty, from what I heard she was a mighty pretty gal. Do they know what happened to her?"

Ollie chewed and swallowed his fish before answering. "Why, Miss Kitty is still pretty, prettiest gal around I reckon. But don't tell that to the wife." Ollie laughed at his own humor and reached for more fish. "Miss Kitty makes out right well, you'd hardly know she can't see a lick."

Fargo nearly choked on his fish. It took a couple of solid thumps to his back from Hootie to loosen the food caught in his gullet. Gundrum poured his partner a hasty cup of coffee to wash down his surprise.

Newcomb continued talking as if nothing had happened, "Talk was she fell and hit her head on the safe in her office. So they say, Doc Adams kept telling her she'd get her sight back but it's been way over a month now and she's still blinder than a bat."

Will leaned forward, "Heard tell she and that badge Dillon was tight, how's he handling it?"

"Oh I guess he's with her every chance he gets. But his job keeps him busy if you know what I mean."

The thought had crossed both Fargo and Gundrum's minds to do away with the traveler for certainly he had his pockets filled with the cash from Mr. Lathrop's vault. But for some reason they both decided to apply their actions to more pressing matters. In the morning they wished Mr. Newcomb a safe journey and thanked him for sharing his pie and coffee. He in turn thanked them for their hospitality. "Mention my name to Mr. Lathrop and he'll give you a good deal on whatever supplies you'll be needing, if you know what I mean."