Texas Red

Chapter 10

The square was uncannily quiet as Dillon walked towards the crumbling, dried up fountain. He had the feeling that a dozen pairs of eyes were watching him, but there was only one person on his mind, Red Larson - the man who had killed his friend and fellow lawman, John Hicks. Hicks and his deputy had been murdered, shot in the back without a chance to defend themselves. It was now Dillon's job to bring the killer back to face whatever justice the law imposed. He hoped it would be hanging. If it was, he would be there to watch.

The marshal stood with his feet a little more than shoulder width apart, solid, well balanced and alert. Every fiber of his being was ready. His arms hung loosely by his sides. He didn't allow himself to tense up because that would only hinder the speed with which he could pull his gun from its holster. He may have flexed his fingers a time or two - but wasn't consciously aware if he did. A movement a little to his right caught the periphery of his vision, but he didn't turn immediately to face it.

"I'm here to arrest you Larson."

Slowly the killer came more clearly into his line of sight. "I'm taking you back to Kansas to face trial for the murder of Sheriff Hicks and his deputy." Dillon's voice was powerful and strong. It seemed to reverberate throughout the small square.

"No-one's taking me anywhere. I'm telling you that I'm the fastest draw that ever was. Even you can't take me."

Dillon ignored the words. "Throw down your gun!"

Matt's eyes were focused on his prey now. He didn't move, he just watched.

His quarry began to laugh. "Enjoy your last few seconds, Dillon. Look around you. This is my town and no one's going to take me away. This will be the last thing you see." While he spoke he swept his left arm around in a wide arc, encompassing the whole village as his kingdom.

Dillon watched without moving. A slight narrowing of his opponent's eyes, an almost imperceptible twitch of his fingers, would be all the warning he'd get. He wasn't distracted from his task by Larson's words or actions. He only watched. Then it happened. At lightning speed, Larson drew his gun.

Matt knew it was coming, he was holding his breath as his hand automatically went to his holster. It was just like in his dreams except now it was all real. Smoothly the Colt slid from its resting place. The marshal's eyes remained fixed on his opponent while his fore-finger encircled the trigger. He aimed and fired, all in one smooth motion, without consciously controlling his movements. It was a deadly reflex action honed by many years of practice. Larson felt the thud in his chest as the marshal's bullet found its target. He tried desperately to hold on long enough to fire another shot, somehow managing to point the gun at Dillon. A second bullet was already on its way from the lawman's Colt. When it found its mark alongside the first one, the gun that Larson had been holding fell from his hand. In final surrender, the killer collapsed quietly into the dust.

Dillon didn't like killing. He hated being judge, jury, and executioner, but sometimes that's the way the responsibility of this "job without pleasure" played out.

He stood there for a moment, vaguely aware of a burning sensation around his left ribs. There was no movement from Larson. Dillon had been holding his breath and slowly exhaled before walking over to the body. He kicked the gun away from the now lifeless hand, then noticed other people milling around. They had come out of their dwellings and hiding places to see the man who had tormented their lives for so many months. At last their ordeal was over and "Rojo" lay still in the dust. They were in awe of the tall man with the badge on his chest. No one had ever witnessed a faster draw. They'd thought that Rojo could never be beaten. Several came up to Matt to shake his hand and thank him for saving them from the evil that had come to their village. One pointed out the small streak of blood on his torn shirt. It wasn't bad, he knew that. He was more distressed by the thought that he had taken yet another life.

As Dillon turned to head back to the small church he heard the bells ringing. Not the constant repetition of one note as had rung out the evening before. Now it was a peal, many bells, each sounding its own individual celebration of life.

Raquel was waiting in the kitchen behind the church. She hadn't been able to watch the drama playing out in the square, so much of her life depended on the outcome. Father Francis had stayed with her, just in case he'd had to take her away from Agua Fria as he'd promised the marshal he would. Now he and Father Patrick were ringing the bells. It was a joyous occasion and they wanted the whole village to know that Rojo was gone for ever.

Dillon sat down heavily in the chair where he had eaten breakfast less than an hour ago. It was over. For the first time in months there was nothing weighing on his mind. He felt very tired now, but at least knew that if he slept the dreams wouldn't return.

"You are hurt Señor?" asked Raquel. She had noticed the torn fabric stained with blood. Matt looked down as if noticing it for the first time.

"Its only a scratch," he replied, examining his shirt.

The priests returned from ringing the bells. Dillon allowed Father Patrick to clean the wound on his side. Fortunately it was just a graze. The padres and Raquel persuaded the marshal to stay one more day in Agual Fria so the people could show their gratitude.

That evening there was music and dancing in the square. Even the crumbling fountain seemed to have suddenly come back to life and water flowed from it once more. The whole town had found new meaning in the aftermath of tragedy.

()()()

Ten days later

Matt sat back in his chair at the familiar table in the Long Branch Saloon. Earlier in the afternoon he had climbed down from the Overland Stage, and headed towards the jail. No-one was there to meet him - but that wasn't surprising since he'd had no opportunity to send a telegram. The office was empty - even Chester wasn't around. He dumped his saddle on the floor behind the door and laid the well worn saddlebags on the table. The long ride home had given him time to think about all the turmoil Red Larson had caused in his own life. He knew he hadn't been fair to Kitty - or Chester and Doc come to that. Hopefully he could set things right now that he was home. There were other lives that had been affected by Larson's evil ways too. He thought about the young woman with the child he had seen in Santa Fe. If he could claim the reward posted for Larson, he would see that she got the money. And then there was Raquel. She had decided to stay in the village to take care of her grandfather. The priests from the church of Saint Isidro would help her recover from Larson's cruelty. They were caring men and would help the whole village get back on its feet.

()()()

Dillon felt more like himself again. On one side of him sat Kitty Russell with a smile on her face that would not be still. Just the other side of her Doc Adams was enjoying a shot or two of whisky. Chester was sitting to his right - trying to get details of what had happened in Agua Fria. As usual Dillon didn't have many words to say on the subject - he was tired from the long stagecoach ride, but happy to be home.

He leaned back in his chair and took time to look around the table. The people sitting here were his closest friends - almost family. He had vague recollections of his childhood family, but those memories were buried too deep to have much influence on his life today. He never thought when he rode into Dodge City, several years ago, that he would come to think of this place as home, but that's what had happened. Dodge City was a wild town - especially during the cattle drive season. Most of the time he worked long hours and faced all kinds of danger in order to maintain some semblance of law and order here. It was this group of people who kept him going. In his line of business he dealt with so many men - and a few women - who were determined to break the law and harm others. It renewed his faith in humanity to be with these few true friends sitting around the table.

Chester excused himself to go stand at the bar. There was a new girl working here and his assistant was obviously infatuated. Apparently her name was MaryLou and Kitty had hired her on while Dillon was away. He watched as Chester tried bashfully to make conversation with the girl. Chester never had any luck with women. Those he did get close to, finished up taking advantage of him. Chester was a good man, somewhat naive but always ready to back his boss up when the chips were down.

He glanced across the table at Doc. As usual the physician showed only his gruff exterior, although Kitty had managed to get a smile to cross his face once or twice this evening. Matt truly admired the man. Of course there was no way he could tell him that. As well as being an enormous asset to a town like this, Adams was a thoughtful man. Matt knew he could discuss any problem with Doc and a lot of times the physician helped him to find the right solution. In some ways Doc was like the father Matt barely remembered. Underneath that crusty exterior Adams always portrayed, there was a very caring and skillful man. Matt knew - he had benefitted from those skills many times. Fact was, Doc had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Then there was Kitty Russell, Matt gazed at her fondly. She was still engaged in some friendly teasing with Doc and didn't notice Dillon watching her. He often marveled at this woman, and wondered how she managed to put up with him - and his badge. Kitty had ambition, she worked her way from being a saloon girl to being owner of this place. She ran the Long Branch by herself and it was rightfully known to be the best saloon in town - probably the best in Ford County. He was fascinated by the way she could handle a bunch of half drunk barflies but still remain a lady. She was observant and noticed people coming and going through town. More than once she had provided him with information he needed, or warned him of a possible threat. Her eyes, her hair, even the way she walked drew him to her. He knew he was difficult to deal with at times but somehow Kitty Russell managed. She told him once that if the day came when she could no longer put up with that "tin badge", she would leave Dodge for good. In his heart he prayed that would never happen.

Kitty and Doc had finished their exchange and she looked over at him. Her face smiled as she realized he was watching her. Kitty was more than happy tonight - she had already talked Chester into making late night rounds and planned on having a quiet evening upstairs with the man who had left town so hurriedly. She'd been angry at him when he took off like that, without even stopping to say goodbye. As the days had dragged on, she'd stayed angry for a while, planning what she would say to him about it when he returned. Now that he was here, home safe and sound, all those words had vanished from her mind. Tonight she had entirely different plans for their conversation once she got him alone.

End.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and commented on my story, I really appreciate your feed-back. To those who left notes as guests, I would like to say I read all your comments and it means a lot to get them: 52shari, Chipmunk Charlie, Shirley Waldrip, Sassygirl, Sarah, Judy H, Guest, (i hope I haven't missed anyone) many thanks once again.