(10)
Dr. Chapman imagined in the vernacular of an old card sharp like Kitty Russell, his actions would have been termed as `playing a hunch'. He'd had a strong feeling what her response to the convent nursery would be. Any woman with an ounce of maternal instinct would find that cold unloving environment intolerable, but it was in reminding her of the failed abortion that he'd hit the nerve.
She had refused to come to both the dinner and supper table. The trays sent to her room were left untouched. Chapman's words had struck Kitty Russell hard; leaving her to curse herself and the hate filled legacy she was leaving this child.
John had spoken of a truth she could not deny. She'd gone to the Higgins house with the intention of killing her baby. Amazingly, she had never thought of it that way before. She had rationalized simply that this pregnancy was the product of a crime, forgetting in her hate, that she carried within her an infant who was innocent of any wrong doing.
Guilt was a heavy burden that did not allow for rest. She paced the perimeters of the four walls as though it were a courtroom, judging herself, and condemning the men who had altered her life so dramatically that it could never again be the same.
John had walked by her door several times that day, he'd lifted his arm to knock, but each time some intuition had stopped him. Deciding she needed to work things out on her own, Dr. Chapman had left her alone.
Months of wearing stoic armor had not hardened her soul sufficiently to bear grief and blame alone. More than anything that night she wanted Matt. The solace of his strong arms, the quiet of his loving voice whispering words of comfort to ease her heartache, this was the tonic she needed to heal. She needed him. But even as she wished he were with her, she was thankful he was not. What would he think of her? Dillon had little patience for cowards and sinners, and she, in her eyes was both.
She had no tears left to cry; yet she sobbed herself to a fitful sleep. It was in her dreams that she heard him calling her name; she ran after the sound of his voice searching through the halls of Mayhaw, opening doors, slamming them shut in a futile effort to find him. She called his name in return adding to the supplication, "Matt, I need you."
Chapman, with a cup of warm milk in one hand opened her bedroom door with the other. He stood for a moment listening, unsure if she was awake. The words she spoke were garbled and not plain to him at first. Moving to her bed, he asked her to repeat what she'd said, knowing those caught in the realm of sleep and wakefulness sometimes answered questions from the outside, "Matt …" she replied, "I need Matt." He'd promised not to call for Dillon unless she asked for him. In his mind, with the utterance of those words, she had now done just that.
She came to full wakefulness a short time later; the cup of milk at her bedside was still warm. Confused for a moment she wondered if Dillon had brought it for her. She said his name again, listening for his voice and the tread of his boot against hardwood. As she came to recognition of her surroundings she realized how impossible that would be. Finally, she rose from her bed and lit the candle at her dressing table. She sat in front of the mirror and watched her face in the flickering shadows, trying to find some semblance of the woman she used to be. Kitty Russell, brave of heart and gallant of spirit was gone, in her place sat an broken empty woman. As she often did she took the battered tin badge in her hand hoping it would provide some connection to courage.
The muffled beat of the drums of Congo Square filtered through the open window. She listened to song of the Bamboula, the beat of life. Renee's words came back to her, "I believe there are more powers in heaven and earth then we in this life can understand. I believe there is good and evil in this world, just as there is black and white. I believe there is `gris', gray, which starts as neither good nor evil. I believe the spirits, which dwell in sky, trees, snakes and birds grant us gifts. They give us the power to right wrongs, to heal, to love and be happy." A shadow of a smile cracked Kitty's hard features. Was she so far gone that she was ready to grasp at straws and believe in black magic and voodoo? Knowing the idea was completely alien to her logical businesslike mind did not stop her in pursuit of the thought.
It was the phrase regarding the power to right wrongs, to heal, to love and be happy, which echoed most plaintively in her mind. If only she could heal her heart enough to love this child, but in order to do that she would have to be able to forget how it was conceived. She didn't believe there was any magic, black or white strong enough to cast that spell.
GS GS GS GS
The whole of Dodge City had been abuzz with speculation as to the sudden reason for Dillon's departure. Doc Adams had been closed lipped when questioned. Festus Hagen had feigned ignorance, which in his case was not that great a leap. He, Newly and Sam had been advised only that Dillon had set out to find Kitty. An interim Marshal was holding court in the Front Street office; as a result Hagen was spending more and more time helping Hank at the stable. He didn't understand why Dillon had set off on his quest without him and he went about weighed down by a woeful sense of abandonment by both Matt Dillon and Kitty Russell.
Matt had left Dodge City two weeks before Dr. John Chapman's telegram arrived.
Wally at the telegraph office took the message. It seemed rather cryptic to him. He set it aside wondering what he should do with it. It had been addressed to Dillon, in care of the U.S. Marshal's office. Did that make it official business and now property of the new Marshal? When he came in from his lunch break, Wally showed the message to his boss, Barney. The old man had left his reading spectacles at home and was forced to hold the paper at arms length in order to read it. The message said simply, "She is here and asking for you."
He stuck the telegram in an envelope and said, "I'll take care of this; you mind the shop."
The younger man was tempted to tell his superior to go home and get his glasses while he was out but fingered wisely to keep his mouth shut. He watched from the window to see what direction Barney was headed. He lost sight of him as he rounded the corner of the dry goods store.
Adams had just come back from the Krause farm, having spent the last sixteen hours with young Leona Krause who had been in labor with her first child. It had been a successful night, leaving the elderly doctor dead tired. He'd been hoping for a reprieve from any major medical catastrophes for at least the next six hours. Barney's knock on the door elicited a grumpy, "Who is it?"
"Me Doc, Barney."
"Door's open," Doc called from the doorway of his bedroom, his suspenders were already hanging at his sides.
"Something came in Doc, it's for the Marshal, but since he's out of town, I figured maybe you should see it."
A scowl hit the old man's face as he read over the words, "When did this come in?"
"About a half hour ago, Wally took the message, he showed it to me when I got back from my dinner break, he was wondering if he should give it to Marshal Galway."
Adams had no idea where Dillon might be, the lawman had promised to let him know in case he needed to be reached, but so far no such messages had arrived. "Send a telegram back to Dr. Chapman, tell him I'll try to locate Matt. Ask her how she's doing."
"I'll do it Doc."
"And, Barney, let's just keep this between the two of us. I'd just as soon Wally not know."
"Yes sir."
A response came from Chapman later that day. It was brief. "Find Dillon, she needs him. Letter to follow."
If he'd been a younger man, with fewer responsibilities, Doc would have left Dodge to find Matt or traveled to New Orleans himself to be with Kitty. It was hard for him to admit he could do neither. With only a little thought he decided the best man to track Matt down was Festus. He sought him out and found him at the Long Branch commiserating, with Halligan over a glass of warm beer. "I need to talk to you up in my office." He requested before turning on heel and walking back out of the saloon.
Slightly miffed Hagen finished off his beer in one final gulp and then followed the old man out of the saloon.
"What in blue blazes is this here all about Doc, I done spent my last nickel on that there beer and you didn't even give me no time to enjoy it."
"Festus, I want you to take a little trip."
"Where'd you like me to go?"
It was a loaded question and one Doc would have gleefully answered on many another occasion, today there was no jest in the old man's voice, "I want you to track down Matt."
Peeved by the notion Hagen replied, "Golly Bill, Doc, I ain't got no ide-e where he hightailed it off to. He just up and left and didn't take no nevermind what anyone else was a-thinking."
"Festus, I've heard you say no one can track better than a Hagen, well this is your chance to prove it."
Hagen squinted his left eye and stared the doctor down with his right, "How come you want me to go a trackin Matthew now, when just a week ago you said it weren't none of my business."
"Miss Kitty's in New Orleans; she's in trouble and needs Matt."
Both of the hillman's eyeballs bulged for a moment, "I'll do it Doc, you know I'd do anything fer Miss Kitty and Ole Matthew."
"I know you would." Doc replied. He picked up a slip of paper on which were written several names and addresses, "I want you to take the train to St. Louis. I believe that's where Matt would have headed. Two weeks head start, that's where he should be by now… Ask questions along the way, maybe someone saw him and knows where he is. Once you get to St. Louis I want you to look up some old friends of both Matt and Kitty's. I've got their names written down here, you just show this to the cab driver and he can take you to them. Send me a telegram as soon as you know something."
Hagen nodded before a woebegone expression took control of his face, "Doc I ain't got no money fer train ridin."
Forgetting his miserly reputation, Doc reached into his back pocket and pulled out his coin purse, and withdrew several gold pieces. Festus looked at the money for a moment before taking it with a nod of his head. He was on the afternoon train, outfitted in his dress shirt and clean pants, shined up boots and an old hat of Doc's, so he would look, in his own words, "Citified." Doc had no illusions Festus would find Dillon, but he had a need to feel he was doing something and his friend was ready to oblige.