The Next Morning

Matt

Back cramping, Matt's stirred uncomfortably in the armchair in Naomi's room and pried his eyes open. He pushed himself to his feet and twisted his torso to stretch his achy back.

Naomi watched from her bed across the room. Matthew Adams had a masculine power so deep and real that he could let his kindness show. Maybe, if she'd met a man like that back in the days when she was young and hopeful, things would have gone different and she wouldn't be a used-up whore dying in a dusty town. "Who is she, Matthew?"

"Who?"

"Kitty, you talk in your sleep quite a lot."

"Oh - a pet cat from when I was a kid."

She rolled her eyes, "I'm the town whore not an idiot. Kitty ain't no cat. The way you call her name and say you're sorry tells me she's a woman, a woman you love."

He sat down to pull on his boots.

Naomi wasn't giving up. "You sounded real sorry about something that happened to this woman, Kitty."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh I see."

"What do you THINK you see." He was surprised to feel himself grow angry.

""I SEE you didn't talk to her about the things haunting your dreams."

"I couldn't, too many things from my life were already touching hers in terrible ways."

"Matthew, a woman has a right to love who she wants the way she wants. It ain't right to make her choice for her."

Matt buckled on his gun belt, and picked up his hat. "Like I said, you don't know what you're talking about."

He left quickly, shaking off the unease Naomi's words had caused. He'd done the best thing for Kitty, the best thing for her future. He put on his hat and went to the stable to get his horse. Torch was sitting in a stall, awake but bleary eyed. A stupid grin spread across his face, "Well it's Matthew, the bringer of good news. I hope it's in the form of breakfast in a bottle from JB."

Matt looked at him with disgust. "I spent the night in town, I'm just heading back to the cabin now."

"Better get going. JB likes to keep track of his men." Torch slid back into the straw and fell asleep.

Matt shook his head and rode off.

Washington DC

Jimmy walked into his boss's office holding a stack of papers, and gingerly set them in front of Davidson. "Good morning sir." His tone was respectful. Davidson was growing moodier, grumpier and more suspicious every day. All of which he tried to pretend not to notice.

Davidson looked up sharply. Jimmy saw he hadn't slept well. "Would you like me to get you some coffee, sir?"

"No, no." Davidson rifled through the mail and leaned back in his chair. "That's all for now. Let me know if anything comes in from Oklahoma territory."

Davidson watched his assistant leave. Jimmy could be the informant, but there was no proof, besides his wife had recommended him, and she was a great judge of character. There were many other possibilities - the department telegraph operator, the liaison to the White House, the head of records, even the cleaning woman. Maybe he should fire them all. He sighed, knowing that was ridiculous. Damn it Dillon come up with a name.

Matt

Matt rode to the cabin feeling edgy. Naomi's words had unsettled him, he hadn't slept well in weeks and he was well aware of JB's growing distrust. He had to find that name before time ran out. He tied his horse outside the cabin and peered in the side window. No one was stirring, so he wandered over to the shed, long believing it was the place that held all clues. He yanked at the combination lock, in case JB had just this once, left it open. No such luck. He was about to walk away when inspiration struck, the kind of intuition he'd learned to trust over the years. He pictured the numbers written on the cabin wall in chalk; the tally of the men, women and children the Bonds had killed. After JB shot his cousin, he'd changed the numbers to, 15 – 4 – 2, and said, with glee, those were his lucky numbers. Could it be that simple? Matt quickly turned the lock, Right 15, Left 4, Right 2. It snapped open. With a quick glance over his shoulder he slipped inside. The enormity of the wealth in the small space stunned him. Bags of cash stamped Property of US Army stood side-by-side-by-side. The 9 gold bricks they'd stolen were in a bag next to boxes and bags of gold and silver coins. The velvet bag of jewelry was carelessly thrown on the floor.

He moved around the shed carefully, looking for correspondence between JB and the informant. After a half hour he'd discovered nothing, and the Bonds would be waking any minute. He was leaving when he noticed the corner of an large envelope sticking up behind the bags of cash. He grabbed it and went through the contents. There were numerous telegrams from Washington DC, with the name of the sender left blank. That made sense. Why risk the prying eyes of a telegraph operator, even a drunk one. JB would know who the wires were from. Digging further he found a letter sent by mail. It contained suggestions on where each man should go when they went their separate ways, and instructions on how to avoid capture. Matt shook his head. This informant was a shrewd one. He heart leaped. The letter was signed. He placed the envelope back where he found it, slipped out of the shed, snapped the lock shut and got on his horse. He had a name to send to Abraham Davidson.

JB woke at the sound of a galloping horse and looked out the window. Matthew was riding away. That was odd, he should be returning from his night with Naomi. He threw on clothes and ran outside. Matthew's footprints were around the shed. JB quickly unlocked it and went in. All was as it should be - almost. The envelope he'd hidden behind the cash bags had been moved a couple of inches. "Damn you Matthew Adams, or whoever you are." JB jumped on his horse, and yelled; "Abe and Ben get your sorry butts to town."

Matt ran into the stable and yanked Reverend Torch to his feet. "Wake up. I need to send a telegram"

Half drunk and half asleep Torch blinked hard, "What? No one but JB sends wires."

"Until now." He dragged Torch to the tiny telegraph office and shoved him into a chair.

"It goes to the War Department, Washington DC."

Torch rubbed his bleary eyes. "Washington – No. I don't think JB would want that."

Matt leaned over and looked Torch in the eye. The minister tried to look away. Matt grabbed him by the collar.

"Torch, I don't think you know exactly what JB and the others are up to, but you must have some idea. Get this into your head. They've killed men, women and even children. It has to stop."

"I can't."

"Why? Because JB supplies you with booze so you can drink yourself to death. Does that honor the memory of your wife? How about doing something to help protect others, something that would make your wife proud?"

A few seconds passed. Gabriel Torch nodded. "Gabriel, the angel who makes important announcements. I'm not an angel but I'll do it."

Matt wrote the name on a piece of paper and slid it over. "Send to Abraham Davidson, War Department, Washington DC. No need to name a sender.

Torch tapped out the message, "It's done Matthew. My guess is that JB will find out soon."

"Guessing ain't necessary." JB stood in the door with a gun pointed at them. He swiftly yanked Torch from his seat and pointed the gun to his head. "Matthew throw your gun way over yonder or Torch gets his head blown off. I figure a man like you won't want to see that happen."

Matt did as he was told. Abe and Ben arrived with their guns drawn, "We're here JB."

"Good, lets get these two to the cabin. I don't take with men not being loyal."

TBC