Dark Reflection

Chapter 24

"Midnight Flight"

by Lilyjack

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Deke Bowman hissed through gritted teeth, "Ever'body down in back! Two a' Blackthorne's men dead ahead!"

Matt and Doc instantly ducked down in the wagon, yanking the canvas cover over their heads. Matt jerked on the rope and anchored the corner tightly from the inside. He was unable to make out Kitty's face in the darkness, but she remained unnaturally quiet, a fact that gnawed incessantly at his insides. He gently shifted her in his makeshift embrace, still managing to cradle her head and shoulders with one arm, even in this awkward, cramped space.

Doc's rapid, shallow breathing was discernible right next to him in the pitch blackness. Matt reckoned they couldn't have even gotten a quarter mile from the saloon yet. This did not bode well. His hand crept down to reassuringly touch the cold steel of his borrowed pistol, but suddenly he remembered that he was no longer capable of a fast draw, not since he'd been nearly beaten to death by the so-called new law in town. Lame, half-blind, unable to properly defend himself or Kitty, holed up back here in close quarters, he was feeling like the proverbial rat in a trap.

The wagon jolted to a halt, and Matt heard Deke call out a greeting in a deceptively amiable voice, "How're you fellas doin' tonight?"

"Now, ain't he friendly, Thrasher?" a familiar voice asked his unseen companion. It was Hector Groate, Matt realized, groaning inwardly. The man was apparently on permanent late-night guard duty, checking wagons for contraband or missing persons.

Another voice, whom Matt presumed to be Thrasher, joined in, "You're dressed mighty fancy to be haulin' freight, mister. You look like you'd be more t' home in a saloon than settin' on that there wagon."

Deke hurried to explain, "Well, you surely to goodness got me pegged, boys. Why, I just come from a sal…"

Groate interrupted, "Specially at this hour. And it seems to me it'd sure be a lot easier maneuverin' this sizeable wagon out on a main road... 'Stead of this narrow back alley… Where it's mighty dark."

Deke chuckled a little nervously. "Well, I s'pose you're right 'bout that, too. But I got fair enough reason, trust me."

The man called Thrasher spoke up. "Oh, I cain't wait to hear it."

"Now, don't tell my secret, boys. I'm a gambler by trade, see, but…well, I gotta wife and two small youngsters at home. A mile or so outta town is where we abide, and...I had t' purchase a list a' things for my wife at Mr. Jonas' General Store before I plied my trade at the saloon this evenin'. What do you men think of the Lady Gay? Do the high stakes games play out there or at the Long Branch for the most part?"

"You mean t' say you got provisions in the back of this here wagon?"

Matt hoped the men fell for Deke's story. They'd rehearsed for just such an eventuality, but Matt admired Deke's smooth talk, lying like a cheap rug to Blackthorne's cronies. He listened intently as the unusually gifted young trickster expertly spun his believable explanation. Matt never would have believed the rancher's son capable of such a thing if he hadn't heard it with his own ears.

"Yep, the wife needed flour, sugar, cotton thread, various and sundry - the usual items a woman requires to run a household proper like. You understand how it is, I'm sure, gentlemen. I even purchased some horehound for my youngsters. Would you care fer some? I gotta bag full right here… "

Matt felt Kitty stir. Movement, a sign of life he would have been blissfully thankful for at any other time, but not yet, he thought in alarm. They only needed just a few more quiet moments until Deke was able to slip them past the guards.

"Naw, I don't want yer younguns' candy," Groate answered. "But I don't recollect as I've seen you before. Mighty dark out here though…"

"Oh, we ain't lived here too awful long. Just moved from Garden City. My wife's got people here. We're rentin' a small but tidy shack till we locate us somethin' a mite better…"

A strangled noise came from Kitty that made the hair on the back of Matt's neck stand on end. She was weak as a kitten, so it wasn't very loud, but to Matt and Doc hiding mere feet from Blackthorne's men, armed with shotguns, the sound echoed in their ears. Matt held his breath and tensed his muscles; she must've been heard. But to his immense relief, the discussion outside continued.

Deke, though, must've detected the sound because he cleared his voice rather self-consciously and continued a bit more loudly, "Uhh...but you boys will keep this information close to the vest, won't you? A gambler who's a family man, why, he looks kinda soft. I'd rather it not get around, if ya' know what I mean."

Matt panicked when Kitty's breathing rasped in her throat. She hoarsely called out, "No…" Her voice was frail, but there was no mistaking the command of her words. "Don't…touch me. Get away…son 'f a bitch…" Matt heard Doc gasp. It was as if she were having a conversation with an unseen person. Perhaps she was dreaming.

Matt stroked Kitty's heated, perspiring cheek with the pads of his fingers, drew his lips close to her ear and soothed, "Shhhhh…honey, it's okay. I'm right here."

His own heart constricted at the sound of her labored breathing, her voice gradually fading away with the words, "Chester…s'that you?"

"Shhhh…" he whispered urgently, a small knife twisting in his chest at another man's name on her lips. "We gotta be quiet now."

Matt suddenly realized Groate was accusing Deke. "What the hell was that? Did you hear voices?"

"Voices?" Deke attempted to cover innocently. "I didn't hear any voices. Perhaps you're hearin' a lively conversation from that house right yonder. I see a light burnin'…"

Thrasher demanded, "I think it's high time we take a look-see at what you got in the back of yer wagon there, Gamblin' Man."

Once more, Matt's hand slid down to his pistol, his fingers flexing over the unfamiliar grip as Deke began to talk fast and with conviction, "No, fellas, you got this all wrong. I got my li'l nippers' candy right here, under this buggy seat. And my wife, I reckon she'll wallop me if I don't fetch home the eggs and the coffee…and…either of you two hitched? If so, you know of what I speak. Oh, and the flour and…"

Just then Matt heard two grunts, a heavy object banging against the wagon, and what sounded like big bags of potatoes thudding to the ground.

He sat still and silent as did Doc. Kitty had gone still and was once more unearthly quiet save her shallow, uneven breathing. The sound of her previous encounter, relived in that dreaming moment, prickled over Matt's skin and seeped into his pores, sluicing into ice water when it hit his veins. A hundred times a day Matt berated himself for taking so long to rescue Kitty Russell from the hands of Silas Blackthorne, and her unconscious words just then had brought it all crashing home to him.

Finally, Matt heard Deke Bowman speaking in a somewhat exasperated tone. "It surely to goodness took you two long enough. What the hell were you a'waiting for? Me to bake those big fellas a cake? You knew I didn't have any sugar and flour in back of that wagon."

"Aw, go boil yer shirt, Deke! We did what Mr. Dillon taught us, didn't we?" a familiar young voice declared. "Besides, if you'da' packed some flour and sugar in that wagon, maybe you coulda' showed them lunkheads a sack of that and put 'em off the scent. Ever think a' that?"

By then, Matt had untied the canvas, and he and Doc poked their heads up in time to see Ocie Bleeker shoving a pistol back into the waistband of his baggy pants. He looked up and grinned at Matt. "We buffaloed 'em just like you taught us, sir."

"They didn't see you before…you knocked 'em out, did they?" Matt asked worriedly.

"Nossir," Lafe quickly answered. "We snuck up on 'em real quiet. That's why it took us a few seconds, Deke. We're real sorry."

Deke blew out a big breath in utter relief, grabbing each young man by a shoulder. "That's okay, boys. I didn't mean what I said. You did good. Just the way we planned it in case of emergency. You saved my bacon. Right, Matt?"

Matt crisply nodded, relieved they'd gotten through this scrape without the young men having to reveal themselves. "That's right."

Deke exhaled deeply again and instructed rapidly, pointing, "Now drag these two dead weights behind those crates over there."

Matt added, "Do it fast, boys. We need you to take the shortcut and wait where we told you. We need a Plan B if we can't make it back to the warehouse."

Both boys answered in unison, "Yessir…" each quickly grabbing one of Groate's legs to pull him feet first into the alleyway as the wagon pulled away.

Matt sank weakly back into the wagon bed, once more securing their canvas-covered hiding place. He took advantage of the darkness to carefully slide down and lie next to Kitty, daring to slip an arm around her thin waist. If she believed he was Chester, he thought with a pang in his chest, perhaps she wouldn't mind the familiarity.

He heard Doc whisper, "Not too much farther to go, but around Dodge these days, an awful lot can happen in a short amount of time."

"Don't I know it," Matt sighed in unfortunate agreement. He wondered how many days it had been now since he'd left a disappointed Kitty alone in her bedroom so he could travel to Hays City to question potential witnesses about the Hawk freight robberies. It might as well have been an eternity.

He was jerked from his wool-gathering by the sound of shouting from a distance. Deke spat out a curse and called out, "Hold on in back. I think there might be people out looking for our girl. I just caught a glimpse of Comanche Dan a few blocks over, through the alley." He uttered a cry, slapped the reins on the horses' backs and the wagon began jolting and bumping down the rutted lane.

Doc grumbled, "Great thunder!" as they were jounced up and down, back and forth.

Matt tried to protect Kitty in his arms, to cushion her from being knocked violently against the sides of the wagon. But in spite of the rough ride, she never uttered a sound, a fact which frightened him more than he cared to admit.

In the back of the careening wagon, he felt like that proverbial trapped rat again, smothering for lack of air and unable to aid in their escape. He couldn't resist peeling back the corner of the canvas and attempting to assess their situation. Deke was driving the team as fast as he dared through the narrow back streets of Dodge, but Matt could hear riders on horseback shouting a short distance away, closing in on them quickly. Matt scanned ahead, searching for options. There, to the left. A small, wiry man was beckoning to them, waving his arms. "Deke!" Matt reached forward to clutched his friend's arm. "Deke! That man over there! Rundown carriage house…pull in there!"

Deke pulled up sharply on the horses' reins, turned them hard, and expertly guided the lathered team inside the small building. The little man put a finger to his lips and shoved the doors closed behind the wagon as fast as his thin limbs could manage. Deke leaped down and barred the doors from inside. Matt and Doc sat up, and all three men attempted to slow their ragged breathing as they watched from a distance, squinting through the jagged space left by a broken board in the dilapidated wall. Soon enough, they could make out the shabbily dressed man as he drew out a bottle of whiskey and casually turned it up when two men on horseback rapidly approached him. There was a brief conference and their small friend pointed in the opposite direction in which they had been traveling. Blackthorne's men wheeled their horses and took off again. The little man waited for them to disappear, looked left and right, and then scurried back to the door of the carriage house.

"Hold on a minute!" Deke called as he drew back the iron bar that had secured them inside.

They both pushed the double doors open and the man slipped inside, gracing them with a wide, genuine smile. "I didn't want that new sheriff's men to catch you," he explained earnestly, glancing around at the curious passengers. "I saw them chasing your wagon a street over and I cut across. I didn't realize there was so many of you inside." He cradled his whiskey bottle under his arm.

Matt gritted his teeth and his muscles trembled with the effort, but he managed to climb down out of the wagon bed and extend his hand to their rescuer. The little man looked up and up until he met Matt's eyes. "…or that you were so big." His eyes grew large, but still he smiled pleasantly.

"I'd like to thank you, sir." Matt held tightly to the man's hand. "You probably just…saved our lives. And what's your name?" Matt could tell the little man was blushing, even in the dim carriage house.

He looked down at the toes of his worn boots and answered, "Pheeters. You can call me Louie."

"Well, Louie, you…can call me Matt. But you've gotta…keep mum about seeing us, alright?"

"Yessir, you can count on me. I ain't seen a thing tonight. 'Sides, I'd get in trouble, too, wouldn't I?"

"Yes, that you would, Louie, come to think of it." Matt smiled gratefully at their scruffy rescuer. "Thank you again, but we've gotta hurry. We have a sick patient…in the wagon that Doc needs to tend."

Louie clutched a hand to his heart, peeped over the side of the wagon. "Oh no…such a beautiful lady." Looking stricken, he removed his hat. "She has a kind face…I hope she'll be alright."

Doc scrubbed at his mustache and replied, "Now maybe we can get her to a safe place and take care of her, Pheeters."

Louie quickly offered, "I'll hurry and check outside for you and give you the all clear."

Deke shook their new ally's hand. "Much obliged, Louie."

Louie hurriedly backed out the door calling, "Good luck to you. I hope your lovely young lady feels better soon."

Doc tried not to grimace in sympathy as he watched Matt painfully climb back into the wagon, holding his ribs. Instead he commented, "That was fortunate, running into that funny little man. I've never seen him around Dodge before."

"Me neither." Deke leapt nimbly into the driver's seat.

The elderly physician harrumphed, "Hey, young scutter, can you back your horses outta here?"

Deke answered confidently, "You just watch me, Doc."

He retorted, "Well, Pheeters is wavin' his chapeau, so it's time to put your money where your mouth is. I've got a very sick girl back here – there's no time to waste!"

"Alright, Doc," the young rancher replied as he effortlessly backed the horses and wagon out the carriage house door. "At least I got us this far in one piece."

Matt was too worried to join in teasing Doc. His insides were in knots, but not because of the bumpy ride – Kitty still remained silent. They couldn't get back to Botkins' soon enough for him. "Will you two…hush up? Let's move, fast!"

"I'm drivin'! I'm drivin'!" Deke exclaimed, then expertly rounded the team toward their final destination. Narrowing his eyes, he muttered determinedly, "Let's git yer girl t' safety, Dillon." They took off in a cloud of dust and flying rocks, diminutive rescuer Louie Pheeters solemnly doffing his hat at them from the roadway behind.

Matt and Doc were both leaning over Kitty, expressions anxious, desperate to help her, but unable to determine how she fared. Doc attempted to gently hold her wrist in his hand to check her pulse, but the packed dirt road was rutted and rocky, and they were jerked around too violently for him to do an examination. It was useless to try anything until they arrived back at Botkins' and got her into a proper bed. Matt just prayed that it wouldn't be too late.

Deke's voice jerked Matt's attention from Kitty's drawn features in the pale moonlight. "We've got more company. These guys ain't givin' up easy. Aw, hell…look down thataway. I'd know that big son-of-a-bitch Comanche Dan a mile away, even if it was pitch black out. Hold on, ever'body."

Deke urged the horses faster and Matt grabbed the side of the wagon to steady himself, holding Kitty as best he could. A gunshot fired wild far over their heads. Deke called back, "He's too far back yet! Cain't hit us!"

Doc clutched his Stetson, shouting, "That's easy for you to say!"

Matt replied over the thundering hooves of the horses, "We're almost there, Deke! Looks like…it's Plan B!"

"You're the boss, Dillon. Headin' that way. Hope the boys made it on time, or we're in a heap a' trouble."

"They made it," Matt replied confidently. "Quick, do some of your…fancy driving around this…building. Before Dan comes…too close."

"Hold on real tight this time. Here we go…"

Matt swore the wagon took the turn on two wheels, and from Doc's white-knuckled grip on the side boards, Deke would get the tongue-lashing of his life from the old physician when they got back to the house. But when they rounded the corner and saw Lafe and Ocie dart out of hiding to swing wide two big, decrepit doors, newly oiled, Matt's heart leaped in his chest. Finally, something was going just as planned.

Deke barely slowed the wagon as it sped down the steep ramp into the near pitch-black darkness of the subterranean tunnel that snaked below the streets of Dodge unbeknownst to most of its citizens. Within moments, a lantern appeared from behind a small access doorway off the main tunnel, carried by Charlie Fitz. Lafe and Ocie scrambled to close the access doors, piling crates and barrels back in front of them. Then they both squeezed inside the narrow opening between the doors before it was chained and locked from the inside. To anyone chasing them, it might seem as if the earth had simply swallowed them up without a trace.

Every man inside the tunnel froze as the doors were secured and Charlie Fitz turned the lantern flame down low until it was barely glowing. They all remained still, listening…listening only to the sound of their own breath, their hearts thumping in their chests, until they heard the hoofbeats of Comanche Dan's horse approach, hesitate…and then ride on. Every last man breathed out a sigh of relief.

Lafe, Ocie and Charlie Fitz carrying his lantern walked beside the horses, leading the way through the underground back to Mr. Botkins' small wine cellar where Kitty would be hidden away from Silas Blackthorne, where she would be safe. Although there was whispered conversation between Charlie and the boys, Matt didn't hear anything else the relatively short distance back to their hideout. He held Kitty close, murmuring reassurances in her ear, praying that she would be alright. The next thing he was aware of, Charlie was holding the lantern over them in the wagon, softly announcing they had reached their destination. Charlie Fitz quietly congratulated him on a job well done.

He mumbled a distracted thanks to Charlie, knowing that his job was not yet finished. With the light from Charlie's lantern shining down, Matt could see that Kitty's complexion had turned ghastly pale. He rested a big hand on her chest and detected no rising or falling, however shallow. He shot a panicked look at Doc. Hastily Matt held first his hand in front of her mouth and nose, then leaned over to hold his cheek over her lips, searching for some sign. "Doc," he whispered hoarsely, hardly able to utter the words, "she's not breathing."

tbc

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