Dark Reflection
Chapter 52
"Bite the Bullet"
by Lilyjack
Ma Smalley smiled somewhat stiffly as she gingerly stepped into the sheriff's office, carrying a basketful of homemade molasses cookies. After closing the door quietly behind herself, the aroma of warm, fresh-baked flour, butter, cinnamon, and brown sugar wafted from beneath the red-checkered napkin she'd placed on top. Ma primly marched up to the large, scruffy man seated at the office desk, his feet propped up, a toothpick hanging from the corner of his mouth.
He eyed her askance as she approached him, clearing her throat. She introduced herself since the man wasn't of a mind to do the honors himself. "How do you do, Deputy? I'm Deirdre Smalley and I'm delivering a few delectable treats for a friend of mine. I heard tell he had the misfortune of being locked up in this place, and…"
"Hold it justa damn minute, lady. What makes you think you gotta friend in here?" The man rested a hand on his considerable paunch and squinted disgruntled eyes at her.
"Why, I know he was arrested by a couple of your…"
Sniffing the air, ruffian interrupted, "Say, what's in that basket a' yours? That smells larrupin'."
"It's just some cookies for my friend Mr. Hank Miller, whom I believe has been incarcerated for inciting a disturbance…"
"For excitin' a what? Just hold up, lady. There ain't no Hank in here."
"But I'm absolutely certain he was confined in this here jail. My friend Mr. Grimmick told me so, and… Why, look at these cookies..." She lifted the napkin and waved the basket under the man's nose. "I just baked them up fresh to help raise poor Mr. Miller's spirits."
"Yeah, they sure smell fresh. I tell you what. Why don'tcha leave 'em right here with me, and I'll make sure your friend gets 'em? Okay?"
"You mean I can't see him myself?"
"Nuh-uh…no visitors for Mr. Meyer."
"Miller."
"Yeah, Miller. He's too dangerous."
"Mr. Miller? Dangerous?"
"Purty damn dangerous. Here, gimme that basket. I'll deliver 'em personal."
"Oh, would you? That would be so kind of you."
"Yeah, well, us depittys do what we can."
Blackthorne's deputy waited until Deirdre Smalley had closed the door behind herself then lifted the checkered napkin to take a big whiff of baked goods. "Ahh…" he exhaled in satisfaction, setting the basket on his lap. After selecting a big, soft, chewy cookie and wolfing it down in a single bite, he idly leaned back in his chair and selected another.
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Phoebe Von Vleck gasped when she caught sight of Ruby Moon outside her door. Ruby, wearing a long hooded cloak, instantly held an index finger to her lips, cautiously glancing towards the sparsely populated saloon downstairs where Red stood behind the bar. She slipped inside Phoebe's room, shutting the door behind her with a soft snick.
Lip curled, Phoebe hissed, "What're you doin' here, Ruby? Sheriff'll cut you t' bits if he catches you. Where the hell you been?"
Ruby whispered, "Don't you worry none 'bout me. You take care a' yo' own self. I seen Johnny Dante comin' in the front door while I was slippin' up the stairs. Go get 'im for me."
Phoebe narrowed her dark eyes at Ruby. "What for?"
"Jes' you wait, girl. I knows somethin' 'bout somebody you ain't gonna b'lieve. I knows where somebody been hidin' all this time."
Phoebe mulled over Ruby's enigmatic claim. Ruby could see the wheels slowly turning in the amply proportioned prostitute's head until, finally, Phoebe gasped and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She whispered, "You mean Ki-…"
Ruby hastily placed her hand over Phoebe's brightly painted mouth. Ruby declared, "Sheriff be mighty pleased if you's the one what told 'im where she be right now, don'tcha think? Maybe you even bring her to him yo'self."
Phoebe wordlessly nodded, her shiny, dark curls bobbing, eyes narrowing spitefully as she considered the implications.
Ruby smiled at her conspiratorially. "Now do what I say. Go down and git Johnny. We might need help and he gotta gun. Then I takes you to her."
Phoebe had scooted out the door before Ruby had a chance to say another word.
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Mary Mahaffey strolled into the Dodge City telegraph office wearing a beautiful, crisp blue afternoon dress trimmed in white rick-rack, a grosgrain ribbon at her throat and a basket dangling from her elbow. "Mr. Danches!" she pleasantly greeted Barney, the telegrapher, who sat hunched over his work. "I have arrived, just as I promised, with a tasty lunch I cooked up special just for you!" She smiled brightly, removing the napkin from the top of her basket, the delicious aroma of warm fried chicken and buttery, oven-fresh biscuits drifting throughout the office.
A dozing figure seated in the front corner of the room, his rifle over his lap, suddenly came to life. Blaine Cully scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face and sat up straight. "Hold on now…" he mumbled as he staggered to his feet sleepily. "Lady, you cain't come in here like this and…"
Mary had begun to hand the basket over to Barney, but Cully snatched it away.
Mary's mouth dropped open and her hand flew to her chest. "Why…whatever is the matter, sir?"
Cully scowled. "I gotta examine this here."
Mary asked, "Whatever for?"
Barney had come around the front desk to stand next to Mary. His hand lay protectively on her shoulder. "Now, Cully, she's just bringin' me some vittles. Ain't no harm in that."
Cully was busy digging in the basket. "You could have somethin' secret in here. Cain't never tell." He grinned malevolently at Mary. "Yer purty, but you might be hidin' somethin'."
Mary backed away and Barney nervously stood in front of her. "Cully, Miss Mary would never…"
"Shut up, you ol' coot. Looky here, I done made a mess a' your dee-licious lunch now. Guess I might as well taste it, huh?" He picked up a fragrant chicken leg, fried to a perfect golden-brown, and took a large bite.
Danches protested meekly, "Hey, that's mine!"
Cully sneered, "Not anymore, it ain't."
Barney whispered to Mary. She nodded and imparted a wilting glare to Blaine Cully as he devoured her chicken dinner. Mary swished out of the office, slamming the door with its tinkling bell behind her. Cully snorted with laughter, crumbs littering his shirt.
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The person standing in the sheriff's office was wearing men's clothing, back facing them, but even that could not disguise the slender build, the womanly hips beneath the bulky fabric. Nevertheless, that bright red hair, even woven into a plain braid falling down her back, was unmistakable. Phoebe observed all this as she peered through the rear entrance of the jail with Johnny Dante, his gun pulled from its holster, held high and ready.
Dante hissed, "What the hell's she doin' in there? Where the hell's Bert?"
Phoebe snarled, "Come on…hurry. We got no time t' lose."
Ruby clutched her arm. "Wait a minute, Phoebe. Let's us, you and me, go in first. Make sure nobody else with her." She nodded toward Dante. "You wait here, watch for the signal that it clear."
Dante agreed, nodding. "Yeah, Phoebe. Don't hear no voices, cain't see nobody else, but… Why don't you sashay in there real casual-like? Make sure. Gimme a holler and I'll come a'runnin'."
Phoebe smiled grimly, grabbing Ruby by the arm and hauling her inside. Phoebe fumbled for the derringer stowed inside her bodice, hiding the tiny gun behind her palm. They sneaked toward the mysteriously female figure wearing such masculine clothing, the only person in the office as far as they could see. Before they were even within several feet of her, Phoebe hatefully demanded, "Turn around, Kitty Russell. I cannot wait to hand you over to Silas Blackthorne. He's gonna…"
Kitty whirled around as Phoebe raised her derringer. But Ruby was quick to whip out a revolver from beneath her cloak, pointing it at Phoebe. Phoebe froze when she heard the hammer cock, the steel barrel pressed into her back.
"You best drop that gun, Phoebe," Ruby quietly commanded.
From the rear door, Johnny cursed, cocking his own trigger and taking a step inside.
"Hold it right there," a deep voice resonated from behind him. A Colt was aimed at Dante's head.
Johnny Dante carefully raised his hands. Matt Dillon resolutely took the gun from him, jamming it beneath his own waistband. "Let's step inside, shall we?" It was an order, not a request, and Dante slowly entered the office. His eyes darting around, he saw his friend Bert sound asleep, fallen halfway out of his desk chair and covered in cookie crumbs, a pair of handcuffs securing his wrists.
Kitty Russell herself faced them, a sawed-off shotgun gripped in her two hands, a look of determination on her face.
Phoebe's face turned purple, her mouth twisted into a hateful snarl. "Why you sneaky little whore," she hissed at Kitty. "When Silas gets ahold of you again, I hope he…"
Lips pressed into a thin, angry line, Kitty hauled back one arm and punched Phoebe in the face with her fist. Her blue eyes glittered with hate.
Phoebe screeched in pain and fury. When she turned back to face Kitty, her pouty lips hung open in astonishment and tears streaked her cheeks, face paint smeared.
"That…" Kitty sharply bit out, "…is for stealin' all my clothes."
Phoebe spat, "Bitch, I'm gonna kill you."
Kitty bit her lip. Matt watched her silently.
Phoebe ranted on, "And if I don't, Silas will. You just wait…"
Kitty took a deep breath, flexed her fingers and slapped Phoebe hard across her plump face. Kitty's voice was low, menacing. "And that's for holdin' me down while he poured poison down my throat. I could go on, but I refuse to take advantage of your situation, like you did to me."
Kitty's gaze met Matt's. He nodded to her, his eyes shining. Then he ordered, "Let's go, Dante. Into the cell."
Ruby nudged Phoebe in the back with the muzzle of her gun. "You too, honey."
Phoebe's mouth dropped open. She shrilled, "No, I don't wanna…"
Kitty cut her off. "Don't make me force you, Phoebe. And if you don't stop that cryin', I'll give you somethin' to cry about."
Phoebe promptly closed her mouth, flouncing and switching her skirts as she took her place behind Johnny Dante walking dispiritedly to the jail in back. She whimpered and then wailed as Matt rattled the keys in the cell door.
Kitty sat down in a chair at the table, her legs feeling weak. She hadn't seen Phoebe or Dante since…since before. She shuddered at the memory of Phoebe bodily sitting atop her as she struggled to breathe, helping Silas Blackthorne to pour drugs down her throat. Kitty closed her eyes, willed herself to breathe deeply. She shook her sore fist, taking comfort in the grim satisfaction she'd felt from punching Phoebe Von Vleck in the face.
She heard Matt's voice speaking softly, "You okay, Kitty?"
"Yes," she said quietly, opening her eyes at last, smiling into his concerned face as he stood over her. Ruby was not far behind him.
"Ruby," she sighed, "you musta done a hell of an acting job. You fooled not one, but two into comin' here."
"Jes' doin' my part," Ruby smiled.
Matt spoke up, "Whatta you say we get Bert here into a cell? Don't know when he'll wake up from Ma's cookies. Doc was right. That chloral hydrate did the trick."
Kitty helped Matt to roll the heavy man from his half-seated position the rest of the way onto the floor, the smell of molasses strong on his person. Matt grabbed the man's feet and dragged him into the back to deposit him into a cell. When he emerged once more, he commented, "Shouldn't be too long before we get a sight more deputies bein' delivered here."
Kitty gripped her gun. "We're ready for 'em, Matt."
Ruby finally released the hammer of her pistol, setting it on the table, and then removed the billowing cloak, revealing men's trousers beneath, just like Kitty wore. "Yessir, we is ready," she agreed with fortitude in her voice.
Kitty asked Matt, "Did you send Ocie and Lafe out to spread the word we're open for business?"
"Yep."
Kitty commented, "If everyone is on schedule, you're right - it should be any time now."
Matt gazed at her steadily. "I gotta go now."
She wanted to say no, don't go. To stay here, safe, with me. But she knew he had more to do. So she swallowed hard, replying, "Okay, Matt." Her forehead creased with worry, she faced him, placing a hand on his arm, saying simply, "Be careful."
"I will. Don't worry—Chester and Deke will be with me." He reached down and took her hand in his, held it against his chest where she could feel that big heart of his beating strong, always such a comfort to her. They both heard Ruby retrieving her firearm from the table and moving away, walking to the back ostensibly to check on their prisoners.
Matt murmured to Kitty, "We gotta find him, honey. I wanna make sure he never has a chance to hurt you again."
"I know."
Matt leaned over and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. He opened his eyes as he regretfully pulled away, saying, "Please be careful, Kitty. Don't take any chances. Stay here, inside. Shoot first and ask questions later. Okay?"
"I will."
He kissed her forehead one more time, pressed the keys to the jail into her palm, and murmured, "See ya' later, Kitty."
"See ya' later, Matt."
With that, he turned and walked out the door, shoving his hat low on his brow against the hot sun.
Kitty stood in the open doorway, watching him walk away with a strange fear in her heart. She wasn't used to being so attached to someone, worrying they would never return to her. She'd had plenty of folks walk out of her life since she was a kid, but she'd steeled herself to that reality. It'd been a long time since she'd given a damn about a man. Yes, she was becoming rapidly attached to Matt Dillon, never more than right now when he was walking straight into danger.
Kitty bit her lip, pulled herself from her melancholy ruminations. There wasn't a damn thing she could do about it right now. There was no use fretting. Besides, she had work to do.
Kitty caught sight of Woody Lathrop and Barney Danches, each supporting what appeared to be a drunken man, half-carrying, half-dragging him in the direction of the jail. Kitty anxiously scanned Front Street, didn't see any of Blackthorne's apes within sight, and breathed a sigh of relief. Dodge's longtime citizens who happened to be on the street right then either didn't notice or else purposefully turned a blind eye to what was happening.
Within seconds, Woody and Barney had dragged inside the man who had a chicken leg stuck in his front vest pocket and grease smeared on his face and hands. Kitty shut the door quickly behind them and pointed. "Right back there, gentlemen." She handed Ruby the keys. "Miss Ruby, will you do the honors? We got a real nice room ready for 'im, don't we, Ruby?"
Ruby placed a hand on her hip, staring at the greasy, disheveled outlaw. "Yup."
Kitty amended, "But first, boys, make sure he's not hidin' any weapons. I take it he enjoyed Miss Mary's cookin'?"
Barney grunted as he attempted to hold the big man up while Woody Lathrop searched him thoroughly. "Yes, Miss Kitty, he surely seemed to. Right up until the time he fell out in the floor. He's got a real knot on 'is head, right there…"
"That's what I like, a man who enjoys a good meal," Kitty commented wryly.
Ruby prompted, "Check Cully's socks. He keep a knife in there."
Woody looked astonished when he came up with a dagger right where she'd told him to search. Woody stuck the deadly sharp knife in his own sock and helped Barney drag Cully to the rear.
Kitty called out, "Why, look everyone, I believe that's Bull and Howie and…" She squinted. "…and Victor Hawk bringin' a couple more friends from over the stage depot t' join us." She swung the door wide as they approached. "It's gonna get pretty crowded in here."
As soon as they entered the room, Kitty's friends dropped their dead weight on the floor with a resounding thud. Howie nervously mopped his forehead with a hankie.
"How'd it go, gentlemen?" Kitty inquired.
Straightening his hat, Bull tensely declared, "It's a good damn thing Hawk got those weapons smuggled in here. We'd never be able to pull off this cockamamie plan otherwise."
Hawk pointed to one of the men on the floor. "This big fella, he just wouldn't go down, no matter how much a' Miz Whitcomb's apricot cake he ate. And he got mighty suspicious when his partner started t' pass out."
Kitty anxiously asked, "What'd you do?"
Bull replied, "Howie took his pistol outta his pants and buffaloed the hombre. Knocked 'im clean out."
Kitty turned a surprised gaze to Dodge House desk clerk Howie Uzzel.
Howie replied sheepishly, "Well, I didn't wanna kill 'im."
"That's usin' your noggin', Howie," she declared in satisfaction.
"Matt Dillon showed me how a coupla' days ago," he explained. "Never dreamed I'd hafta use it."
Kitty's eyes shined as Matt's name was mentioned, proud of his knowledge, his skill, his way of leading these men, and women, in this time of trouble. She smiled broadly at Howie.
Right then, Sam Noonan and his cousin Horace pulled up in a wagon coming from the north end of town where several of Blackthorne's men typically stood guard, rudely questioning travelers and roughly searching both them and their conveyances. From the load in Sam's wagon bed, covered over with a tarp, Kitty assumed the cousins had been successful. She hoped that Moss Grimmick and Hank Miller would be equally successful on the other end of town.
Time was of the essence, and Kitty desperately wanted all her fellow townspeople to be successful at taking out their appointed targets at approximately the same time so as to draw as little attention to their actions as possible. Surprise was of the essence.
As Sam applied the brake to his wagon, Kitty once more opened the door, looking up and down Front Street. Then she motioned the Noonans to come inside.
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Matt Dillon sharply raised his head when a shot rang out. He, Deke and Chester, dressed in their dark dusters, had been searching high and low in all of Silas Blackthorne's known haunts. So far, no luck. And now they'd heard gunfire. Matt's stomach knotted as he looked to his friends. "That sounded like it came from the train depot."
They all three took off, winding through the side streets and alleys, heading for the train station at a dead run.
tbc
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