Other than Matt Dillon himself, the one man in Dodge reckoned fast enough to fight the Neville brothers was at the depot waiting for the noon train, and Matt had never seen that man shoot a gun. Goaded by three double whiskies and his wife Lillith—who falsely accused Chester of attacking her when he spurned her attentions—Deputy-Marshal Lindon, not long since assigned to Dodge, had drawn and cocked his gun on Chester. Unsure if Lindon would pull the trigger, Matt shot the gun out of his hand.
Lillith soon afterward fired a bullet through her husband's shoulder for calling her an abominably ill-bred liar. Almost at once she begged his forgiveness, which he eagerly granted. The Lindons deemed it wise to part from each other while his wound mended. Lillith went back to their home in Richmond, Virginia, where her husband planned to return to his job as courthouse clerk and reunite with her, when he was fit to travel.
As he headed for the depot on a warm day near the end of planting season, with the air a bit muggy under a bright sun portending the summer to come, Matt wondered if he could trust Lindon. The telegram from the Leavenworth sheriff warned that the Neville brothers were released from prison and on their way to Dodge. Matt had no time to test Lindon's mettle. Lindon hadn't yet written a resignation letter to the Marshal's Service; his badge was in Matt's desk drawer. Aside from report writing, organizing letters and circulars and such, Lindon disliked being a lawman. He signed on with the Service only to please his ambitious wife, and likely wouldn't pin the badge on again anyway.
He sat reading a book on a sunlit bench at the train station, his trunk on the ground near his boots. He looked small as Matt approached him, which in itself was troubling. Matt recollected the Neville brothers well. Two of them vowed to kill him when freed from the State Penitentiary. The oldest, Arch, was some six feet tall and built strong. The middle Neville, Leonard, was about two inches taller—Chester's height—with the same slim frame. The youngest, Pike, had said nothing about killing Matt. Middling in size, Pike was still bigger than Lindon, who was an inch or so shorter, also with a middling build, but on the light side. Lindon didn't fight well with his fists, either.
He looked up from his book when Matt's towering shadow crossed the page. "Trent, I know it's a lot to ask, but I sure could use your help here in town awhile longer. I just got a wire from the sheriff at Leavenworth. You heard of the Neville brothers?"
"No." Lindon's bright black eyes chilled as he squinted up at Matt's face under his Stetson, framed by the sun. The marshal knew Lindon wearied of Dodge, had never liked the town, and that he missed his wife, though Matt suspected he needed Lillith more than he loved her. Lindon wasn't the sort of man to thrive away from his woman, even one like Lillith. Six years older than his thirty-four years, she was a woman who boldly took the lead, and he depended on her.
Matt sat on the bench next to Lindon. "The Nevilles are holdup men," said the marshal. "They rob banks, trains, stages. I caught and jailed 'em, and they swore to kill me when they got out of prison. The brothers were just released, three of them. They're headed for Dodge."
Lindon grinned a little, though not in a friendly way. "Chester's your man, Marshal. He can help you fight these Nevilles." Despite his antipathy for the job, Lindon wanted to be Matt's righthand man while he wore the badge, and he hadn't got on well with Chester.
"The Nevilles are fast guns, Trent. I need a man who can fight them."
Sparks of interest replaced the chill in Lindon's eyes. He shut his book and set it on the bench. "I never had a chance to show you how fast I am, Marshal. I did nothing but desk work."
"Show me now."
Trent paid a boy to carry his trunk to the boarding house he'd just left, and ask the owner to hold his room. The deputy and Matt went to the stretch of dirt behind the depot, where planking and bottles were set up for target shooting. Trent drew his gun with the swiftness of a rattler striking and shattered six bottles inside three seconds. He was easily fast as Matt, if not a little faster.
"Let's see how ya do against a man," said Matt. He and Lindon faced off ten paces apart. "On three," the marshal said. They couldn't tell who drew faster.
Then Matt showed Trent some fist-fighting moves, which didn't go well. Though not weak, Trent was neither forceful or strong, and his agility and sureness with a gun lacked in hand-to-hand combat. The marshal took care not to throw him around too hard when they grappled, but his body toppled and flew through the air with no effort at all from Matt. "I guess I won't be much use with my fists, Marshal." Lindon brushed dirt off his costly dove-gray suit.
"You did fine. I need your gun hand most," Matt said. Trent winced, rubbing his ribs. "Alright, Trent?" He wasn't a tough sort, posing yet another worry to Matt.
"Sure. Just a mite sore," said Lindon.
The marshal grinned and clapped his shoulder, and Trent winced again. "Let's get back to the office," said Matt. "I need to tell Chester the Neville brothers are coming."
"Chester won't be pleased to see me again."
"Trent, if you're gonna be any help handling the Nevilles, you need to get along with Chester."
"Yes, sir."
When Chester heard about the brothers returning to Dodge, he wanted to strap on a gun belt, which Matt would not allow. "Ah'll jest stick a six-shooter in ma belt, then. Won't hardly no one take notice of it, an' I kin back you when the time comes, Mr. Dillon."
Chester opened a desk drawer to take out a revolver, and Matt shut the drawer with his boot. "Chester, the best way you can assist me in this is to get along with Trent."
"Wahl . . . ." Chester rubbed the back of his head, glanced at Trent's impassive handsome face, limped to the window with his hands in his pockets and gazed out at bustling Front Street. Dodge teemed with cattle drives at the tail end of spring, as drovers rushed their herds through town before the summer heat set in and dried the watering holes. The town was boisterous, covered in swirling prairie dust kicked up by cattle hooves and smelling of dung. It made Chester think of moving on West.
He sensed Mr. Dillon and Lindon looking at him like they waited for him to say somewhat. Chester didn't want to say anything. He wanted to walk on the prairie alone a spell. He heard a desk drawer open and turned.
Matt took out Lindon's badge and handed it to him, then told the deputy and Chester to watch for the Nevilles. Lindon stood looking vaguely quizzical. "Mr. Dillon means walk the town an' keep a eye out for them brothers," Chester explained.
Matt concealed a grin even while worry nagged him. Although Lindon exceeded his expectations as a fast gun, the deputy could be slow getting a purchase on things and acting as called for. Except with clerking things. He could sort, neatly arrange and precisely itemize a pile of untidy paper three times as fast as Matt, while Chester was not equipped to prepare such reports at all.
Lindon was in short a greenhorn. Matt soberly regarded the deputy, whose features were flawlessly carved as any man's he'd ever seen. Men like the two older Neville brothers would see Lindon's classic male beauty, paired with his size tending slightly on the smaller side, his fancy duds and cultured Virginia accent as traits to scorn. The brothers might target Lindon before he had a notion they were doing it.
"I kin take care fer Trent, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "Ah'll need a shotgun, though, you won't let me tote a six-shooter."
The marshal's eyes widened a bit, his brows lifting as he met Chester's guileless brown eyes. Chester had a way at times of grasping Matt's thoughts which took him by surprise.
Trent frowned. "I don't need you to nursemaid me, Chester. I can take care of myself."
"No harm in me lendin' you a hand. Jest tryin' ta be neighborly."
Matt rummaged through the desk drawers. "Can I help you find something, Marshal?" said Trent.
"I found 'em. Take a long look and remember their faces. You too, Chester." The marshal handed three outdated Wanted posters to Lindon, likenesses taken of the Neville brothers before Matt captured them and the judge sent them to prison. "Stay with Trent, will you, Chester?" Matt heard himself say. He hadn't intended to tell the two men to look out for the brothers together, and they didn't look happy about it. "Don't take a gun with you, Chester, and don't either of you talk to the Nevilles if you see them. Find me straightaway and let me know."
"Yes, sir," said Chester.
"How long do I have to stay with Chester, Marshal?" said Lindon.
"Until the Nevilles show in town."
"What if they don't?"
"I think they will, Trent. That's why I asked for your help here. If the Nevilles don't show, you can go home to Richmond. Unless you wanna stay in Dodge, keep workin' for the Marshals."
Lindon hesitated. "No . . . I miss Lillith sorely already. And I don't want her coming back to this place. She got into trouble here."
"It's your decision," Matt said.
"I'm no sharp-witted fellow even with my wife near, Marshal. I confess I'm rather unmoored apart from my Lillith."
Matt patted Lindon's shoulder. "You'll do alright, Trent."
Matt watched through the window as the two walked away along Front Street. Chester moved with an air of untroubled sureness. Men commonly came gunning for the marshal, and Chester had learned not to worry until it was time. Dodge was a rough town where gunfire might erupt any minute, and much as the bloodshed unsettled him, he was used to it looming, even over his boss and close friend Mr. Dillon.
Lindon was the one who concerned Matt. The deputy did not wear the badge with confidence, he was ill at ease in Dodge and looked it. Exposing him to danger plagued the marshal, but there was no time to search for another man fast with a gun as Lindon was. The Nevilles would arrive soon, if they weren't in town already.
When Chester said they'd go to Grimmick's livery first, Lindon asked why. "Livery's like ta be the first stop for 'em ridin' in," said Chester. "To stable their horses. Moss's is at the edge a town an' he keeps the nicest place."
Moss was busy. A horse occupied every stall, and he was forking hay in the feed boxes. "Moss," said Chester.
"Chester." Moss glanced at Lindon. "Thought you were leaving on the noon train, Deputy." Lindon didn't answer. He squared his shoulders and fixed his piercing black eyes on Moss, who turned his back to fork more hay.
"Trent's stayin' to help Mr. Dillon face down the Neville brothers."
"Reckon Trent don't talk much," said Moss.
"He ain't much for chattin'," said Chester.
Lindon took the three Wanted posters from his inner vest pocket, unfolded the circulars and held them out to Moss. "Will you take a look, Mr. Grimmick? They just got out of prison and the Leavenworth sheriff wired Marshal Dillon they're on their way to Dodge."
Moss looked at the posters and gave them back to Lindon. "They rode in about, over two hours ago."
"Good gracious," said Chester.
"Did they say where they'd be in town? What hotel or anything?" said Lindon.
"Nope. They looked too shabby to pay for a hotel. Likely took a room at a cheap boarding house."
Lindon and Chester thanked Moss, and the deputy left the livery at a run. "Where's he goin' in such a hurry, Chester?" said Moss.
"Dunno, but I best catch up to 'im. Mr. Dillon said look out for 'im."
"He needs lookin' out for in this town," Moss laughed. "Pretty dandy like that."
Chester limped-hopped to overtake the deputy. "Lindon, what're ya runnin' for?" he called. "Mr. Dillon said stay together."
Lindon stopped and waited. "I have to tell the marshal those brothers are here before they get the jump on him."
"They ain't gonna ambush Mr. Dillon to the office. Not yet leastways," said Chester breathlessly, laboring to keep up with Lindon's strides.
"You don't know they won't ambush him, Chester."
"They rode in more'n two hours past, ain't tried to bushwhack him. Mr. Dillon'll want us to find them brothers so's he kin go face 'em, let 'em know he knows they're here. If we go to the office now, he'll ask us where they are right off and send us back out directly. He likely ain't in the office, what with the trail herds over-runnin' town end of spring, he's got a lot to do."
Lindon slowed his pace. "Alright. We'll look for the Nevilles in the cheap rooming houses."
"They woulda left their room a'ready, ate lunch to a restaurant."
"Well, where do you think they are, Chester."
"Havin' a drink, maybe. Cards 'n women."
"I thought they were gunning for Marshal Dillon."
"Long ride from Leavenworth," said Chester. "Them Nevilles wanna be rested an' liquored up 'fore they go after a man fast, strong 'n smart as Mr. Dillon, dumb as they are, particular. They ain't played cards or had a woman five years, since they was locked up."
"How do you know so much about it?" said Lindon.
"Lotta men come gunnin' for Mr. Dillon."
"Where are we going?" Lindon asked.
"The Long Branch."
The Long Branch was noisy and crowded with drovers. Lindon pulled out the Wanted posters again as he and Chester pushed through the batwings. "We'll have to take a close look at every one of these fellows and compare them to the circulars," said Lindon.
"You wanna git punched, that's the way ta do it," said Chester. "Show them circulars to Miss Kitty. She sees ever' man what comes in."
Kitty stood at the bar, chatting with one of her girls and a young man in a worn linsey suit and collarless shirt. She smiled at Chester as he approached with Lindon, then looked curiously at the deputy and the badge pinned to his gray silk vest. Chester had told her Lindon was leaving on the noon train, hankering to join his wife in Richmond. There must be trouble afoot if Matt asked him to stay in Dodge.
Halfway across the barroom, Lindon abruptly halted and grabbed Chester's arm. "What?" said Chester, jerking his arm free.
"That man. At the bar with Miss Kitty and the brown-skinned girl. That's Pike Neville. Marshal Dillon said he's the youngest brother."
"Uh-huh. He'll be 'bout thirty years now. Them other two's like ta be in here somewheres. Mr. Dillon said don't talk to 'em." Chester beckoned to Kitty, and she left the bar and went to him.
"Hello, Chester. Trent. What's going on? Trent, why're you still in Dodge?"
Chester tipped his hat as he greeted Kitty, and Trent took his off, uncovering his crisp brown curls. Kitty was struck by Trent's good looks whenever she saw him. He wasn't just handsome, he was beautiful, like a sculpture. His clean light-tan complexion, the envy of any woman, was darkening to gold as spring heralded summer. "Miss Kitty," he said. "A gang of three brothers—robbers and fast gunmen—are in town to kill Marshal Dillon. He called upon me to assist."
"That 'un at the bar chattin' with Audrey is one of 'em," said Chester. "Pike Neville."
"He doesn't seem the killing sort," said Kitty. "He's such a gentleman with Audrey and me."
"Pike dint swear to kill Mr. Dillon," said Chester. " "Twas them other two. Arch 'n Leonard."
"Here are their pictures, Miss Kitty," said Lindon. "Did you see them come in?"
"They're here alright. Upstairs with two of the girls. You must be fast on the draw like you claim or Matt wouldn't ask for your help, Trent. Those men are in the two rooms by the wall, at the other end of the stairs. My room's the only one with a lock, so in case the girls get a hard time, they can run out. You go up there and surprise those brothers. Tell them to get out of bed and shoot 'em," Kitty ordered.
"Forevermore, Miss Kitty, Trent cain't do that," said Chester.
"Why not."
"Mr. Dillon said not to. He tole us dun speak to the Nevilles at all."
"You don't have to speak to them," said Kitty. "Trent can just gun 'em down."
"Miss Kitty, can you talk them Nevilles into stayin' at the Long Branch 'til Mr. Dillon gits here? You 'n Audrey, an' the girls with Arch 'n Leonard?" said Chester.
"They'll be here when Matt comes," said Kitty. "The girls will do more than talk to keep 'em here if they need to."
Lindon waited outside the Long Branch while Chester went for Matt, and Kitty returned to Pike Neville and Audrey at the bar. The youngest Neville brother was quite taken with Audrey, a pretty girl of eighteen years with bronze coloring, large eyes, a button nose and lovely full mouth, and tightly curled dark hair framing her expressive face in artfully styled ringlets. The Nevilles were white men, but Audrey's color clearly made no difference to Pike. He admired her skin, caressing her cheek as they talked. As Kitty rejoined them at the bar, she heard Audrey say, "It's been legal here twenty-two years, since before the war when Kansas was still a territory." Courtships were often short on the frontier. A man and woman could meet and spark after sunup one day and say their vows in front of the parson before sundown.
Kitty didn't like to interrupt and unsettle Pike and Audrey, but Matt would push through the batwings soon with Lindon in tow. Gunplay could burst forth when the older Nevilles finished bedding the girls in the rooms above the saloon, came downstairs and found Matt and the deputy waiting, driving the youngest to take a stand with his brothers if only out of loyalty. "Mr. Neville," said Kitty, as Pike twirled a curl of Audrey's hair round his finger.
"It's Pike, Miss Kitty. I go by Pike."
"Alright, Pike. Those two men I was just talking to work for Marshal Dillon."
Pike's even ordinary features sobered. Although better looking than his brothers, he looked too much like most men to be handsome, and nothing in his manner made him stand out. Kitty wondered why Audrey took to him, then figured the usual reason excited the girl's affections. Like most saloon workers, Audrey wanted a husband.
"I do recollect that tall skinny fella with the gimp leg, come to think on it," said Pike. "He's the jailer here. Never seen that purty dude deputy, though." Pike smirked. "He won't be much help to Dillon."
"That's Trent Lindon," said Kitty. "He's a fast draw from what I hear. So is the marshal. Pike, your brothers swore they'd kill Matt when they got out of prison. He's coming to the Long Branch, and if there's a gunfight Lindon will stand with Matt. You better leave here unless you want to die with your brothers."
"Arch and Leonard and me, we're all fast too. Three against two . . . ." Pike's words trailed off in gloom.
"Are you really ready to die for your fool brothers? All they ever did was get you in trouble," said Kitty.
Pike took Audrey's hand. "I wanna go straight," he said, gazing at her. "Settle a claim, marry and have children." Audrey's striking eyes were always starry with hope, even when Kitty's most disgusting patrons pawed her. She seemed to see past them, beyond the plain saloon and harsh dirty town to a pleasant quiet place with long green grass, shade trees and a clear creek with yellow lotus flowers.
"Take Audrey for a walk on the prairie," Kitty said. "Look for a place."
"I need to change out of my costume first, Kitty. And these high-heeled slippers aren't fit for walking."
"Oh Audrey. There's no time for that. Go barefoot. Hurry, before Arch and Leonard come downstairs and Matt gets here," said Kitty.
Pike still hesitated. "Don't feel right, deserting my brothers. They're blood kin if they are no-count."
Kitty's urgency suddenly seized Audrey. She kicked off her slippers and tightened her hold on Pike's hand. "Let's go, Pike. Let's run out of town." They ran from the barroom, plowing through the batwings which slammed the Long Branch walls, startling Deputy Lindon, who paced the boardwalk outside as he waited for Matt and Chester. Pike and Audrey ran in the dust of the street so splinters wouldn't prick her bare feet, past the edge of Dodge out on the prairie.
Kitty moved to the batwings and stood just inside the saloon, watching them race away. A bit breathless herself, she touched her palm to her chest and smiled.
She felt Lindon's gaze and met his bright black eyes as she stood behind the batwings, her hands resting atop one of the doors. The deputy struck Kitty odd in a way she couldn't quite grasp. Or maybe—unlike Matt, Chester and Doc, who were easy to know—she just had trouble making Lindon out. Always gentlemanly, he never flirted with her as a lot of married men did. He was not attracted to or even particularly interested in Kitty. She knew he was very much attached to his wife Lillith and missed her—a conceited, wanton woman with a beautiful face and form incongruous with her flawed character—that he was good at clerking and fast with a six-shooter, and had wanted to be Matt's righthand man. Lindon wanted Matt to approve of him. Kitty knew nothing else about the deputy, and she wondered if there was much else behind the fine eyes and face that surpassed his wife's for perfection.
"Marshal Dillon is coming with Chester. They're down the walk a ways," Lindon said. "The marshal will face down Arch and Leonard Neville. There will likely be bloodshed, Miss Kitty. You've seen gunfights, haven't you?" Lindon spoke quicker than usual, his breath hitching. He looked pale beneath the stainless tan.
Taken aback, Kitty stared at him. He seemed to seek encouragement, or guidance. From her. "Trent, if you're not ready to stand and fight beside Matt, you better get out of here."
Lindon reddened. "I am ready, madam." He squared his shoulders, adjusted his gun belt and jerked his pants up higher about his slim waist. He looked scared.