Doc's Musings
Four days before the big one Doctor Galen Adams leaned over the polished bar deep in conversation with Miss Kitty and me. We were taking advantage of the weekday quiet time between the lunch and evening crowds. The focus of conversation was out of town with Festus Haggen checking on the disappearance of seed and farming tools from the Roniger farm and talking to the trail bosses of the latest outfits to arrive from Texas. We still hadn't decided how best to make sure Matt Dillon attended his own birthday party. If it didn't remain a surprise he was sure to find a reason not to attend. Even if we got him there the smallest incident could send him scampering.
Doc began to reminisce. His musings took him from his first meeting with a gangly lad fresh off the farm to the respected giant our marshal is now. Since that long ago day the newly orphaned boy, who was, according to Doc, bent on proving himself able to make it on his own, had grown into an imposing man. It took ten years for the two men to be reunited and another 14 cementing the strong connection forged in 1855 when a severe beating at the hands of buffalo hunter Jase Murdock brought the youth to the newly licensed physician. While I haven't been in Dodge anywhere near as long as Doc I understand why both Marshal Dillon and my red-haired boss became his surrogate children. At times I almost feel that way myself, at least toward her. One thing I know is whether or not Miss Kitty pulls off this celebration she'll do the same when Doc and my birthdays come around. There will be a party and cake for Doc, who will turn 55 in July, and another for when I turn 60 in August.
No matter how long our acquaintance with him or how well we think we know the marshal the three of us are certain of two things; Matt Dillon the man hates to be the center of attention and his job could send him instantly away without warning. We were still bantering ideas about when Newly O'Brien joined us. The gunsmith became part of the inner circle after he saved Miss Kitty's life while helping to capture an outlaw gang. He brought the freshest perspective to our problem. The four of us with help from Festus, though Doc will scoff at it, had to come up with something. Time was running out.
"The marshal has already asked me to help out with rounds while the herds fill the stockyards and all the men connected with them fill the town," Newly began as we walked to our special table. "Festus and I could suggest to him we concentrate on the other saloons so he can spend most of his time keeping trouble from erupting in the Long Branch," Newly offered.
"That will do for a start," Doc replied. "We just need to be sure he's here when Kitty brings out the cake."
"I'm afraid there's more to it than that, Doc," Miss Kitty replied. "He's got to stay here long enough to eat something before I bring out that cake while it's crowded with those joining the celebration. If I limit the customers to only us or put a tablecloth on our table Matt's bound to suspect something's up. But if I leave things to chance a fight could break out."
"Miss Kitty, I hope I'm not out of line, but I have a suggestion," I interjected. "We could tell the trail bosses in advance about the party so that the most likely troublemakers won't be in the Long Branch until after the cake is cut and the marshal's presents are opened. They can make sure their men toe the line in the other saloons enough so no interference by local authority is required."
"That's a wonderful idea, Sam," my boss responded. "Do you think you three and Festus could spread the word while swearing those you tell to secrecy?"
The three of us agreed to implement our plan to quietly spread the word to the trail bosses about making sure their drovers cooperated at least for a couple of hours on Wednesday night as soon as possible. We'd let Festus know his part in it when he came in to cadge a free beer. Miss Kitty would take care of getting Marshal Dillon to this table without him getting suspicious. There was still the problem of making sure every local who should be was in the Long Branch at the right time. We sure had our work cut out for us.