"Are we going to shoot it out in the saloon, Marshal?" Standing close to Matt, Deputy Lindon still looked nervous yet no longer afraid, his pallor gone.
When Kitty saw the two older Neville brothers descending the Long Branch stairs after their room visits with her girls, she realized she could give Lindon the direction he desperately seemed to need. She stepped outside. "Don't go back in there yet, Trent," she said. "The Nevilles just came downstairs. Matt will want to know they're in the barroom."
"Then he'll want me to wait out here for him, Miss Kitty?"
"Let's go meet him. We don't want to chance the Nevilles catching sight of him over the batwings." Kitty and Lindon hurried to meet Matt and Chester as they walked to the Long Branch.
"We won't draw our guns unless we have to," Matt said to Lindon.
"What if the Neville brothers won't stand down?"
"Then we shoot 'em." Matt grinned slightly and patted Lindon's shoulder. "We're not gonna just let them kill us, Trent."
Kitty didn't think it funny. Matt tended at times to be too much at ease in the face of deadly menace, and it was maddening. "Matt, I can lure them outside, then you and Trent open fire. The Nevilles swore they'd kill you when they were released from prison, it's on record. Except Pike, and he and Audrey are out on the prairie looking for a place to homestead. His brothers are curs, no one will make trouble if you potshot 'em."
Matt's grin widened, while Lindon looked awestruck at Kitty. "My goodness, Miss Kitty," said Chester.
"Kitty, maybe I should've gave you a badge and let Trent catch his train home," said Matt.
"I don't need a badge to shoot straight. I'll kill 'em both if you need me to," said Kitty.
"Will we fight them inside the Long Branch?" Trent asked again.
"You'll know what to do," the marshal said.
"Yes, sir."
Matt pushed through the batwings first, with Lindon behind him to his right and Chester at his heels on his left. Kitty came in last, moved to the bar and stood near Sam. Arch and Leonard Neville sat at a table by themselves drinking beer, having tired of the two saloon gals.
The brothers saw Matt and jumped up, grabbing their guns as their chairs clattered to the floor. Arch was in the marshal's line of fire and Leonard was across from Lindon. Matt and the deputy drew a heartbeat faster than the brothers. Arch, the oldest Neville, did not move as fast as his brother, and his gun barely cleared the holster before Matt's bullet ripped into his chest. Five years hard labor at the penitentiary had slowed the brothers down, aging them beyond their years of thirty-seven and thirty-five. They were rusty, and as Matt later said when he talked it over with Doc, Kitty and Chester, too arrogant and stupid to practice target shooting on their release.
Arch clutched his chest as blood drenched his shirt, dropped his gun, toppled onto the table, slid off and fell on his back, his head thumping the floor. He drew lefthanded while his brother used his right, and as Arch went for his gun he jostled Leonard. As Lindon fired at Leonard's chest, Arch's arm shifted Leonard's position, and the bullet pierced the middle brother's lung instead of his heart. Gripping his gun, Leonard staggered into Arch as his brother fell, then slumped, fell to his knees and onto his face in front of Arch, his gun beneath him.
It all happened in three or four seconds, too fast for the men and gals to dash for the barroom walls. They froze in shocked silence, their ears ringing from the deafening cracks of gunfire as bitter smoke drifted round their heads and stung their noses. The only sound in the barroom was the piano, merrily playing Oh Susanna.
Lindon holstered his gun and approached the fallen brothers, blocking them from Matt's view. The deputy crossed between Matt, who still aimed his Peacemaker, and the Nevilles lying on the floor. Standing to Matt's left, Chester saw Leonard twitch. His right arm crooked, inching from under his body, which stiffened. Chester had seen Leonard fall on top of his gun hand clinging to his six-shooter, and knew the marshal couldn't see Leonard's sneaking twitches on account of Trent was in the way of Mr. Dillon's line of sight.
The deputy was likely too much a greenhorn to know what it meant if Chester shouted his name, but the marshal sure enough knew. "Mr. Dillon!" As he yelled, Chester leaped at Trent and shoved him. He fell hard and lay stunned as Leonard Neville reared up from the floor, pointing his gun where Trent had been a split-second before. Chester rushed past Leonard so Mr. Dillon could shoot him again, but couldn't get out of the way fast enough. Matt was forced to hesitate so his bullet wouldn't hit his partner, giving Neville a chance to pull the trigger. Chester felt a burning lance of pain as Neville's bullet grazed his arm near the shoulder and whizzed close past Matt's head.
On his knees with blood soaking his shirt and vest, Neville cocked his gun again, leveling the pistol at the marshal. Matt had no time to take careful aim at Neville's chest and shot high. Blood and bone fragments sprayed the air as Matt's bullet struck the man's face. A saloon gal screamed and hid her face on the shoulder of the fellow she'd chatted and laughed with not twenty seconds ago. Leonard Neville fell once more, on his mangled face, never to move again. His brother Arch had died at once as he went down.
Next to Sam behind the bar, Kitty's body went weak and quivering as she whooshed out her breath. She hadn't realized she was holding it. Her heart danced wildly and she willed it to steady. She moved to Matt, knowing he was unscathed yet needing him, warm and vitally alive, near her.
Lindon stood up, brushed off and tidied his fine gray suit. Matt frowned at the blood stain on the arm of Chester's shirt. "Can you make it to Doc's alright, Chester?"
"Yessir. It's jest a gash whar Leonard's slug grazed me. Burns some is all."
"I'll walk him to Doc's, Marshal," said Trent. "You saved my life, Chester. I thought Leonard was only having death spasms. I had no notion there was fight left in him. I am beholden to you."
"Takes bein' a lawman a spell to learn that all 'bout gunfightin'. You done yer job shootin' Leonard first time, Trent, so's Mr. Dillon could finish 'im off. You dun owe me nothin'."
"Good work, Trent," said Matt. "Thanks. You too, Chester. I'm proud of you both."
Though Chester's arm wound felt like it was afire, he smiled anyway. Mr. Dillon's praise touched his heart with a warmth that spread through him to the tips of his fingers and toes.
His black eyes luminous, Trent flushed and stared up at Matt. The deputy opened his mouth, and when no words came to him, he closed his mouth and swallowed hard.
"Alright, Trent." Matt patted his shoulder, then put a comforting arm around Kitty, holding her close.
She felt cold despite the balmy day, and Matt's arm warmed her. His arm and seeing four men pick up the Nevilles' bodies and carry them out of the barroom, headed for the undertaker's. The Long Branch cleanup man went to work directly on the puddles of blood with a bucket full of steaming water, a tin dripping with lye soap and a pile of rags.
Kitty was at once a bit sad and pleased for Pike Neville, who'd escaped his older brothers' fate, and happy for the young saloon girl Audrey. Pike and the girl were likely sitting on a big rock by a quiet creek, talking dreams. The dreams always shining through Audrey's eyes would be fulfilled now, delivering her at just eighteen years from the dismal life of a saloon worker. In just the thirty minutes or so Kitty chatted with Pike, she knew he was a decent man at heart. Now that Arch and Leonard were dead and could no longer poison Pike's mind, he'd quickly mature into a good man under Audrey's loving care.
Matt said to Lindon, "You're welcome to stay on in Dodge as deputy-marshal, Trent."
"Thank you, Marshal, but I am no lawman. It's not only that my wife had trouble when she was in Dodge. It is hard for me to know what to do as a deputy. Except writing reports and organizing letters and such. And I hated killing that man."
"I know. Killing's what I hate most about this job," said Matt. Lindon left the saloon with Chester, headed for Doc's.
Kitty felt she could stand in the same spot another hour at least with Matt's arm around her. She knew he'd let go of her in a moment, though, so she savored the embrace while she could. "I have to tell Pike his brothers are dead and I killed them," said Matt. "That's another part of this job I hate."
Kitty looked up into his eyes, their sky-blue color darkened with brooding. "You hate a few things about the job, don't you," she said. Her tone was light as she considered suggesting other occupations to Matt, a pastime of Kitty's.
Matt's tone was grim as he answered. "I hate a lot of things about it."
"I hate that badge," Kitty said with bitter vehemence, startling herself.
Matt's arm tightened round her in a gesture both soothing and protective. "Don't worry, Kitty. Don't let it bother you. I handle it alright."
"Matt, Pike might not be too distressed about his brothers dying. He might even be relieved."
"On account of Audrey?" said Matt.
"Mm-hmm. I think Pike and Audrey will be awhile getting back to town. That gives you time to sit and drink a beer before you have to tell him about Arch and Leonard, Matt. I need a drink and so do you."
Matt's gaze turned tender as he regarded Kitty. She liked thinking of different shades of blue to call his eyes, which changed in hue with his feelings. Concentrating as she looked at him, Kitty thought bluebird sky.
Matt smiled at her serious expression. "Guess I best not argue about that beer," he said.
Walking with Chester the few steps to Doc's, Trent realized he felt awkward. Although blood wet Chester's arm shoulder to elbow, he limped with a spring in his steps, his face untroubled. He wasn't even holding onto his wounded arm. He sure didn't need Trent's help getting to Doc's, in truth, Trent felt in worse shape than Chester looked, except for the bleeding arm. Trent concealed how badly shaken he was by the shootings. He particularly wanted to look strong to Marshal Dillon, but now that Arch and Leonard Neville were dead, Trent felt the shock overtaking him.
Chester wasn't saying anything to Trent, either. Chester had seemed friendlier a moment in the Long Branch when Trent thanked the marshal's friend for saving his life. Chester simply did not warm to the deputy, even when he helped nurse Trent with care after his wife shot him.
"That wound hardly bothers you where Leonard's bullet grazed you, Chester," said Lindon. "When Lillith shot me through the shoulder, it hurt so I thought I'd die."
"My wound ain't much more'n a cut," Chester said modestly. "Bullet what hit you tore through yer bone in back."
"Still, you seem used to it. Getting shot and seeing men killed and all."
"Seen more men git shot than I kin recollect," said Chester as they started up the stairs to Doc's rooms. "Had to shoot more'n a few maself. I took bullets least six, seven times maybe. Near kilt me oncet. Loco ole man potshot me jest to stir up excitement here in town."
"You are one strong fellow, Chester. I'd be dead long before all that happened to me."
"You done plenty a'right shootin' that Leonard Neville to the Long Branch," said Chester generously.
"Thanks."
Doc showed no sign of distress at sight of Chester's bloodied shirt, which surprised Trent. He knew the two men were good friends. Doc rose from the recliner where he'd lain to take a nap, and told Chester to sit there. "In Dodge a spell longer, are you, Trent?" said Doc, glancing sharply at Lindon's badge. "Thought you turned in your badge and caught the noon train to Richmond."
"Marshal Dillon asked me to stay and help fight two brothers gunning for him, Doc. I haven't changed my mind about resigning the Marshals, and I won't be in Dodge much longer. I miss Lillith."
"That's how ma arm got tore, Doc. Bullet grazed me," said Chester.
"Set on the table there, Trent, take it easy while I patch up Chester. I'll take a look at you after," said Doc.
"Trent ain't hurt but his nerves is shook bad," Chester said.
"How did you know that," Lindon demanded, hoisting himself on the table. "I thought I hid it pretty good."
"Mr. Dillon seen you was shook, too," said Chester, and felt a speck of shame for saying it. He didn't know why he told Lindon that.
Trent sighed. "Well at least the marshal knows I tried to look strong."
"You was strong right 'nough drawin' on them brothers. Fast, too," Chester reassured.
Doc washed the gash in Chester's arm with a mild soap and warm water, mixed a packet of morphine with cider in a tin cup, and gave it to his patient to drink. Doc cleaned the wound again, with carbolic acid this time, stitched the gash, dabbed on more carbolic acid followed by a thick layer of healing cream, wrapped bandaging round Chester's arm above the elbow, and helped him slip his arm in a sling.
Aside from squeezing his eyes shut and wincing now and then, Chester showed no pain while Doc tended him, snapping at him to be still when he flinched. After hollering back, he told Doc all about the gunfight, then yawned and looked sleepy. Lindon watched in awe, remembering the pain he felt when Doc cleaned a cut on the back of his head he got when he tried to fight Chester and the marshal's partner pushed him so he fell, hit his head and passed out. Doc had to chloroform Trent to stitch the wound. Now Trent wondered if Doc would yell when looking him over.
Chester stood up when Doc finished treating his wound and put on his hat. "Shouldn't he stay awhile and rest?" said Lindon, more from indignation at Chester's hardiness than any concern.
"I ain't doin' that," Chester said easily. He went out and shut the door, and Doc and Lindon heard him limping down the stairs.
"He didn't thank you. Or pay you either," said Lindon.
"He's alright," said Doc.
Close as Doc and Chester were, Trent thought their friendship strange, and something about it irked him. Dillon and Doc were especially fond of Chester, no matter what he said or how he said it, what he did or failed to do. Although Miss Kitty was fond of him, too, her affection for Chester did not plague Trent like the marshal's and Doc's regard for their friend. Trent was a one-woman man who thought and felt little about any other woman except his wife. Unsure how much he loved Lillith, he knew he was very attached to her and needed her, even when she hurt him. Being apart from his wife made Trent need her yet more, compelling him to seek Miss Kitty's advice about facing down the Neville brothers, when he never sought advice from any woman but Lillith.
Doc listened to Lindon's heartbeat, placed the stethoscope bell on both sides of his chest and told him to breathe deeply, peered into his bright black eyes and down his throat. "Well, you aren't sick," said Doc. "But for a young fella just thirty-four you should be fitter than you are."
"The gunfight rattled me. Shooting that man and all. I feel fine now, Doc. I settled right down, thanks to you."
"I can't take credit for that," said Doc. "You're not poorly, nerves settle quick on their own. I'm gonna give you a tonic, and you should eat just a little more, Trent. Get more sleep, too."
"I don't sleep well without Lillith."
"The badge wears on you," said Doc. "So does life in a cow town. Not everyone is cut out for the frontier. The sooner you travel home to Virginia and Mrs. Lindon, go back to clerking at the Richmond courthouse, the better."
"I shall be on the next train. Thank you, Doc. How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing. You knew everything I said before I told it to you, Trent. I just put you in remembrance of what you already decided before Mrs. Lindon left Dodge."
Matt, Chester, Doc and Kitty were eating dinner at Delmonico's when a fellow who drifted into Dodge betimes hesitantly approached them. A wolfer who never tarried long in town, he slept near the riverbank and rode a mule, talked with a twang and wore spurs that jingled when he walked. "Pardon fer bargin' on yer supper," he humbly said, taking off his hat. "Purtiest dude I ever seed jest run into me outside, makin' a hoo-dee-doo 'bout catchin' the six o'clock train. Asked me to give you this shiny new star, Marshal." The fellow handed the deputy badge to Matt. "A body 'ud be right prided, struttin' roun' with that l'il tin bauble a twinklin' on 'is bosom."
"Thanks, Festus," said Matt.
"Sherr thang, Marshal." Festus put on his hat, tipped it to Kitty with a small grin, and left. Matt put the badge on the table and attended to his steak.
"He's neighborly, isn't he?" said Kitty. "I think he knows how to treat a lady."
"I wager he'd be more friend than stranger if he'd settle. A town like Dodge is not too crude for that sorta fella." said Doc. "You see him one day, say howdy, next day he's gone."
"Festus is a little roughhewn, but he's decent enough," said Matt. "Maybe even trustworthy."
"He must be good folks if you trust him," said Kitty.
"Well, I don't trust him yet, Kitty. Have to know him better first."
Chester said nothing about Festus, and as he usually chattered like a flock of prairie chickens when at ease with just his friends about him, Matt, Doc and Kitty looked at him expectantly. Chester studied the tin star on the table. The badge sparkled in Delmonico's lamplight. Wearing the sling supporting his wounded left arm, Chester picked up the star and pinned it on his shirt at the right side of his chest. He polished the star with his sleeve and looked admiringly yet soberly at the effect.
Matt and Kitty smiled, Doc shook his head in mock dismay. Chester blushed. "Jest wanted to try it on for size. Ah'll give it back to ya when we git done eatin' an' leave the table, Mr. Dillon."
"See that you do," said Doc. "You can get yourself in big trouble wearin' one of those things, Chester. Like Matt."
"Matt's badge gets him in so much trouble, I'd like to rip it off his shirt right here," said Kitty.
"Well, my goodness, Miss Kitty," said Chester.
Matt chuckled. "That's alright, Chester. I'll remember to get that star back from you when we finish dinner."
"Yeah . . . . It's weightin' ma shirt anyways." Chester unpinned the badge and slid it across the table to Matt. Though the star looked dandy on his shirt, wearing it gave Chester an unsettled feeling. Without knowing why, he thought of the jail cells in the marshal's office.
Delmonico's windows were opened to a night in late spring that felt like mild summer, with an abundance of starlight splashing the sky. While Front Street bustled sunup to sundown with the last trail herds of the season before the hot spells set in, from nightfall to three or four o'clock in the morning, the streets of Dodge were raucous, the player pianos in the town's many saloons a clamor in the warm muggy air.
Matt voiced wonder at Pike Neville taking his brothers' deaths so easily, and Kitty said Pike was in love with Audrey, and relieved his brothers were no longer around to muck up his life. Audrey told Kitty that Pike proposed on their prairie walk, and they went straight to the parson and took their vows. Doc said that all happened mighty fast, but when foks were in love they knew what they wanted, and a girl like Audrey surely wasn't fit to be a saloon gal.
As his friends warmed to their conversation, Chester gazed through the window at Front Street under the starry sky. "You alright, Chester?" said Kitty. "You're so quiet tonight."
"Oh, ah'm right well. Jest thinkin'."
END