The big bully was outside of the Golden Eagle saloon off of a narrow back street, leaning against one of the front posts, arms crossed over his massive chest, scanning the boardwalks for unescorted women. It was a little past 10:30AM, and only plainly dressed farm women and a few spinsters were out.
Suddenly he felt a rope encircle his chest and arms and tighten with an uncomfortable yank. Startled, Stobo looked to his left and saw Chester across the street astride his chestnut horse. The lariat around Stobo was attached securely around the saddle horn.
"HEY! Whaddaya doin', little man?! When I get free of this, I'm gonna squeeze you like a bug!" the big man yelled as his face reddened with his struggling.
As the brutish man tried to hurry towards Chester to loosen the rope, the slim man carefully backed up his horse to prevent any slack.
"Now, you jest stay still there Stobo or I might have ta drag ya some!" Chester was sorely tempted but knew he didn't have the meanness in him necessary to actually do it. He only wanted to keep Stobo under control until Matt's imminent arrival. He had heard the stage arrive moments ago, and he knew the Marshal would immediately come looking for him once Doc talked to him.
"Huh! Yer yeller or ya woulda already done it!" Stobo smirked as he started walking faster towards the slim man on the horse. The massive man had wisely not put his gun belt on, knowing no respected lawman like Dillon would shoot him.
"What're gonna do NOW, GIMP?! Ya gonnna SHOOT me, an unarmed man?!" the big bully yelled, watching the slender man put his right hand on a pistol in his waistband while clutching the rope in his left. Chester had switched from the shotgun to pistol after getting his horse for the search.
Unsure what to do, Chester initially had quickly undone the long rope from the saddle horn and had begun reeling it in as fast as he could to take up the slack while leaving the pistol in his waistband. He had been searching first on foot and now on horseback for hours and had been tensely awake since Ida Mae had fetched him around 4AM, and his brain felt like lead. He didn't know if he could shoot an unarmed man, even if it was Stobo.
"I'd sure be puttin' Mr. Dillon in a pickle if I shoot that beast!" he thought. "And what if I miss and kill him?!" Chester now pulled the pistol from his waistband with his right hand and pointed it at Stobo, but his mind and hand both wavered.
Grinning evilly, the big man quickened his pace, thinking how he would pull that skinny gimp from the saddle and beat him to death, when he was jerked off his feet, hitting the ground with a crash.
Chester yelped as the rope was whipped from his left hand and became entangled around the axel of a runaway wagon careening down the street behind a spooked horse. Two harried men came running along after the wagon, yelling:
"WATCH OUT! GET OUTTA THE WAY!"
Chester stared in stunned disbelief as big Stobo was yanked off his feet and dragged kicking and screaming down the street towards the prairie. Then he took off on his horse after the dust cloud disappearing in the distance.
Five miles later, Chester came upon the parked wagon, the horse quietly grazing, and the ragged, bloody remains of the big bully still roped to the axel.
Getting off his horse, the slim young man limped over and cut the rope from Stobo to the wagon. Kneeling down, right leg straight out, the kind-hearted man looked down at the big bully with sadness and dismay. He gingerly listened for a heartbeat.
"So that's what I looked like! Ya was a mean, nasty, terrible person, Stobo, but no one deserves to die thisaway."
Chester was lean and strong, and managed to haul the big man's body up into the bed of the wagon and covered it with a blanket he found there. After untangling the rope from the axel, he tied his horse's reins to the back, and climbed up into the driver's seat.
Flicking the reins, Chester headed the horse and wagon towards Dodge. Glancing back at his dead, bloody, blanket-covered passenger, the sad-eyed man rubbed the scars on his chest from his own dragging, shook his head, and looked down the road at the two panting men approaching, grateful to see their horse and wagon again. He would stop to pick them up and drop them again in town. Their wagon would be returned later.
Off in the distance, behind the two wagon owners, Chester could make out the figure of a Buckskin horse being ridden fast and hard by a big man, sun glinting off of the silver badge on his shirt. Riding hard to join up with his loyal, dependable, brave friend and assistant, and the body of the soul-less man who had reaped what he had sown.
End.
Epilogue:
Being a very sensitive man, Chester noticed the Marshal's quick glance up and over to the Long Branch as they drew near it after coming into town. Then just as quickly, the big man frowned and refocused his attention straight ahead as they neared Doc's.
Stopping the horse and wagon, Chester waited until Matt's horse came up beside him, and its rider swung down.
"Mr. Dillon. I'd sure appreciate it if ya'd let me handle Stobo. After Doc looks him over, I'll haul the body to Percy Crump's and then do the buryin'. I cain't really tell ya why…jest like finishing and buryin' a bad dream, I reckin'."
"Chester, that's a lot of work, and you must be worn out by now."
"No, no, not a bit! I need somethin' to slow down my heart after all the excitement." The kind young man saw his close friend and employer shoot his eyes towards the Long Branch again. "And gimmee Buck's reins since I'll be heading to Moss' with this here wagon anyways," he added, holding out his hand.
"Well, if you're sure. Thanks Chester." The Marshal clapped his friend on the back, grinned, and turned towards the saloon. He knew exactly what the tender-hearted man was doing and knew that Chester realized that.
Taking the stairs three at a time, the tall young man loped up to the room on the second floor of the saloon. Red, the barkeep, nodded his head in greeting as he cleaned mugs and glasses. There were only three dusty cowboys quietly drinking beer at one of the front tables at this hour of the day.
Matt tapped on the closed door and heard Doc's distinctive shuffle as he crossed the room and turned the knob.
"Doc. How is she? Is she awake?" He easily peered over the small man's head and towards the big brass bed by the window. The bright sunlight lit her glossy red hair with a warm glow. Her eyes were closed and his heart gave a sharp twinge as he saw her splinted left wrist elevated by a pillow. Her lovely face was pale under the fresh bruising and cuts.
Without waiting for the doctor's answer, Matt gently pushed by him and strode over to the bed as if drawn by a magnet.
Easing his big muscular body into the chair beside the bed, he reached out and stroked her cheek with a surprisingly light touch for such a large and calloused hand.
"Matt." Kitty's large, sky-blue eyes fluttered open and scanned his handsome, worried face like a thirsty person seeking water. She had inhaled his wonderful masculine scent of sweat, leather, and horse. He had shucked his dress jacket and tie, but his dress pants and white shirt were covered with trail dust and perspiration.
Reaching for his left hand with her right, she entwined her slender fingers in his large ones, and the young man and woman wordlessly said everything needed with their intense, loving eyes.
Doc clucked his tongue and ran a hand over his mustache. He turned towards the hallway, pulling the door closed, and slowly made his way down the stairs, a satisfied smile on his face.