Chance Encounter

If not for a bit of trouble in Wright I'd never have been returning to Dodge from the east just as the cattle season was getting into full swing. The drovers had completed driving their herds from Texas to be sold at the town railhead. At this time of year, the end of May, I try to confine my trips out of town to meeting up with the trail bosses to let them know where to bed down their herds and what's expected of the drovers when they come to town to celebrate. I was particularly anxious to remain available because I'd had to leave Chester in charge when trouble's brewing. Kitty and I were in Hays for Frank and Maria's wedding. When you included travel time we were gone a week. We got back yesterday.

Usually the Ford County Sheriff Charlie Bassett handles anything that doesn't involve federal law. That includes mishaps in the tiny town that's no more than a whistle stop for the Santa Fe engines to take on water. There's no real depot like in Spearville farther east, just the water tank, but they do have a bank, stable and saloon. Charlie sent a wire that he couldn't leave the larger town until he'd cleared up the conflict between the two partners operating the general store and stable as to the who and why behind lost revenue. Their dispute could easily escalate from fists to guns if he left before learning the truth and settling the matter. Besides, even if our elected sheriff were available, the trouble in the speck on the map between Spearville and Dodge City involved the bank and the railroad – a federal problem.

The legal tangle in Wright turned out to be rather minor. The banker Stewart Brothers felt cattle buyer Clint Rickers had presented a fraudulent letter authorizing him to withdraw $10,000. A telegram to Santa Fe Superintendent Thomas Peter settled the matter. He backed Rickers. The buyer would board the next train heading west with enough cash to bring profits from shipping cattle to the railroad while satisfying the cattlemen bringing the herds up from Texas. In addition there would be his own substantial monetary gain. As usual I was caught in the middle. It took me until late in the evening to get to the bottom of things. Alas, I could have stayed home if Brothers had bothered to send a telegram asking for confirmation like I did. Instead it was left to me to take care of.

A distraught Brothers sending for the US Marshal to investigate implied the matter was urgent. Therefore I rode the less than ten miles to Wright rather than waste time waiting for the next train heading east from Dodge. Now that the matter was solved I was anxious to return home but by the time I received the response to my wire it was late. Since I'd be hard pressed to justify the cost of a meal, such as was available for sale from the stableman's wife, a room, shipping a horse and a passenger ticket the short distance back to Dodge to the folks in Washington I found myself looking to camp for the night.

I was five miles from home when it got too dark to see. Even so, thanks to familiarity I could have made it home. Mostly my reason for stopping was to rest my horse, but I admit I was dead tired and my belly was rumbling. All I had in my saddlebags was a tin of beans, coffee, a pot to boil it in, a spoon and a tin cup and plate. I also carried a full canteen that hung on the saddle horn. Just as I'm never on the trail without a side arm and a rifle, I'm never without a pocketknife as well. I picked out a clearing near a group of cottonwoods along the Arkansas. Come first light I'd be on my way. My coffee and beans were about ready when instead of pouring the liquid into the cup I put my hand on my Colt. A rider was approaching without first hailing me.

The dark-haired stranger, about six inches shorter and weighing at least 50 pounds less than me couldn't be anything but an easterner and not just because he failed to hail my camp. He was dressed like a prosperous dude on his first trip to the frontier. It made me wonder how he came to be riding alone on a moonless night instead of on a train headed for a good-sized town or holed up in the best hotel in one such place. I naturally invited him to join me. I wasn't about to be responsible for him coming to a bad end.

"I thank you for your generous hospitality," he said as he dismounted. "It's good to find someone out here. I certainly wouldn't know how to make such a comfortable looking camp. My only experience with such things was country excursions to escape the hustle and bustle of Vienna as a schoolboy," he continued as he approached my fire, leading his horse. "I'm so excited to meet someone who's at home in this wilderness that I've forgotten my manners. Hans Siegler," he said, stretching out his right arm.

"Matt Dillon," I replied as I clasped his hand. "Do you know how to see to your horse?" I added.

"Oh yes. I brought along hobbles so he won't stray too far as he grazes. I've been following the river westward to be sure neither of us lacks for drinking water. I even brought along some fishing tackle and a rifle. I admit I'm not used to the weight of your saddles," he added as he dealt with that very piece of equipment already feeling at home.

While Siegler walked his now unsaddled mount to the shore of the Arkansas I thought about how this man came to be at my camp. I knew I couldn't turn him away though I certainly preferred remaining alone. It seemed mere moments passed before he returned to stake out his horse and continue his story.

"I got off the train in Spearville but instead of staying overnight in their hotel I chose to buy a horse. I plan on learning about what drives people who choose to live out here and help them cope mentally where I can," he continued as if that explained everything.

"I reckon you didn't think to bring anything to eat," I offered, noting he at least had a canteen. "You're welcome to some of my beans and coffee," I added, already resigned to his presence.

"Again, thank you Mr. Dillon. You're quite right I neglected to purchase any tinned food but I did remember to bring along a mess kit," he said bringing forth his own plate, knife, fork and spoon from his somewhat smaller saddlebags. "I'm afraid I've no cup that would allow me to share your coffee. Water from my canteen will suffice"

I handed him my tin of beans and watched as he spooned out a portion onto his plate. I noticed he didn't try to hog the rest of it. Fact is he left more than he took. It spoke well of him. We settled down to our meal in silence until he swallowed the last of his meager supper.

"I owe you more than my name. You deserve an explanation of how I came to be here," he began as if reading my mind. "I sailed to Boston to study physiology and psychology with Professor William James at Harvard. The fame of his brother novelist Henry James may have reached a few even in this remote place. Upon receiving my degree a couple weeks ago I decided to explore and perhaps remain in your American West unlike my friend Sigmund Freud. He chose to continue his schooling in Vienna to obtain a medical degree. We both are fascinated by the human mind but, unlike Freud, I have no interest in being a medical doctor. Professor James, with Professor Lang, is pursuing the approach I prefer. I hope to earn my living as an alienist where such specialists are nonexistent rather than in the more settled parts of your country where they are merely rare."

"I'll ride with you as far as Dodge City about five miles farther west," I responded. "You can pick up the train there if you're bent on pursuing your vocation. Fact is you'll have a hard time earning a living out here unless you find something else like being a bank clerk. It's hard enough for Doc, our local doctor, to get paid. Maybe in Denver or San Francisco you'd have better luck."

"You seem to know the territory well. I take it you've always lived out here. I'm eager to learn about life out here including how you earn your living. Perhaps the place to start is with that medical practitioner in your town, which I gather is this Dodge City, you mention. If I'm not mistaken your town would have been the next major stop on the rail line as I continued west from Spearville."

The way he put it I had no choice but to tell him something of myself by talking about the people and places that surround me. At least I could start off with Doc. "Doc Adams isn't just our town doctor. He's the only doctor for at least 50 miles in any direction. That takes in Ford County where we are now and then some. Doc's an old curmudgeon but we'd be in a rough spot without him. It's not just fevers and broken bones. Far too often when he operates it's to remove one or more bullets. He'd no more turn down a patient than a hand-raised colt would deliberately throw his rider."

"Is removing bullets all that common?" Siegler asked incredulously. "I'd heard how towns out here can be rough but I thought it was exaggerated to help magazine sales. Has he ever had to remove a bullet from you?"

"A time or two," I replied. Upon further prodding I added, "I'm the US Marshal in Dodge. Since I make my headquarters there I'm responsible for keeping the peace in town as well as enforcing federal law throughout Kansas. Some object to how I handle things locally."

I found myself responding to further probing questions from my companion. I described how a quiet evening could explode into violence especially when the drovers arrived from Texas with their pockets newly filled with money and an itch to break loose getting drunk, gambling and chasing after women after three months on the trail. I told him of all those who drifted into town to help them lose their pay and take advantage of the extra cash available to the many businesses, like Mr. Bodkin's bank. All the mayhem tends far too often to lead to gunplay.

By the time we'd both turned in for what remained of the night he knew something about every business in town and the people who worked in them as well as a bit about the more prosperous farmers and larger ranchers in Ford County. So far I'd managed to keep from revealing how I related to the people I'd mentioned as a man rather than as a lawman. In describing Doc I kept me out of it except to say I'd been shot and he took the bullets out. All he knew of Kitty was she owned the best saloon in town, the Long Branch. He also knew Chester is my assistant, who right now is kept busy at this time of year at his main task of jailer and anything else I need him to do.

As we sat finishing off the last of the coffee that was our breakfast Siegler began to talk again. What he asked surprised me. "Marshal, I was wondering how you control your emotional reaction to certain situations you encounter in your job. Your response could be very useful for me when I apply the James-Lang Theory to actual patients."

"I'm not sure I follow," I replied. One thing for certain I didn't want to provide anything truly personal. Even with Doc, and a much lesser extent with Kitty, I held back when it came to my innermost feelings.

"I should have explained what their theory is before posing my question," he began in response to my stated confusion. "My two professors theory that I hope to apply states that the brain reacts to what's happening when individuals experience something that upsets or changes the normal flow of their lives. It could be personal like the death of a parent or something that goes against their moral compass such as a man beating a woman or child. I'm certain you've faced the latter sort of event in your line of work. I'm sure you encounter robbery and murder as well as assaults. I want to know if seeing such things causes you to react with disgust or anger and if so how you control that emotional trigger your brain receives so you can do your job."

I could provide that if it went no further. I began to answer him as we broke camp on what looked to be a perfect spring morning under a clear sky with a slight breeze blowing. The clouds had dissipated during the night along with any threat of rain. We'd be quite comfortable in our riding coats for the remaining miles into Dodge. I began to reply as soon as I was settled in the saddle.

"I reckon preferring a man be tried over killing him helps me control any immediate impulse. I regret it's not always possible to avoid pulling the trigger. If circumstances permit my first reaction is to use my fists even in anger. Knocking him down usually is enough to stop me from doing more damage. However, if the man is still full of fight I'll threaten him further. I've learned to live with it."

"Then for you it's a matter of trading one impulse for another to bring your anger under control," Seigler replied. "Once the person whose action set you off is neutralized what do you do next?"

"If the man is out cold or I've sent him packing, I see what more help I can provide," I replied.

Sigler did manage to remain silent for 15 minutes at a time during our ride but that didn't stop his questions. I mostly dodged those that got too personal. One tactic was to talk about how Doc or Kitty or Chester would handle what he called emotional triggers. Chester was easiest because his emotions are so close to the surface. While Kitty can maintain a poker face, her anger gets the better of her at times. It's as fiery as her hair and harder to control once it surfaces. Both Doc and I manage to maintain our outer demeanor but he does give in to outrage. The object of that wrath better watch out in those instances.

I don't know how well I'd managed to hide my inner self. A man sure doesn't want to reveal to a stranger things he keeps from his closest friends. Then again revealing a man's deepest thoughts might be easier with a stranger. Siegler sure wormed a lot out of me I didn't expect to tell anyone other than Kitty or maybe Doc. How much I let slip bothered me some so I was glad to part from him at the stable. I left it to Moss to direct him to Doc, who I judged would welcome talking to another professional, by way of the Dodge House.

My travel companion did wind up joining us at our usual table in the Long Branch. If the hectic pace of the beginning of the cattle season allowed it Kitty and I would grab a beer and quick bite to eat with our friends. Sometimes Siegler joined us. The first time Doc brought him along. The pair was deep in conversation as they approached where Kitty and I sat. Who sat with him varied, but he managed to spend lots of time in the Long Branch, in my and Doc's offices and at Delmonico's with us individually or with at least two of our foresome at the same time.

I didn't know it until I walked with him to the Santa Fe depot 20 minutes before the next train west just how much Chester, Doc and Kitty revealed about each other and their relationship to me. In that special way of his he let me know while descriving his future plans.

"Marshal, I've learned a lot this past week," Siegler began. "Your advice to pick a larger city like Denver or even better San Francisco appears to be a far better choice than a cow town like Dodge City or traveling this wide-open country in pursuit of my profession. However," he continued, "I thank you and your friends for allowing me to practice my skills. It led me to draw some conclusions about how all of you deal with emotional triggers, you in particular."

"I can't stop you from drawing conclusions or telling them to me," I replied. "Just don't expect me to tell you if they're accurate."

"Fair enough," Hans Siegler replied before stating his observations. "I can spot the small signs that show your brain has responded to what I call a stimulus. It needn't be anything more than what you choose to include as part of your duties as a lawman. You hide the emotional component quickly but, for example, I know you have misgivings about having sent your assistant Chester to Maize with that young boy Donald Hammond and the small herd of cattle Donald's father Roy died protecting."

"I'll admit it's a big responsibility for him but Chester has a way of stepping up to a challenge. The trouble is too often he doesn't if the stakes are simply getting paid extra," I begin. "However, I realize he could do well this time because he doesn't want to let me or the boy down."

"That's absolutely true, but do you know why he doesn't want to let you down?" Siegler began with a question before providing his own answer. "It's because he looks up to you. He admires your skill to the point of believing you're nearly infallible. You, on the other hand, stick by him as any older brother would. You expect him to remain the goofy child while knowing he's capable of mature action when forced into being an adult and praise him when he does."

I hadn't thought of it like that but maybe that's why I put up with Chester's faults. His loyalty does make him like the younger brother I never had. I simply nodded. That was all the encouragement he needed to continue. Siegler began with remarking on Doc's fatherly feelings toward Kitty and her need to reciprocate. Somehow he'd ferreted out from one or both of them how Doc provided Kitty with what Wayne Russell, her actual father, never did. I reckon he got things right about Doc being the sounding board for many of the things that bother Kitty, Chester and me.

"Doctor Adams is the father figure for all three of you younger adults even though it doesn't on the surface appear he fulfills that role for Chester," the dude continued as if again reading my thoughts. "Teasing Mr. Goode is the doctor's way of getting him past his childish ways that prevent him from being as admirable as you. Only one choice you've made disappoints Dr. Adams. I won't go into detail, but the recent wedding you attended where you were best man and Miss Russell maid of honor fits right into it. There was more than the cattle season beginning that irked you about having to leave town and stay away long enough to meet me at your campsite. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's spotted that special smile you bestow upon Miss Russell when you first spot her in a room or on the street."

We'd reached the depot platform. I know deep down what he says is true. Doc is a father to Kitty, Chester and even me. However, I find it hard to allow myself to give into what I know is true - Kitty loves me and I her. Hans Siegler managed to see through my efforts to at least attempt to hide that fact from everyone but my Dodge family. Yep, that's what Doc, Chester and Kitty are. Still, it's because I love Kitty that I have to hide it. I've too many enemies who could use her to get to me. It's also why I'd understand it if she found someone else to provide her with the stability of a home and family away from the dangerous business she runs so well. It's sure a better way to live than having to deal with being a lawman's woman and knowing she could become a widow at any moment or be manhandled or struck by a stray bullet at work. That's just how things are.