DERAILED: CHAPTER 13
With almost a two-hour ride to the farm, Matt had plenty of time to fill Charlie in on all the sordid details of losing Buck.
"Another price you had to pay for that mess the railroad caused in WaKeeney."
"Yeah. It was a big price. I sure liked that horse. The loaner I'm riding now is a real nice gelding but he's black. I've got a few more years on the job. Might as well have what I want."
Chip Johnson's farm was impressive. They rode through the gate into the courtyard, Matt noticing three huge barns and half a dozen other outbuildings all around the periphery. The place was busy with activity, highlighted by cowboys working horses of all ages and descriptions in the two large training pens. But when he and Charlie approached the house, it was Chip himself who greeted them.
"Charlie Cole, you son of a buck! So good to see you!"
"Chip!" Charlie smiled down from his horse while he shook the man's hand. "This is my good friend Matt Dillon from Dodge City, Kansas. Matt, Chip Johnson. He owns this little outfit."
Matt stepped down, pumped the man's hand, and exchanged pleasantries. Chip's outfit was anything but "little." It'd be hard to imagine a more impressive horse farm.
"Business or pleasure, Charlie?"
"Chip, I've got a tall order for you buddy: literally. Figured if anybody west of the Mississippi could fill the order, you could. Matt here is a United States marshal. He needs a horse."
"Matt, by golly you ARE a tall order! let's hear about it." Chip was all smiles.
"Well, my size is the first thing. I weigh 235. I want a big gelding that can carry me all day. Sometimes my days are more like eighteen hours. I ride in prairie heat, windstorms and snowstorms. He has to be willing to carry double once in a while, has to be rope and hobble broke, and it'd be real nice if I could just start right off and fire a pistol off him."
"Charlie can tell you, we supply nothing but solid, gun-broke horses. Our customers all want to hunt, and a lot of them are lawmen, too. That's how Charlie and I met."
"There's one more thing, Chip. I'm looking for a buckskin. Real partial to a buckskin."
"Wow. I was afraid you'd say "anything but a buckskin." Chip didn't even try to hide a broad grin. "I know every darned horse trader says this, but I'm gonna risk saying it anyway. We have the horse here that you're looking for, Matt. He's an honest, measured 17 hands, and the scale at the freight yard says he goes 1325 pounds. Not a lot of guys want to step on one that big. He's five years old, so he's done growing and finished with all the silliness the young ones deal out. He's a nice golden buckskin. Got a left hind sock and a small splash of white on his face, if that matters."
Matt looked at Charlie, who only nodded back. It meant "go ahead, you're with friends here."
Meanwhile, Chip called one of his men over.
"Where's that big buckskin gelding?"
"He's in the north section. You wantin' me to go after him boss?"
"No!" It was Matt who put a halt to that offer, not Chip.
"Tell you what, I'd rather ride out there and look at him if it's all the same to you."
"Sure, I'll take you. Name's Tupe Ward." The man took Matt's hand for a shake.
Like most cowboys, Tupe was a man of few words, but he knew when a guy asked the right questions. He briefly described the horse, then let Matt go through his list. Every answer was a "Yep."
When they rode into the big pasture, Tupe just stopped and pointed.
"That's him in that group of sorrels and bays. Can't miss him."
"Okay if I ride in and rope him?"
"Yep. He'll allow that real polite like." Tupe spit his tobacco juice and held ground where he was, watching Matt uncoil his rope while he rode quietly alone toward the small herd.
The test mattered a lot. There was nothing worse than a horse that was hard to catch. The big buckskin passed with flying colors, picking up his head to allow Matt to snake the rope softly over his neck. Several of the other horses decided to leave when they saw the rope. The cowboy had been right, the buckskin allowed it "real polite like." Matt led him back down the slope to where Tupe was waiting and dropped the rope. Test two went perfectly, and the cowboy noticed right off.
"He ground ties just fine. Thinks he's caught with that rope on him, I reckon. Anyhow, he hobbles good too if you need to check."
Matt didn't need to check. Instead of answering, he just walked all around the big gelding one time. The horse was more than looksome, he was striking. He pulled the saddle off the horse Charlie had loaned him and threw it up on the buckskin, who stood stock still. With no possible hope of fitting Charlie's bridle up to this horse's head, he fashioned a make-do headstall out of his riata, Indian style, then looked to Tupe for permission. The man grinned, realizing now that he was showing a horse to an expert, and answered the unasked question.
"Yep. Just step on like that and ride him off. Wouldn't be much good to a man like you if you couldn't."
The ride back to the farm where they'd left Chip and Charlie revealed even more about the horse. He wasn't a bit skanky about leaving the herd, and he had the softest jog and long trot any man could ever want to sit. Since that last day on Buck, Matt hadn't ridden one so smooth. He handed Charlie's horse off to Tupe and loped circles in both directions around the man, who just grinned and rode straight ahead all the while. This was more than just some lawman, he was a horseman. Could have got real close to him if the guy hung around.
Looking at the grin on Matt's face, Charlie knew before Matt made the announcement to Chip.
"I like him. He's just what you said he is. What's the price?
"One twenty-five, Marshal."
Matt went sullen.
"The government furnishes my horses, Chip. They never pay more than eighty-five dollars."
"Well, I'll tell you what, Marshal. The government never bought a horse this nice. They can buy nine hundred pounds of him, and you can buy the rest."
Matt couldn't resist a laugh, and Charlie was having a hard time keeping a straight face too. He did the math quickly in his head. Forty bucks he'd be out. Maybe thirty-five if he could squeeze a little more out of the guys in Washington. Wow, it'd be good if Kitty had stayed home from that shopping trip with Martha!
Matt dug in his pants pocket and pulled out a small wad of cash. He peeled off the horse's price, handed it to Chip, and turned to Charlie.
"You got room for him at the stable in town till I can ride him home?"
"Absolutely, Matt. There's always three or four empty stalls. Let's get him back to Denver. Got to get cleaned up for our big night downtown."
XOXOXO
"Your empire waist dresses are stunning, Kitty." Martha explained. "This is just a refreshing change for you. You have a long way to go yet."
Kitty turned around slowly in the dress shop mirror. The color was sensational, but she'd never thought about a blouse and skirt. This was going to take some time. The chocolate brown skirt was a completely different color for her, but Martha had been right, it was stunning with her red hair. The star of the show was the deep ivory blouse with sleeves of delicate ivory lace. The hand-embroidered buttonholes were the ideal accent for the ten pearl buttons which, wonder of wonders, flowed up the front rather than the back, making it so easy for a less than flexible woman to fasten. But a belt? She'd never thought of being able to wear a belt these days. It was chocolate brown to create an unbroken line from the skirt to the blouse. But even though it was almost right under her breasts, it was a belt. And she had no waist!
"You can wear it tonight, and you can wear it to the cattlemen's too, if you decide to go." Martha was full of encouragement. "This is all the trend now here in Denver for mothers-to-be. Look at the back again. The skirt is snug enough back there to show off your beautiful backside curves."
Kitty turned slowly again. Martha was right. She didn't look anything like a pregnant woman until she turned around again.
"I don't know, Martha. I just can't get used to the look."
"You can wait this pregnancy out in a chemise at home or you can decide you're proud of your new look and show it off, Kitty. Your choice."
"Matt wouldn't care which."
"No, of course he wouldn't. He loves you. I thought maybe you would. Come on, Kitty, take a risk! You're such a beautiful woman!"
She let that thought hang there for a minute, then went on.
"Look again at what the belt does, Kitty! Remember all those days wearing a corset? You won't wear one again for a long time, if ever again, after the baby is born. The belt pushes your top up and makes you look just as curvy as if you were wearing a corset. You see a pregnant woman, and I know that's all new for you. But I see a beautiful woman who's going to have a baby. And so will everyone else who looks at you."
"The color is gorgeous!" Kitty was thinking seriously about the look.
"The buttons travel down under the belt. As you get bigger, you'll just leave more of them unbuttoned below the belt. And that pretty pearl brooch you have would be the perfect accent at the neck. Do you have pearl earrings?"
"Yes. I actually brought them with me on this trip."
"Then you're set for tonight! Now let's buy a pair of shoes."
"Martha! I haven't decided on this yet. Why do I need shoes?"
"You need something without a big heel. It's all about comfort. What size shoe do you wear?"
"Six."
Martha turned to the sales clerk. "Please bring us a few choices in a very low heel, size seven."
"I wear a six." Kitty corrected her.
She couldn't help noticing the smiles Martha and the sales clerk exchanged. But while she waited for the woman to return with shoes, Kitty studied herself over and over in the mirror. The outfit really was stunning. There was nothing she could do about the shape of her body. The blouse and skirt were a good choice, and they were sure a nice change from her empire waist collection from Dodge.
The shoes were more like slippers than Kitty could ever have imagined.
"Put them on." Martha smiled confidently.
Kitty did her bidding. There was nothing to lace or button up. They just slipped on. And they were much too large, because Martha had ordered the wrong size. She was getting concerned. Martha was a fashion expert, what with fifteen years of co-owning a millinery in the business hub of Colorado. How could she be so wrong? How to explain to this sweet woman that the shoes were not going to work?
"Martha, they're lovely. But . . ."
"Your feet are going to swell, Kitty. Next month these shoes will be snug. And you won't be able to manage buttonhooks on boots because unfortunately, you won't be able to bend down that far." Martha said softly.
There was nothing left to argue. Back in Dodge, most of Kitty's friends were men, and she was just one of the boys. Other than Elsie Wagner and Lily, she didn't have a single woman friend to consult on fashion, much less swollen feet. Sure, there was Bess Roniger and Mary Turner, but God love them, they just got through motherhood and didn't care about the look. And Lily had no clue about maternity. Martha was right. This was all new for her. Life was changing quickly. She took a deep breath and looked up at her friend.
"Okay. Of course I don't want to wait this out in a chemise. I'll buy this outfit, Martha. I'd like to be proud tonight at dinner."
"Perfect choice." Martha gave her a hug. "And it's my anniversary gift to you, Kitty! I see myself in this beautiful blouse and skirt thirty years ago when I was waiting for Cord. Except all we had then were horrible dresses that looked like tents."
"Martha, you just can't! I'm so grateful but these are expensive, and . . ."
"I have a successful business, remember? That's how I afford the luxury of fresh oranges, a wonderful helper like Phyllis, and all the other special extras that come with working hard. We could never afford such nice things on just a marshal's pension. I'm guessing you know a great deal about that yourself."
Kitty just smiled and gave Martha a hug.
"Thank you." She said softly.
XOXOXO
"She's in the yard swing under the trellis, Matt. She had a challenging day today."
"She's all right?"
"Perfectly fine," Martha assured him. "We talked a lot about what she has in store for her over the next few months. It's a big change for her, but she needs to be prepared. She's out there with her own thoughts, getting it all sorted out. She could probably use a hug."
"Yeah. Thanks Martha."
The yard was just as beautiful as he remembered it from their wedding day. Like a year ago, thick flora bordered the entire lawn. The huge apple tree drooped its branches near to the earth, heavy with fruit. But the star of the show was the perfectly manicured rose-covered trellis where they'd stood together with the preacher just a year ago. Now it had a garden swing as its centerpiece. It was easy to imagine Charlie and Martha sitting in the swing, enjoying a late afternoon together. But right at this moment, Kitty had his undivided attention.
"Hey, beautiful." He said softly. "Can I join you?"
She smiled softly up at him and patted her belly.
"From the looks of me, I think you already have, Cowboy."
"Yeah."
He lowered himself slowly into the swing next to her. Seemed prudent to be careful because of his size, but Charlie's craftsmanship handled him without so much as a creak.
"Second thoughts?" He was staring at the grass between his feet.
"Absolutely NOT! You know how much I want this baby! I just have a lot to get used to about all the changes in my body." She looked up into his eyes. "I'm in the water closet every hour. My pretty clothes don't fit, I can't wear a corset, I look downright dumpy in a mirror, and I'm outgrowing my shoes. It's pretty obvious you've already joined me."
He didn't say a word. He just smiled, put his arm around her and pulled her into his chest, tucking her head under his chin. When he gave the swing a soft push with his feet, the gentle gliding was instantly comforting. The sound of his resonant baritone voice humming one of her favorite songs was what she'd needed to hear ever since Pueblo. When she snuggled in closer to encourage him, he softly sang the words to her favorite stanza.
"Just a song at twilight
When the lights are low,
And the flickering shadows
Softly come and go
Though the heart be weary,
Sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes love's old song
Comes love's old sweet song."
As he finished the last word, a robin glided softly down from the apple tree and perched gently on Kitty's knee, cocking his head from side to side at Matt, almost as if asking to hear more. Neither of them moved a muscle. After what seemed like an eternity, the little bird warbled out a cheerful tune, paying Matt back for the serenade, and flew back to the tree. The yard had been whisper quiet except for the exchange of song between Matt and the bird. He lifted Kitty's face to meet his and kissed her softly.
"Two of us singin' for our mates, beautiful Lady," he whispered. "Good thing you're already joined."
XOXOXO
"Mister Duncan is expecting you," the doorman announced. "Please follow me to the dining room."
For all and the world, the Windsor's executive dining room looked like a microcosm of the huge ballroom Kitty remembered from a year ago at the cattlemen's dance. It was warm and inviting, and elegant beyond anything she'd seen, even in Topeka. When the doorman led them to Peter Duncan's table, he stood immediately. His warm smile was engaging.
"Charlie, Martha, good evening!" He addressed his long-time friends first, kissing Martha's hand. Without hesitation he moved on to his other two guests.
"Marshal Dillon!" Thank you for joining us!" He shook Matt's hand confidently.
He turned toward Kitty. "And this is your beautiful wife!" He reached for Kitty's hand. When she extended it for a shake, he took the risk of kissing it. He knew she owed him a beating, but it was a risk he was willing to take. "Mrs. Dillon, I'm Pete Duncan. I'm absolutely delighted to meet you!"
"Hello, Mr. Duncan." Kitty had no choice but to be confident, even if still wary. This was a friend of Charlie and Martha's. Besides, she was still on Matt's arm.
"Ah, it's Pete, Mrs. Dillon! Please, it's Pete." He lingered with his gaze on her, something Matt had never gotten used to. Part of the package. He smiled, then Kitty smiled politely but didn't answer, and Duncan took the hint.
"Please, everyone, be seated!" He gestured toward the table in invitation, and everyone did. Matt made sure Kitty was seated between him and Charlie, he and Martha flanking Duncan. Before their chairs were even settled at the table, the waiter took their drink orders. He returned almost immediately, not only with their drinks, but with two violinists who played softly in the background while he served. Charlie broke the ice.
"Pete, please spend a few minutes bringing the Dillons up to speed on the Union Pacific plans."
"Yes, of course." You both have a vested interest in what I've been doing. I'm glad to fill you in." He took a sip of his drink, a deep breath, and looked straight at Matt and Kitty.
"I am president of the Union Pacific Railroad. We are the proud providers of rail transportation from Denver up through Cheyenne and on through Promontory, Utah all the way to San Francisco, California. You may be familiar with the name "Transcontinental Railroad."
He got raised eyebrows and nods from everyone at the table.
"We have one little anomaly called Kansas." A soft smile crept across his face. "Kansas has traditionally been the stronghold of the Santa Fe, our primary competitor. Currently, they run service from Kansas City directly into your hometown of Dodge City." He nodded toward Matt and Kitty. "Freight is the largest profit item for any railroad. The Santa Fe is very profitable because of your cattle trade. Seven months out of the year, Dodge City is loaded with herds of cattle from Texas. All this beef on the hoof is bound for Kansas City and even beyond. People in the east want their Texas beef. Without Dodge City and the Santa Fe, they'd be eating chicken. This year, for the first time, ten thousand steers were driven from Wyoming to Dodge City to be loaded onto the Santa Fe, the first time Wyoming cattle have ever been shipped east by rail. This is because of our inability to provide a line through Kansas."
Duncan took a sip of his whiskey, studied his glass for a moment, and went on.
"The ranchers in Wyoming and even in Montana have no market in California. California is like a country unto itself, completely self-sustaining. They produce outstanding beef, along with the finest fruits and vegetables west of the Mississippi. As proof of my claim, I've ordered filet mignon along with a delightful fresh vegetable and fresh fruit medley for our meal this evening, which I have personally shipped in from Red Bluff, California. But change is inevitable, ladies and gentlemen. In a very short time, beef will move from Oregon, Montana, and even California to the east to feed the hungry masses. And it will move by rail. On the Union Pacific line."
As if on cue, and it likely was, the entrée was served: Filet mignon, fresh asparagus, roast potatoes, and California peaches sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.
"Please, my guests. Please enjoy your meal! I will finish the story as we go on." He waved the violinists off and spoke briefly to the waiter while the man refilled everyone's drinks. He waited while his guests dug into their meals, knowing he had yet to deliver the information they were all waiting for.
"A few months ago, I began my purchase of the Kansas Pacific line, which provides service from Kansas City to your Hays City. My intention is to continue that service from Hays City directly on into Denver so as to connect with the Transcontinental. The Santa Fe can have Dodge City and all of Texas and New Mexico, for that matter. I hired my nephew, George Powers, to manage the expansion and conduct all the fundraising for the project. I encouraged him to work hard in the wealthiest county in southwestern Kansas. I saw this as a double-edged sword, so to speak. Investors in Ford County who bought into the Kansas Pacific would be investors lost to my major competitor. For reasons unknown to me, George became obsessed with his own success in this venture. He hired people who were supposed to guard my employees, but rather took it upon themselves to kill settlers. He threatened people's lives if they didn't invest in our product. He hired a man who attacked you, Mr. and Mrs. Dillon: not just once, but amazingly, twice! I am beyond astounded that a trusted family member could become such a monster."
"Matt," he continued, then renewed his formality: "Marshal Matt Dillon, thank you for returning my buggy. My late wife gifted that buggy to me, and it is very special to me. I only entrusted it to George because he is my family." Duncan raised his glass to Matt, who saluted right back.
He turned to Kitty. "Mrs. Kathleen Dillon, how can I possibly apologize properly to you for your two horrible experiences at the hand of George and that ogre Bing Ross? It is unconscionable that any man would fire a gun at a woman! It is also horrific that any man would hold a gun to a woman's body so as to threaten her life along with the life of her unborn child! George committed despicable acts against you. He frightened you beyond anything I can understand and caused your husband untold distress in protecting you and your child. I am so very, very sorry."
Utensils were put down. Not a single person at the table continued eating. Duncan's story was more than any of them, even Charlie and Martha, had expected. And his apology was fervent.
"Mr. Duncan: Pete." Matt spoke softly, addressing the man by his first name after glancing briefly at Kitty. "My wife and I accept your apology. It's my responsibility to protect her as well as the Kansas settlers. Settling the west involves all kinds of risks, not just to me and my family, but to you as well. We're all in this together."
"George has been removed from that risk, Marshal, since he will spend a very long time in prison, thanks to you. But that's not enough. I want to repay you! Please name whatever you and Mrs. Dillon would like to have. It's the only way my conscience can be soothed."
Matt smiled softly at the man, then he laid his hand over the top of Kitty's.
"There is nothing she and I need. We are fortunate beyond anything you could give us. We have each other."
"Then I'm left with no way to ease my conscience and put this horrible mess behind me."
"Pete, there is a way, and you're the only person who can do it. This situation with the settlers in northern Kansas is only going to get worse. They're proud people, but they're also desperate people trying to figure out a way to survive because they have no way to get supplies for their families. They think your rail line is the problem, but it can actually be the solution. If you'll construct one siding with a water stop and a small freight depot in WaKeeney, you'll become their hero. The people will have food and feed and seed from Hays and lumber and firewood on the return trip from Denver. You'll save a lot of money for the Pacific because you'll need fewer guards. In fact, those very settlers will be more than willing to protect your investment out of gratitude."
Duncan stared at Matt in disbelief.
"But my gratitude is toward YOU, Sir."
"And I'd like to donate that gratitude to WaKeeney, Pete. My life, my deputies' lives, the lives of your Kansas employees and the lives of the settlers hang in the balance. It's my job to save lives. I'd be beyond personally grateful for your cooperation. Let the train stop in WaKeeney."
"Our primary business is hauling freight. Do you actually think those people would be satisfied without passenger car service?"
"Yes. Definitely they would, for a very long time. They're a homespun bunch. They're not looking for travel. All they want right now is peace and opportunity in WaKeeney. One day you'll offer passenger service all over Kansas. When you decide to do that, you'll have a loyal customer base right there in WaKeeney waiting to pay for passage east and west."
"Just like the loyalty the people in Dodge obviously have to the Santa Fe." Duncan was twirling his glass in his hand, deep in thought.
Softly, Kitty punctuated what he'd said with just one word. "Exactly!"
Duncan hesitated, then pushed his chair back and stood up. For the briefest of moments Kitty thought he might be ready to leave. But he had his whiskey glass in his hand, and he raised it to her and Matt in a toast.
"It's settled then! To the new Kansas Pacific stop in WaKeeney, Kansas!" Everyone at the table returned his toast, along with delighted smiles all around.
"Thank you," Matt said contritely.
"Now before we continue to enjoy this wonderful meal, I have a special gift for you, Mrs. Dillon. I understand that you're celebrating your first wedding anniversary. It seems I recall that something made of paper is traditionally given as a gift on this joyous occasion."
He pulled an envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to Kitty, who glanced at Matt, then smiled politely back at her benefactor. She blew the envelope open, pulling out the contents. Her lips pursed in an "OHHH!" as she sucked in a breath and handed the gilt-embossed certificate to Matt.
"Thank you SO much, Mr. Duncan!"
Matt stood and held the certificate up so that everyone at the table could read it while he made the announcement.
"Ten shares of the Union Pacific Railroad. Owner of record Kathleen Dillon, Dodge City Kansas. And it's signed Peter J. Duncan, President."
Then he walked directly to the head of the table and grasped Duncan's hand in a firm shake.
"I'm not quite as nimble as I once was at getting out of a chair, Mr. Duncan." Kitty extended her hand across the table. Duncan took it in the softest of handshakes. "Thank you again, so very much! I will treasure your gift and remember you so fondly when Matt and I travel to San Francisco one day."
Duncan was beaming. "In one of our deluxe Pullman palace cars, to which all of our investors are entitled! Welcome, Kathleen Dillon! Welcome!"
A/N: The song Matt sang for Kitty in this chapter is "Love's Old Sweet Song," written by James Molloy in the 19th century. Lyrics are readily available online. You'll have to imagine Matt's beautiful voice serenading his wife, but I'll bet you can do it!
The elegant, historic Windsor Hotel, designed to look like Windsor Palace, at the corner of 18th and Larimer Streets in Denver, finally fell to the wrecking ball in 1960. Again, for all of you history buffs, there are pictures of this absolutely grand structure readily available online.
tbc