He had no idea how much time had passed. He continued to float in and out
of consciousness, and he still felt nauseous. He heard footsteps above him,
and realized it was the noise that had roused him. Muffled voices bantered
back and forth, but he couldn't quite hear what was being said. After a few
minutes, the trap door above him opened, allowing light to stream in. He
slammed his eyes shut against the brightness, his head pounding in protest.
After a moment, he forced himself to open his eyes and look up. A man with
a graying mustache and black gambler's hat stared down at him.
"Well Marshal, you're still alive. I wasn't sure."
Dillon stared at the familiar man, "Who are you? What do you want?"
The man smiled, "Who am I? Why Marshal, I realize you've put many behind bars, but I'm truly crushed that you don't remember me."
Dillon glared at him, "Well I don't."
"You chased me clear into New Mexico a few years back because I liberated a few dollars from a passing stage."
Matt's brow furrowed as he forced his muddled mind to concentrate on the man's features and voice. Then it hit him.
"Red Stoddard."
"You took three years of my life, Dillon."
"Three? You were sentenced to five."
The man smiled, "Well, I got out a little early."
"You escaped, you mean."
"Our definitions of things never did match up."
"So this is your idea of revenge...."
"Revenge and easy money."
"Money?"
"Ten thousand dollars to be exact."
"I don't have that kind of money, Stoddard..."
"But collectively, Marshal, the good people of Dodge City will find such money, in the interest of saving you."
"Don't be stupid. They're farmers and shop keepers. They don't have money like that."
"You'd better hope they do, Dillon, or you're going to wind up very dead."
"You're not going to let me live, Stoddard, ten thousand dollars or not."
The man smiled again, "True. I just wanted to be sure you knew who it was who took you down." He tossed some stale bread down into the cellar, and lowered a canteen of water on a piece of twine. "Here's a last meal for you, Marshal. If you wait a few minutes, you can toast it."
Stoddard pulled the trap door up, laughing. As the door closed, Matt noted that the wood was old, and partially rotted. An idea began to form, but as he smelled the gasoline and shortly following, the smoke from above, he realized he didn't have a lot of time.
***********
Stoddard and his gang fled from the burning shack, heading toward the outskirts of Dodge, and their appointment with ten thousand dollars. He smiled. Perhaps they'd take a quick turn of looting the town before leaving; after all, Dodge City no longer had a marshal to protect it. He took one more look at the homestead engulfed in flames, lighting up the night sky. He thought being burnt alive was a fitting end to Matt Dillon.
"Well Marshal, you're still alive. I wasn't sure."
Dillon stared at the familiar man, "Who are you? What do you want?"
The man smiled, "Who am I? Why Marshal, I realize you've put many behind bars, but I'm truly crushed that you don't remember me."
Dillon glared at him, "Well I don't."
"You chased me clear into New Mexico a few years back because I liberated a few dollars from a passing stage."
Matt's brow furrowed as he forced his muddled mind to concentrate on the man's features and voice. Then it hit him.
"Red Stoddard."
"You took three years of my life, Dillon."
"Three? You were sentenced to five."
The man smiled, "Well, I got out a little early."
"You escaped, you mean."
"Our definitions of things never did match up."
"So this is your idea of revenge...."
"Revenge and easy money."
"Money?"
"Ten thousand dollars to be exact."
"I don't have that kind of money, Stoddard..."
"But collectively, Marshal, the good people of Dodge City will find such money, in the interest of saving you."
"Don't be stupid. They're farmers and shop keepers. They don't have money like that."
"You'd better hope they do, Dillon, or you're going to wind up very dead."
"You're not going to let me live, Stoddard, ten thousand dollars or not."
The man smiled again, "True. I just wanted to be sure you knew who it was who took you down." He tossed some stale bread down into the cellar, and lowered a canteen of water on a piece of twine. "Here's a last meal for you, Marshal. If you wait a few minutes, you can toast it."
Stoddard pulled the trap door up, laughing. As the door closed, Matt noted that the wood was old, and partially rotted. An idea began to form, but as he smelled the gasoline and shortly following, the smoke from above, he realized he didn't have a lot of time.
***********
Stoddard and his gang fled from the burning shack, heading toward the outskirts of Dodge, and their appointment with ten thousand dollars. He smiled. Perhaps they'd take a quick turn of looting the town before leaving; after all, Dodge City no longer had a marshal to protect it. He took one more look at the homestead engulfed in flames, lighting up the night sky. He thought being burnt alive was a fitting end to Matt Dillon.