Hostage
Author's notes: There are two endings. I couldn't decide which one I liked the best so it's your choice. Thanks to the authors of Hostage, The Badge, The Bullet, whoever wrote the episode with the closet full of dresses and Nathaniel Hawthorne.The use of italics is to indicate (for the most part) action in the same place at the same time – imagine a split screen
"Doc?" her voice was faint even in her own ears. "Where is he, Doc?"
The old man took her hand and eased himself gently on the edge of the bed. "He went after him, Kitty."
"Alone?"
He shook his head. "Festus and Newly went with him and the whole town rode after them—
"—They can't help him." she said in a soft and certain voice. "They're just targets –"
He shifted his hand from hers to her wrist. "No power on earth could have stopped him, you know that." A worry line appeared between his eyes.
She was silent for a long moment. "I couldn't live without him, Doc," she said in that same, soft certain voice. "You know that."
He looked at her sharply. "You bet I do." He hoped his voice didn't sound as false to her as it did to him. "Let me tell you something. You won't have to because the sun hasn't come up on the day when Matt Dillon can't take care of himself" He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Now you believe that. You just believe it."
She searched his face and read his own fear but nodded in agreement to please him. He dimmed the lamp and left her alone to rest.
Kitty Russell reached deep inside herself and found it. She smiled to herself. It was still there, that gossamer thread that held them together no matter how far apart they were. She believed in it more than in Doc's words. For many years now it had been her secret reassurance that the big marshal was alive and that he would return. As long as it remained, he'd come back to her.
Miles to the west, the men of Dodge silently crept up on the members of Jude Bonner's gang. Mesmerized by the sight of the struggle being waged before them, even Lafitte was oblivious to the danger.
To them, the outcome was certain: either Jude would kill the big man or they would. To Lafitte, each result had its advantages. Jude Bonner was crazy and life was a little too uncertain being around him. On the other hand, Lafitte didn't much want to spend the rest of his days known as the man who killed Matt Dillon. It was more reputation than he cared to defend. Unfortunately, it was beginning to look like his reputation was about to grow.
Jude Bonner, heavily muscled, quick as a cat, was a cunning and ruthless fighter. He had never lost…until now. It bewildered him. He had never fought a man who kept coming the way Dillon did. The big man reeled under the kicks and blows and continued to hit back. What he lacked in speed and experience was more than made up for in reach and rage.
Suddenly it was over. Dazed, Jude Bonner did not get up and in looking up, he saw the marshal holding a large rock over his head. He intended to smash Bonner's head like a pumpkin.
Jude Bonner saw nothing but hatred in the face above him. Bonner was afraid, his eyes begging for his life. Dillon paused. "Within the law…the way it's always been…" He shook his head as though to rid it of the doctor's voice and then, slowly, tiredly, his shaking arms dropped the rock to one side.
He stood for several minutes staring down at the man he nearly murdered in cold blood. He felt strangely empty and unsure of himself. Aware that the others were watching, some still with open mouths, he turned on his heel and headed for his horse, leaving Jude Bonner where he lay
Weakly, the woman moved her head from side to side as though trying to shake off a bad dream. Something was happening. The thread, stretched to nothing and then frayed. She was losing him. Then, it was gone. She gasped in physical pain. He was lost.
After a few long, empty moments, so was she.
It didn't take long to get the posse mounted and with its prisoners, headed back towards Dodge City on tired horses. There was no need to try to keep up with the marshal on this trip. Dillon, on an equally exhausted mount, still kept a steady distance from the group.
He needed the space. Something had happened back there that shook him to the core of his being and now that it was over, things still didn't feel right. Matt Dillon rode in silence, trying to put himself back together. It was as though that at the moment when he nearly shattered the skull of Jude Bonner, he himself had shattered.
As the miles passed, he began to get a hold of himself again and as more of him came back, an urgent need to see Kitty grew. He was appalled at himself; he had completely forgotten her since catching up with Bonner. The realization of how far out of himself he was caused him to shudder. Pulling his horse to a stop, he waited while the posse caught up to him.
A soft rap on the door awakened Doc Adams from a fitful sleep. Rubbing sleep from his tired eyes, he fumbled getting it open. It was Louis Pheeters with a tray of food and, thank goodness, fresh coffee. His stomach rumbled.
"You've been up here for two straight days and nights, Doc. You need something to eat – you and Miss Kitty – Ma Smalley sent me over with this tray and told me to tell you to share, " he said, proudly. "Didn't spill a drop neither…"
The doctor
was touched. "Thank you, Louie. I'll set it right over here and after I check on Miss Kitty, we'll have something to eat." Louie did not take the hinted dismissal. Miss Kitty had always been kind to him; he wanted to pay his respects if she felt up to it.
Adams did not push the matter. "I'll see if she's awake, Louie. If she is, you can say a quick good night – that's all."
Louie nodded and stood patiently with his battered hat in his hand while the doctor went into the next room. The minutes ticked by on the clock on Doc's wall. Louie shifted his feet. Maybe Doc forgot about the hot food – he'd just poke his head in and remind him.
Louie carefully opened the door to the next room. "Doc, " he began in a soft voice, "The supper I brought you and Miss Kitty is getting cold – "
It was evident to Festus and Newly that the marshal, while not himself, was no longer out of control. Both heaved sighs of relief and waited expectantly for what the big man had to say.
"You boys can get these men back to Dodge – " he began.
"We'll do-er, Mat-thew, " said Festus with more enthusiasm than he really felt. His wounded shoulder throbbed with every step but the fact that he was even able to have this particular conversation gave him new energy. He had left Dodge firmly believing that he and Newly would be trailing back with not the body of the dead LaFitte but with that of their friend.
Dillon cast a glance at the waiting group and nodded his thanks to them. He turned his horse east again and urged him into a lope.
Festus turned in the saddle to face them. "You-all heerd Mat-thew. Let's git these prisoners to Dodge," Nudging Ruth forward, he led the posse east at a more sedate pace.
Adams had entered the room with enough noise to waken her gently. She did not stir. He
turned up the dimmed lamp to ward off the growing darkness in the room and sat down carefully on the bed beside her. Still, there was no response. With dread, he picked up her wrist and immediately noticed the coolness of her flesh. There would be no pulse. He bowed his head in grief, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.
When he could see again, he reached up and brushed her cheek with his trembling hand.
It was at that moment, that Louie offered his reminder about supper.
"Oh, no, Doc…she's – she's not – " his voice choked.
"She's gone, Louie." Adams made no effort to get up from the bed or speak further. He
knew he could do neither.
Louie Pheeters blindly found a chair in the corner and silently sank into it.
The closer he got to Dodge City, the more urgent the need grew to see Kitty. Something
was wrong…something was missing…
The old man had no idea how long he had sat by her side. Stiffly, he stood and with last look, drew the quilt up over the still face. He was startled by the darkness outside and the sight of Louie sitting, still as death himself, in the corner chair. Adams crossed over to him and took hold of his arm to lead him from the room. Louie offered no resistance and moved mechanically behind the doctor.
Adams closed the door behind them. Removing his glasses, he wiped his hand over his
eyes. "Louie, " said in a tired voice, "go on to bed. It's late. There's nothing for us to do here but wait for Matt to get back…" A chill ran up his spine. He remembered what she had said: she couldn't live without him. What if…?
A hand on his shoulder interrupted his train of thought. "Get some sleep yourself, Doc."
said Louie in a soft voice. "I won't say nothin' to nobody. The marshal'll be back soon." He was nearly out the door, but Adams heard his mournful voice. "Poor Miss Kitty…"
Shortly thereafter, the outer door of the office opened. "How is she, Doc?" demanded Matt Dillon abruptly.
Adams' relief at seeing the marshal alive and in one piece was short-lived. "Sit down, Matt,"
he said, knowing the big man would not obey. He looked up at the bruised face of his friend and saw dread in his eyes.
"She's dead, isn't she?" Dillon's voice was calm even in his own ears.
Not trusting his own voice, the old man nodded. After a few moments, he felt in control enough to talk. "I'm sorry, Matt…She's in there, if – " He found himself talking to an empty room. Dillon had gone.
As the posse drew nearer to Dodge, Festus grew more restless. Dillon's sudden departure had raised the hairs on the back of his neck and he found that both his concern for Kitty and worry over the fate of Jude Bonner were growing. Even if Miss Kitty lived, and, remembering the look in the marshal's eyes over the past several hours, he shuddered, there was no question in his mind that Bonner deserved to die. The marshal should have killed him when he had the chance. It worried Festus that some high brow, fast talking lawyer would somehow help Bonner cheat the rope.
The hill man would not have been surprised to know that Newly O'Brien felt the same way. After all, it had been Newly's idea to kill Will Mannon from ambush back when Mannon had come to town to gun down the marshal. Haggin shook his head over the memory, still a little shocked that the mild-mannered gunsmith would even offer such a suggestion.
Matt Dillon walked very deliberately down the stairs to the street and mounted the first horse he found. Sinking spurs, he vanished into the darkness back the way he had just ridden. The control he had reestablished on the ride in had started to crack the closer he got to Dodge; it was once again in pieces. This time, he thought, he would kill Jude Bonner, the Law be damned.
The Law had put him on the trail of Virgil Bonner, had hanged him, had killed her. The Badge – and he heard her voice again – 'that damned badge' – had prevented them from having any kind of normal life. It was always the Job, always one more killing, always one more long ride somewhere after some worthless miscreant, always the worry that he wouldn't come back. He couldn't even begin to count all the spoiled trips and missed picnics and his mind's eye saw again a closet full of unworn dresses. She'd been angry that day, not understanding the Badge, the Job and that what she wanted, he couldn't give to her.
Festus Haggin had come to a decision. Slumping a little more in the saddle, he presented the image of a wounded man in trouble. It was not much of a stretch and it caught the attention of both Newly and Sam who signaled a halt to the posse.
"Sorry, fellers, " he mumbled apologetically. I cain't go on – I need to rest fer a spell – "
"You shouldn't have come in the first place, "scolded Nathan Burke, eyeing the wilting deputy. "You're just slowing us down."
Festus glared at Burke for an instant and then reached up to cradle his wounded arm. "I'dda liked to have seen yuh try to stop me, Burke." There was a hint of violence in Haggin's voice that backed Burke down.
"I'm just sayin' we need to get these prisoners back to Dodge as soon as possible, Festus." We don't know that this is all of Bonner's gang." Burke finished lamely.
His words caused some of the others within earshot to cast quick glances over their shoulders. They had not considered that this was not all of the Bonner gang.
Festus' eyes narrowed. Burke had just played into his hands. He eyed the now anxious posse and snorted. "Waal, I got me an idear of how to get yuh back to yer own bed, Burke, " he said. "Newly, you cut out Jude Bonner and that corpse we're a-trailin'. That Bonner's so busted up, he cain't hardly ride." It was an exaggeration that he hoped no one would challenge. "You an' me'll bring'em on into Dodge slow while Sam and Burke and the rest of these here fellers go on ahead."
"Good idea, Festus, " said Newly with a quick nod. He moved to pull out the two horses.
Sam looked sharply at the two of them in sudden realization of what was in the works. He himself wanted to be there for Miss Kitty's sake but knew that he was needed to get the posse back to town. "Let's go, boys, " he said in a stern voice and kicking his horse into a trot, he led them off into the darkness before Burke could offer any more advice.
Given the marshal's pace and the speed of the posse relieved of its injured and dead, it was not long before they met on the prairie. Sam, hearing the thudding hoofbeats of a rider coming towards them had already stopped the posse. They waited with drawn guns for the unknown rider to come to them.
Peering into the darkness, it was Nathan Burke who broke the silence. "It's the Marshal!" he said in a loud voice that did not quite cover the relief in it. The men visibly relaxed as Dillon pulled his horse to a halt in front of them.
His lack of greeting quickly erased any reassurance brought by his arrival. Scanning the group, he looked coldly at Sam and Burke. "Where's Bonner?"
Sam searched the marshal's eyes and found what he dreaded. His lined face hardened as he drew a kerchief to wipe non-existent dust from his eyes.
Nathan Burke, waiting for Sam to speak, shifted uneasily in the silence. "Festus wasn't doing so well. He and Newly are back a few miles with Bonner and the dead man."
Dillon eyed the group again and did not speak except to lay a light hand on Sam's shoulder as he rode by. Confused, Burke watched him go. He turned back to Sam and was startled to see that the man had been weeping. His own heart sank and he dropped his eyes apologetically to the bartender for invading his privacy. "Come on, " he said roughly to the others. "Dodge isn't getting any closer with us just sitting here."
Jude Bonner rode alone in front of the two deputies, hands tied to the saddle horn. Battered and bruised, he was aware of the situation created when the posse had split and yet was not afraid. The Law was on his side. These deputies would never shoot him in cold blood and he made certain that nothing he did could be interpreted as an escape attempt. He was entitled to a day in court and a trial could take months. Where would they find a fair jury? Every day he stayed off a scaffold was another day he was alive. He smiled to himself as the party ambled towards Dodge.
The Law. The Badge, The Job. It had become an unholy trinity to Dillon as he rode on alone through the night. He had lived his life, made his choices, helped and hurt those around him by the trinity's creed. It had asked much, had taken much from him. It wouldn't let him give her what she wanted - the unfairness of it all smothered him.
Like a drowning man, he gasped for air and found none.
The Law. It had saved Jude Bonner once. It might hang him. It might not. Dillon did not know if he could still trust the Law to do what had to be done.
The Badge. Even with it gone from his shirt, it weighed heavily on his heart and soul. He remembered a book she had told him about, about a minister and a scarlet letter and believed that such a thing could happen. It had defined him for so long and now it had betrayed him.
Like a drowning man, he gasped again for air and found none.
The Job. It had always been the job. He thought again of disappointments and countless apologies, of reassurances that things will be better the next time. Only this time, there would be no 'next time,' no one waiting for an apology, no one to hear his reassurances.
And like a drowning man, he gasped for air …
…And shot to the surface.
In the dawn's light, the sight of the marshal waiting, grim as death on the trail before him, sobered him. Sitting up a little straighter, he recovered his bravado and taunted the man. "Whaddya want, Dillon? Come to finish the job? Come to murder me for your woman?"
"She's dead, Bonner." Dillon's voice was cold, flat and expressionless like his eyes.
"Miss Kitty…" mumbled Festus, hanging his head. Beside him, Newly wiped sudden, hot tears from his own face and started to draw his gun.
A flash of realization washed over him like the coldest of mountain streams. What they could have had, what he couldn't give, it had all been a matter of choice. He had chosen the Law, the Badge and the Job. They were what he was. She knew it. That was why she had stayed and had loved him and had been satisfied to be "the marshal's woman." He already had a wife in the trinity. What they had, had been enough for both of them and a calmness took the edge off his grief and brought him back from madness again. "Kitty, you've run a saloon for a long time. Did you ever water a drink, run a crooked table, roll a drunk?" "Of course not!" "Why not?" "Because I'm proud of what I stand for and I'm proud –" he remembered the fire in her eyes and the realization as well. He shook his head as though to clear it and saw Newly level his gun at Jude Bonner.
Ending A
"Don't," said Dillon in a sharp voice. "He's not worth the smallest hair on your head, Newly." He saw the indecision in the younger man's eyes and then gave a small sigh of relief when the man re-holstered the gun.
He locked his eyes on Bonner again, thought to himself and smiled faintly. "It's tempting, Bonner." He knew why his deputies had lagged behind with their prisoner. He was relieved that he gotten to them in time. "Your jury's waiting in Hays for you. So's the hangman "
Jude Bonner felt his heart sink. With Virgil and LaFitte dead and the Dog Soldiers in jail, there would be no one to either save him or to make Kansas bleed for him. He didn't doubt the marshal's words – it would be just like the Law to have everything arranged ahead of time. The remaining days of his life could be counted on two hands.
"Like hell!" he shouted and he kicked his horse in the ribs. Startled, the horse bolted off into the road.
"Hold it!" shouted the marshal. Bonner, hands still tied, could neither guide the horse nor stop it and yet they could both see and hear him urging the horse to greater speed. Dillon swung his own horse around after him and gave chase with Newly close behind.
The runaway dodged into a stand of thick trees some distance from the road. The lawmen, progress slowed by the tangled undergrowth, followed the sounds of snapping limbs. Suddenly the woods went silent. They were brought up short by the sight of Jude Bonner suspended from a notch in a low tree limb.
Dismounting, the men cautiously approached the still swaying body. It was obvious that the horse in running under the tree had saved the imaginary hangman the trouble. Newly caught the loose horse and together they slung the body over the saddle. Remounting, the two men headed back to where Festus waited. He looked curiously at the two men trailing the third; there had been no shots but asked no questions. Giving the lead rope of the trailing horse a tug, he started to nudge Ruth into a walk behind them as they headed back to Dodge City but stopped when Dillon did not move. "I'd like to thank you both for what you tried to do," said Dillon softly, handing the lead of the second horse to Newly. "I'll be along."
Neither of them knew what to say as they watched him swing his horse off the trail a second time. Festus shrugged, tugged the rope again and he and Newly headed east again into the rising sun.
Ending B
"You're right. That's exactly why I'm here." Before Newly could pull the trigger, his own gun was in his hand. He fired twice. The heavy slugs caught Jude Bonner in the chest and spun him off the shying horse.
He studied the still form at his feet for several minutes before re-holstering his gun. Newly dismounted and helped him heave the body over the empty horse. He remounted and turned his horse back towards town, leaving Newly and Festus to bring the extra horses carrying the bodies.
Murder. There was no other word for it. Where did that fit in with Law and the Badge? He could not and would not ask either of his deputies to take responsibility for what had happened or to provide him with an alibi. She had paid a price and now it was his turn.
Dawn was breaking as they rode into town. By noon, everyone in town knew that Kitty Russell was dead at the hands of Jude Bonner, that Matt Dillon had murdered Jude Bonner in cold blood, and that he sat in a cell in his own jail awaiting trial for crime he had committed without the Badge under the Law he had served for so long.