Chester shook his head to clear his vision and mind. Hearing Kitty scream brought him out of his grogginess and he struggled to his feet. When he saw the huge, filthy buffalo hunter on top of her, something snapped inside of the gentle man.
What had formed in his mind as "Get OFF of her!" came out as "ARRGHAA!" The slender man launched himself at Strong, crooked his right arm around the startled man's bull neck, and hauled him to the floor. Wrapping his left leg around the hunter's body, Chester tightened his arm around the struggling man's neck from behind, finding an iron strength he never knew he had. As the big man flailed his arms in a vain attempt to dislodge the terrible squeezing man from his back, he felt sharp kicks in his ribs from the enraged, red-haired woman. When Strong finally went limp, his face distorted in a wide-eyed unseeing grimace, Chester kept his death grip a few moments longer before releasing and falling back on the floor exhausted. Opening his one good eye, he saw half-naked Kitty still kicking and crying. Getting up, he hurried to her, unbuttoning his shirt.
"Miss Kitty. Miss Kitty, ya'll kin stop now," he said in a gentle voice as he put his shirt over her shoulders from behind, and squeezed her upper arms. "He ain't gonna hurt ya never agin."
With a loud sob, her shoulders sagged. Suddenly realizing that her breasts were exposed, she pulled the shirt from her shoulders and slipped her arms in the sleeves, buttoning it up as the red-faced young man looked down at his boots. Then she turned around and gave him a hug, holding on tightly.
"He's dead, then. GOOD! Thank you for saving me…again, Chester. Matt would be so very proud of you."
"Wal, Miss Kitty, he was hurtin' ya. I cain't abide that a'tall!" He could feel her grip loosening as her knees began to sag, and he led her over to the bench and sat down with her, his arms around her, supporting her. They sat there in a companionable silence, each grateful for the other's comforting presence. Chester loved her fiercely, as the sister he had never had, and as a loyal friend who always stood up for him. He was fully aware of the deep, loving relationship between Kitty and the Marshal, which only doubled his own love for the both of them. Kitty loved him back, as a brother, dear friend, and as a fine, gentle man who would do anything for Matt and her.
After sitting quietly for a few minutes, resting from their stressful and painful ordeal, Chester cleared his throat.
"Miss Kitty, we oughta take that mule in the corral and head outta here before that brother shows up. Now ya jest set here while I… while I take care of somethin.'" He glanced over at Ender Strong's repulsive body, then tried to turn the traumatized woman so it was out of her line of sight.
"CHESTER! Your EYE, and your poor face!" she gasped, as she got her first real look at him since their battle with the buffalo hunter had begun. The rifle butt had not broken his cheekbone, but his face was badly bruised and swollen so much that his right eye was barely visible.
"Ah, it's nuthin' to worry 'bout!" He put his hat on and stood up. " I'll be back soon, so try ta rest up 'cause riding a mule bareback ain't very easy on a body." He began to drag the large hunter down the steps and off the porch. Looking around, he took it to a spot near a pile of rocks that he used to cover the body rather than take the time to dig a grave. He was getting more worried all the time about the returning brother. After putting the last rock in place, he turned towards the corral, then paused and turned back. Standing at the foot of the grave, he removed his battered black hat and held it in front of his chest.
"Ender Strong, you was a terrible man. I'm sorry that I had ta kill ya, but ya didn't give me no choice. No one does Miss Kitty thata way! You're plumb lucky Mr. Dillon weren't here, 'cause he'da torn yer throat out! I jest did what I could. Now, I know a pile of rocks ain't much of a grave, but if yer brother is even half as evil as ya was, we gotta git goin'! Mr. Strong, it ain't up ta me ta judge ya, but God will deal with ya in His own way." He put his hat back on and headed towards the small corral.
"Miss Kitty! Are ya set ta go?" he called. He had led a large, male mule with one long white ear up to the porch and tied the reins to a post. Climbing the rickety steps, he took the dead man's heavy rifle from against the wall, then held out a hand to his friend.
"Oh yes, Chester! I want to get as far away from this awful place as possible!" She was still dizzy, so gratefully took his hand. "What a pair we are!" she sadly sighed, looking at the tall young man in his undershirt, his face terribly bruised and swollen, then imagining what she must look like wearing Chester's dirty shirt and his bandana around her head.
Chester didn't know what to say. He looked at her and still saw a beautiful young woman with a mass of tousled red curls, big, long-lashed eyes the color of a summer sky, and a fresh, makeup-free face. "Wal, we'd better git goin'. I promised ta git ya safely back ta Dodge, Miss Kitty, and I'm gonna do it!" He boosted her up onto the saddle-less mule, handed her the heavy rifle, then climbed up behind her. He had filled a canteen he had found hanging on a nail in the corral, and hung it from his belt over his left hip. Putting his left arm securely around Kitty's waist, he held the rifle and reins in his right hand, and lightly touched the mule's sides with his heels. As the mule started walking, Chester looked up and silently prayed, "Dear God, thank ya fer gittin' us this far. Please help me ta git Miss Kitty back ta Dodge and ta Mr. Dillon like I promised."
Kitty leaned back against his chest and let out a long breath of relief, trusting in Chester implicitly to get them home. And she knew that Matt was out there searching and would never stop until he found them.