Chapter Two

.

.

Startled by the voice that came out of nowhere, Matt turned, skimming his gaze over the remaining bystanders and then looked down. Standing on the sidewalk, clutching a worn-looking valise in front of him and looking rather lost, was a little tow-headed, freckle-faced boy, no older than seven or eight years old.

The Marshal looped his thumbs into the front of his gun belt.

"What can I do for you, son?" he wondered.

The boy set down the battered valise, a reply on his lips, but then his eyes widened when he saw the badge pinned to Matt's shirt.

"Gee whiz...you a lawman?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

Matt couldn't resist a grin at the youngsters awe-struck expression.

"Yeah...you might say so. My name's Marshal Dillon." He motioned with his head at his assistant. "And this here's Chester Goode."

"How'd you do," said Chester with a cheery smile.

"My name's Rory Crandall," the boy introduced himself. He stuck out a rather grubby-looking hand for Matt to shake and Matt shook it. "I'm gonna be a lawman, too when I grow up." The small chest puffed out proudly and he grinned up at the two men, revealing one oversized front tooth with empty spaces on either side.

Matt chuckled good-naturedly. "That so?" He was about to say something else, but suddenly stopped short when he caught something moving behind the boy's back.

"Say...what's that?" he asked, pointing at a glimpse of reddish hair now poking out from underneath Rory's arm.

"Oh...almost forgot," the little boy said. "This here's my li'l sister Carrie."

At her brother's gentle urging, the little girl hesitantly emerged from behind him, clasping a rather sorry-looking ragdoll to her chest. Thumb in mouth for comfort, she shyly glanced up at the two men from big, green eyes.

She was tiny, Matt couldn't help but think astounded, not much bigger than a pup. If he had to take a wild guess, he'd have to say that she was no older than three at the most. Her reddish curls were a tangled mess and her light blue calico dress was wrinkled and stained, showing the same signs of neglect as her older brother's clothing.

Matt dropped down on his heels in front of her. "Glad to know you, Carrie," he said gently as he reached out to pat her arm.

Startled, she shrank back from his looming presence, clutching her brother's hand. She cocked her head slightly, her green eyes assessing the Marshal intently for a long moment. Then, thumb still in mouth, her face broke into a bright little smile.

Amused by the fact that she seemed to approve of him after all, Matt flashed her a smile of his own and then straightened back up. He focused his attention on the boy again.

"Is there anythin' I can help you two with?"

Rory nodded, his blond curls, desperately in need of a trim, bouncing in rhythm.

"It's our uncle...he's s'posed to pick us up here an' we cain't find him."

Matt rocked backwards on his heels. "I see. Well, what's your uncle's name?"

"His name's Uncle Luke, Marshal...Luke Crandall," the youngster volunteered.

Matt couldn't place the name right off hand. "Luke Crandall," he repeated, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "I don't think I ever heard of him."

Chester shook his head. "No, Mister Dillon...neither have I to tell ya the truth."

"Well, what's your uncle look like?" Matt now probed further as his eyes began to scan the few people that were still standing on the boardwalk, none of them exactly looking like an "Uncle Luke" to him.

The little boy stuffed his hands down into the pockets of his threadbare pants.

"Don't know...ain't never seen him afore."

"Never seen him before?" echoed Chester. "Well, I declare!" He clucked astounded.

"Doc Hopkins sent him a letter from Wichita to come an' fetch us in Dodge," elaborated Rory in response to Chester's puzzled expression.

A frown passed across Matt's face at the mentioning of another unfamiliar name. "Doc Hopkins?"

He exchanged a quick glance with Chester who, never having heard the name either, simply shrugged.

"Say," the Marshal now couldn't help but wonder, "how come you're traveling all by yourselves anyway? Where are your folks?"

The boy hesitated, suddenly looking downcast. "We had to, Marshal," he replied quietly. "Our ma an' pa died last month from the spotted fever an' Uncle Luke an' Aunt Millie's the only folks we's got left."

"Oh, my goodness, Mister Dillon," exclaimed Chester immediately. "If that ain't a downright shame-them poor things." He stared down at the two youngsters with pity.

The mentioning of her mother caused the little girl's face to pucker into a scowl. She tugged on her brother's sleeve. "I want mommy," she declared miserably.

"Don't cry, Carrie, it's gonna be all right," the boy soothed her gently. He stooped down and wrapped his arms around her middle, awkwardly lifting her off the ground.

It was an oddly touching scene, seeing how the little fellow struggled to hold his sister who suddenly seemed a lot bigger in his small arms. Matt smiled down at the two with sympathy. "Well...maybe you can tell me where your uncle lives," he wondered, hoping that the boy knew at least that much.

Rory shrugged, his voice muffled by his sister's hair.

"Don't know."

"You don't know?"

The boy's voice was now merely a whisper. "No, sir."

Matt rubbed his neck. "Well, you know...that doesn't exactly give us much to go on," he concluded, trying hard not to sound as frustrated as he felt.

Chester shook his head in troubled agreement. "No, Mister Dillon. I sure don't see how we're gonna be able to find him like that...I mean, not knowin' what he looks like an' all."

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Matt thought on it for a moment, watching as Carrie wriggled from her brother's arms.

"Look, Chester," he then said, tapping his assistant's arm with the back of his hand. "Why don't you go an' ask around town some, see if anyone's heard of this 'Luke Crandall'. I'm gonna go an' have a talk with Jonas, he might just know somethin'. I'll meet you over at the office later."

Chester nodded. "Yes, sir, I sure will."

With a final, compassionate glance at the children, he took off down the street to carry out the Marshal's bidding.

Rory looked up at the lawman who towered like a giant over him. "How about us?"

Matt pushed his hat back and scratched his forehead, his eyes thoughtfully contemplating the two youngsters. "Well, I s'pose you two better come along with me," he decided after quick consideration. He turned to go, but a sudden tug on the leg of his pants stopped him in his tracks. He looked down.

"Me tired," declared Carrie, her small chubby hands fisting at sleepy eyes. She reached out and grabbed one of the Marshal's big hands in both of hers, her grubby little face turned up trustingly.

Matt looked down at her, trying to decide whether the statement held some kind of request. He had to admit that his experience with children, especially ones as young as this one here, was rather limited. The small arms, now stretched up towards him, made him realize quickly what she wanted. A smile began to tug at his lips.

"Well, come on then...up you go, honey." He bent down and lifted her up, settling her securely in his arm. He tried not to think of the curious stares he knew he was bound to attract carrying a little girl around with him, but he decided that it still looked better than walking stooped over beside her, holding her hand.

He grabbed the valise from the sidewalk and the threesome began to head up the bustling street towards the Mercantile, inevitably attracting the curious eyes of several passersby.

By the time they had reached the store, Carrie was sound asleep in his arm and Matt had been forced to endure several tongue-in-cheek inquiries as to whether he had now taken up baby-sitting to supplement his income.

.

There were only a handful of customers inside when they stepped through the Mercantile's front door moments later. Two women were standing at a table off to the left, examining several bolts of fabric spread out before them. They were talking softly among themselves, trying to decide which one would be the better buy. A farmer over by the counter was reading off his supply list to Mr. Jonas while the storekeeper was hustling back and forth between the shelves to gather the requested goods.

At the tinkling of the door chime, Jonas lifted his bespectacled eyes.

"Hello, Marshal," he called out when he saw the lawman enter. "I'll be right with you."

Matt acknowledged him with a tip of his head and set down the valise to wait his turn. He watched amused as Rory's eyes immediately began to devour the various jars filled with peppermint candy and horehound, lemon drops and licorice.

"Go ahead, pick yourself some if you like," Matt encouraged him with an indulging smile.

The little boy didn't need to be told twice and went straight to work.

Finally finished with filling the farmer's order, the storekeeper at last turned to the Marshal. Wilbur Jonas was a soft-spoken, slight man in his fifties with a mustache and receding reddish-blonde hair which he kept strategically combed back over his thinning top.

Sticking his pencil behind his ear, his curious gaze slid to the little girl in the lawman's arms. He was about to open his mouth to inquire about her, but his attempt quickly withered under Matt's warning glare not to probe. His face fell just a little. "Well, what can I do for you, Marshal?" he wondered, suddenly a lot less enthusiastic.

Matt came straight to the point. "Say, you ever do any tradin' with a man by the name of Luke Crandall?"

The storekeeper pursed his lips and rolled his eyes up in thought. "No, I don't believe I ever heard that name before," he said after quick consideration. "What's the matter with him...he in some kinda trouble, Marshal?"

Matt glanced down at Carrie, suddenly aware of an ominous wetness that was beginning to spread rather quickly across his arm that was holding her. He heaved an imperceptible sigh. "No,...but I might be if I can't find him soon."

Ignoring Jonas' puzzled expression, he turned his attention to the two ladies who had been stealing quick, curious glances at him ever since he had walked through the door. But to his disappointment, they weren't able to help either, neither one having heard of the Crandall's before.

Matt was beginning to get seriously worried; what if they were unable to locate the children's uncle? He decided to go and talk to Doc Adams. The physician was a frequent visitor to the many farms and homesteads surrounding Dodge, and if the Crandall's indeed lived in the area, he was the most likely person to have heard of them.

He had Mr. Jonas add the small bag of candy, Rory had picked, to his bill and then prepared to leave. He picked up the valise and stepped out onto the sidewalk, only to suddenly find himself face to face with Kitty.

She arched one delicate brow when she saw the sleeping toddler cradled in his arm. Carrie's face was snuggled against the Marshal's broad chest, one small hand clutched in the fabric of his shirt while the other dangled loosely over his arm. It was quite a picture, seeing her man so gently hold this little creature and it stirred something deep inside her. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but it brought a tender smile to her face. "Well," she said with soft humor, unable to resist prodding him a little. "I was told that you were seen in the company of a lovely, young lady."

Matt looked down at her, his expression one of slight exasperation. He was uncomfortably aware of the warm moistness on his arm and knowing where it came from didn't exactly help his mood any.

"Now don't you start on me, too," he grumbled.

The remark earned him a slight scowl from her, but the redhead quickly decided to let it slide, her curiosity getting the better of her. She stepped closer, her inquiring gaze shifting from the sleeping child to the Marshal. "Who is she, Matt?"

"Well,...her name's Carrie Crandall," he said and then motioned with his head to the boy at his side. "And this here's her brother Rory."

The little boy had his hands shoved down into his pockets and tried to cross his feet at the ankles. Matt barely caught him by the scruff of his neck before he tumbled into Kitty. He shot Rory a disapproving look, reminding him of his manners which the boy answered with an apologetic grin.

Matt made a face while Kitty struggled to keep a smile from hers.

"Hello, Rory," she greeted the boy warmly and then turned back to Matt, listening as he began, in few words, to explain the situation.

When he had finished, Kitty's face took on an expression of compassionate concern. She gently stroked the sleeping child's cheek. "You know, the poor thing sure looks like she could use a bath."

"Yeah," he agreed with a wry smile. Carrie's curls were tickling his chin as he looked down at her. "But I'm afraid that's not all she needs."

Kitty regarded him curiously upon overhearing the slight note of desperation in his voice, but Matt apparently didn't care to elaborate. He picked up the battered valise instead. "Look, Kitty, I think we better get goin'...we were just on our way to see Doc."

But the pretty redhead wasn't about to be put off that easy. She settled a tender hand on the boy's shoulder. "Well, come on, I'll walk over there with you," she said determinedly.

Matt nodded agreeably.

"All right," he said and began to herd the small group down the boardwalk.

to be continued...