Chapter Three
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Went out to Jake Morrison's. Be back tonight. Doc Adams.
Matt straightened with a scowl, thumbing his Stetson back on his head when he had finished reading the note stuck to the physician's door.
"That ain't good, Marshal, ain't it?" wondered Rory upon seeing the disappointed expression on the lawman's face.
"No...no, it sure isn't. But I'm afraid there's nothin' we can do about it."
He cast Kitty a resigned glance; the situation was getting more complicated by the moment and he had absolutely no idea as to what to do with the two youngsters.
Kitty seemed to be reading his mind. "Well, maybe we ought to take them over to Ma Smalley's, Matt. I'm sure she won't mind."
"Say...now there's an idea," he declared pleased, wondering why he hadn't thought of that. Until they could figure out what to do with the children—or preferably, find their uncle—Ma's was without doubt the most suitable place. "Well, let's go an' talk to her."
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The boardinghouse sat a little way back from the main road, right on the south edge of town. It was a cheery-looking house with white clapboard siding and a wrap-around porch. Ma Smalley took great pride in her establishment and it was evident; crisp lace curtains trimmed each one of the many windows and even the glass of the front door. Flower boxes atop the window ledges were brimming with a profusion of colorful wildflowers and the two rocking chairs on the porch invited guests to sit down while enjoying a piece of Ma's famous pie.
"Do we really have to stay here?" asked Rory morosely upon spying the lace curtains and flowers.
The house struck him as distinctly 'girlish' and he was certain that this Ma Smalley would probably make him take a bath, make him wear high-collared shirts and slick his hair back, too.
"Why cain't we just go with you, Marshal?"
"Because a jail's no place for children."
The little boy cocked his head slightly and scratched his nose. "Well, where do your children live then?"
"I don't have any children," explained Matt patiently.
"None at all?"
"None at all," confirmed Matt.
"How come?"
Kitty raised a curious brow. "Yes, how come?" she echoed innocently before Matt had a chance to respond.
He cast her an exasperated look, not quite sure whether he wanted to be annoyed or amused by the remark. "You know, you're not exactly helping matters any," he complained as he motioned her to step up onto the porch ahead of him.
It was probably a good thing that he didn't catch the conspiratorial wink that Kitty and Rory exchanged while he knocked on Ma's door.
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As Kitty had predicted, Matt had no trouble convincing Ma to look after the children; the elderly lady was more than happy to take the two orphans under her wing, even if it was only for the night. Much to Kitty's amusement, Carrie was rather reluctant to abandon the warm safety of the Marshal's arms and he literally had to pry the loudly protesting toddler off him so that he could hand her over to Ma Smalley.
Carrie's demanding cries for the 'marsal', brought an amused smile to Kitty's face. "She seems quite smitten with you," she remarked, after Ma had taken Rory and the still objecting Carrie inside.
Matt grinned, leaning his shoulder against a porch post. "You noticed that, too, huh?"
It didn't escape him that the little girl seemed to have taken quite a liking to him. He had to admit that it felt kind of nice. He started to cross his arms over his chest, but abandoned the attempt quickly when he remembered his wet arm.
"Say, what happened to your sleeve?" wondered Kitty.
Matt's brow furrowed slightly. "My sleeve?"
She fixed him with a reproving look.
"Oh, that," he attempted to stall, feeling more than just a little embarrassed by the mishap.
But the pretty redhead was rather quick at putting two and two together. "Oh, Matt...don't tell me, she—" Kitty broke off, her face widening with sudden understanding. Her hand flew to her mouth, desperately trying to stifle a laugh, but she was only partly successful.
The effort was not lost on Matt. Frowning, he glanced from her to his sleeve, making a vain attempt at shaking it out. "Look," he said, clearing his throat to cover his embarrassment. "I guess, I better go an' change my shirt."
Kitty bit her lip, still vainly striving not to laugh. Matt's frustration was almost comical. She nodded, an amused smile still lurking in the corners of her mouth. "Yes, I think you'd better to that." She patted his dry arm. "I see you tonight, Matt."
He acknowledged her and waited until she had disappeared inside the boarding house to give Ma a hand with the children as she had promised.
Matt eyed his sleeve again. He expelled a weary breath and then began to make his way back to the office, silently resolving to arrest the first person that would comment on it.
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After donning a clean shirt, he devoted himself to asking around town some more. But as much as he tried, his efforts proved less than fruitful. Nobody in Dodge seemed to have heard of the Crandalls and by the time evening came around, he had pretty much given up hope.
Chester didn't fare any better; he had been all over, even checked on some of the closer farms and homesteads surrounding Dodge, but hadn't been able to find out anything either.
They finally decided to wait a few hours and then make their rounds of the various saloons and gambling establishments in town. The night always drew a whole new crowd of pleasure-seekers and chances were, that maybe one of them knew this Luke Crandall.
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Two hours later, Matt was on his way down to the Long Branch to have his customary nightly beer and ask around some more while Chester headed over to the Texas Trail and the Lady Gay to try his luck there.
As the darkness began to settle over the streets of Dodge, the warm night air became alive with a whole new variety of sounds. Tinny, off-key piano music was floating from one of the many establishments that lined Front Street, mingling with the raucous banter of cowboys and the gay chatter of saloon girls. It seemed to Matt that the streets were even livelier tonight than they had been all day. But then again, this was Dodge City and one could always count on the town to live up to its reputation.
With jingling spurs, a group of cowhands came clambering up the boardwalk towards him, laughing and loudly carrying on among themselves. Nodding their howdy's, they split up to walk around the lawman, only to rejoin seconds later when they had passed him.
Matt slowed his step as he approached the saloon and stopped just outside the entrance. He was greeted by a fluctuating mesh of voices and laughter, creating a comfortable din, as inviting as it was loud.
Bringing a hand to rest on the top of one of the swinging doors, he looped the other around his belt buckle, quickly letting his alert gaze skim over the noisy Friday night crowd for any signs of trouble.
The bar room was filled near capacity tonight. All the tables were taken; men sat drinking and playing cards, and stood, hip to hip, at the long, wooden bar. Everything seemed relatively peaceful, but Matt knew how easily a small disagreement over a spilled drink, a woman or a misspoken word could escalate into a fight. It didn't matter who they were, young or old, they always seemed to get in trouble when they came to Dodge.
Pushing the batwing doors inwards, he prepared to step inside. The air was dense with the smell of whiskey, beer and cigar smoke, men's stale sweat and the sweet, heady perfume, favored by the saloon girls.
Matt let his keen glance search the crowd and quickly located who he was looking for; the pretty redhead was standing at the far end of the bar, waiting for Clem, the barkeep to draw a couple of beers.
He began to make his way towards her, feeling the jolting press of bodies against his own as he pushed his way through the thick throng.
As if sensing his approach, Kitty lifted her head. She watched as he stopped here and there just long enough to exchange a friendly greeting with someone. She smiled to herself; the way Matt towered over most people, he was hard to miss—even if one wanted to.
"Hello, Kitty," he said with a tip of his head as he came up alongside her.
She smiled up at him, but the smile quickly faded when she saw the troubled expression on his face. "You look like you didn't have much luck..."
Matt rested his forearms on the bar and leaned forward, turning his head to face her. "Well,...not so far anyway," he murmured his frustration. He looked up and nodded his thanks to Clem who had just placed a cold beer in front of him. "But I'm not ready to give up just yet...there's still a couple of places we haven't looked...the Long Branch's one of 'em."
Kitty nodded in the direction of the crowd. "Be my guest...ask to your heart's content, cowboy."
Matt cast her a less than enthusiastic glance. He was afraid that it would probably take him the better part of the night if were to question every customer that walked though those swinging doors over the course of the evening.
As if she was reading his thoughts, Kitty reached over and laid an assuring hand on his arm. "If it helps...I'll keep my eyes open, too. I'm sure, someone's gonna recognize that name sooner or later."
Matt nodded. "Well, let's hope so. I don't know if I can ask Ma to keep those two for more than a night...after all, she's not the youngest anymore." His hand fingered the beer mug, drawing wet circles on the scarred wooden counter with the bottom of it.
"Well, she's not that old either, Matt," chuckled Kitty. "You know, she really enjoyed looking after those two today."
Matt lifting his gaze. "Well, I'm glad she did. But I still need to find this uncle Luke—preferably as soon as possible."
He took a long swallow from his beer and then turned to face the crowd, doing another, this time more thorough survey of the room. There were a lot of new faces tonight. It was a fact that held renewed hope. Hope, that maybe one of them was familiar with the Crandalls.
After gulping down the rest of his beer, he began to dig in his vest pocket for some change. A frown quickly spread across his face when he realized that he didn't have any.
"Sorry, Kitty but I'm afraid, I owe you that one," he apologized.
Kitty cocked her head and lifted her gaze to his, her blue eyes assessing him mischievously. "Well...don't worry, cowboy," she purred. "I'm sure we can think of some way for you to pay it off." She traced her fingers meaningfully over his knuckles and gave him a quick wink.
He caught the teasing glint in her eyes, the implication not leaving much room for misinterpretation. His better judgment was telling him to ignore the remark, especially since they were hardly alone, but he seemed to be lacking a little in willpower tonight.
After quickly glancing about as if to make sure that no one was within earshot, he moved closer, his eyes locking with hers. "What do you say," he began and then paused to clear his throat. "We talk about that later?" His voice was low, and though he succeeded at keeping a straight face, his eyes had an all too familiar, impish gleam to them.
His words elicited a soft chuckle from Kitty. She gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Sure, cowboy."
Matt straightened and brought his gaze around to rest on a table close by where four cowhands were engaged in a lively conversation. Broken bits and pieces of what they were saying drifted to his ears. They were talking about the weather and cattle, making jokes and comments about women.
It was typical saloon talk, the kind, one could hear in any saloon across Kansas.
"Well," he said, reluctantly pulling his thoughts back to the original thread of their conversation. "I better start askin' around before they all get too liquored up to remember their own names."
He turned to go but Kitty's hand upon his forearm stayed him. "Good luck, Matt."
He flashed her a wary smile. "Thanks, Kitty...I got a feelin' I need it."
With that, he headed for the nearest table where three men where hunched over a poker game, their eyes carefully adverted to their cards.
Kitty picked up the two beers and let her gaze linger on him a moment longer. She heaved a small sigh; why couldn't everything he had to deal with as Marshal be as harmless as locating a lost relative, she thought to herself, not knowing yet that the next day was about to prove how wrong she was.
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