Chapter Seven
x
It hadn't taken Doc long to hitch the horse to the buggy, but by the time he had finally pulled the vehicle up to the house, the sun had already fallen below the western horizon, filling the sky with glowing echoes of orange and red. In the east, the light was quickly fading, the sky changing from silver to velvet black as the dusk began to settle over the prairie.
"Well, you about ready, Kitty?" he wondered as he stuck his head through the door moments later.
At the summons, Kitty looked up.
"Just about," she called back.
She had just finished jotting the note to the Crandalls and was now reading it over. Satisfied, she folded it neatly and placed it in the middle of the table where it could be found easily.
After casting the interior of the house one final, inspecting glance to make sure that everything was left the way they had found it, she gathered the children and blew out the light.
She was about to usher the youngsters out onto the porch when Doc suddenly stiffened and grew still.
Kitty cast him an inquiring glance, about to ask him what was wrong when he held up his hand in an abrupt gesture for silence. His breath hissed out through his teeth. "Sshh-" He stood frozen, completely alert as he listened intently, his gaze focused on some point off in the distance.
Lifting little Carrie into her arms, Kitty urged both children to remain silent and stilled to listen as well.
Now she could hear it, too.
Carried clearly on the evening air, she could discern the approaching strike of hooves. It was definitely not a wagon, she realized.
Doc's searching eyes scanned the western slope and quickly picked out a group of several riders coming down the incline at a good pace, riding purposefully. There was no mistaking their destination; they were heading straight towards the house.
"Who do you suppose they are?" wondered Kitty uneasily.
The note of alarm in her voice-even though very slight-communicated itself directly to the children. Carrie automatically tightened her grasp on Kitty's arm while Rory moved closer to her side, clutching a handful of her skirt.
The physician shook his head slightly, never taking his eyes off the approaching riders. "I don't know, Kitty, but maybe you'd better take those two an' go back inside. I'll see what they want."
He took a quick swipe at his mustache and then slipped his hand back down into his pocket as he stepped up to the edge of the porch.
Kitty gathered the children closer. Whoever they were, she had a feeling that they weren't the Crandalls. She knew that Doc was thinking along those same lines-the look of worry on his face hadn't gone unnoticed. "Be careful, Doc," she said before the door clicked softly shut.
Doc nodded absently, running a hand through his unruly, graying hair. No, it definitely wasn't the Crandalls as he had hoped. He thought it highly unlikely that they would travel on horseback.
Besides, he remembered having seen a buckboard sitting beside the barn the last time he had been out here. It was gone now.
Whoever they were, he hoped they were just passing through and not in search of trouble.
With the glow of the setting sun reflected in the depths of his blue eyes, he awaited the riders arrival.
x
x
Gravel scrunched loudly under the horses' shod hooves as the small group passed the crude split-log fence that bordered the perimeter of the yard a short while later.
They reined their mounts down to a walk and Doc was now able to discern that there were three of them. Although it was difficult to make out their faces with the dying sun at their backs, he was pretty certain that these men weren't familiar to him.
The realization caused him to tense slightly and his thoughts turned to Kitty and the children again. What would he do if their intentions weren't peaceful? Very little, he realized, there was very little he would be able to do. It was a disturbing notion that left him deeply worried.
The trio now drew rein a few yards from the porch. The last of the sunlight sparkled on the guns strapped low to the men's hips as their horses shuffled and milled beneath them, smelling the water in the big, rectangular trough beside the porch.
Doc felt a shudder run down his back. One look at them in the gathering gloom told him immediately that these men were not to be crossed.
The largest of the three was a strapping man with a barrel chest and massive arms. He carried himself with the cocky confidence of one who had never been intimidated by anything or anybody. A man who took what he wanted and walked over, not around others. A badly healed, fleshy scar, grotesquely disfiguring his hard features, added to the dangerous air he had about him.
The one riding to his left was a lanky, ruddy-faced cowboy with sandy hair peeking out from underneath a brown hat which had clearly seen better days. The smaller, dark-haired one wearing a black, flat-brimmed hat, made Doc immediately think of a predator shrewdly measuring its prey.
But before the doctor had a chance to dwell on his observation any further, the big stranger raised a hand, motioning the others to stay behind while he nudged his chestnut mare closer to the porch.
The uneasy silence weighed heavily between them for a moment as the man's black, piercing eyes inventoried the physician thoroughly.
"Mind if we water our horses, old man?" he then drawled at last by way of greeting.
Doc instantly disliked the man. He bristled at the insolent address, but forced down the urge to retort. Not able to think of any good reason to refuse the stranger's request, he gave a clipped nod in the direction of the recently filled water trough sitting beside the porch steps. "Help yourself," he said curtly. Although the stranger seemed quiet and contained, the doctor thought that he sensed a dangerous tension in him.
After sparing Doc a brief nod of thanks, the man tossed a backwards glance over his shoulder, signaling the others and then dismounted.
Doc felt a trickle of uneasiness as he watched the men walk their horses over to the trough. He dearly hoped that water was all they wanted.
"Nice place you got here," said the scar-faced one. His shifty gaze roved over the barn and corral before coming to rest on the main house.
"Thank you," replied Doc simply, figuring it better to leave the man to believe that this was his homestead.
As his horse continued to drink its fill, the cowboy checked the cinch strap and then turned to the doctor again.
"Say, old man," he ventured, scrubbing a huge palm across a chin that hadn't been touched by a razor in several days. "You ever hear of a fella by the name of Dillon? He's s'posed to be the law in Dodge."
Ignoring the insulting address, Doc's eyes narrowed suspiciously. There was a look of cold calculation in the dark depths of the other's eyes, and he realized that this man wasn't just making polite conversation. "Yes, I heard of him," he replied guardedly, wisely keeping to himself the fact that he actually knew him quite well.
The stranger pulled a long cheroot from his vest and chewed off the tip. He spat it on the ground, his dark eyes regarding the doctor speculatively. "I heard he's mighty handy with a gun..."
Doc shoved one hand back down into his pocket and scratched his ear with the other. He wanted to know why this man seemed so interested in Matt, but decided against asking, afraid it might make the other suspicious. "Folks do a lot of talkin'," he replied vaguely instead.
A thin smile touched the corners of the man's mouth as he contemplated the doctor. "I bet they do," he said slowly as he struck a lucifer off the flank of his saddle. He cupped the flame in his hand as he lowered the cheroot to it, letting it catch hold. Then he snapped out the match and dropped it to the ground.
In no apparent hurry to speak, he took a deep draw off the smoke and let it out slowly, watching as it curled past his face. "Say, old man," he then said, fixing Doc with his penetrating stare again. "I don't think I got your name…" The simple statement and the casual tone of his voice didn't conceal his demand for an answer.
Doc was well aware of it. "My name's Adams," he volunteered after brief hesitation, purposely leaving out the title hinting at his profession. He knew that he had to be careful with his words and chose them with caution, not willing to volunteer any more information than necessary. "And I don't think, I recall you givin' me your name, mister," he then added, unable to help himself from being just a little ornery.
The man's eyes narrowed. He stared at Doc for some seconds. "They call me Biggs...Dan Biggs," he said, allowing a dangerous edge to enter his voice. He watched the doctor's eyes for any kind of sign and wasn't disappointed; a visible flicker of recognition flitted across Doc's face at the mentioning of the name.
Biggs grinned, his eyes still appraising the doctor. "Looks like you heard of me before..."
Doc snorted in disgust. Though he had never seen Dan Biggs in person, he certainly knew him by his nam. He frowned. "By golly, yes...I heard about you."
He had no trouble recalling the many stories he had heard at the Long Branch, telling of the despicable deeds of the Biggs brothers. He also remembered how frightened people had been when Jim, Dan's younger brother had rode into Dodge about a month ago. For two days, the young man had thrown his weight around and Matt had stood by patiently, keeping a close eye on him. Finally, on the night of the second day it had happened. Feeling that he had been cheated at cards, Jim had goaded the accused into a fight, in the course of which Matt, who head been called to intervene, had been forced to shoot the younger Biggs after he had foolishly drawn his gun on him.
It didn't take much for Doc to put two and two together; Dan Biggs had come for Matt.
"What's the matter...scared, old man?" grinned Biggs.
His comment drew chuckles from the other two.
Doc rubbed a hand across his mustache, his gaze meeting Biggs' levelly. "I'm too old to be scared, mister."
With a snort, Biggs collected the reins and boarded his horse again. Now he was eye level with the doctor on the porch. A sneer contorted his disfigured face.
"You'd be wise to be a little scared, Adams," he said quietly. "You might live longer that way."
Before Doc had a chance to probe the remark for meaning, he saw the sneer on Biggs' face suddenly falter. The outlaw's eyes slid past the doctor and came to rest on the front door. "Well, I'll be-" he said with a low whistle of appreciation at the sight of the young woman who stood framed in the doorway.
"Howdy, ma'am," he drawled, lazily touching the brim of his grubby hat in a greeting as he swept Kitty's body with insolent directness.
But the pretty redhead was neither impressed nor intimidated. If working in saloons for most of her adult life had taught her anything, it was how to deal with the likes of Biggs. She lodged her hands on her slim hips, her blue eyes glittering coldly. "Who are you men and what do you want?" she demanded tightly as she stepped up to Doc's side who clearly wasn't too happy with her appearance.
Biggs' lips contorted in a leering grin, his appreciative gaze still on Kitty. "I gotta hand it to you, Adams," he said, a hint of reluctant admiration in his voice. "I'm impressed...how'd an old codger like you manage to get himself a purdy wife like that?"
For the briefest of moments, Doc's eye widened in surprise, the other's assumption having come completely unexpected, then just as quickly, his bristly brows snapped together in a frown. "Now you look here," he started to say, thrusting an angry finger at the outlaw. "For your infor-"
But he didn't get any further; the sudden pressure of Kitty's hand on his arm causing him to break off and glance at her uncomprehendingly.
She tilted her chin defiantly and glared up at Biggs.
"I don't see where it's any of your business, mister," she said stiffly.
Biggs leaned forward in the saddle, bracing his beefy hands on the pommel. There was a distinctly wicked gleam in his eyes. "Maybe I wouldn't mind makin' it my business, red..."
Although she had to admit that the look in his eyes was more than just a little unsettling, Kitty refused to yield beneath his arrogant gaze.
Right away, Doc smelled trouble.
"Kitty," he said, clearing his throat. "Why don't you...don't you go an' see after those young'uns?" He motioned with his head in the direction of the door, hoping to get her back into the house and out of sight before something bad would happen.
"Kitty, eh?" Biggs chuckled, his grin offsetting her frown. "Now if that ain't a purdy name for a purdy lady."
The redhead shot him a look that probably would have killed-if any such thing was possible. She was about to open her mouth in a retort, but the doctor beat her to it.
"Now just take it easy," he reminded her quickly, afraid that her famous temper might get the better of her and only make matters worse.
Biggs chuckled. "Got spunk that one, Adams...I bet she's quite a handful." His appraising eyes roamed over Kitty's body again. "A good thrashin' once in a while should take 'em wild oats outta her," he then added, the remark clearly suggesting that he wouldn't mind being the one administering it.
The implication was not lost on Kitty and her face darkened with disgust. She was sorely tempted to tell the man to get the hell out of here, but she reluctantly pulled herself together when she caught the silent warning in the doctor's eyes.
Don't.
She clamped her lips shut, but her expression remained one of utter disapproval.
Doc definitely felt the same by now. He would have loved nothing more than to tell Biggs that he was the one in need of a good thrashing, but knowing that it most likely would only make matter worse, he curbed the impulse to do so. "Go, go on now," he urged Kitty instead. His voice was soft, but his hand on her back was insistent as he nudged her forward towards the door.
Undeterred by the doctor's lack of response, Biggs shrugged indifferently. "Suit yourself then...it's your wife," he told him, "wouldn't let ma woman treat me this way though..."
"I bet," muttered Doc under his breath as he held the door for Kitty.
It didn't take much to realize that Biggs was the type who saw women as little more than a man's property do to with as he pleased. The notion was quite unsettling and he thought it all the more reason for Kitty to stay out of sight until the men had departed.
"Hey, wait a minute!"
The sudden exclamation coming from one of Biggs' men stopped Doc and Kitty in their tracks. All eyes moved to the tall, ruddy-faced cowboy who had spoken them.
"What's the matter, Stanton?" gruffed Biggs. His dark eyes narrowed in irritation.
Stanton nudged his horse closer to the porch. He flicked his worn hat back and eyed Kitty with interest.
"Say, red," he ventured grinning. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
Much to Doc's dismay, Kitty stopped and turned. She folded her arms over her chest, looking the cowboy squarely in the eye. "I highly doubt it," she retorted stiffly.
Kiley chuckled in response, but that didn't discourage Stanton any. His face screwed up in thought, he chewed intently on the inside of his cheek for moment. Suddenly, his expression lit up.
"I know," he exclaimed, snapping his fingers.
"You know what?" demanded Biggs, his patience waning.
Stanton was grinning broadly now, revealing a row of yellow, chipped teeth. He pointed a long, spindly finger straight at Kitty. "I remember where I seen her," he sputtered. "It was last spring, she's at the Long Branch in Dodge."
"A saloon gal?" Biggs asked, apparently not quite understanding. His uncomprehending gaze shifted from the man beside him to Kitty and then to Doc. Somehow this Adams didn't strike him as a man who'd pick his wife in a saloon.
Stanton shook his head impatiently. "That ain't just any saloon gal, Biggs," he went on to clarify, "that's Kitty Russell, she owns the place." He paused, raising his brows. "An' that ain't all," he then added importantly. "I heard she's mighty friendly with the Marshal..."
At the mentioning of the lawman, Kitty paled visibly, her confident demeanor faltering ever so slightly.
The leather creaked sharply as Biggs straightened in his saddle, the cold remains of the cheroot dangling from his lip. "You mean Dillon?"
"That sure as hell's right," the red-cheeked fellow confirmed eagerly.
Biggs didn't speak right away. Working the cheroot between his thick lips, he contemplated Kitty for a short moment before speaking. "That true, red?"
Kitty put on her best poker face-something she had also learned quite early on and that had served her well over the years. "I don't know what he's talking about," she replied coolly.
Her words brought a scowl to Stanton's ruddy face. "Oh, come on, lady, you ain't foolin' me...I seen you with that big Marshal! "
"He's lying," retorted Kitty promptly.
"You watch yourself, lady," hissed Stanton in return. He turned to Biggs. "She's the one who's lyin', Dan!"
A growing sense of irritation began to burgeon in Doc's mind. He dropped a protective arm around Kitty's shoulder. "Why don't you men just get outta here an' leave us be," he groused angrily. He already knew that his words would most likely fall on deaf ears, but that didn't stop him from trying.
Dan Biggs threw the doctor a condescending glance and then leaned forward, folding his hands over the horn of his saddle. He eyed Kitty with an expression of intrigued speculation. "So," he mused slowly, "you're Dillon's woman." Then his mouth twisted into a dangerous smile. "Boys...I think we're gonna stay a little while..."
to be continued...