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Thanks for reading. The reviews really help keep me motivated. Sheila

Chapter 2

Matt finally stopped for camp at dawn. He'd have preferred to keep riding, but Rip kept complaining about the pace. The boy slept restlessly under a cottonwood while Matt sat atop a hill and kept watch. Matt didn't think much of the boy, but he figured he might need him when he got to Middleville. He didn't set up much of a camp- didn't even start a fire for coffee.

Instead, he focused on the rising sun. There was a hurt inside that wasn't going to be changing for a while. The hardtack he was chewing felt like sawdust in his mouth, but it was fuel and he needed it for the job ahead. Dillon was full of anger in a way he didn't recognize. He'd lost friends before. He was in that type of profession, but he'd never lost anyone in such a cruel way. The wickedness of a lynch mob carried with it a wildness, fear and anger swirling everywhere. He hated that Festus had to face that- the injustice of a mean death. He didn't deserve that. He was far too sweet and loyal for such an ending.

But Dillon didn't just feel mad at Middleville and its inhabitants, he was angry with himself. He could just picture Festus pacing back and forth in the office two weeks ago, fretting about that farm family killer. Newly would be trying to calm him, but it wouldn't make much difference. Festus would be feeling his oats and want to start tracking. Tracking a man that evil should never have been a one-man job. A killer wild enough to kill families would be unpredictable, ruthless. Sometimes, Festus didn't know his limits. He was always ready to jump into any situation feet first, and once he got started, he never stopped until it was either done or Matt told him to stop.

The day Festus took off, Matt stopped for an afternoon of fishing on his way back from Hayes. He did it so seldom that it felt like a luxury he could allow. When he got into Dodge, Festus was gone only four hours according to Newly. Matt should've dropped those catfish and headed after him right then and there. But he didn't. He ate catfish with his friends and let Festus do the work. He figured that Festus would be back in two days with some news from his tracking. But it didn't work that way. Three days in and he and Newly followed Festus to the west, but they couldn't find hide nor hair of him. He knew he'd screwed up then. Nobody was going to blame him. They would say that there was no way of knowing, but Matt Dillon held himself to higher standards than that. If he had been along when Festus left Dodge, there would have been no lynch mob.

Matt looked at the rising sun. He'd given the boy two whole hours to rest. It ought to be enough to get him to Middleville in good enough shape. He called the boy's name and then used his rifle to help himself to his feet. He dreaded the time ahead in Middleville. He wanted to get that over with, and then he wanted that family killer in his sights. Festus would like it plenty if he went ahead and finished that chore for him.

…

Doc massaged the mule's nose while Ruth chewed on an apple. The mule was soft and willing. He hadn't thought much about mules before Festus. Didn't quite understand the need for one. But that all changed when he saw Festus use that mule time and again with Matt, keeping up with him every time. Festus treated Ruth with the best care Doc had ever seen a man give an animal and talked to him like he was a person. Doc let his hand move down the neck and the leg until he found the wound on the forelock. He checked for signs of infection, but the forelock felt cool and there was no sign of swelling. He nodded, pleased with the improvement.

"How's it look, Doc?"

He looked up and saw Moss Grimmick. "It's looking fine, Moss. Really good."

Moss nodded. "I been checking it every hour. I'm putting the exact liniment that Festus taught me to do with Ruth. You feed him an apple?"

"I did." Doc said as he straightened.

"It's the fifth apple this morning. People been coming in with apples for Ruth all morning."

Doc rubbed his mustache and shook his head. "I should've known."

"It's a good thing. Mule's been lonely. He misses Festus."

"You really think that?"

Moss nodded. "Most mounts don't much care who's riding them, but Festus had a real relationship with that animal. Ruth definitely misses him."

"Of course," Doc said. Words carried emotions so Doc was using as few of them as he could get away with.

"I heard the rumors about the lynching. It came in on the early stage. Burke was telling people in front of the General store just ten minutes ago."

Doc said nothing. He'd hoped that they could've keep the awful news out of Dodge, but it wasn't a reality.

"I told Burke that if he ever heard said those words again, I was going to beat him with a hay rake."

Doc nodded. "Good."

"Anybody worth their salt knows that Festus is no family killer, and that lynch mob, if its true, was a real tragedy." Moss shook his head and walked away.

Doc's eyes stung but he felt grateful for the old man. He just needed to know that there were more like Moss Grimmick in Dodge. He thought about Kitty and figured folks were going to wandering into the Long Branch with their gossip soon enough. She needed a friend, and so he took a deep breath and headed in her direction.

…

"Boy, I always knew he was different but to just think we had a farm killer in Dodge as a lawman!"

It was the first thing Newly heard when he walked into the Long Branch, and it was all he could do to not grab the man's collar and start swinging, but he couldn't tell who said what so he walked up to the bar and signaled Sam. Sam leaned over. "How is she?" Newly said.

Sam shook his head. "She went upstairs with a headache when people started showing up with news about the lynching."

Newly gestured to a group near the door making large statements about Festus. "I'm ready to take my badge off and take on that group."

"We'll have to pay for the damages, but I'm with you. Let's do it." Sam tossed his towel.

Newly grabbed his wrist and hissed. "You were supposed to talk me down."

"I'm not in the mood for doing much but swinging," Sam said, looking heated.

"Okay, Sam, just remember we are here to make things better for Miss Kitty, not worse."

The older man deflated. "It sure would feel good to throw some punches."

"I know, Sam. I know," Newly said looking around the room. Louie was seated alone at a table, no drink in front of him. "What's the story with Louie?"

"He's not drinking. Right now, I think he's taking notice of who were really Festus' friends and who weren't."

Newly took his beer and sat next to Louie. "How you doing?"

Louie held the lip of the table with both hands to keep from shaking too much. "That ol' Burke says he doesn't believe that Festus did anything to no families, but still, he stays and keeps the conversation going. Why does he do that?"

Newly sighed. "I reckon he just likes to be in the middle of things."

"I'm not going to let anyone speak ill of Festus." Louie looked like he was about to fall over. Newly knew that some men needed the alcohol to keep functioning, and so a sober Louie was not looking so good.

"Maybe it's better if you have a drink, Louie. It'll help steady you."

"I promised Festus I wouldn't drink."

"When did you promise him that?" Newly wondered about the man's faculties.

"He was in my dream last night. He told me to stay in the buggy, so I am doing that. I'm going to be the man he always wanted me to be."

"Louie, Festus never wanted you to change. He was always okay with who you are."

"But he wanted me to be able to care for myself. He worried he wouldn't always be there."

Newly nodded. "Okay. I get that. But you can't just stop the drinking. You have to let Doc help you ease off so it doesn't kill you."

"I can do it, Newly!" Louie pounded the table. "I don't need any help. I can do it."

"Okay Louie, I hear you, but if you need help, I'm here for you."

Louie sighed deeply. "Just like Festus was."

Newly nodded. "Yeah. Just like Festus."

Doc walked in and stopped inside the swinging doors. He was looking up. Newly saw that the other fellows were doing the same. He swiveled his head and saw Kitty at the top of the stairs, wearing a beautiful emerald gown he'd never seen before. She looked down at the bar and descended the stairs until she had everyone in her sights. "Listen up! Some of you are friends. Some of you are not. And some of you are going to lose your friendship with me depending on how you talk."

The room was silent.

"This bar is for Festus' friends only. If you have come here to speculate on those rumors you heard, you best find a new establishment right now. We are not going to have any negative talk about Festus, you hear me!"

A cowboy raised his hat. "Ain't no harm in talking, Ma'am."

"This is my establishment, and I won't have it! I hear the kinds of things you're saying about my friend, and I can't stomach it."

"Lady, we got rights to say what we want," said a well-dressed poker player.

"You sure do. Just do it someplace else."

"You'll lose business," yelled a farmer.

She shrugged. "I'll live with it. Sam, a drink on the house for anyone who's a friend of Festus!"

Men clamored for a place at the bar. Doc watched and brushed his mustache. He offered Kitty his arm when she reached him, and he steered her to the table with Louie and Newly. She gestured to Sam. "A bottle for the table please."

She sat down and let out a deep sigh. "Did any of you get a good night's sleep last night?"

Everyone shook their head.

"Me neither. When I wasn't crying, I was imagining the lynching." She put a hand to her forehead. "My head has been aching since this morning."

"You need salt. You lost sodium when you cried." Doc said as he checked her pulse. "You need a piece of jerky." He slid a quarter toward Louie. "Can you run the mercantile and see if they still have some of that buffalo hardtack?"

Louie shakily grabbed the quarter and headed out the door.

"I hate hardtack," she mumbled.

"Do you hate it worse than your headache?"

She shook her head and fixed a dislodged curl. "I hate the headache worse. How are you, Doc? I know you're just going to tell me fine, but I know how close the two of you were."

"Well, I'm not alright but let's just leave it at that." He fussed at his mustache and cleared his throat.

"He was one of the best men I ever knew," Newly added. She reached over and patted his hand. "He thought the same of you, you know. Said you were the smartest "feller he ever knowed outside of Doc.""

Doc slammed the table. "It wouldn't be so bad if it had been in the line of duty; we know how dangerous his work is and everybody dies. It's the lynching that gets me. It makes my gut boil."

Louie arrived with the hardtack and handed it to Kitty. She made a face and started gnawing on a piece. Louie sat down and Doc regarded him for a moment as Louie returned to clutching the table for support. "You aren't going to let me help you, are you?"

"I can do it myself," Louie said staring straight ahead.

"I'm worried about your heart."

"I can do it, Doc. I can do it."

"Why?"

"Because Festus never went to bed without first finding me and making sure I was somewhere safe and warm. I just want him to know how much that meant."

"Well, if Festus is looking down on you, he certainly doesn't want you to have a heart attack from withdrawals," Doc said scratching his neck absently.

Both men slipped into a stubborn silence. Kitty sipped at her whisky and took tugs at the hardtack. Then a shadow came over her and she looked up. The solemn Percy Crump was standing there. "Ma'am, may I sit down with you?"

"Of course, Mr. Crump."

The tall man in black sat down and Doc leaned in. "You going to try and sell us a funeral, Percy? Couldn't wait until we ambled down the street to see you. You are the only game in town, you know."

"I am not selling a funeral. I am planning one."

Doc sat back, eyes wide. "Come again?"

"Festus often brought in the bodies of the departed, and when he could, he stayed to help me prepare them. He liked to talk about the afterlife and what he hoped it would be like. About a year ago, he came in after recovering from a serious bullet wound and said that he wanted to plan his funeral. He said he didn't want his friends to worry about a single detail when it came time. I am not afraid to talk about death so I was a good choice for him to talk to."

"I'll pay for whatever he wanted," Kitty said as she felt moisture seep into her eyes again.

"It's not going to cost you anything, Miss Russell. He finished building his casket a couple of months ago. It's just waiting in the storage room."

"He must want something else?" Newly asked.

Percy Crump cleared his throat. 'He wants a picnic. A large picnic with the whole town and he wants it called Festus Day. He figures if everyone brings something, it can be a big potluck. And he wants neighbors to celebrate being alive. He wants folks to talk to each other and figure out ways to help one another. He said he wants it to be a "neighborly day.""

"Only Festus," Doc said shaking his head. "Of course, he wants a day named in his honor."

Kitty slapped the table. "And that's exactly what he's going to get!"

"Now remember, he didn't want any of you to fret about details. He asked me to take care of the whole thing."

Kitty put a hand on his arm. "You can't keep me away from this picnic for anything in the world, Mr. Crump. I need something to do right now and I'm going to help."

"Well," said Percy. "There is the matter of the rumors. I talked to some folks who want those to be cleared up before we do anything."

"That's what I'll do. I'll talk to every shopkeeper in town and remind them of who Festus Haggen was."

"By golly," Doc nodded. "I'm going to help you do that, Kitty. The distraction is needed."

….

Dillon followed Rip into Middleville. It was a small town, only about a third the size of Dodge. There were a number of empty buildings and vacant houses. Matt saw the rail line going by at the edge of town and he figured this was one of the small towns that the railroad wasn't using any more for stops. A kind of town like this slowly dies when it's access to supplies and such was cut off. At the edge of town, there was a cottonwood with a rope still hanging from a thick limb. He stopped and got off Buck. Rip turned and rode up. "You're wondering if this is the tree? It is."

Matt looked at the grass. Plenty of it was torn up and there was blood on the ground. There had been a mighty struggle here. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shake the images that came. His old friend had a rough ending.

"You gotta' understand that my Pa did everything he could to stop this."

"You said that already. Let's go meet your pa." Matt mounted Buck again.

Rip stood his ground. "Ain't doing introductions until I know you're not going to hurt him for this. He just ain't as strong as the Millers."

"Who are the Millers?"

"Oh, you'll meet them soon enough. They run this town." The boy wasn't moving.

"I'm not going to hurt your father."

Rip got on his horse and led the way. Matt kept feeling a sense of desperation in this town. They stopped at the only saloon. Rip jumped off and ran into the saloon and Matt followed. The saloon was dark and smoky. The smell of grass and dirt told him that this was drover territory. There was a man in the corner hunched over his hooch. The boy jostled him, whispering in his ear. The man turned swaying in his chair. "I'm sorry, Marshal. I'm sorry about your deputy."

Matt felt disgust for the man, the stinky saloon, and the dying town. "Rip, sober up your old man. I'm going to be back at 7 a.m. tomorrow morning, and I want him in shape to answer all of my questions. You hear me? I'm going to camp outside of town somewhere where the air is still fresh."

…

He tried to study the sky, to find something in it that would give him a sign that he was going to be on this earth longer than the next few hours. The clouds were beautiful in a way that he hadn't thought of previously. It felt like a waste that it was only now that he noticed it- so many years staring at the ground tracking men when he could have been enjoying the sky. The sky felt important right now. Burying himself in its beauty allowed him something of a respite from his current predicament.

The pain in his shoulder was like a burning fire that couldn't be doused. Blood still bubbled out of the torn tissue and muscle, and he wondered if the pain or the blood loss would kill him first. The only saving grace was that he'd been gun downed on the shore of a creek. The good arm could reach cool water and he dipped in to wet his face, drink it, and to try to drown the fire. The pain was enough to leave his thoughts fuzzy but the word "poultice" kept drifting up.

He studied on the word for a good while, and he knew a certain doc who would have a holy fit if he knew what the studying brought him. He tried to stay focused enough to formulate a plan. First, he wrestled the knot on the bandana with his good hand until he freed it. Then he spread it over the wound. He reached back with that arm and gathered up water. Then he slapped it in the dirt. He did this several more times. He mixed the water into the dirt until he produced a mud of a certain consistency. When he'd produced a ball of mud of a good size, he gathered it up and carefully placed it on the wound. The weight of it left him breathless with pain but he closed his eyes and breathed through it. Slowly he spread the mud pack over the bandana. He prayed that the weight of it would stop the bleeding.

The sky was turning red over the hills. It would be dark soon. He didn't know how long he'd been laid out on the creek bank, but he knew night brought new difficulties and he hoped he would have another chance to look on another beautiful sky.

Nearby a child was crouched, watching him. She wasn't sure what to do so she waited until he closed his eyes and she yelled, "John Henry!"

…..

TBC