Chapter 3

Matt stood in the middle of the dusty street in the morning sun with his hands on his hips for Rip and his father. The two emerged from the sheriff's office. Matt was purposeful in not going to meet tbe sheriff in his office. He was still so mad that he wasn't going to offer the man this courtesy.

The man that came out was wearing a star and not looking much better than he had the night previous. Still, he came forward and offered his hand. "I'm Sheriff John Dixon."

Matt took the hand cautiously. "U.S. Marshal Matt Dillon."

"I'm sorry about your friend."

Matt pulled away. "I don't get what happened here. How did my deputy get lynched?"

Dixon nodded. "The answer is right behind you, Marshal."

Matt turned around and saw a man coming toward them. He was middle-aged and rangy- a rancher from his clothes. Rich man clothes. This was a man of power. The man strode up to Matt and offered his hand. "My name is Jack Stevens. I own the Stevens Seven Ranch and I am a proud member of the Middleville community."

Matt refused his hand. "You hanged my deputy, didn't you?"

"I did. Your deputy went bad. It needed to be done."

"And I say you had a mob and you needed to give them something, so you hanged my deputy." Matt pushed the brim of his hat up.

"I keep law and order in this town."

"You have a Sheriff for that!" Matt pointed to Dixon.

"We have a Sheriff who likes his whisky a little too much. That's what we got!"

Matt turned to Sheriff Dixon. "You going to say something?"

"He's right. Since Rip's ma died, I haven't been right. I drown in the bottle every chance I get."

"So, you think what he did was okay?"

"No," Dixon shook his head. "I just know that the town doesn't have much faith in me."

"Besides, we're heroes." Stevens said.

"What does that mean?"

"I sent off telegrams to Chicago and St. Louis newspapers about how a town stood up to the farm family killer. Reporters from both cities are going to be here by the end of the week to hear about it. We are going to put Middleville on the map."

"I want to have a chance to see the crime scene first. I know that the killer was not Festus Haggen."

"I'm not waiting for you, Marshal. We are about to save this town."

Dillon turned to Dixon as if Stevens had left. "Can you take me to the farm where the last killings happened? I need to look at things."

Dixon nodded. Then Matt wheeled around on Stevens, pointing a finger in his face. "You and I are not finished! I'm going to have you in jail before this thing is over! Right now, I'm going out to that farm. Then I need you to dig up Festus Haggen's remains so I can return him to Dodge City."

Dixon shook his head. "Steven's men threw his body in the river."

Matt backed up and shook his head at Stevens. "If you weren't a burden to bring along, I would arrest you right now."

He gestured at Dixon. "Get your horse!"

He turned once more as he headed for Buck. "I promise Middleville will be famous, but you're not going to like it, Stevens."

…..

For the first day, Festus lay quietly in front of the fire in the small shack and let young'uns serve him and see to his needs. They were all young; there was no adult among them. The two eldest were boys, not men. Then there were four wee girls of various ages. They were feeding him some kind of broth that wasn't strained, but Festus wasn't complaining. He felt a lot less dead than he had been feeling and that was a good thing.

After the first day, the eldest boy sat next to him and tried to talk to him. Festus listened carefully but the boy's words seemed to swim together. Every time he tried to talk, exhaustion stole his consciousness. The second day he woke, again, surprised that he could. He could hear the pitter-patter of small feet throughout the small shack. When the girls saw he was awake there, they squealed and sprang into action. One of the girls knelt in front of him and broke up a biscuit into pieces. She carefully nudged a piece past his lips and he chewed on it slowly, praying that his parched throat would swallow. Another small girl sat on the other side and dribbled water into his mouth. He endured this for half the biscuit and then grabbed the arm of the girl with the biscuit. In a pitched whisper, he said, "Bring the boy."

The bigger girl got up, gathered her skirts, and ran off. A few minutes later, the older boy came in and crouched next to him. "Hey mister. You feeling better?"

Festus' throat couldn't manage much sound. "Where am I, boy?"

"You're a mile out of Middleville."

Festus swallowed. "How long…?"

"Don't know really. You are two days here. Not sure how long you were spread out next to the creek."

"A doc?"

The boy shook his head. "There ain't one for fifty miles."

"My friend…Doc Adams…send a wire…Dodge City…in care of…Marshal Dillon…need help."

"Ain't got no money for no wire, mister."

"Ask Sheriff…to send…please."

"Okay. I'll send my little brother, Louis, off to town."

"Where's pa? Ma? Danger for folks on…farms."

The boy lowered his head. "They're dead. Mom when Lucy was born and Pa two months ago. Clutched his chest out in the field and then he was gone. It's just me and my siblings now."

"Danger on farms!" Festus persisted.

"You talking about the farm family killer? We already knowed about him. He struck 4-5 days ago, not ten miles from here."

Festus stared at him. "No."

"Yeah. Killed a ma and a pa and two young-uns."

Festus looked away, tears smarting at his eyes.

"What's your name, mister?"

Festus blinked wet eyes at him. "Festus…Festus Haggen."

The boy frowned. "That's got to be a mistake. The town hanged Festus Haggen just..coming on four days ago."

Festus shook his head. "No..I'm Festus..Ain't no others."

"Okay, Mr. Haggen." The boy said patting Festus' good arm. Then he turned. "Sissy, go find Louis. Do it now!"

Festus lifted his head. "It's my…fault, family is dead. I was tracking…Killer. When I got bushwacked,..he got away."

The boy sat back. "I know I ain't got much to say being only 16 and all, but I reckon that if I was bushwacked, I would've missed the killer too. Ain't much of it your fault."

Festus closed his eyes and turned away from the boy. A smaller version of the boy came into the house. "What do you need, John Henry?"

The boy looked up. "I need you to go round up the sheriff…or Rip, if'n you can't find him. Tell him we need him out at the farm pronto. Don't tell anyone else in town, you got it, Louis."

Louis nodded.

"Take the plow horse. I reckon we got a real situation here."

…..

Matt stared out at the prairie. He could see for miles from this vantage point, and what he saw was both beautiful and treacherous. There was a path from early in his life that would have led to him being a farmer- tied to one piece of land with a family and a life a thousand miles different than the one he had now. There were few times that he thought on the path untraveled, but today he couldn't help but reflect on it.

The murdered family was no longer strewn across the yard. They were at the undertakers by now, but the items in the house and the yard well described who they were. He could see the little girl and boy playing in the yard while their pa worked in the fields. He could see the ma coming out to the porch at noon and calling everyone in for a meal. These were visions of a decent, hardworking family. He imagined himself as the farmer wanting to fight the killer but at the same time having the responsibility of keeping his family safe. It would pull him in multiple directions, making it impossible for him to show adequate strength against the man.

He knew Festus would have done anything in his power to stop the killer if he could. The hill man had a keen sense of justice, and he never hesitated to put himself in the middle of a situation if innocent folks were at risk. It was one of the reasons Dillon was so deeply attached to him. Festus never backed down, always following him loyally into every situation, no matter the danger.

"Marshal!"

Matt turned, blinking hard.

Dixon walked up. "You think you can track him from here?"

"Maybe. My best tracker got hanged in your town last week so it might be a bit of a challenge." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Dixon nodded. "Got a problem. Kid just rode up from a farm near town. He says there's some trouble and that I need to come and see."

"What is it?"

"Don't know. Kid says his brother, John Henry, told him it was a real emergency. Says the kids are fine but I am to come. You see, they are an orphaned family. Oldest is 16 years old. I've been thinking that the little girls should go into state care, but John Henry won't have it. I'm giving him a chance to prove he can handle it."

Matt grunted. He looked back at the prairie. "Glad to hear that you're watching over them."

Dixon drew in breath. "I'm not a complete failure, Marshal."

"Plenty of good men are taken hostage by the bottle."

Dixon climbed on his horse. "There's no bottle with me today. I'm going on the hunt for this monster, but we are stopping at this farm first. Let's ride."

Matt watched him disappear into the distance before he climbed onto Buck. It was going to be awhile before he could trust Dixon. He slapped his reins and Buck jumped after the man in the distance.

….

Sam looked hard at the man in front of him. "Why does a St Louis Dispatch reporter want to talk to Miss Russell?"

The man in the dandified suit held his lapels wide. "Our readers like these stories from the West. We want to know more about the deputy who went bad. Heard that Miss Russell was one of his trusted friends."

"She's not in and she don't want to talk to you," Sam said, his teeth on edge.

"Well, the only folks in town that want to talk about deputy Haggen are the folks who think it's true. It's in the best interest of his legacy that you offer an alternative viewpoint. Otherwise, we got nothing but a picture of Haggen as a shifty, cantankerous hillbilly who's too quick with the trigger. Makes one wonder why a U.S. Marshal would engage such a character as a deputy."

Sam leaned forward. "And if I knew differently, you would put it in the paper?"

The reporter shrugged. "I can't guarantee anything, but I would take it into account."

"Right. And you can twist it however you like. I know how this goes."

"The printed word has a lot of power. That's why I suggest you cooperate with me so I can know something more about this man."

Sam stood back and considered the man. Then he picked up a whisky glass and pulled a bottle to him. "If I talk to you, you're going to leave Miss Russell alone."

"Did you know him well?"

"A bartender knows a regular customer better than the man's own mother. I can tell you exactly who Festus Haggen was." Sam poured a drink for himself and ignored the reporter's glass. "I'd give you a swig but you're going to be too busy writing."

….

"Kitty, plenty of folks think the best of Festus. You've talked to them," Doc said sitting across from Kitty in his office.

"I know." Kitty stared intently at her coffee. "It's just that the ones who turned on him just leave me depressed. These are the same folks that were waving and smiling at him just a month ago."

Doc reached over and patted her hand. "I know. I'm feeling the same. The turncoats have me as frustrated as a man can get."

"Doc, I'm determined to have that picnic for him. He more than earned it. I can just imagine it. We can celebrate his spirit of being a neighborly man. It would be beautiful."

She looked up and he could see what others could not. There was a weariness around her eyes. He suspected that sleeping was a real challenge for her these days. "You should take those pills I prescribed for you."

She shook her head. "I don't feel like sleeping through my sadness. I want to be awake and thinking of him."

"Kitty, we all die. It's a part of life. And I knew Festus well enough to know that he doesn't want you to suffer his loss like you do."

She suddenly reared up. "Oh shut up, Doc! Stop treating me like a little girl."

He sat back, surprised at her reaction.

She pointed at him. "You miss him too. Don't deny it. We're always talking about how I'm handling the loss. He was really your best friend."

He stroked his mustache. "What do you want from me? Are you worried I don't miss him? Well, I'll tell you the truth. I miss him. The first thing I think about when I get up in the morning is how I should be collecting Festus for breakfast. Then I remember that he's gone, and I get this feeling in my gut, and it follows me all day. Is that what you needed to know?"

She reached out and clutched his hand. "I'm sorry, Doc. I really am. I know you miss him. And I know a man handles grief in a different way than a woman does."

"Well, you know he could put up with me more than other folks. My natural crankiness never seemed to faze him," Doc said, pulling at his ear.

She chuckled. "You cared about him because he put up with you?"

Doc sighed. "He was a sweet man. There. You have the whole truth. It's so rare to find that here in the West where life and death are constantly in play. Festus was a naturally good person who liked to spread that goodness. I liked having him around me. Used to pretend I was more annoyed than I was- even when he asked me for beers."

Kitty smiled. "Thank you, Doc. I always knew that you saw what I did. Its men like you and Festus and Matt that make this place livable for me. You are all decent, good men who have devoted yourselves to serving others. I feel like it's part of my duty to love you all the best I can. I know the world will constantly take from you, and I want to be there when it gets to be too much. I really feel like that's part of my journey in this world."

He patted her arm. "We all love you too, Kitty."

"Then you understand that I will grieve all of you when it comes the time. For right now, Festus has earned all of my tears."

Doc kissed the back of her hand. "Kitty, I think you might be the best of us all."

…..

Festus felt good enough to keep his head up and look around the room. It became a burden on his neck so he talked the four girls into helping him get upright and into a chair. That operation was a painful and complicated one, but finally he was unceremoniously deposited onto an ancient but sturdy rocking chair. It took minutes before he could situate himself in a way that didn't leave him on the verge of passing out.

It took most of the day, but he finally had a handle on who each of the girl was. "Maggie, sweetheart, can you come here?"

The eldest girl sat on the hearth next to him. He patted her arm. "Sweet girl, can you tell me if there is a gun in the house, pistol or rifle?"

The girl stiffened and gave him a wide-eyed look. He patted her again. "Sweet Maggie girl, I don't mean no harm. I just need to know how I can protect the homestead, if need be."

She hopped off the hearth and soon was dragging a long rifle out from under the sink. She brought it to Festus, and he worked to nestle it across his chest. The pain from his shoulder was becoming more and more insistent.

She sat next to him again on the hearth and whispered into his ear. "Is the family killer coming, Mr. Festus? Should I hide the girls?"

Festus shook his head and held her hand. "No, Sweet Maggie, I'm going to keep you safe. That ol' killer ain't anywhere around here. Now go on and bring me another one of those larupping biscuits. I'm getting stronger by the minute."

Throughout the afternoon, there were times when he waned, and his eyes grew heavy on the old rocker. Each time, the little girls grew more comfortable with him. He woke once to find that six-year old, Pammy, was sleeping against his leg. Then two-year old, Lucy, in a heroic move, scrambled onto his lap in a single effort. He struggled to situate himself comfortably with the small child in his lap. Soon, she was sleeping too.

He was significantly uncomfortable now and he could feel himself starting to fever. Still, he hung onto his self-made throne. It was a defensible position, and he wasn't going to let these kids down, no matter the price.

The sun went down and the girls, with the exception of Maggie, were sleeping on various parts of his person. They were sweet little girls, and he could feel the keen loss of their father from the way they'd so quickly adopted him. Maggie was working hard on a stew at the stove. She was a tiny and thin girl who was doing her best to be the mother the littler girls needed. He smiled as he watched her stand on her toes to stir the large pot on the stove. If he didn't die at this end of this, Festus was definitely going to cut down that stove a bit, and the table too, to fit the tiny ones.

He started worrying on the boys when the moon showed through the window and there was still no sign of them. Maggie stood at the window like a statue waiting for her brothers. Ten-year old Sissy woke up and joined her sister at the window. The fever was starting to take Festus, but he was determined not to fail these children.

"Those boys will get home faster than you can say the rat ran over the house with a piece of raw liver in his mouth." Festus focused on banter to keep himself alert. "You little girls don't need to worry about a gol' darn thing. You have the best deputy U.S. Marshal in all Kansas state in your living space. By golly, you are in good hands, don't you know?"

After half an hour of bantering, Festus saw Maggie stiffen at the window. "What is it, Maggie?"

She turned. "I see John Henry in the moonlight. He's standing at the top of the hill looking for Louis."

Festus remembered that the younger boy had been sent for the Sheriff; that this important fact had been lost to him told him how swimmy his head had become. "That's good, girl. Now we know what's happening with them there brothers. It's a good sign. Now, you don't go worrying about those boys. They's just trying to do the best they can by you. That's all."

Sissy left the window and settled on the floor next to Pammy. Festus felt her arm encircle his leg. Soon she was breathing sleep into his leg. He blinked his eyes hard in an effort to make himself alert. Then Maggie jumped up and down. "Louis is back. John Henry just jumped on the back of our horse, Harriet."

Festus nodded. He renewed his grip on the rifle, aware that the killer had surely used subterfuge to confuse his victims.

"There are more men," Maggie reported, turning and looking at him. "Two men. One is very large. Like a monster man."

"There ain't no monster out there, Maggie. I done tole you that ten times already, ya' dumbbell. Now, come over here and sit behind my chair. I want to be ready for whoever is coming through that door."

Maggie scrambled over and hid behind his chair. He clutched Lucy with his bad arm and the rifle with his good arm. He knew he would be lucky to hit the side of a barn, the way he was feeling.

When John Henry came through the door, he jerked, but kept enough sense not to discharge the weapon. "Who's with you, Boy?"

John Henry stared at his four sisters draped about the stranger who now had the family rifle. "Everything okay, Mr. Haggen?"

"Who's with you, I said."

Louis stumbled through the door and was also stunned to see his sisters all over the stranger from the creek.

Festus exploded. "Who's all with ya?"

Then a new man came through, wearing a Sheriff's badge.

"You the Sheriff?" Festus turned the rifle in his direction.

"Mr. Haggen, please put down the rifle," John Henry pleaded.

Festus started to put down the rifle when the large man entered. The shadow he saw was a familiar one, and his body started to relax for the first time since he'd left Dodge City. "Matthew?"

"Put down the rifle, Mr. Haggen."

Festus turned his head and barked at John Henry. "Boy, I can barely move a pinky toe. I am going to need someone to come over and dislodge this gun from out of my arms without disturbing these little girls."

"I got this," Matt Dillon said. He moved forward and leaned over Festus to get the rifle out of his hands. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you, ol' friend."

"Likewise, Matthew. Likewise. How did the Sheriff get ya' here so quick is my general line of query right now."

Matt put a hand on his forehead. "Festus, you're burning up."

"I got a bullet in this here shoulder, Matthew. It's burning harder than a pastor's candle on a Saturday night."

"I see that. Let me get you back into this bed they made up for you."

"Be careful. I'm covered in young'uns."

John Henry came over and removed the sleeping girls from his legs and lap. Maggie came out from behind the chair to help. Matt took Festus under the arms, and ignored his cries as he lifted him up and onto the bed of blankets. He knelt next to him. "Festus, I got to take a look at this wound."

"It's bad, Matthew," Festus grunted. "I'm not sure I'm walking away from this one."

"I don't want to hear that," Dillon said as he picked at the bloody and sticky clothing. "I came for you, and I'm not going back without you."

Festus winced. "The bullet is still in there. It been days like this. The infection is going to send me straight to them pearly gates. I swear."

Matt swallowed as he surveyed the mess on Festus' shoulder. He wasn't going to show it, but he agreed with Festus that they needed to do something to keep him breathing.

"Hey Matthew, did you hear about the killer? He hit again, not too far from here. I was this close and then I got bushwhacked by some drover on the run."

"You sure it was a drover that bushwhacked you?"

"He smelled like a herd of cattle slept in bed with him. Gotta' be a drover not too far off a drive. He took my hat and guns, even my badge. He's probably on the run from some manner of misdeeds."

"Yeah. I imagined you might've got bushwhacked. Just didn't want to hope for that."

"I let that family down. They died 'cause I didn't close the gap with that killer."

"Festus, you know better than that. You did more than anyone else could've. You know that. I don't want you fretting about this. You hear me?"

Festus sighed. "I hear ya', Matthew, but I gotta' tell you it still doesn't sit right."

"That shows the kind of man you are." The voice came from the Sheriff. "Finding you alive is not what I was expecting."

"Who is this yay-hoo, Matthew?"

"That's Sheriff Dixon from Middleville."

"Nice to meet you, Sheriff," Festus nodded between groans. "Matthew, you sure you need to be proddin' me like that? Doesn't seem to be something that Doc would do."

"Hold still," Matt said as he examined the wound. "We need to get Doc up here."

"That's going to be one long buggy ride."

Matt got up. "Dixon, I need you to get a telegram out tonight to Dodge City."

Dixon shook his head. "We can do that, but just be aware that anything we send out will be read to Jack Stevens, and he's not going to like hearing that Festus Haggen is alive."

Festus frowned. "Who is this Jack Stevens and why does he care about me being alive or dead or what have you?"

"Never mind, Festus. You just focus on getting better. I don't want you to worry about a thing."

"Marshal, I don't know what lengths he'll go to if he finds out about your man here."

"I know. We'll write it in code. Doc will understand it enough to come here. John Henry, do you have any sort of pencil or paper in the house?"

He nodded and headed for some books in the corner. He came back with a pencil and a slip of paper. Matt took it and sat down at the table to write. Then he handed it to Dixon. "Can you send this tonight?"

Dixon nodded. "I'll come and check on you tomorrow."

When the Sheriff left, Matt folded up his long legs and sat down next to Festus. The hillman was barely conscious now, fevering in a way that left Dillon worried. He looked up at the kids. "I need water. We need to keep him cool."

Louis nodded and headed outside to the well. Maggie pointed to the stove. "I have stew. Does Mr. Festus want stew?"

Matt smiled at the tiny creature. "Festus is asleep but I like stew. Do you think I could eat his portion and then we'll feed him good in the morning?"

She nodded and headed for the stove while Matt settled in next to Festus. "Okay friend, I'm going to stay with you all night long. Don't you worry. We're going to get you better. That's the only option you, Festus. You hear me?"

….

TBC