A/N: Hey everyone! Another story in the same week? It's been a slow week, why not. This one is based on the radio episode "Chester's Choice" but set in the television universe. Obviously not mine, all credit goes to writers Kathleen Hite, John Meston, and all those other folks at CBS who first had this great idea.
Unbeta'd, but hopefully there aren't too many mistakes...I hope everyone reading is getting through the week alright. Enjoy!
The morning sunlight was bright and clear, dappling the green grass below through clouds. A stream babbled merrily on by, jumping with fish. Along its edge, two riders covered in dust and badly in need of a shave stood by its edge. One, of middling height with a lean face, dark hair, and a hard mouth, stared at the water's edge with his hands planted on his hips. The other, a few years younger than his partner and with lighter hair, held his horse's bridle patiently as the animal lowered its mouth to the stream and drank. The older rider huffed in ill-temper.
"You figure to founder them horses, Lou?" he asked sharply.
"They're dry, Cal," his partner replied evenly. "We put 'em through a hard ride, getting' here quick as we did."
"Well, don't be givin' 'em a wash; we'll be needin' to move more lively yet," Cal told him.
Lou obediently pulled up on the bridle. His young, even features were presently clouded by a troubled look.
"Look, Cal, I—are you sure about this job?" he asked, looking at the ground.
"What's the matter?" Cal sneered. "You scared?"
"You know better'n to ask me that," Lou said, looking up again. He was young, but fearless in the face of danger and fast with a gun. He gave a scoffing little chuckle. "But holding up a bank in the middle of the day…"
"I told you, Lou, I know Dodge City," Cal interrupted fiercely. "It's asleep on its feet when the sun gets high. Folks don't even rouse enough to swat flies."
Lou sighed and listened to the birds in the treetops. His horse tried to lower its head once more and he jerked up the lead rope irritably.
"Come on, hoss. Well, it's your game." Lou shrugged like it didn't matter, but Cal could see the lines of tension in his shoulders.
"Don't worry," Cal told him with a languid gesture. "All we do is hang around like we was just trying to stay out of the sun 'til we wander into the bank at about three o'clock. There won't be no trouble."
Lou didn't look convinced. "You must be awful sure about the law there."
Cal's face darkened. "We'll be outta town 'fore that big marshal can wake up and get there."
"Well, I hope—" Lou began again, then stopped. Something rustled in the nearby brush, and Lou's gun was out quick as a flash.
"Somethin' in the bush down there," he said quietly, taking a few steps forward.
"Just some animal, Lou. You got nerves like a woman," Cal said contemptuously.
Lou stepped forward. "I'm gonna look."
He strode over to the bushes, holding his gun at the ready. When he approached the bushes, he peered into and then his stance shifted. Cal knew immediately it wasn't an animal and pulled his own gun.
"Hey, don't you move there!" Lou exclaimed, cocking his six-shooter and pointing it at the brush.
"Who you got, Lou?" Cal asked, edging forward.
"Somebody sneaking through the brush," Lou answered, yanking on the arm of the so-far hidden man. He pulled the stranger roughly to his feet and shoved him in front, pushing the gun into the small of his back. Cal advanced on him.
"What're you doin' here, mister?" Lou demanded.
"I—I just been fishin', that's all," the man replied, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. Perhaps it was his mobile face constantly alight with nervous energy, but something about him made it seem like he never ceased some internal frenetic movement. Lou noticed that man had a bad right leg, it didn't seem to bend quite right at the knee and made his movements a little awkward.
Cal took a closer look at the man with the dark hair and the frayed, worn hat and recognized him from Dodge. They'd known each other's names because of the everlasting faro tables in the Lone Branch. "Chester."
The man looked up quickly, met his gaze, and dropped it again, looking unhappy. "Oh. Cal."
"You been here long?" Cal asked him coldly.
"I don't rightly know, I falled asleep," Chester answered, still not looking at him. "A body gets mighty drowsy fishin' in the sun."
"Looked to me you got mighty big ears," Lou commented, pushing the gun further into Chester's back.
"You hear us talkin', Chester?" Cal asked calmly. Chester could hear the sharp rocks hidden underneath that cool tone.
"I tol' you, I been to sleep," Chester told him firmly.
"You're lying!" Lou snarled, swinging at Chester's face with his left fist. It connected squarely and hit the marshal's assistant in the eye. He cried out, more from surprise than from pain. "You couldn't help hearin'; you've been right under our feet the whole time!"
"Lou, put the gun down," Cal ordered him and now all attempt at sounding relaxed was dropped.
"If we let him go, we ain't got a chance—" Lou started.
"We kill him, the whole of Ford County will be out lookin' for him," Cal argued back, sounding tense. "He works for Marshal Dillon, Lou."
Lou stood still and thought for a moment while Chester gingerly placed his hand over his watering eye.
"Well, then we'll tie 'im up and leave him here. Somebody'll find him, sometime. Maybe."
"Lou, it's the same thing," Cal replied, shaking his head. "If he don't get back, the marshal will start looking. He might just start looking at the wrong time."
"You can bet he'll start looking!" Chester butted in angrily. "I'm supposed to be back at the office by noon, and Mr. Dillon ain't one to just set around and wait!"
"I still say our best bet is just to kill him," Lou argued, looking at Chester darkly. "Maybe we can use him."
It wasn't one man looking at another, merely one contemplating the removal of an obstacle. He wanted the money in the bank, and Chester was standing in the way. Once Lou might have had scruples about it, but long years of rough treatment and rougher living had seen to that, too.
"You're a pretty good friend of the marshal, ain't ya?" he asked in a noncommittal tone.
Chester's jaw jutted out fiercely. "Mr. Dillon's my best friend, and I'm proud of it."
"So I guess you see a lot of the same people he sees too?" Cal pressed him.
"Forevermore, what are you getting' at?" Chester asked exasperatedly.
"You know, people he might associate with. That doctor, for instance. That woman, the one at the Long Branch."
Chester went cold all over. Lou smirked a little at the look on his face before continuing.
"It seems to me that you wouldn't want to see nothin' happen to them. Through any fault of yours, that is."
"Now, you wait just a minute—" Chester began furiously before being interrupted again.
"You wouldn't want somebody to take a shot at one of 'em while they was walkin' down the street, would you?" Cal's eyes glared into Chester's wide brown ones.
For a split second, Chester vividly imagined Miss Kitty splayed out on the ground, her pretty red tresses mingled with and marred by the dust of Front Street. His mind skittered away from the image frantically and he had to wait another second to make sure his voice stayed steady.
"No," he answered quietly.
"Course, I wouldn't want to do it if I didn't have to," Cal continued in a smug tone. "But you're the one who's gonna make me decide if I have to."
This time, Chester's mind showed him a picture of Doc lying crumpled in the street, broken glasses, and his overturned bag lying a few feet from his outstretched hand. He swallowed hard.
"Now, you listen here," Chester said icily, buoyed by a protective feeling so strong it made his chest ache. "I won't have nothin' to do with shootin' Doc or Miss Kitty!"
"Then you better do what I say," Cal snarled at him. "You better see that the marshal's out of town this afternoon at three o'clock. A good, long way out of town."
Chester stood, brown eyes widening disingenuously. "Well, I can't do that!" he exclaimed.
"You'll do it or you'll have one or two dead friends," Cal told him. "I don't ever talk idle, Chester."
"Not about shootin', he don't," Lou agreed flatly.
"So it wouldn't be healthy for the marshal's friends if you was to tell 'em what you heard out here," Cal said casually. "You understand."
"Yeah, reckon I do," Chester muttered gloomily. His whole countenance reflected dismay and a fierce inner struggle to protect those he cared about. Cal was watching all that was in his mind pass over his face and was satisfied Chester would do as they told him.
"Alright then. Get your horse and head back to town," Lou told him. "You and the marshal better be a long way off at three o'clock."
"You ain't no good, Cal Dobbs, you ain't no good a'tall!" Chester exclaimed fiercely, eyes burning with helpless fury.
"You remember that when you see your friends walkin' the street!" Cal snapped back. "Now git!"
Chester glared at them before turning towards his horse and walking over slowly. He mounted up, swinging his bad leg up and over before pulling the horse's reins back and nudging his animal in the ribs to get it moving.
Cal and Lou stood still, watching him as he slowly made his way up the creek and back towards Dodge.
"Think he'll really do it?" Lou asked after a moment. "Get the marshal out?"
"Sure he'll do it," Cal said coldly. "He's too scared. Anyway, he hasn't got enough sense not to."
Chester rode back to Dodge slowly, all tangled up in his thoughts. His troubles seemed to multiply every time he thought over what had happened. All he'd wanted was a nice easy morning of fishing away from the city. He'd fallen asleep, peaceful as you please, and been woken up with a punch in the eye and a gun in his back.
His mind flashed back over the events. Doc. Miss Kitty. If he told Mr. Dillon, then at least it'd be two against two. But Mr. Dillon couldn't stop a bank robbery and protect Doc and Kitty from a shooting at the same time. And supposin' he couldn't find Mr. Dillon right away? Those two outlaws could catch on to him and end up shooting Doc and Miss Kitty and robbing the bank. Chester shook his head, then frowned.
He pulled his horse up short, making the animal neigh in surprise. Maybe instead of getting Mr. Dillon out of town, he could get them all out of town at the same time. That way they couldn't possibly get hurt. It would only leave the bank robbers to contend with. Chester settled on his decision and knew he had to act fast. He spurred his horse abruptly and began riding hell for leather for Dodge.
After a few minutes, he left his horse at Moss Grimmick's stable and ran for the Long Branch. He was out of breath by the time he reached the swinging doors. Even though it was shortly before noon, a crowd of rough men was gathering and getting their drinks. Chester limped in as fast as he could and looked around for the flash of red that would give her away. Not finding it, he went over to the bar where Sam was polishing some glasses.
"Uh—Sam? I gotta find Miss Kitty quick," he said urgently.
"Well, she's right over there, Chester," Sam answered, sounding a little confused. "Right over at that table." He pointed towards the corner of the room, near the piano. There was Kitty, leaning with her elbows on the table, blue eyes sparkling in a shaft of midafternoon sun. Somehow, he'd managed to miss her.
"Oh, thanks," Chester replied, hurrying away. He approached the table and took his hat off, fumbling with it in his hands. "Uh, Miss Kitty?"
She looked up at him, and the slat of sunlight fell on her face. One earring caught the glare and shone like a precious gem.
"Oh, sit down, Chester," she said, smiling at him.
"Thank you," Chester answered mechanically, pulling out a chair. He placed his hat on the table nervously and fidgeted with the brim.
"Chester, what happened to your eye?" she asked in a troubled tone.
The marshal's assistant touched his face gingerly. "It's nothin', Miss Kitty," he mumbled.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked gently, blue eyes probing deep into his own. "You look upset."
He forced himself to laugh a little. "Whatever gave you an idea like that?"
"I can't imagine, 'cept that you come in snortin' and with a black eye," she said, not fooled for a second. "I don't know why I should think anything was the matter."
Kitty was kind as a rule, but she could be pushed only so far. Now, she was pushing back because she knew Chester was lying.
"Well, I'm sure glad you don't think so, Miss Kitty," he said, determined to keep up the charade.
For a moment, Kitty looked like she wanted to smack him upside the head. Then she surprised him by laughing a little.
"Alright, Chester, what's on your mind?"
"Well, I—I just got me a wonderful idea, that's all," he said, trying to act cheerful. "See, I was thinkin' this would be a fine day for you—and Mr. Dillon—to take a ride out in the country."
Kitty stared at him for a moment, clearly confused.
"In the middle of summer?" she asked.
"Well, yeah, but it's real pretty out there, Miss Kitty, all them lilacs 'round bloomin'—" he tried to defend his idea.
"Chester, there hasn't been a sprig of lilac out there since spring," Kitty pointed out. "Not for a couple of months."
Chester looked crestfallen for a moment, then he spoke again, quicker. "Well, I bet the castor-beans is bloomin', an' they're a pretty sight!"
"Not to me, they aren't," Kitty said ironically. "They're about as poor an excuse of a flower as I can think of."
"Miss Kitty, look—" Chester began again, determined to try.
"Gettin' sunstroke isn't gonna do me any good, Chester," she said gently but firmly.
"But some sun is good for—" Chester argued stubbornly.
"Chester."
He stopped. When she used that tone of voice, he knew there was no point in arguing anymore.
"I'm not going out in that sun this afternoon with Matt or anyone else, and you might as well stop talking about it."
She craned her head a little towards the entrance. "Oh, here comes Doc; why don't you ask him?"
"Chester," Doc said, smiling a little, nodding his head at Kitty. Doc's smile faded when he saw Chester's black eye. "Who hit you?"
"Nobody," Chester said waspishly, ducking his head.
Doc clucked his tongue reprovingly. "Hit yourself in the face again with the fishing pole, did you?" he asked dispassionately. "I told you, you can't hold it like that and fall asleep on the bank and expect the fish not to—"
"Doc, I didn't do no such thing!" Chester snapped, ears burning. "You just mind your own business!"
Doc simply snorted and turned to Kitty.
"What are you two doing to pass the time of day?"
"Chester's tryin' to talk me into going out riding with Matt this afternoon," she said, nudging Chester, who glowered hatefully at the table's surface.
"It's a pretty hot day for traipsing around the country," Doc frowned, taking a seat at the table.
"I just thought it might maybe do 'em some good to get away from town for a little bit!" Chester said acerbically, getting more heated.
"We were just actin' silly about it," Kitty said, trying to assuage his temper.
"Well, maybe I got a good reason for it!" he cried, uncharacteristically upset.
"There's no good reason for sending folks out into the prairie sun," Doc said dismissively.
"Well, if you was as smart as you think you are, you'd go out too," Chester said with a dark glance at Doc.
"Oh, for Heaven's sakes," Kitty said, finding Chester's temper amusing. Doc just laughed.
"Come on, Chester. Let's go have a bite of food and we'll take you off Kitty's hands. It's getting towards noon."
"Maybe you'll feel better after you have something to eat," Kitty remarked teasingly. Chester felt frustration mounting up in him again.
"Miss Kitty, food ain't got nothin' to do with—"
"Come on, Chester," Doc said, pulling at his elbow. "G'bye, Kitty."
"G'bye, Doc," she said fondly. "Another time."
"Another time ain't the same thing!" Chester called out despairingly over his shoulder as Doc practically dragged him out of the saloon.
"Doc, I thought you was supposed to be my friends!" Chester said accusingly once they were outside the saloon. "I sure did try."
"I think you tried too hard," Doc remarked, rubbing at his mustache.
"You ain't got no call to act so smart-alecky and stubborn at me!" Chester said back belligerently.
"It sounds like you got a touch of the sun yourself," Doc said, looking at his friend with a frown. "I always thought fishing was supposed to calm a man down."
Chester grunted. Doc stopped walking and looked at him more sharply. "What happened to you out there?"
"Nothin'," Chester said sullenly and shoved his hands in his pockets. An idea flashed across his mind like lightning across a prairie then.
"Hey, Doc? Do you got somebody real sick in the country? You drivin' out there this afternoon maybe?"
"Not that I know of now, but it could happen, I suppose," Doc mused. "It seems like the biggest bellyaches come on the hottest days."
"Well, sure they do!" Chester said, getting excited again. "Now, I expect that can be mighty worryin', can't it? All that drivin' by yourself, it seems a body should have some company…"
"Oh, Chester, if you think I'm gonna go back there and try to get Kitty to go drivin' with me this afternoon—" Doc broke in, getting impatient.
"No, Doc, no," Chester almost moaned, rolling his eyes. "No, you told me yourself it wouldn't be good for Miss Kitty; I ain't thinkin' about a thing like that!"
"Alright, then," Doc replied.
"I was thinkin' it might do Mr. Dillon some good to get out with you this afternoon!" Chester finished sharply.
"Chester, that's—" Doc started before Chester butted in once more, carried away by his own feverish desire to entice Doc.
"He might even be able to help ya, like liftin' a sick person up, or holdin' him down, or—"
"Chester, you stop this nonsense right now!" Doc snapped. "Just what is it that you've got on your mind?"
"Nothin'!" Chester said mulishly.
"You've got some reason for wanting Matt out of town, is that it?" Doc asked shrewdly. Chester's heart sank.
"No, Doc, it ain't nothing like that!" he protested vehemently.
"Well, let's hear no more about it now. Come in and we'll get some food," Doc said as they reached the stairs of Delmonico's.
"Uh, no, I ain't got no time to eat, Doc, I'll see you later," he said, making to go towards the office.
"Now, wait! Where are you going?" Doc yelled after the retreating back. Chester turned off of Front Street and ducked behind an alleyway. Doc shook his head. "What in the world's the matter with him?" he muttered to himself.
Chester forced himself to slow down to a walk when he was a little ways from the office door; he didn't want to look like he was in a rush. Doc or Miss Kitty could let his little behavioral oddities go, but he knew he wouldn't fool Mr. Dillon.
He walked into the office and saw Matt sitting at his desk, scratching away at a piece of paper.
"Howdy, Mr. Dillon," Chester said with affected nonchalance.
"Hello, Chester," the marshal greeted him, not looking up.
"I see you're busy," Chester pointed out the obvious.
"Yeah, I gotta get these forms filled out for today's mail," Matt replied.
"Mr. Dillon? Uh, have you been down to Reed's Creek lately?" he asked tentatively.
"What?" Matt looked up and frowned at him.
"Reed's Creek," Chester bravely pushed on. "The fish sure are biting down there, an' it's only about an hour's ride."
"Uh-huh," Matt said. "What happened to your face?"
"Just never mind about my face!" Chester said irritably. "I'm telling you, it sure would be a nice day for it. You could go down there and catch a mess of fish for dinner."
"Chester, what are you talking about?" Matt asked, confused and a little annoyed at Chester's disposition.
"I just thought it'd be kindly nice if you went fishin' this afternoon, down to Reed's Creek there," Chester tried to sound contrite.
"Oh?" Matt raised an eyebrow. "I thought you went fishing this morning."
"Yessir, I did," Chester answered. "That's why I thought maybe you'd like to—"
"Chester, I can't this afternoon," Matt replied flatly. "I've got too much to take care of here. Besides, the fish won't be biting in the middle of the day, will they?"
"Oh, but you can't be sure," Chester said hopefully.
Matt made a scoffing noise and went back to his paper, scratching away. Chester sighed and began pacing the office, whistling. He looked at the clock and got nervous, so his whistles got shriller. After a few long moments of this, Matt looked up.
"Chester, why don't you light someplace? You're worse than a horsefly," he remarked sardonically.
"Yessir," Chester said morosely, sinking down onto a chair at the table. Despair filled Chester for a moment, then he tried a different track.
"I hear they're bringin' in some new stallions out to Lem Bridge's place there," he said loudly. "They're plannin' to sell them…Mighty fine pieces of horseflesh, they tell me, them stallions."
He waited for a response, nothing. Only the scratching of Mr. Dillon's pen on the paper.
"Make a nice little ride this afternoon, go out there an' see em—"
"Chester."
The marshal's assistant drooped. "Yessir."
"I'm not going fishin', I'm not going out to Lem Bridge's place, I'm not going anyplace but to Hays City, and I'm late right now."
"What did you say?" Chester asked, scarcely daring to believe his ears.
"I'm going to Hays City and that's all," Matt repeated, sounding a little heated now.
"Oh!" Chester said joyfully. "Well, you gotta get goin', I guess."
"Yeah, pretty quick," the marshal agreed, standing up. "Would you mind taking these letters down to the post for me?"
"Yessir, I can do that," Chester said, taking them from the desk.
Matt stood up and took his hat from the peg by the door and it struck Chester then that maybe this was the last time they'd see each other.
"Mr. Dillon?" he asked and something in his voice was funny and made Matt turn around.
"Mr. Dillon, I just want you to know that if anythin' was to come up while you're gone, I—I sure would do my best to take care of it," he said quietly.
"I know you would," Matt said immediately, frowning a little.
"I don't wanna worry you none; I'll handle things here," he continued, looking at his friend earnestly.
"Alright, Chester. Try to take it easy while I'm gone, maybe you'd better go and see Doc. You're acting a little funny," Matt told him, searching his face for an answer. "I'll be back later this afternoon."
Chester's heart wrenched. "Reckon I'll say goodbye now."
"Chester, I'll be back in a few hours, it's not so bad," Matt replied. "But I gotta get going."
"Mr. Dillon, I'd—I'd kindly like to shake your hand, if it's all the same to you," Chester quavered out. The enormity of what he was about to do hit him all of a sudden.
Matt opened his mouth to answer when gunshots were heard outside. Chester sprang for the window so fast Matt thought he'd go right through it. Chester pressed up against the window, praying with everything he had that it wasn't one of his friends lying out there. A few cowboys, hooting and hollering, shot their pistols into the air from atop their horses on Front Street and then rode off, away from Dodge.
Matt sighed. "Just a couple of cowpunchers letting off some—Chester, are you alright?"
He looked at his assistant, who was white as a sheet and shaking visibly.
"Yeah, I'm alright," Chester answered, all trembly. "Reckon I just got a little startled by them shots."
"I really think you ought to go see Doc," Matt said, eyeing him uneasily now. "You're like a spooky horse. Maybe he can get you a tonic for your nerves."
"I'll be alright, Mr. Dillon," Chester said, still looking troubled. "You—you just get along to Hays now. Don't wanna be too late."
"See you later," Matt said, striding out the door. It closed behind with a solid wooden thump.
"Bye, Mr. Dillon," Chester said aloud to the empty room.
The Long Branch doors swung open, and Kitty looked up expecting to see another rough and tumble man with dust on his boots and a twang in his voice. Instead, Chester limped in, looking solemn and terribly determined.
She smiled at him as he paused to look for her. He walked over to where she was standing at the bar and tipped his hat to her. "Miss Kitty." He didn't smile.
"Chester, what is it?" she asked uncertainly. She looked him up and down and froze. "Why are you wearing those guns? What's going on?" she demanded, alarmed
"Ain't nothin' going on," he said in a calmly resigned tone that made her go cold all over. "I just thought you'd want to know that Mr. Dillon's goin' out of town this afternoon, and—and I didn't want you to worry about nothin'. Everything'll be alright."
"Well, Chester, Matt leaves town quite a bit; Dodge is always here when he gets back," she said pragmatically. "I don't expect anything will happen today."
Chester forced himself to smile woodenly. "I reckon not. Anyways. I just wanted to tell you—don't worry."
"Why are you wearing those guns?" she asked with a sudden flash of uneasy intuition.
"I just wanted to be ready, you know. In case something should happen," he said, looking down.
She pursed her lips and was about to question him further when he looked up. Something in his face made her stop; he looked as if he carried the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. Chester's heart pounded but he strove to keep calm. Now wasn't the time to get all riled. Looking at Miss Kitty's pretty upturned face, he felt a wave of fierce love. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek before he lost his nerve, right there in front of everybody in the Long Branch.
He stepped away and her face mirrored that of everyone in the saloon. Her eyes were wide with shock as she stared at him. "Well, what was that for?" she asked, half-laughing as a pink blush spread across her cheeks.
"Just because," he said, smiling and blushing himself, then began turning away. "Goodbye, Miss Kitty."
"Wait, Chester, where are you going?" she asked, surprised by his behavior. Chester didn't stop, because if he did, he knew he'd never have the courage to get through what was coming. As he stepped onto the dusty boardwalk towards the bank, he had time to be glad he'd gotten to kiss her once before he died.
Matt walked along the boardwalk headed for Moss Grimmick's to get his horse.
"Matt!" he heard from behind him. He turned, and Doc Adams was hurrying along the boardwalk to catch up with him.
"Can I see you for a minute?" Doc asked.
"Well, sure, Doc," Matt replied. "Walk along with me to the stable, I'm on my way to Hays City."
"Yes, that's what I wanted to see you about," Doc admitted. "Did Chester talk you into going there?"
Matt frowned. "No, Doc, I've got government business down there. Why?"
"Well, he's been workin' at getting you out of town all day. Just had his mind set that you'd be gone."
"Why?" the marshal asked.
"I don't know but he was after Kitty about it before noon," Doc admitted. "He wanted her to get you to go for a ride in the country."
Matt chuckled, the idea tickling him a little. "I'll bet she fixed that in a hurry."
"She certainly did," Doc replied, snickering. "A summer afternoon's ride somehow didn't seem to appeal to her. And then Chester started to work on me."
A pause. Then, "What?"
"Yes, he thought it'd be nice if you'd spend the afternoon ridin' around with me in my buggy."
Matt grinned. "Even Chester isn't that crazy."
"Well, something is sure eatin' him," Doc remarked.
They heard running footsteps from behind them, and Matt turned quickly with his hand on his gun, but it was only Kitty. She looked flushed and out of breath and more than a little upset.
"Matt, you've got to stop Chester," she gasped out.
"What are you talking about, Kitty?" he asked, frowning.
"He just came into the Long Branch to see me. He's got two guns strapped on him, and he seemed real sure that something was gonna happen," Kitty replied, looking at the marshal unhappily.
Matt stopped walking. "Two guns?"
"That's right. And he's actin' like the life of everybody in town depended on him. What's going on?"
Doc looked at both of them with a bewildered expression.
"I'm not sure," Matt said slowly. "Maybe you two ought to get out of the street for now. I'm gonna go find him."
Alvin Jenkins walked around the back of the bank, ready to get behind the counter and start working on the day's transactions. When he entered the door and saw a tall figure standing there, he started in fright.
"Who's there? Well, for land sakes, Chester, you could scare a fella half to death! Sneaking into this bank through the back like that!"
"I got a reason," Chester said vehemently.
"If I didn't know you better, I'd think you come in here to rob us, wearin' two guns," Alvin declared, shaking his head.
"You oughta be glad I'm wearin' 'em," Chester said wryly. "Listen to me, Alvin, and you won't get hurt if you do what I say."
"What are you talking about?" Alvin asked, alarmed. He'd always figured Chester for the good, dependable sort. But even good silk would shrink if you left it out in the rain for too long. Most people figured Chester was a little touched in the head. Maybe he'd finally cracked.
"I ain't got much time to do any explainin'," Chester said in a low tone. "I'm tellin' you this bank is about to be held up."
"What?" Alvin exclaimed. Chester shushed him immediately.
"I was talkin' to the fellas who're gonna do the job."
"Well, why didn't the marshal hear of this?" Alvin asked, pricking Chester with guilt again.
"He had to ride out to Hays City," Chester told him sourly.
Alvin paused, mulling it over. "You mean you knew the bank was gonna be held up and you let the marshal ride outta town?" he accused.
"I had to do it," Chester said sadly. "Look, I come to take care of things. Now, do like I say, you go right on up front there like nothin' was happenin'. I'll cover you from back here."
Alvin sighed miserably. "I sure hope you know what you're doing."
"Don't worry, now, I got you covered," Chester told him, motioning for him to go up. The door closed behind him and a new voice rang out, making him jump.
"And I've got you covered! Now drop them guns!"
Chester was startled before he recognized the dark face. "Lou!"
"Drop 'em!" he repeated, pointing his own gun at the marshal's assistant. Chester slowly unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop to the floor, both guns clattering. He stood still with his jaw clenched tight. Bitter frustration and disappointment played on his face.
"Real smart of you to get the marshal out of town," Lou sneered at him. "I seen him ride out. But you shoulda quit while you was ahead."
"I shoulda told him," Chester said to himself miserably.
"Cal's out front waitin'. You just stand easy till he gets in here. I got this gun right spang on you," Lou replied coldly. Chester could hear the grinning triumph in his voice and another fresh wave of self-reproach rolled over him.
A few shots rang out, followed by a woman screaming and a few startled men yelling as well. Chester's head snapped up. "That's out front," he said.
"Cal?" Lou called, keeping his gun steady on Chester.
Chester heard footsteps running and then the marshal's voice: "Hit the floor, Chester!"
Chester's heart leaped in his chest. "Mr. Dillon!" Gunshots drowned out his voice as Lou took aim and the marshal fired. Chester jumped forward and pulled on Lou's gun arm, terrified the shots would hit Mr. Dillon.
The marshal shot three times at the outlaw. Lou shot twice and Chester jolted.
The young criminal slid to the floor with the marshal's bullet resting just above his heart. Chester backed away from him and leaned on a nearby wall, feeling a mite dizzy.
"You—you got him, Mr. Dillon," he said in a wondering voice.
"Yeah," Matt said, stepping forward. "Only because you jolted his gun hand. Where'd he get you, Chester?"
Chester's voice shook a little. "In the leg, here. It ain't too bad."
It was. A bloody hole the size of a quarter had appeared in Chester's right thigh, some six inches up from his bad knee.
"What about the other one?" he asked, leaning heavier against the wall. "Cal?"
"He's dead," Matt answered shortly, grimacing at the growing patch of red on Chester's leg. "I caught him on his way in."
"Oh," Chester said, unable to think of anything else to say. The words 'that's good' came to mind, but you couldn't exactly think it was good of somebody to shoot someone else, no matter what they'd done.
"Chester, why didn't you tell me?" Matt asked quietly. He didn't sound angry, just confused and maybe a little hurt.
"They said they'd shoot Doc or Miss Kitty if you was here," Chester responded, deeply ashamed.
"So that's it," Matt reflected, understanding why Chester had been so adamant about the three of them being out of town. "I figured you had a reason."
"Wasn't a good reason," Chester muttered, feeling shaky and weak. He looked up at Matt, who was staring at him funny. Everything got too bright around the edges and then he was falling. Matt leaped forward to catch him and eased him to the floor.
Chester blinked up at him. "But you ain't out of town. How come you ain't?" he asked with sudden confusion. He vaguely wondered why it had taken him so long to ask that. Must be the blood loss.
"I heard that you were marching around wearing two guns, so I figured I better stick around if I didn't want you to take over my job," Matt replied in a tone that said he was half-joking, although he peered at Chester's leg in concern.
"I wouldn't a took your job," Chester mumbled, smiling a little. His eyes kept wanting to close on their own. Matt's face swam above him.
"Just try to relax. I'm gonna get you to Doc's," Matt said, sounding like he was far away. Chester frowned. Why was he yelling from across Front Street about going to Doc's? He felt Mr. Dillon's strong arms slip behind his shoulders and underneath the crooks of his knees, and vaguely remembered the sensation of being in the air and Matt's spurs ringing before he drifted away.
When Chester came to, he was lying on the table in Doc's office. A blanket was tucked around his shoulders and when he rustled around some, his cheek touched a soft pillow. He opened his eyes, and a few blurry shapes of surrounding furniture came into his vision. He blinked hard and his sight gradually cleared.
He heard a chair scrape back, and suddenly there were three people-looking blobs standing over him.
"Chester?" Matt asked. Chester tried to answer but his throat was too dry, and he ended up coughing.
Doc hurriedly poured out a cup of water and held it for him as he drank.
"Thank you," Chester said in a gravelly voice. His throat still hurt a little but felt better just with a little water.
"How do you feel?" Doc asked in a voice that was purposefully calm. Something about it was wrong, and Chester felt tendrils of unease creep through him. To his right, he felt Kitty's small, warm hand on his arm. His gaze went up to her face, and she smiled at him. He blinked, trying to work out what was the matter. Kitty's eyes looked bright, as though she'd been crying.
"Reckon I don't rightly know," Chester said fuzzily, trying to clear his head. "How bad is it?" His hand strayed downwards, and he felt a thick swath of bandages around his thigh.
"Don't touch it," Doc snapped at him, swatting his hand away. "It took a long time to get the bleeding stopped. I don't need you tearing it open as soon as you're awake."
"You're gonna have to take it easy for a few weeks, Chester," Matt said. Even though his tone was slightly admonishing, Chester could tell he was pleased to see him.
"Will it be alright?" Chester asked. A sharp feeling of dread cut through him and made him feel a little sick to his stomach. He tried to sit up so he could look at his leg and immediately Doc's hands were on his shoulders pushing him down.
"Calm down, Chester, don't try to move," Doc said in a gentle tone. "That bullet tore up some muscle in there. It should heal alright, but it might not be as strong as it was before. And with your knee…Well, it might be a little harder to get around."
"Oh, Chester, I'm sorry," Kitty said in a voice that broke a little. Her eyes filled with tears now and her grip tightened on his arm.
Doc rubbed his mustache, clearly upset. Matt's face was hard, but his eyes were wells of sorrow and sympathy. Chester blinked, feeling a little numb. They were all looking at him as if they expected him to start sobbing any moment.
"At least it weren't my good leg," Chester mumbled, rubbing lightly at the bandage. "I'll still be able to hop around some."
Matt and Doc both stared at him. Matt's face caught somewhere between amusement and an unsure frown. Doc looked like he thought Chester was goin' lunatic. Kitty was the one who broke the silence, letting out a little nervous giggle. It broke the tension and Matt grinned a little.
"We'll have to wait and see how it goes," Doc said pensively.
"It was a good thing you were at the bank, Chester," Matt remarked from somewhere near his left shoulder. Chester turned his head to look at him.
"It wasn't," Chester said back, rubbing his face. "Most got you killed, an' Doc an' Miss Kitty, too."
"No, you didn't," Kitty said in a voice that was oddly gentle. Chester started a little. He'd forgotten she was there.
Doc saw the jolt and frowned a little. "Are you in pain?"
"No," Chester said through numb lips. "Can't feel much of anythin', to tell the truth."
The room began swimming around him. Doc's fingers gently gripped his wrist, taking his pulse.
"You're still pretty heavily sedated," Doc told him in a quiet voice. "Get some more rest, now."
Chester closed his eyes and sighed. In a few moments, his face relaxed and his breathing evened out.
His three friends looked down at his sleeping face.
"He was trying to protect all of us," Kitty said fondly, smothering the urge to smooth her hand over his hair.
"He nearly did it, too," Matt said wryly. "I woulda been in Hays City none the wiser while they held up the bank."
"Don't be too hard on him when he wakes up, Matt," Kitty pleaded.
"I'm not gonna be hard on him at all, Kitty," Matt said. "He was pretty brave, taking 'em on by himself."
"Bravery, or foolishness," Doc scoffed, looking at his sleeping patient. "He meant well," Doc said quietly, pulling the blanket up more securely around Chester's arms.
"I'll stay here with him for a few minutes while you two get something to eat," Kitty offered.
"Alright," Matt said, making for the door. "I'll bring you back something from Delmonico's, Kitty. Doc?"
"We'll be back in a little while," Doc said, grabbing his hat. Kitty smiled at them both as they left, then sat by Chester's side, thanking God he'd be alright.
It was a week before Chester could get out of bed, and another few days before he could take more than three steps without falling down. He put up a big fuss about being able to make it on his own when Matt supported him in getting back to the office but seemed to relax better in his own bed.
Chester began hobbling around, and generally by the end of the day could only stretch out on his cot, shaking all over and rubbing at his throbbing leg while sweat stood out on his brow. After some time, it got better and the pain eased up. It was a long time before the damaged muscle healed and he could still feel it pull sometimes, making his limp a little worse than it had been before. But he got around, and gradually the memory faded into the back of his mind.
About three weeks after the hold-up, Chester made his way slowly into the Long Branch around dinner time. It was nearly full, there were men lounging around and chatting loudly. The piano played a rollicking song, and the excitement was catching. Kitty was standing at the bar, with Matt and Doc on either side of her. Matt leaned with his elbows on the bar, looking relaxed. She looked up and broke into a wide smile when she saw him.
He grinned back and limped over to his friends.
"Chester," Doc greeted him, raising a glass of beer.
"How's it going?" Matt asked.
"Oh, jes' fine," Chester answered airily, feeling light as a breeze. His leg wasn't even bothering him much. "Sam, can I get a beer?" He slid two nickels onto the bar, and Sam gave him a mug.
"Sure is busy tonight, Miss Kitty," Chester said over the noise.
"I'm sure glad you came in tonight, Chester," she said, eyes sparkling with good humor. "I've got somethin' to tell you."
"Well, what is it?" Chester asked, eyes innocently wide. "Somethin' good?"
"Lean close, I don't want to shout it," she called. He dutifully leaned down and she bent close and kissed his cheek.
Chester turned beet red. Matt and Doc stared in shock. A few of the patrons already feeling their liquor whistled and hooted appreciatively.
"What was all that about?" Doc asked, chuckling a little.
"Just because," she smiled. "Right, Chester?"
Chester, still beet red and feeling giddy with delight, chuckled a little and took a long swallow of beer.
Matt shook his head, laughed, and took a sip of his rye. Inside the Long Branch, heedless of the setting sun, the happy piano music rolled on.
