"What the deuce do you think you're doing?" said Clem, glowering over Jensen's shoulder at the letters carved in the center of the tabletop.
Jensen jumped in his chair. "I finished it. You only just noticed and you wanna punch my lights out."
"Miss Kitty didn't hire you to deface her property," said Clem.
"I made good work of it, though. She should let me dee-face all the tables. It'll liven up the barroom."
Clem stalked away and returned with Kitty. "You carve very well, Lee," she said, looking at the big fancy LB engraved in her table. "Fine as any merchant."
"It's raw. It'd look even better if I sand and oil it."
"He's been settin' there more'n an hour, Miss Kitty. Almost lunchtime and he's done nothing except take down the chairs and polish the glassware. I told him to clean the storage room upstairs and he flat out didn't do it," said Clem.
"I couldn't push myself to that room so I done these letters instead," said Jensen.
"Lee, I hired you to clean," said Kitty. "And you didn't ask my permission to carve those letters. I'm sorry, but you're no help to us here. If Matt locks you up, you brought it on yourself."
The air outside was ice-cold and dingy clouds covered the sky. Lee shivered when he thought of setting out afoot on the silent leaden prairie, with no gun and just the twenty-five cents Miss Kitty gave him for the little work he completed. Nor could he stand it if the marshal caged him up at the jailhouse.
Jensen's remaining choice was to go back to stealing. His knife was the only weapon he had. Holding up the bank would take too long. The clerks would have to collect the money from the drawers and safe, giving a bystander time to run for the marshal. And Jensen didn't know if a money shipment was on the noon train. The stage was due at the depot in town. If Jensen robbed it, the treasure box might be heavy. Never strong, the flogging had further weakened him, but he would chance stealing the box. He planned to run with it to Grimmick's livery, steal a horse and shotgun from Moss and flee Dodge. He'd stop to shoot the box lock a mile or so out from town, and if the box held nothing of value, he'd hold up another stage on route.
When the coach rolled and bumped down Front Street behind the galloping horses, Jensen pulled his knife and unfolded the blade. "Don't you jump down yet," he hollered at the shotgun man when the driver reined in at the depot. "Make a move for your gun and I'll throw this knife at your chest!"
Lee would not in truth throw the knife, just as he'd never pulled the trigger when he held up trains, banks and stages. He only threatened, cocked his gun once in a while when a man's hand inched toward his six-shooter, or if a fellow balked or was slow giving Jensen the money. Lee had never stabbed or shot anyone. "Don't none of you go for your guns cuz I'll sure stick the shotgun man with this knife before I go down!" he yelled.
Walking to the marshal's office from the post, Chester saw Jensen point the knife at Slim and heard Lee shout. There was no mail for Mr. Dillon that day, a stroke of luck as Chester's hands were free and he didn't have to think on where to set any letters when he went after Jensen. Chester broke into a run and felt the usual frustration rush hot through his head as his lame leg hindered him running fast enough. He needed to catch hold on Lee so no one got hurt.
"You can't hold up a stage with a durn knife. You're lunatic," Slim said to Jensen.
"Just throw down that treasure box setting betwixt your boots and be quick about it," said Jensen.
"Don't throw it to 'im, Slim," Chester gasped as he ran up to the stage. "You fellers don't shoot 'im. He ain't right in the head." He held up a palm to the passengers in the coach. "You folks please set in thar 'til I take the knife from 'im."
"I wasn't gonna shoot him. I could duck that knife easy if he threw it," said Slim.
"I wasn't fixin' to shoot him either. We seen he's crazy," said the driver.
"Stay away from me or I'll stab you." Jensen pointed the knife at Chester.
"Lee, I didn't give you that knife to hold up the stage. Hand it over," Chester ordered.
"No."
"Drop the knife, Lee." Chester grabbed Jensen's arm and twisted it up behind his back. Jensen dropped the knife. Chester released his arm and Jensen lunged away.
"Oh no ya don't." Chester wrapped his arms around Jensen, who thrashed in his grip. "You're goin' to jail. What d'you think you were doin', tryin' to rob the stage with a knife. Yer s'posed ta be cleanin' up to the Long Branch."
Breathless, Jensen drooped in Chester's hold. "My back and ribs hurt where you're clutching me. Ain't all the way mended from the whipping."
"I'll let loose of you if you promise not to run. You run an' ah'll catch holt on you," said Chester.
"I won't run."
"I'll bring the knife by the jail when you get him locked up, Chester," said Slim.
"You taking the knife back, Chester?" Jensen said as they walked to the marshal's office.
"I give it to you, Lee. I don't take back what I give. You'll git the knife when Mr. Dillon lets you outa jail."
"I dunno what's to become of me, Chester. I hate cleaning so much, couldn't make myself do it at the Long Branch, and Miss Kitty she sacked me for idling on the job and carving on one of her tables."
"Lee, I 'bout wish I hadn't give you that knife."
When Chester opened the jailhouse door and came in with Jensen, Matt was writing a report on Dodge City's latest murder, the slaying of a Lady Gay saloon gal by a gambler who followed her on the walk to her rooming house shortly after midnight, dragged her into a storage shed, forced himself on her and strangled her to death. The gambler then got drunk at an all-night barroom on the back street, staggered to the train station to flee Dodge on the two o'clock morning train, and was hit and killed by the train as he crossed the tracks.
"Chester. What's Lee doin' here. Lee, I sent you to work this morning at the Long Branch. You got yourself discharged again, didn't you," said Matt.
"You ain't gonna hit me?" said Jensen. "Chester already hurt my back and ribs where the cuts are still healing."
"Lee, you know I dint set out to hurt you. You was buckin' so I had to hold you tight," said Chester.
Matt rose from his chair. "Alright, Chester, what happened." Chester related the incident at the stage depot and Jensen's words to him on the walk to the marshal's office.
"You ain't gonna hit me, Marshal?" Jensen said.
"No, I won't hit you. But I am gonna jail you."
"For how long?"
"I don't know, Lee. You need time to think on what you did at the depot, and what you mulishly refuse to do, which is work. Maybe if you're locked up long enough you'll be minded to change your ways."
Jensen took tight hold of the bars as Matt turned the key in the cell door lock. "The Wild West books Chester give me are in my room at Mrs. Smalley's. I need somewhat to read or I'll lose my senses, Marshal."
"Chester will get the books for you and let Ma know you're in jail," said Matt.
Chester returned with the books and the widow Alice Winthrop. "Good afternoon, Marshal," Alice said briskly.
His report writing once more interrupted, Matt pushed back his desk chair and stood. "Mrs. Winthrop."
The door to the jail was open, and Alice looked in at Jensen sitting on the cell bunk. Getting locked up hadn't affected his appetite. Matt had put two big pieces of tenderized smoked antelope on a plate, sprinkled water on biscuits to soften them, heated and buttered the biscuits and served the food to his prisoner with cups of water and coffee. Jensen was eating with relish when Alice arrived.
Alice held out her hands in a gesture of sympathy, shook her head and moved to the cell. "Hello, Lee," she said.
"I'll be in jail a spell," he said around a mouthful of antelope.
"Perhaps not," she said, feeling a yearning for Jensen like a flame in her bosom. "Marshal, may I trouble you and Chester to sit in the cell with me a few moments? I have a solution to Lee's problems. If he agrees to my plan, he'll be off your hands, Marshal."
Chester pulled a chair in the cell for Alice to sit, and seated himself on the bunk beside Jensen. Matt stood leaning against the wall.
"Lee, how would you like to live in a fine home with your own woodworking room. You may whittle carvings all day or night or not at all, just as the notion takes you. You needn't do any work, go to bed and wake up whenever you please. You'll have a bedroom to yourself, and I'll buy you whatever you like. The best suits you can imagine," said Alice.
Lee stared at her, his fine neat features expressionless. She had loved her husband Austin's face, and Lee was better looking than Austin. Lee's pale-gray eyes enchanted Alice. "You joshing me? This seems too good to believe," he said.
"Not at all. All you must do is marry me and live with me in my home. After we are wed, you may know me as your wife or not, just as you like, but if you satisfy yourself with another woman, I shall divorce you and turn you out with no money sufficient for a living. I should be very sad if you are in want, but a woman must protect her heart or she's no good to anyone. I'll give you a modest allowance by-the-month provided we stay married and you reside with me, but you won't have access to my bank accounts and all my properties will remain in my name only, to discourage you from leaving me. I will have my attorney draw up the papers for you to sign, so you'll have no legal claim as my husband to my estate," said Alice.
Lee sipped his coffee and with narrowed eyes scrutinized Alice's round vibrant face. She'd proposed a good deal to him; he'd never get another chance like this. She was no beauty but she did have a pleasing face and firm womanly figure, and Lee did need the strength and liveliness that flowed in a warm current from her into his muddled head and weak sleepy body whenever she was near.
"I was going to wait and ask you come spring when we'll know each other better and a proposal then wouldn't shock you, but since Marshal Dillon's gone and jailed you, I knew I had to ask right away or something dreadful might happen when the marshal releases you," said Alice.
"Really, Marshal, you must see that poor Mr. Jensen is not equipped to work a job, yet you kept hounding him to it and threatening to lock him up, and what horrid thing could befall him if I don't take care of him, heaven only knows," Alice went on. "This gentle soul has suffered enough already at the hands of lawmen."
"But tain't thataway at all, Mrs. Winthrop," said Chester. "Mr. Dillon done nothin' but help Lee. Kilt a prison guard to save 'im gittin' whipped to death, wrote an appeal to the State so's he wouldn't go back to prison an' die of the harsh conditions, bought 'im new clothes an' got 'im three jobs. Lee he lost them jobs on account of he's lazy. He ain't so broke down 'n dumb he cain't work."
"I can't help being stupid, Chester. I don't have much book-learning," said Lee.
"Ain't callin' you stupid."
"You most certainly are not stupid. You are artistic. You're not designed for menial labor, Lee," said Alice.
"Mrs. Winthrop, any man sound in mind and body can work. I know that guard Hackett broke Lee. He's not a strong man, but he recovered sufficient to do a job. I don't think I required too much of him, and he has to be held to account for what he does. That's why I arrested him," said Matt.
"If he accepts my hand in marriage, you must release him, Marshal. I will not have this fragile wounded man languish in a jail cell. He has such an aversion to being caged, he could fall ill and die in here. He needs a woman's loving care. Marshal, there is simply no other way of saving poor Lee Jensen. You must help me save him from himself."
"Alright, Mrs. Winthrop. If Lee agrees to marry you now, today, I'll release him from jail," said Matt.
"I will marry you, Mrs. Winthrop," said Lee. "And I'll know you as your husband, if I can. Your looks are nice; it's not that. You are robust and spirited, the sort of woman a man like me needs. But I been . . . beaten down, and I ain't hardy. Lee's face reddened, and he glanced from Matt to Chester and lowered his head. "I don't know if I can. Know you," Jensen whispered.
Alice pressed her hands to her heart. "I shall be Mrs. Lee Jensen. Will you let him out now, Marshal? Please?"
Matt grinned. "The cell door's open wide, Lee. You're free to go."
"Reckon you don't want that ole knife back now, Lee. You'll have a pile of fancy new ones for yer whittlin'," said Chester.
"You keep the knife, Chester. I won't need it. Or give it to Slim as thanks for not shooting me when I pointed it at him," said Lee.
He rose from the cell bunk and Alice rose from her chair. She took him in her arms, drawing his slight body close against her large erect bosom. "You will know me as your wife if you wish to," she purred in his ear. "I promise you will."
"I wish to," said Lee. He quelled an urge to slip his hand down the lowcut V of her blouse and caress the plump pillows of her breasts. The marshal and Chester were standing there, and Alice was a lady. Lee would have to wed her first.
Matt and Chester accompanied them to the parsonage and witnessed their vows as the minister conducted the ceremony in his parlor with his wife present. "I calculate Lee won't return to 'is ole life of crime, Mr. Dillon," said Chester as he and Matt walked back to the marshal's office.
"Mrs. Alice Jensen is a good woman," said Matt. "She needs Lee and he needs her, and he'll have everything like he wants it so he won't sink as her husband. He'll likely even be happy and live longer than anyone acquainted with him would expect."
"Never thought I'd say it, but he is one lucky man," said Chester. "I'm glad we helped save Lee Jensen."
"So am I, Chester."
END