Chapter 4 Good News and Bad
Matt Dillon tied his buckskin's reins loosely to the hitching rail in front of his office. Then he stepped inside only long enough to drop his gear on the table and notice he was alone. The tired and filthy from three long weeks on the trail lawman decided Chester was off being Chester. It was up to him to take Buck to the stable then head to his rented room to wash the dust off, shave and change into clean clothes before seeking Kitty at the Long Branch. A half-hour later the tall lawman peeked over the batwing doors of the best saloon anywhere, at least in his mind, because it was home to Kitty Russell.
The place was crowded but a certain redhead wasn't one of the locals among the strangers that filled it. He spotted Doc and Chester at the table against the stairs with a single empty chair. Matt wondered how long ago Kitty got up from it. His friends in the remaining two chairs would know if she was in her office or her room. Matt joined them as quickly as dodging around the customers and the busy staff allowed. One young woman seemed determined to block his path. As much as he wanted to reach the table his closest friends occupied, Matt Dillon couldn't get around her. Though increasingly frustrated he wouldn't be rude to any woman, young and attractive or not. This one was quite the looker and newly arrived. At least as far as he knew she wasn't working in the Long Branch when he left.
"Welcome home, Marshal Dillon. Mr. Pence told me to greet everyone enthusiastically if I hadn't seen them before," the fetching, five foot six blonde woman of no more than 19 purred at him. "I recognized you as our esteemed lawman from your badge, not because anyone described you to me. My, you are the epitome of what I would expect a man of your stature should be. By the way, I'm Mabel Hastings. I'm here to make your time at the Long Branch superior to that of any other girl working the floor here or, for that matter, in any saloon in town."
She seemed unfazed by her pun on his size. Matt chose to ignore her flirting rather than be further embroiled in her clutches. "Nice to meet you, Miss Hastings. Please excuse me but I'd like to join my friends at the table by the stairs," he said doffing his hat as he sidled around her curves.
Dillon reached his destination in two long strides, his determination creating a path before him. Even as he plopped his large frame in the empty chair the man scanned the room for Kitty but also for any nearby empty chair he could grab and gallantly seat her in when she appeared. Chester, effusive in his welcome, brought the marshal's mind back to his companions. Doc, being more attuned to the big man's posture, sensed his young friend's anxiety and the reason for it.
"Kitty left on a business trip to Wichita this morning," Doc explained. "She didn't know when you'd be back so she decided to get it over with before the final inrush of customers that mark the lead up to this year's roundup. As it is Pence had to hire the new girl who waylaid you. She arrived on the Santa Fe from Saint Louis looking for work an hour after Kitty left. Bill had to hire her on the spot or risk being short staffed. The crowd you see began arriving not more than two hours ago."
Trying not to show his disappointment at her absence, Matt signaled across the room for a round of beers. Mabel made sure she was the one who delivered three mugs on a tray to the handsome marshal's table. She lingered as if expecting an invitation from him to join them. After half a minute without any signal from anyone at the lawman's table, Mabel slowly strolled in the direction of the men engrossed in a spirited poker game. She accepted their invitation to remain. Then decided to sit on the lap of the man she guessed was nicknamed Red or Rusty.
Meanwhile Matt turned his attention to Doc and Chester while also keeping a wary eye on the crowd. He took a sip of his beer and, deciding he'd fill Kitty in on the details during private time when she returned, launched into describing the chase that kept him away from home and a telegraph office for three weeks. His two closest friends listened intently as he described the men, who he felt certain were now in Dodge, and the horses they rode.
"Mr. Dillon, I seen them horses over at the stable maybe an hour afore you got back," Chester intoned enthusiastically. "They was jist handin' 'em over to Moss when I stopped by to match dimes with him - two paints and an appaloosa. It's them three sittin' playing poker at that table where that purty new gal is now, the one what wanted you to pay more attention to her. I sure wish she'd look at me that away."
Marshal Dillon turned his eyes to the table Chester mentioned. Later, when he had more time, he'd confront his assistant with facts about the girl Bill hired that would explain why Chester shouldn't waste his time on her. Despite Kitty's claim Matt still had a lot to learn about women he understood enough to spot her type. Matt had already forgotten her name. His focus was on the three poker-playing drifters – the tall lanky blonde, the shorter, stocky dark-haired one and the red-haired man whose lap the new girl occupied and the two trail bosses he recognized from the previous last of the season trips up from Texas. Dillon was thankful he spotted what might bring good news to offset the bad that Kitty was absent when he missed her so much. Resigned to the hand he was dealt Matt entered full marshal mode. He pushed back his chair, then nodded at Chester, who had a shotgun, to follow him.
"You're not locals," the lawman stated to the drifters as he reached their table. "I like to know about strangers with enough cash to enter a high stakes poker game," he continued. "Tell me where you got that money."
"None of your business where we got our money, law dog. I don't see you asking them other two in the game the same question," the redheaded man sneered.
"I know where everybody got what's fueling this game. I just want to hear your story and that of your two friends," Matt replied with cool confidence as Mabel hastily rose from Rusty McCormick's lap.
Rusty started to rise with his hand on the butt of his pistol. Matt, anticipating his move, drew his own Colt with lightning speed to bring it down on the outlaw's gun arm. McCormick had no chance to fully clear holster. The lawman's quickness had momentarily taken the fight out of him. His partners, Whitey Sanford and Blacky Mullins also stood, their hands up in the air. The odds, since one man had the drop on their leader and the other leveled a cocked shotgun aimed at their stomachs, no longer favored them. Chester easily collected their side arms. Together marshal and jailer herded the trio to jail. Mabel followed.
The saloon girl didn't want Matt to know she was tagging along. She remained out of sight until the marshal departed his office, leaving the three drifters locked in a cell and Chester keeping guard. As he turned toward the stable to learn if Moss knew where they were staying she put her hand on his right arm. Startled, Dillon pulled his arm away and turned toward his assailant. As soon as he saw the young woman Matt's wariness turned into anger.
"I could have struck you for doing what you just did, maybe killed you. What were you thinking? Miss … who are you again?"
"Mabel, Mabel Hastings," she replied, affronted that she hadn't yet made enough of an impression for the tall, handsome lawman to remember her name. "I simply wanted to complement you on your bravery and ask that you protect me from the likes of them that are still free to accost a poor girl where she works or, heaven forbid, on the street," she replied contritely.
"You're in no danger at the Long Branch. Most of the late season drovers haven't arrived and the majority of farmers are still harvesting their crops." Matt Dillon spoke reassuringly. "We both have work to do. I suggest you return to yours," he added in that commanding tone that brooked no argument.
Mabel realized that any further attempts to win the lawman over to her would for the time being be counterproductive. She obeyed him, turning back only long enough to watch his posterior fade away as they headed in opposite directions.
Matt strongly suspected the trio he'd arrested were the same outlaws who'd led him on a three-week chase. Now all he needed was proof before Judge Brooking arrived on his regular circuit in three days. All Moss could tell him was they took their saddlebags and bedrolls with them for an indefinite stay, leaving him to unsaddle, feed and water their horses. The stableman had no idea where they had rooms. Since they didn't hide how much money they were willing to gamble at the classiest saloon in town, Dillon decided the most likely place was the Dodge House.
Matt strode to the desk where Howie promptly turned the register around so Matt could read the room numbers while the hotel manager reached for the appropriate keys. They were in eight and ten - connecting rooms that faced Front Street and the Long Branch. Matt began with the one that contained two single beds. He sifted through their belongings finding what he estimated was half the money collected from the robberies. In the adjoining accommodation, with its double bed, he uncovered the assumed other half of the cash along with the items reported stolen at each of the holdups. Before leaving the hotel he spoke with the driver and shotgun guard from the stage that pulled into Dodge mere hours before from the scene of the most recent holdup.
Having found his proof, Matt left the hotel to return to the office so he could lock up what he'd discovered. The prisoners could claim the money was earned, especially since Rusty in particular was very adept at draw poker. However, the other items matched the descriptions he'd received while trailing after the bandits. A few sported inscriptions so he wondered if it would be necessary for the living victims to testify in person. Judge Brooking might only require written depositions describing what was stolen. The stagecoach employees knew they had to stick around to testify.
While Matt and Chester went about doing what the jailer called law work Doctor Adams was far from idle. He shuffled over to the telegraph office to let Kitty know Matt had safely returned. He expected she'd take the first available means home once her business in Wichita was complete. Having read that overgrown public servant's face earlier at the Long Branch Doc hoped she would be able to catch the faster train and so return earlier than by stage. As soon as he received a reply he'd let his young friend know when Kitty Russell was expected to arrive. Depending on when she responded he'd let Matt know over dinner or supper. Either way the meal would be his treat.
