Matt heard a branch above him snap, and knew it wasn't an animal or the wind. He peered up into darkness and pointed his gun towards the sound.
"Who's there?"
Branches shifted.
A noosed dropped down over his head and tightened around his neck. He dropped his gun and gripped the tightening the rope with both hand. His face reddened as he desperately pulled against the noose to keep it open.
It went slack.
A larger noose dropped over his body to his knees and was yanked. His knees buckled. Thrown on the ground, he reached for the gun he'd dropped. A boot kicked it away. He looked up into the barrel of a rifle.
Dodge
Long Branch was packed and Molly McLaughlin's charm was turned up to full throttle.
She gracefully made her way around the room wearing a smile, while assessing every situation and reading every face.
She set a tray on the bar, "Sam, a bottle of whisky and 3 glasses, please. Make it the expensive stuff. I have my eye on a couple of cowboys who will want to show off by spending big when they ask me to join them.
A smile crossed Sam's craggy face, "Sure thing Molly."
She looked up at the amiable bartender, "Sam, you call me Molly but you call Kitty, Miss Kitty, why is that?"
"Well I-I-I don't mean any disrespect. I guess it's just that Miss Kitty owns the place. I'll call you Miss Molly if you want."
Molly grabbed the tray and winked, "I'm teasing, Sam. Just promise that if I ever own the place you'll call me Miss Molly."
Sam laughed and Molly smiled coyly before taking the tray to the two cowboys. Sure enough they were eager to pretend to be more than ranch hands, by spending a week's pay on a bottle of whiskey. As expected, they invited her to join them. She sat and feigned interest in them, but kept an eye on the men at the gambling tables. Two hours later the cowboys were gone, and the big poker winner was following her upstairs like an eager puppy. When she was finished with him, he was breathless, sweaty and grinning. She asked for a good price, and he happily paid. He would have paid more, but he was drunk and she didn't want him waking up with regrets. You never knew when your future would depend on a customer. That's how things had started with Liam. Her future would be rosy soon, but in the meantime there was no reason to burn bridges.
She shoved the cash in a draw. She'd give Kitty the Long Branch cut in the morning. A deal was a deal. She got a salary for downstairs work and handed over 25% of money she got for any upstairs work she chose to do. It was fair, and Kitty was very pleased with the money she'd been bringing in. Molly smiled to herself. Bless the Long Branch and its bank account.
She looked into the mirror and her smile dissolved. A few grey hairs were mixed in with her black tresses. She quickly plucked them out and thought about how lucky Kitty was. Redheads didn't go gray as early as most. Kitty was lucky in a lot of ways. She'd somehow had become a saloon owner, and had that Marshal Dillon as the man in her life. They weren't married, but from what she picked up from Kitty and folks around town, Dillon was a special man. Kitty had something special about her too, something deep and powerful. When two people like that connected maybe a real and forever kind of love could happen.
Molly scowled into the mirror. She was getting dreamy and silly. That kind of love didn't happen in real life. It was stuff made up in fairy tales and dime novels.
Matt
Matt shifted his eyes from the barrel of the rifle to the eyes of the pale, auburn haired man holding it. "Who are you, what do you want?"
The young man smiled. "First, I wanted to show how easily I could have killed you. That was just for fun. You'll understand the rest soon enough."
The man kept his rifle trained on Matt while swiftly tying his ankles together and wrists behind his back. When he was satisfied that Matt couldn't move he spoke with mock formality and offered a little bow, "Sir, I am Daniel McLaughlin, son of Liam McLaughlin. You are United States Marshal Matthew Dillon. I realize you've killed a lot of men and probably have forgotten most, but I am sure you remember my father. He told you some interesting things."
The instant Daniel mentioned Liam, Matt saw the family resemblance.
"You are still alive, marshal, because I need you to tell me where my father's money is."
"How would I know where any money is?" Matt was genuinely surprised.
Daniel shook his head. "You know damn well that my father had some unusual sources of income. That money is buried in various locations and you know where those locations are."
"It seems you know how your father got his money. What makes you think a lawman would know where it is?"
"Dillon, I questioned the doctor in Hays. The man you brought my father to after you shot him. You were with my father when he died. He was an Irishman through and through, and would have wanted to clear his conscious before he died. He told you where to find the money. I'm sure of it."
Matt stared blankly at Daniel.
"So, I'll have to get it out of you the hard way." Daniel sighed. "No matter, the luck of the Irish is on my side."
Daniel started to walk away, but turned back. "I think I'll give the luck of the Irish a bit of a boost." He smashed his rifle butt into Matt's head. Matt felt blood trickle down the side of his face before everything went black. Daniel reached over and ripped the badge from the unconscious lawman's shirt and walked away humming an Irish folk tune.
Kitty
It was well past midnight when Kitty sighed and set aside the magazine she'd been mindlessly flipping through. She was restless and tired at the same time but there was nothing to do but make a serious attempt to go to sleep. She climbed into bed and lifted the creased paper that was sitting on her nightstand. It was the telegram Matt had sent 2 days before. She fingered it without reading the words. She knew them by heart.
All went well. Be back late Thursday night or Friday before dusk. Matt
She'd taken comfort in that short message, and Matt's mention of dusk had warmed her, but something had changed. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones.
Molly
Molly climbed into bed thinking about Liam. She'd spotted the pot-bellied Irishman when she was working in the White Horse Saloon in Topeka. He was a regular customer with an odd pattern. He'd drink and gamble every night for months, disappear for few days, return and start up again. What intrigued her was his behavior when he lost. He simply shook the winner's hand, smiled and walked away. That's why she wanted him as a customer. Soon after she made that decision he was visiting her nightly. One night he was so stinking drunk he started crying about his late, loving wife Tess. His belly shook and tears ran down his red, pudgy face.
"My Tess, how I miss her."
"Oh Liam, I'm so sad for you." She rubbed her hand down his back. "You shouldn't be alone."
He wiped his sleeve across his runny nose. "We'll I ain't exactly alone. My son visits regular."
"I'm sure he does, honey." She worked her hand down his waistband, "I just mean a man like you shouldn't be without a wife, a caring wife."
He looked at her through bleary eyes, moaning with pleasure at her touch. "Oh yes, I n-n-need a wife. You should be my wife."
The words were no sooner out of his mouth when she guided him to bed, and ran off to get the justice of the peace. She woke two saloon girls to be witnesses. Before a bleary eyed justice and two prostitutes in nightgowns, Liam slurred his vows and signed the papers.
The best part was that when he woke up, he wasn't upset. He figured it was fate. She quickly gathered her things and moved into his fine house just outside of Topeka. He didn't love her, but he loved having sex with her and adored having a beautiful woman on his arm when he walked around town. It didn't matter that she couldn't cook or clean, he had money to pay for help. And every few months he disappeared for a few days and she didn't have to worry about looking perfect and pleasing him in bed.
It was a great life. A life that was ruined by Matt Dillon.
TBC