Decisions and Desires

Chapter 13.

Early the following morning, Quint arrived in Dodge escorting two men and leading a big buckskin horse. He took the men directly to the jailhouse and, after securing them inside a cell, led all four horses to the livery. Having questioned Moss Grimmick he found that Arlo and Matt had arrived the previous day and that Matt was up at Doc's office. The stable man was always a good source of information when it came to what was happening around town, and Quint knew there were many occasions when Matt would ask him about people's whereabouts.

He decided to go eat a late breakfast at Delmonico's. Usually he ate well on the trail, but with two prisoners in tow there had been little opportunity to hunt fresh meat. As he entered the cafe he was surprised to see Kitty and Arlo. They occupied the small table in the corner behind the door, and were deep in serious conversation. He decided not to disturb them and sat at an empty table at the far side of the room. He wasn't staring at them but could not help but notice how the trail boss reached across the table to lay his hand on top of hers. It was also clear that she did not object.

When he finished his meal, he left money on the table and headed for the door. Kitty and Arlo were still deep in a conversation so he did not interrupt them.

ooo00oo

Kitty had noticed Quint while he was eating his meal, and although she always enjoyed his company she had a lot to discuss with the trail boss.

She had not gone to see Matt the previous evening. She wasn't sure about her feelings, or his come to that matter. Doc had told her to wait - that there may be a medical reason for the marshal's apparent change in personality - and he needed a little more time to finish his assessment.

Meantime there was Arlo - a really fine man who would rope the moon for her if he could. He had such wonderful plans for his ranch in a beautiful setting amongst the hills of Colorado. She had seen the place and for a brief time had shared his dreams, but now she heard the music and commotion from the saloon below her rooms and wondered if she could survive such a peaceful environment. Was she like Matt? Had she become so accustomed to the fights and chaos that were a nightly occurrence in Dodge City that a well ordered quiet life would seem oppressive?

She went to the window and looked out over the street. There were still plenty of men coming and going, wandering between the bars, looking for the best poker game or the strongest whisky - or mostly the prettiest girl. Life for her would not be the same in a peaceful green valley with two or three children and a husband who came home every evening - probably expecting a meal on the table and freshly laundered clothes for the next day. That was not an unpleasant thought, she would enjoy that - but for how long? The more she thought about it, the more she knew she would have to have a serious talk with Arlo. It would be difficult, she really liked him and enjoyed his company. He was a lot like Matt in so many ways, but that was the problem - he was a lot like him but not the same. She knew that thought would always be in her mind. Matt would always be there, in her head and in her heart.

So when Quint walked into Delmonico's that morning, she was relieved that he was content with his own company. She had to have that serious talk with Arlo, and it was something she had geared herself up for. She did not want to postpone the conversation once it was started.

ooo000ooo

Matt had been subjected to Doc's serious talks before so he knew what to expect when the physician pulled up a chair and sat down, carefully removing his spectacles before speaking.

"I've known you for a long time now Matt," he began. His steely grey eyes could be soft and consoling at times, but now they were piercing, looking for answers.

"I can't argue with that," was all Dillon could say, turning his face away from the physician.

"When did you first get sick?" Doc decided to come straight to the point. He could tell that his friend the marshal was about to deny any illness so he continued, barely giving the man time to come up with a negative response.

"I sat up with you most of last night, I know you don't remember, but I was here. You were running a fever - not high, but enough to make you restless. You were talking in your sleep, something about killing, and people being murdered, and it all being your fault. Now suppose you tell me what this is all about."

"It's my business."

"It is until it interferes with your health and your ability to do your job, then it becomes mine."

Matt said nothing. He hated talking about his personal fears and imaginings. Eventually he did the best he could to discourage that line of questioning.

"Doc I need to get out of here, there are two prisoners in the jail. I need to go check on them and talk to Quint about what happened out there."

"The prisoners are being taken care of, and you're not going anywhere just yet."

Doc gave his patient some time to think, then started again.

"Something happened when you went to arrest Ronnie Pickens, over on the Republican River. I think that is when all this started." He waited a while but got no answer. "I'm right aren't I?" he continued.

Just the sound of the words brought vivid pictures back to Matt's mind.

"I don't want to discuss it, Doc." It made his head hurt to just think about it.

"The time will come when you will. We'll try again later."

The physician stood up and returned his chair to its place by the window.

"I'll bring you something to eat in a while," were his parting words as he left.

ooo000ooo

Matt was alone. He didn't want to sleep because the images would return, and he had no way to stop them. He knew that it was at least two months since he had had a restful night, maybe longer. He also knew he had been short tempered and had vague recollections of unnecessary sharp words to Doc and Quint. Worst of all he knew he had acted harshly towards Kitty, and she certainly didn't deserve that.

Doc must have been called away because to the best of Dillon's knowledge the physician never returned with the promised food. The afternoon wore on slowly and eventually, even though he tried to avoid it, he fell asleep. The visions came back. He saw the face of Ronnie Pickens laughing at him. Even as the outlaw lay on the ground with a bullet from Matt's gun buried deep in his chest there was still that mocking smile on his face. Matt buried the man out there on the prairie near the spot where he had fallen, then, when the last shovel-full of dirt was back in place, he stood for a moment trying to experience the relief he should have felt, but it did not come. There was a gust of wind, colder than the surrounding air, and the marshal was sure he heard that evil laugh again. It would haunt him forever.

Pickens had been one of those people who were born evil. Matt first became aware of the man when a telegram had arrived on his desk followed shortly by a full-sized wanted poster. Pickens was said to be around five feet ten with dark hair and eyes. The poster showed a drooping mustache on the smiling face. It was not a pleasant smile, more like a smirk, and it was something of a trade mark. The man had killed at least fifteen people - men, women, and children. He would take what little they had and move on. Any that survived always remarked on the grin on his face as he pulled the trigger. The money was not important to Pickens. It was the energy and thrill he got from the killing that drove him on.

The murderer was thought to be in Kansas, he might even have been planning to come to Dodge City. About a month later, more by accident than design, Matt had come across Pickens. He was on his way home after delivering a prisoner to Hays. It had been a long trip, and he found himself falling asleep in the saddle. He knew, from traveling this route so often, that there as a small creek just beyond the slight rise off to his right. He would stop for a moment and splash some of the cold water on his face - that should wake him up. As he topped the rise he could see someone else kneeling by the shallow water's edge. From the distance he could not tell what the man looked like, or even if he knew him, but his job as a lawman had made him overly cautious. Totally awake now, he circled the man who seemed oblivious to his presence, and from the shelter of a group of rangy bushes he managed to see his face. Dillon had a good memory for faces - especially those he saw on wanted posters - and this one was all too fresh in his mind.

It had been strangely easy to arrest the man and bring him back to the jail in Dodge, but keeping him in custody had proved to be more difficult.

TBC