AN: Thank you well-mannered guest for your review. You always offer excellent insight. Mary, I chose Brookville because it was conveniently located & was founded in 1870, the year this story is set. However, I did take some liberties with your hometown in that in the story it's well enough established to have a stage depot with a telegraph office inside it to allow my story to move forward.
Meanwhile Back in Dodge
The tired team pulling the driverless stage raced down Front Street, coming to a sudden halt in front of the jailhouse as if that were their destination. Chester certainly never thought it was simply where the horses stopped from total exhaustion. His mind was too filled with what Mr. Dillon would expect him to do about it to wonder why the stage halted here rather than the depot. He wasn't even aware of the townsfolk pouring out of the various businesses along the street to view the curious spectacle.
Despite his agitated feelings and confusion, the jailer was the first to notice the dead driver and guard and to check inside where he feared he'd see more bodies. What he did find didn't make him feel any better. Even so, by the time Kitty Russell reached the coach and Doc had instructed six of the men to take the bodies down from the box, Chester was back inside the jailhouse staring at a very familiar gun belt with a bone-handled Peacemaker still in the holster he'd removed from the seat. He drew it out slowly, failing to notice the note affixed to the trigger until the gun was halfway out of the leather. Shocked, he backed out of the office door nearly bowling over Kitty who'd finally pushed her way through the curious and restless crowd to reach it.
Chester, with sudden resolve, issued orders for whatever remained in or on the stage to be carried inside Mr. Dillon's office and piled upon the table. There wasn't much. Just a cardboard valise and carpetbag with a child's clothing and the marshal's saddlebags and carpetbag with his clothing and the usual items he took along when escorting a prisoner, except the handcuffs. A man dressed like a farmer, who'd carried one of the carpetbags and the cardboard valise inside, joined Chester Doc and Kitty in the office. Matt's assistant was all set to chase the stranger out with a sincere thank you so he and his two friends could read the note, but the man didn't give him a chance.
"I reckon we have more right to know what happened with that stage than your two friends, Mister Acting Marshal," he said motioning his brown-haired wife, who wore a calico dress and plain bonnet, forward from where she stood by the door. "Our nephew was on that stage with the marshal. A boy brung us a telegraph sayin' so."
"Well forevermore! You gotta be the Gilberts. Them two bags yah brung in must be Peter Patterson's. I reckon y'all do belong in here. Doc, you got somethin' to say?" Chester added seeing the physician's expression. "You always do."
"Don't let me stop you from making a mess of things. You didn't pay attention to what was in Matt's telegram, did you Chester? If you had you might not have been about to put your foot in your mouth as usual before Mr. Gilbert saved your bacon."
"Doc, instead of tellin' me what I done wrong in my job, you might just do yours and tend to the two men that was carried up tah yer office. Miss Kitty can tell yah what's in this here note later," Chester declared as he handed the piece of paper he'd removed from Matt's gun to Kitty.
"Slim and Reese are dead from gunshot wounds. No autopsy will tell me, or anyone else, different. Kitty, hurry up and read the note," he groused.
Kitty glanced at Matt's belongings on the office table to buck up her courage. The note contained answers to the fate of Marshal Matt Dillon and the motherless eight-year-old Peter Patterson. There was nothing to be gained by putting it off. She forced herself to begin reading, shocked to see Matt's handwriting. Still, seeing it gave her reason to hope.
"Choose an older man known and respected by everyone and a pretty, young woman, almost as familiar to most of the men, to drive a buggy to the stand of trees on the south side of the river three miles due south of Fort Dodge by noon tomorrow. Once there place my carpetbag containing nothing but $5,000 in the hollow trunk of the oak with the hole facing the water. Matt Dillon."
She paused a second then continued reading but with more difficulty. A second set of instructions that followed was both harder and easier to read even without tears.
"Aunt Cora and Uncle Rod follow the two in the buggy in your wagon with at least $500 in my emptied cardboard case and put it with Mr. Dillon's bag. Pete Patterson."
A third person wrote the final sentence. It had to be one of the kidnappers.
"We'll tell you where to collect the man and boy once you've shown good faith by exactly following what they wrote. Be sure none of you carries any weapons."
"At least we know they were still alive when this note was written," Kitty remarked grimly when she finished reading. "It's Matt's handwriting and what looks a child's scrawl, one who's recently begun learning script. Let's hope they're still alive tomorrow when we deliver the ransom."
Leaving Chester to look for whatever clues Matt might have been able to leave as to the identity or plans of the outlaws the remaining four began the process of fulfilling the demand. They went to every business still open for contributions toward the money that needed to be raised in the 15 hours left to them. In actuality it was more like eight hours because there was the hour or more it would take to get to the drop off point and even in Dodge City people who had both the means and inclination to risk any amount for a lawman and a boy took time to eat their suppers and sleep.
A discouraged quintet met at the jailhouse the following morning. None of the reputable citizens contacted thus far were willing to part with any of their hard earned savings on the slim chance Matt Dillon and Peter Patterson were still alive to be redeemed. Dodge House owner Jim Dolby voiced what many others thought.
"Even if against all odds they're still alive chances are the money will be lost forever. I'm sorry but we have to face facts."
There was only one thing left to do since Doc's $100 and Chester's five weren't nearly enough to meet the ransom demand. They had to get a loan from the bank.
"Mr. Bodkin, our nephew has lost so much recently. We can't allow him to lose his life too because we did nothing. We'll mortgage the farm to get the $500 they want."
"I'll mortgage my share of the Long Branch and grant the bank a lien against future earnings to meet the $5,000 they want for Matt. Are you willing to take even that small risk to possibly save a child and a man who's saved your bank from loss more than once?"
If Doc's will risk losing the $100 he currently has on deposit, I'm willing to loan you $500 Mr. Gilbert and you $5,000 Miss Kitty. I'll even forego any standard interest payments if the loans are paid in full within six months."
Doc's $100 sweetened Pete's ransom. Chester, wanting to play his part, donated the $2 Bridge Street toll to allow the buggy and farm wagon to cross to the south side of the Arkansas and back. The small procession drove eastward at a steady, brisk walk to the designated spot six miles east of town. At precisely noon, after locating the designated tree, they placed the two bags into the hollow as instructed. In less than a minute a voice yelled from across the way.
"I see you can follow instructions. Now we'll do our part."
"Hold on just a second," a very crotchety doctor yelled back. "Before we allow you to enrich yourselves, we'd like proof the two you're holding are alive."
"Alright old man. We'll let you glimpse them through the trees while we tell you what you gotta do to get them back."
Within seconds, two people, ropes around their chests, could be seen between gaps in the trees on the north bank. There was no way to tell for certain if they were alive or merely standing because the ropes and the men behind them holding a hand over their mouths held them erect. However, it was all the proof the kidnappers were willing to allow so the anxious quartet accepted they'd get was the final set of instructions.
"Return to town and make sure no one looks for us if you want to see these two again. At two leave Dodge in your buggy and wagon for the north side of the Santa Fe tracks where the Hays Road branches off from the Spearville Road. You'll know you're in the right place if you see a large boulder with a single tree on the Spearville side and two on the Hays side. Dillon and the boy will be tied to those trees."
Still worried, the quartet waited in the Long Branch where, if they wished, they could nibble at the free lunch without wasting money on a dinner they knew they'd only pick at. It was past one by the time they parked the buggy and wagon in front of the saloon, but that remaining hour until they could leave dragged on as if it were an entire day. Nearly exhausted from the tension they arrived at the fork six miles east of town shortly after three. Matt and Pete were tied to the trees as promised, but their relief was short lived.