It Could Have Been Worse
The 100-mile trip to Hays City could hardly have been anything but uneventful since the six witnesses, half from Dodge City and half from nearby in Ford County occupied all the seats and there was no robbery attempt, not even when they stopped to rest and eat at the relay station. It's where Jim Buck replaced the original driver and reassured Marshal Matt Dillon they carried nothing of value. Even so the lawman expected trouble all the way into Hays. Matt didn't breath a sigh of relief until the horses slowed as they approached the depot and he spotted the two-person reception committee. Frank Reardon stood on the boardwalk ready to open the door as soon as the coach stopped, the Cheyenne woman he loved, Maria, beside him. Despite the closeness the two couples shared Frank assumed a no nonsense attitude in front of them, Doc, the three strangers sharing their coach and even the driver.
"Trial starts tomorrow at nine. I reckon you folks will be ready. I'm Frank Reardon, Hays City Sheriff," Frank told the strangers while neglecting to introduce his female companion.
"I'm sorry our sheriff is so rude," Maria said in an effort to cover her man's social gaffe. "Frank's just happy to see our friends. However, even though it's a bit late for dinner Sheriff Reardon did remember to reserve a large table in the restaurant for all of us. I'm Maria Soaring Eagle," she added with a welcoming smile as she held out her hand.
"Pardon me fer askin' but I thought squaws were all on reservations with their bucks?" Rod Gilbert responded with an implied question rather than a handshake.
"We do need to remind our menfolk of the niceties from time to time, the farm woman replied, embarrassed by her husband's open prejudice. "I'm Cora Gilbert, the man who didn't shake your hand is my husband Rod and the boy's our nephew Peter Patterson."
Raised to be polite and having grown used to the ignorance of whites about the ways of her people, Maria ignored the man's impudence before his wife apologized for him and turned to the eight-year-old. Peter Patterson excitedly shook her hand. Unlike his uncle the boy was thrilled to meet a real Indian. He was the first of his family to followed her to the restaurant across from the depot while the sheriff let Jim Buck know where the stage company porter should put his passengers' bags. Jim, with the help of the depot's two teenage porters, carried the three carpetbags, medical bag and valise to the hotel before hauling the marshal and saloon owner's luggage to the front porch of Maria's cozy home.
By the time dessert was served Rod, despite his initial distrust, had ceased to be wary of Maria's presence thanks to her warmth and an explanation of her presence. Without revealing any of the details Maria told of traveling with Frank from her mission school in Colorado, meeting Kitty, Matt and Doc along the way and deciding to try using her sewing and healing skills in Hays rather than going with her family to the reservation. She'd just completed her tale when the reason they were all there intruded. The prosecutor for tomorrow's trial, Will Prescott, approached their table to let his witnesses know that they would be interviewed in turn after they'd settled in at the hotel or, in Matt and Kitty's case, Maria's house.
Cora hesitated when she entered the hotel lobby with her family and Doc and saw their bags in front of the desk. She was unsure of the proprieties of a young boy she barely knew sharing a room with a husband and wife but felt he was too young for his own hotel room even if they could afford it. Doc, knowing the government's propensity to save as much as they could on small matters like providing expenses for out of town witnesses, solved her dilemma by volunteering to share his room with the lad.
Once these four witnesses settled in Prescott invited them one at a time to his own suite of rooms down the hall from their adjoining ones. The lawyer began probing what they knew with Rod Gilbert, followed by Doc and then Mrs. Gilbert. He asked Cora Gilbert, in deference to the witness' age, to stay in the room while he talked with eight-year-old Peter Patterson.
With only Kitty Russell and Marshal Dillon remaining to be interviewed the prosecutor left the hotel to called upon them a couple of blocks away at Maria's home. Her cottage, across a side street from the large sheriff's office, was convenient to both Maria's customers and Frank. Women could take advantage of her fine dressmaking, the local doctor could ask for her help in caring for patients and Frank could eat and sleep there without calling attention to the fact it was the home of a Cheyenne woman intimately involved with their sheriff.
By the time Will Prescott was invited inside Maria and Kitty were already relaxing in the combined living room and kitchen with their feet in slippers, taking advantage of the absence of their men. Matt and Frank had drifted across the alley to the jailhouse but not before Frank moved Kitty's small trunk, carpetbag and two hatboxes, along with Matt's carpetbag, into the spare bedroom where the Hays couple's closest friends would sleep. Matt, despite the handicap of having one arm in a sling and the other holding onto a cane, protested that they only allowed him to carry his saddlebags. To placate him Frank had agreed to walk with him across the street to the jail.
Reviewing Kitty Russell's testimony took no more than 15 minutes. He didn't think he'd have to spend anywhere near the hour he'd spent with his second most important witness Matt Dillon since the marshal was used to providing the main testimony in a case. He found Sheriff Reardon sitting with both legs propped up and his chair tilted against the wall. The marshal was in a similar position in a chair beside the desk. The heavy door to the cells were closed allowing the two men to chat quietly so the deputy scanning wanted posters wouldn't overhear them.
Once the deputy left to eat his supper the prosecutor went over the bare facts of Dillon's testimony. The interview lasted only ten minutes more than it took to review what Miss Russell would say on the witness stand. Still, he couldn't help but feel the marshal was reluctant to reveal everything that happened from the time he boarded the stage in Larned until he and Peter Patterson arrived at the Gilbert farm. He hoped this strange reluctance wouldn't impact the success of the prosecution.
"Frank, do you mind if I visit with the prisoners?" Matt asked as soon as Prescott left. "I want to see how Shumway reacts to me standing in front of him."
"Alright Matt, as long as I'm with you. I don't want to take any chances his reaction will have an effect on tomorrow's trial," he added, echoing the prosecutor's fears.
Matt dismissed his best friend's concern for his vulnerable condition and the possibility it would lead to an escape attempt that at best could injure him further. However, in consideration of that friendship he readily agreed to Frank's presence, but also elected to show as little physical weakness as possible. Therefore, when the two lawmen stepped into the area housing the prisoners the marshal left his cane behind but wore his gun on his hip. He stood back from the cell yet close enough for Shumway to see him clearly. Upon seeing the hate and shock on the outlaw's face Matt took two steps backward to lean against the facing cell, not out of fear but to ease his weight off the injured leg, which now throbbed.
He'd planned on asking a question, but seeing the answer on the outlaw's face, turned on his heel and left to more completely ease the pain. Frank, following close behind, closed the door to the cells to watch his friend collapse into the nearest chair. Neither man spoke for a full five minutes before Matt picked up his cane and limped across the alleyway toward the house to lean against the doorframe until Maria let him inside. Mumbling something to Kitty as he passed her, the usually robust man made his way as quickly as his compromised body would allow into the room set aside as their bedroom. She followed to help in whatever way she could.
Matt slept through supper at the house but Doc, who joined the two couples for the meal, wasn't too concerned that there were four seated around the table rather than five. He felt the toll the long trip placed on the marshal's body caused his extreme fatigue and that a long, restful nap combined with a good night's sleep would refresh him for the next day's trial.
Except for waking long enough to eat a small portion of the supper Maria warmed for him, Matt slept until Kitty entered the room to turn in for the night. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but could see he was awake, despite his effort to hide it, when she curled up under the covers next to him. Reading and understanding his mood, she dimmed the bedside lamp and let sleep renew her own tired body until Matt's nightmare woke her. Kitty gently then more violently, narrowly missing a black eye while doing so, shook the man beside her until he too was awake.
"What's wrong, Cowboy? You want to talk about it? What did you dream?"
"Sorry I woke you, honey. I reckon I owe it to you to tell you what I dreamt. I dreamed about my hanging in April. Only this time when you, Frank and Maria arrived in time to keep my neck from breaking it didn't end with us going home. Instead I repeatedly was tortured and hanged."
"You don't see a connection, but I do. What Shumway and his men did to you ten days ago reminds you of how Quinton and Watkins tortured you in Quinton. Whatever the similarities, you're not the one on trial this time. As the main prosecution witness you're in control not vindictive men who choose to try you for murder in a kangaroo court under the name of a murdered drifter riding for Jake Worth, Harley Fitznoble. That's all I'll say because right now we both need sleep."
The trial moved swiftly. Every prosecution witness except Matt Dillon had been called to the stand by the time Judge Kendall declared an hour's recess for dinner. Matt, having lost his usual hearty appetite, pushed more food around on his plate than he forked into his mouth. He was somewhat mollified Will Prescott hadn't asked Pete to explicitly describe how the ransom reached the kidnappers nor dwelt on the boy rescuing him from drowning despite Doc's earlier testimony about finding fluid in his lungs. The defense also ignored those troubling details, probably to spare the child. That wouldn't be the case for a big, tough no nonsense US Marshal. Matt didn't feel all that big or tough as he was sworn in and the questioning began.
"Marshal Dillon, we've established you were on the stage to escort young Peter Patterson to his temporary legal guardians, his uncle and aunt Mr. and Mrs. Rodney Gilbert, while his father, his only remaining parent, completed a prison sentence. Was there a secondary assignment?"
"Yes. Help the driver and shotgun guard protect the strongbox with the Army's $25,000 inside."
Matt's testimony confirmed what Pete had stated under oath about the robbery and their kidnapping. In addition, he testified that their fellow passenger Brad Shumway, also known as Brad Murphy, by his conduct during and after the robbery was the one who ordered Gordon Clarkson and Flint Iverson to kill the driver Slim Tompkins and shotgun guard Reese Norway. By his responses to Prescott's carefully phrased questions, designed to build the prosecution case without forcing disclosure of prurient details, the jury learned eight-year-old Pete was afforded more freedom of movement, food and water than the lawman, whose hands were cuffed behind his back and further secured by a rope tightly tied to a bedstead except when outside the cabin where they were held. Matt didn't expect the same skirting of the details from the defense, but they did.
"Mr. Dillon, can you be absolutely certain the three defendants were the same men who robbed and kidnapped you and Peter Patterson, the lad it was your sworn duty to protect? Couldn't Bradford Shumway, a mere hardware accessories salesman, have escaped and later joined up with his codefendants Mr. Gordon Clarkson and Mr. Flint Iverson out of self-preservation while you totally failed?"
"I'm sure of everything I've said. Shumway was and is their boss. He's the one with the strongbox and ransom money in his possession when they were arrested. If I failed it's only because I lacked opportunity to succeed. Dying without setting Pete free meant throwing away my life for nothing whether or not I recovered the money. Fact is, I did nearly die."
"Nicely rationalized, but isn't it possible Mr. Shumway and his companions killed the actual road agents in a confrontation and were bringing the money to the nearest town when they were arrested by your friend the sheriff based on a traumatized boy's description?"
"I may not be a lawyer, but I've been around the law long enough to know any doubt raised has to be reasonable. Your fable's hardly that even if you don't take into account the odds against all three men looking like your fictional trio or the implication that Sheriff Reardon ignored their protests of innocence. If that were true, you'd have pressed Frank on the point when he was on the stand."
Despite a valiant attempt to cast further doubt on Matt's testimony, the defense failed. The jury retired at four and returned at five with their verdict of guilty. The 12 men unanimously agreed as soon as they gathered in the room set aside for them that Clarkson and Iverson were murderers and kidnappers. The only initial doubt they had was if Shumway was guilty of more than kidnapping and attempted murder since he was inside the coach when the murders occurred and told Iverson not to kill the boy Pete. In the end, that tiny fact turned the tide for the one holdout. Only the boss of the outfit could have ordered restraint concerning killing a child.