The Only Man I Can Trust

My thanks to all those folks who left comments to which I can't reply. Judy H, Cruelest Sea, Just a Guest and Pam. I appreciate your kind words.

Chapter 5

Morning came slowly to Chester. He stretched before sitting up and looking around. The fire, of course, had gone out, but he had collected a little kindling the night before in order to get it going again. That done and the coffee pot heating, he sat watching the flames and thought about what he should do. Mr. Dillon had sent a telegram specifically asking him to be here. He knew this was the right place, and he also knew that his boss wouldn't send a telegram just because the fishing was good.

Chester was worried; maybe something had happened. He was often guilty of thinking that Mr. Dillon was indestructible; he could out-draw, out-fight, out-think any man. Sadly, in reality he knew that wasn't always so.

The marshal hadn't been in Dodge City that long when Dan Gratt arrived. The first they knew of the man was when Jim Hill, the sheriff from Abilene, came into the office saying he had been tracking Gratt, and he was here to arrest him. The sheriff seemed to have a personal interest in arresting Gratt himself. He didn't want Dillon to get involved. Chester had been able to see how that affected his boss - he wanted to go out there and help the other lawman, but had no choice but to respect his request. Chester had watched as Gratt easily felled Jim Hill, right there on Front Street. He was the fastest gun he had ever seen, faster than Mr. Dillon even. He had wanted to go back to the office and get a rifle, but Dillon said no. Chester's blood ran cold as he watched his boss step out into the street to face gunman. He watched as two shots hit the marshal causing him to fall to the ground. He hated the satisfied look on Gratt's face, but even more he hated to see the terror on Miss Kitty's face as she tried to rush to Dillon's side.

Chester remembered that he was torn between supporting Miss Kitty and checking on his boss. He had sworn that, if Dillon died, he was going to get Gratt somehow, even if it was the last thing he ever did. Fortunately, because of Doc Adams skills and Mr. Dillon's strength, the marshal survived. He even faced Gratt a second time, but by then he had figured out the gunman's weakness, and so the law prevailed.

Chester's thoughts came back to the present. His problem hadn't changed. Mr. Dillon hadn't shown up; something must be wrong. The only thing he could do was ride into Great Bend and see what was going on. He saddled his horse and mounted up. By leaving now, he should reach the town by dark or shortly after. Fortunately this was a well-travelled road so he could make good time.

()()()

It was late evening when Chester arrived in Great Bend He was anxious to climb down from the saddle he had been sitting in for hours, so entered the first livery stable he came to. A man about his own age met him at the door.

"Howdy there, Mister, I was just thinking of closing up for the night."

"You got room for one more?" Chester asked.

"Sure, just put him in that stall over there." He indicated an empty stall on the right.

"You come far?"

"Quite a ways," Chester was non-committal. He remembered when he and Mr. Dillon had ridden to Elkader to track down Carey Post. The marshal had never told anyone in the town who they were, or what they were doing, until they found Cicero and persuaded him to confront Joe Phy.

The stable worker took the hint - it wasn't unusual for people to ride in and not want to say where they had come from. He would like to know a name just so he knew who to look for if they never came back to claim their horse. That's what had happened with that buckskin over there.

"Hugh Tebbers," he said as he reached out a hand to introduce himself.

Chester had to respond. "Wesley Meeks," he said trying to swallow his words. He had noticed the horse in the end stall. "Good looking animal there," he said walking towards it. It was definitely his boss's horse.

"Yeh, the owner brought him in several days ago. Came to check on him once or twice, but I haven't seen him in a couple of days now. May have to sell the animal off, to pay for his board, if he don't show up soon."

"Oh, don't do that!" Chester tried not to appear too anxious. "I could do with a mount like that. I'll cover his board for now."

"Just as you like, mister. So far he owes one dollar and fifty cents."

Fortunately Chester had taken some money from the petty cash box in the office safe before he'd set off from Dodge. He handed over three dollars.

"That should keep both of them for a while."

Tebbers looked at him strangely. "You know that horse? It was a big fella rode in on him."

"Yeh,... I...er... met up with him on the trail some days back." Chester wasn't very good at lying. "I'm sure he'll show up sooner or later, and then I'll get my money back."

"It's your money." Tebbers walked away while Chester untacked his horse and rubbed him down. When Tebbbers was out of sight he went to look at the saddle on the rack next to the buckskin - it was all there except for the saddle bags. No blood or anything unusual which meant that Dillon was somewhere in town. It wasn't like him not to check on the horse or pay for his board. Something was wrong.

"Where's a good place to stay in this town?" he called out to the stableman.

"You can get a room at the boarding house just back of here. It's reasonable."

Chester had no Idea where to start looking for Mr. Dillon. Maybe he would try the saloons, Mr. Dillon always seemed to think that was a good place to start. All evening the jailer walked the town, looking in every saloon, but found no sign that the marshal had ever been here.

At a loss to know what to do next, Chester found himself wandering into the Red Slipper saloon. It was seedy place with a floor that looked as if it hadn't been swept in weeks. The bar was sticky with dried beer stains, and the air was heavy with stale whisky and sweat. Chester ordered a beer and took it to an empty table in a dark corner. He had to think. He hadn't been sitting there long when a saloon girl came up to him. She wasn't young or pretty; her dress was torn and her hair unkempt.

"You want some company, Mister," she asked him through a forced smile."

Chester couldn't help but think that, in Dodge City, she wouldn't even have been good enough to work at the Texas Trail. Still, he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"Yeh, sit down if you want to, Ma'am. I'm pretty much broke, but I can buy y' a beer if you make it last."

She sat down next to him and patted his hand. Chester didn't really know what to do and took refuge in signaling to the barkeep to bring another beer.

"My name's Fleur," she informed him as the beer arrived.

He had to think a minute, "Wesley Meeks," he replied trying to hide his face behind the beer mug. He always had difficulty telling a lie.

"I've seen you goin' around town, Wesley. Looks like you're huntin' for something, or maybe someone."

"So maybe I am." Chester took a gulp of his beer, noticing that the mug it had been served in, had a chip out of the rim and didn't look it had been washed in a month.

Chester thought the girl was a little nervous. She kept looking around as if watching for someone. She began rubbing his arm, then quietly leaned over as if she was going to kiss him. He almost pulled away before she whispered in his ear, "Maybe I can help."

He was stunned for a moment and looked at her. She began to wrap her arms around his neck. Chester wasn't quite sure what to do. "Tell me who you're looking for, quickly now."

"Ma'am?" he repeated while trying to pull away. "I..umh...I don't..." He was somewhat embarrassed by her actions and didn't know what to say.

"I might have seen the man." At last she pulled away from him. After a breath or two, she laughed as if she was enjoying his company. "Try to look like you're having a good time. Someone might be watching."

Chester wasn't sure how to look like he was having a good time. "Look, lady I don't know what you're talking about." Then he noticed the bruises on her face and neck, hidden under carefully applied make-up. It looked like she'd been roughed up by someone. He knew Mr. Dillon wouldn't have done that.

"I got those marks because I wouldn't talk about him. You need to listen to me; he needs all the help he can get."

Chester looked at her. Had he found a friend or someone trying to get information?

"He told me his name was Matt."

Chester's eyes got bigger. Surely Mr. Dillon hadn't been...well...talking, with this woman.

"I see you're interested." She was back to stroking his arm. She leaned into his face. "Meet me in the alley behind the stable in two hours when I get off from here. Hugh Tebbers told me about you. He said you recognized the man's horse. I've been waiting all evening for you to find your way in here. Now put some money on the table and leave. Tell me you're not interested so that everyone can hear you."

Chester didn't know what else to do except follow her instructions.

TBC