The Only Man I Can Trust

Chapter 7

Fleur felt quite enamored with Chester as she walked away from the livery. At first she had not been too impressed by the man with the stiff leg, but having listened to his plan she decided that not only was he smart, he was brave as well. It took someone with courage to do what Chester intended. He was planning to get himself arrested so he would be locked in the jail, hopefully only for one night. That would give him chance to check that Mr. Dillon was there, and see if he was fit to travel. Meantime she was to put together another picnic basket, complete with wine. Chester was hoping that Farrell would confiscate the basket and eat and drink the contents, which would make their job a lot easier.

Fleur told him that she had some sleeping powders stashed away. She sometimes used them to ensure that her 'customers' slept well, thus enabling her to collect her pay and, she had to admit, sometimes a little extra. She had learned by experience that the powders dissolved easily in wine and hardly changed the taste at all - not that any of these cowboys knew how wine should taste anyway. Long ago, so long it seemed as if it had been in a different lifetime, she had dined on fine food and wine. Now look at her. The downward slide had happened all too quickly, and, thanks to men like Carp and Farrell, the place she was at now had become her new standard. She thought she had reached the bottom, and there was no hope for her. Then someone decent, like Chester and his boss, Marshal Dillon, came along, and she remembered how honest people lived.

It was well after midnight when Chester entered the Aces High saloon. It was still a hive of activity. Four poker tables were going strong and all had large stacks of money on display. There was a Faro table along the back wall, attracting the attention of about a dozen cowboys who, he thought, must be from local ranches, because they sure didn't look like they had just ridden up from Texas. He hadn't decided how he was going to make this work, but to start with he staggered a little as he walked to the bar and then ordered a whisky in a loud voice.

Seeming to be unsteady on his feet he bumped into a cowboy who was peacefully drinking a beer at the bar. As intended the beer spilled, and the man turned on him, pulling his gun.

"Whoa there, mister!" Chester slurred. "Look! I'm not wearing a gun. Just an accident, that's all it was." With that, he fell, bumping into the man again. "Well, I swan," he slurred,"I'm as clumsy as a bear tonight. Hey, now you don't haffta get all het up over a little spilled beer." He gave a loud hiccough followed by a drunken laugh, but the man whose beer he'd spilled wasn't laughing. He started throwing punches. Chester did his best not to get beat-up too bad, while, at the same time, trying to land a punch or two himself. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a voice calling for the sheriff, and before long, he was being pulled away from the bar by two of Carp's men. He found himself being dragged along the street towards the jail. He knew he had a few bruises but wasn't as badly hurt as he made out.

Much to his delight, he found himself being pushed roughly into an empty cell.

"You just stay there, mister, till you sober up. Then you'll have to leave town. Mr. Carp don't tolerate no troublemakers like you here."

Chester laid back gratefully on the old cot. "Don't you worry none, I ain't going nowhere," he called as he heard the lock on the cell door fall into place.

The cell was filthy, and he certainly didn't plan on staying longer than necessary. "Hey!" he yelled again to the men as they began to leave, "Is this the best room ya got? And ya won't ferget to bring breakfast in the morning, will yer?"

He laughed and hiccoughed again - just for effect, but the men were already leaving. When he heard the footsteps retreat as the door to the cells closed, he carefully sat up and looked around. There were three cells - just like in Dodge, but these were in much worse condition.

There was only one other cell with someone in it. The occupant was so long that his feet hung off the end of the cot. Chester stood up and listened. He could hear voices coming from beyond the door, but none seemed to be headed his way. He walked to the bars and stopped to look around and listen again.

"Mr. Dillon," he finally called in a loud whisper. "Is that you?"

The form on the cot sat up slowly. For a moment there was silence.

"Chester?" Matt sat there, looking around in amazement. "How did you get here?"

"It's kind of a long story, Mr. Dillon, but me and some friends are gonna git you outta here; then we can head on back to Dodge."

"I can't leave until I take Carp. He's wearing a badge that he's got no right to, and he's abusing what it stands for. I have to stop him."

"We'll hep ya, Mr. Dillon. There's a lot of people in town who would like to see him gone. They just ain't got the courage to do anything about it. I reckon they'll listen to you though."

For the first time Chester noticed the groggy look in his boss's eyes.

"You alright, Mr. Dillon?" There was concern in his voice.

"I'll be fine, Chester - just a little tired, that's all," he lied, even as the pain of a broken rib or two kept him from moving around.

"You git yourself some sleep, and leave it all to me. We'll git ya outta here, don't you worry none."

There was silence between the two men mostly because they didn't have much more to say and certainly didn't want to attract the attention of Carp's men. Eventually both slipped into an uneasy sleep. Matt, as a course of habit, only let himself doze for short spells here and there, while Chester, after a short while, could be heard snoring quite loudly.

()()()

Morning was ushered in with a slamming of doors and clanging of metal. Farrell appeared on the scene waving a ring of keys.

"Wake up, stranger!" He undid the lock to Chester's cell, making twice as much noise as necessary. "It's time for you to leave town. Mr. Carp doesn't like drunks who cause trouble and he doesn't like feeding them either. If you're still here after noon today, he'll probably shoot you, so my advice is to leave."

Chester managed to stand up, stumbling a little as if he was still getting over a drunk. It wasn't all fake; he felt stiff and cold after an uncomfortable night. He noticed that his boss barely stirred in spite of all the commotion.

Farrell hurried him out through the front office and pushed him roughly onto the street.

"Be on your way!" he called loudly as he threw Chester's hat out the door after him.

Chester had stumbled to the ground, but hastily picked himself up, looking around to check that no one was watching. The town seemed used to such happenings, and no one even stopped what they were doing to glance his way. He dusted himself off, and half hopped, half ran, to the stable. He could hear Farrell laughing at him from back inside the Sheriff's office. He remembered how other people used to laugh at him - until Mr. Dillon came along that is. Now folks in Dodge saw him differently, and no one laughed anymore.

()()()

Chester had saddled his horse and made a show of leaving town, but as afternoon came he quietly made his way to the place described by Hugh and Fleur. They planned their meeting in a disused farm house just south of town, not far from the Arkansas River. Hugh had come across the old building some while ago and kept it in mind as a meeting place if ever he could get enough people together to do something about Carp and his men.

Chester hated to see a woman having to be involved in something as dangerous as this, but Fleur didn't seem worried. He knew things could easily go wrong but couldn't think of any other way. She would prepare a very appetizing picnic basket and add a good-looking bottle of wine, with one of the powders she mentioned she had, added to it. Chester went over the plans with her.

"Miss Fleur, ya have to be mighty careful now. Mr. Dillon wouldn't like it one bit if ya was ta get hurt. All you have ta do is to wait till that man Farrell is asleep, then open the door, and take off runnin fast as you can. Hugh will be waiting across the street with fresh horses. You come and git one and high tail it out here. Now, Miss Fleur, it won't be safe for you once they find out what's happened, so you need to ride fast as ya can. I'll get Mr. Dillon, then Tebbers and I will bring the marshal and we'll all meet up back here. Then we'll see what Mr. Dillon wants to do."

Chester wasn't used to organizing others. He was more a follower than a leader. He knew that, but now the man he usually followed was in trouble and needed his help. Somehow or other, he would stand up and play his part.

"Don't worry, Chester, I can handle Farrell." Carp's man had used her services several times since he had been in town. She didn't like him, but at least he paid and didn't hurt her too bad - usually. She still had bruises around her neck from when he had tried to question her about Dillon, but in her line of work that was an accepted part of the job.

()()()

It was late into the night, and Chester had been waiting in an alley near the jail. One of Carp's men was standing in front of the building, keeping watch. Somehow he would manage to take him out, but wasn't sure how. He had seen one other man, probably Carp, leave the jail so knew that Farrell was now alone. He signaled to Fleur that it was time to go. He watched her as she walked into the street, then approached Carp's guard. She stood talking to him, laughing and keeping his attention. Slowly it dawned on Chester what she was doing. The man was so distracted, by her manner and her very revealing dress that the marshal's assistant was able to come up behind him and bring the rifle butt down on the back of his head. The man never even turned around, just fell quietly to the ground.

"Miss Fleur, that was an awful dangerous thing ta do. He might have grabbed you and…. well…"

She laughed quietly and raised a hand to his blushing cheeks. "I can handle men, Chester. Don't worry so much."

With that, she swung the picnic basket over her arm and headed inside the Sheriff's office. Chester picked up the guard by his shoulders and dragged him back into the alley.

TBC