The Only Man I Can Trust

Chapter 11.

Chester and Tebbers were staying well back from the men they were following. The jailer had no idea what he was going to do when they all arrived at the hideout. There were too many of them to take down. He was hoping he would think of something when the time came, just like Mr. Dillon always did. It would all be happening any minute now.

He heard voices. One of them was Mr. Dillon for sure. He stopped for a moment then looked back to see if Hugh Tebbers was still behind him. He could make out the sound of laughter ahead. Ugly, mocking laughter. It reminded him of the days when folks used to poke fun and laugh at him because they saw him as weak and useless. Suddenly he felt angry inside, knowing that the man who had put an end to all that kind of hateful ugliness, was in trouble.

The horse beneath him lurched forward into a fast canter as he dug his left spur into its flank, and loosened the reins to give him his head. It wasn't easy cantering with one leg held stiffly out to the side, but over the years he had become quite proficient at it. There was only one thought on his mind - get to the shack as fast as possible. He hoped that Tebbers would follow behind, but didn't have time to look back and check

There was about a hundred yards to go when the trail abruptly ended, and he burst into the clearing in front of the shack. He hadn't been seen yet. Probably because the men in front of him were too busy watching Carp as he walked towards Dillon. The marshal was sagging to the ground and the self-appointed sheriff had lifted a boot and was about to lay it into the already broken ribs.

In one move Chester grabbed his rifle and dismounted even before his horse had slowed to a walk. He could sense that Tebbers was behind him somewhere, but wasn't sure how far away.

"Hold it right there, Carp!" he yelled at the man who had already landed one kick into the ribs of the crumpled marshal. The jailer moved closer still aiming the Winchester so as to cover all four men. "I can put a big hole in ya from here, mister, so just put your hands up and back away. You men do the same." He moved the barrel of the weapon in a small arc to cover all of them. Tebbers had arrived. He could hear the man dismounting from his horse.

"You," he said pointing at Carp. "Take off your gun belt slowly and toss it over here."

Carp made no move to comply with the order. Instead he opened his mouth to make some snide comment to the marshal's assistant about no one-legged man being strong enough to take him down, but Chester's anger had already risen to the surface, and Carp was no longer so sure he'd be safe from the bullets in that rifle.

"Don't make me ask ya twice Carp." Chester's dark eyes narrowed impatiently. "I don't have all day to stand around waitin'."

The anger in Chester's voice was obvious now, and Carp thought the man might just fire at him. No one wanted to be shot with a rifle at this close range - it could do too much damage. He decided not to take the risk. Chester had cocked the rifle and was already lifting it to take aim. That movement convinced Carp that now was not the time to raise objections.

Carp's gun and holster landed a few feet in front of Chester, so he stepped a little to the side to maintain a clear view of his quarry before calling to Tebbers.

"Hugh, come here and git this gun, will ya"?"

Tebbers, who was a little timid by nature looked at him for a minute.

"Come on." Chester encouraged. "I've got him covered. He knows I'll blow a hole clean through 'im if he so much as looks at me funny - and you men," he turned to the other three still standing there trying to decide what to do, "You throw yer guns down too. Any tricky business and your boss gits it right in the belly."

The sour look on Chester's face convinced them that he was serious. They dropped their guns to the ground.

"Go pick 'em up," he instructed Tebbers.

Fleur appeared around the door, still cautious of what she might find.

Chester didn't quite know what to do with the four men he had taken prisoner. He looked at the dilapidated hovel in front of him. It didn't have a lot to offer, but there were four wooden posts holding up the front porch. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Fleur helping Mr. Dillon to stand upright. He wanted to call out to him and check that he was all right - but at the same time knew not to take his eyes off of the four men he was holding at gun point.

His boss seemed to have recovered enough to get to his feet.

"Get the lariats from their horses, Chester." His voice was a little weaker than usual.

The jailer turned to Tebbers. "You heard what Mr. Dillon said. Go fetch those ropes."

By now, Dillon was back on his feet, pointing his colt pistol directly at Carp. Hugh returned with the lassos he had taken from the saddles on the four men's horses.

"Here, hold this rifle." Chester handed the weapon over to him in exchange for the ropes. "If any of 'em breath hard, let 'em have it."

He wasn't too sure if Tebbers would actually fire, but as long as everyone else believed it was possible, this might work.

"Tie Carp first …right here." Dillon indicated the post he'd been leaning on.

Chester had worked around cattle long enough to know how to hog-tie a body. With the likes of Carp he had no hesitation about tightening the rope until it hurt. Somebody who would kick a man when he was down, like Carp had just done, wasn't hardly fit to be thought of as a man anyway.

Once he'd secured the prisoner, he turned to look at his boss. The man was still holding on to the wooden pillar for support and Chester thought he looked a little pale. He was still managing to hold his gun steady and his eyes were clearly focused on the three men standing in front of him. The marshal was checking them over - each in turn.

"You," he said indicating the one closest to him, who also appeared to be the youngest, "Take those ropes and tie your friends up. Do a good job or your boss here will get a bullet in his leg."

Chester watched as the man willingly obeyed, and tied his two companions securely to the remaining poles holding up the remnants of the porch roof. It didn't look to be a really secure structure - but it would work for now. He called the young man over to him once he'd finished.

"Come over here and give me a hand." The lad came obediently; it didn't look like he would give anyone much trouble. Carp called some comment to the boy about remembering who paid him.

"You jest shut yer mouth, Carp," Chester growled at him. "You ain't gonna be paying no-one where yer headed."

"I promise you'll be the first one I come after." Trent Carp was feeling humiliated in front of his men and by a one-legged cripple no less. He at least had to make a show of being strong.

Chester ignored him and turned to his boss.

"Come on, Mr. Dillon, let's git you back inside. Miss Fleur you best come back inside, too. These men ain't fit for a lady to be around." Chester looked at the young man beside him. "What's yer name?" he asked. He realized this wasn't much more than a kid.

The youngster hung his head and mumbled, "They call me Rico. I didn't really want to be with them, Mr. Chester, but I didn't have a place to stay or anything to eat and Mr. Farrell took me in."

Chester wasn't sure if that was the truth. Farrell wasn't among the men they had tied up on the front porch, so he took the boy at his word.

"Well, see here, Rico. Mr. Dillon's a United States Marshal, and I work for him. If you want to help us, that's fine, but don't you double cross me or I'll come after you, fer sure."

"I understand, Mr. Chester. I'd rather work for you. Those men would beat me sometimes - just for nothing."

"Then give me a hand here, Rico."

By this time, Matt was sagging slowly to the ground again, but Chester with Rico's help got him back on his feet and inside the tumble-down shack, where they managed to settle him back in the corner once more.

Chester knew that Dillon wouldn't agree to go back to Dodge without finishing his job here. They needed some help. He had to send Tebbers back to town and get that telegram sent to Hays, but at the same time he was worried that the rest of Carp's men would come back looking for the man who paid them. He couldn't really trust Rico and also wasn't certain he could handle the rest of the men by himself if they did show up.

He went out onto the porch and checked on the two men tied up out there. Each of them seemed pretty secure for the time being. He picked up the Colt pistol with the distinctive grip. It was lying there on the porch near where Mr. Dillon had been standing. His boss must have dropped it. He stuck it in the waistband of his pants for now, then he walked over to where Tebbers was sitting on an old stump, watching the prisoners.

"It would be a heckuva lot easier if we could get these no-goods locked up in the jail, but I don't think that can happen while half of Carp's men are still out there on the loose. One of us is gonna hafta go back to town and send that wire to Hays. It'd probably be better if you went so's I can stay here and keep an eye on things. We might need some vittles here too - and how about some coffee?"

"Chester! The marshal's asking for you." The voice belonged to Fleur, and she was standing at the entrance to the ramshackle farmhouse they had made their refuge. Chester turned towards her, still trying to take stock of everything that needed to be done, but if Mr. Dillon needed him, he had to go.

"I'll be back in a jiffy," he told Tebbers as he turned and walked towards Fleur. He was worried about his boss.

Dillon still looked pale and drawn. The sweat on his forehead and the look in his eyes revealed some of the pain he was experiencing.

"Chester," his voice was a little rough. "We're gonna need some help here."

"Yes, Mr. Dillon. I was gonna send Hugh Tebbers back to town and have him send a wire to Hays to see if we could get us a deputy or two to come down."

"Good thinking." Matt coughed a little and held his ribs for a moment. Chester waited patiently.

Matt continued, "I plan to take these men in, so that they can stand trial for the murder of John Hicks and his deputy." The marshal stopped to take a couple of breaths. "But I really want Spike Holcombe too. Don't scare him away. I think he'll come looking for me, so finding him won't be a problem." He leaned back against the saddle and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Here Mr. Dillon, I got yer gun for ya. You musta dropped it outside there. I'll put it right here next to ya." Carefully he placed the six-gun on the floor close to his boss's right hand.

He barely heard the mumbled reply, "Thanks, Chester."

Chester watched as his boss drifted off to sleep once more, grateful to see him alive and breathing, if somewhat the worse for wear.

TBC