The Only Man I Can Trust

Chapter 13

Fortunately, it was not the darkest of nights. The moon was almost full and the sky was perfectly clear which made the landscape show up as shadows of light and dark grey. The river reflected bursts of pale light on ripples that flowed along its surface, making the trail that ran along its edge much easier to follow.

Surprisingly enough, it hadn't been too difficult to get all the prisoners mounted and their horses tied in a string so either Rico or Chester himself could lead them. He wasn't sure how his boss managed to do it, but he had mounted up on the buckskin with no sign of pain or difficulty, then reached back to take Carp's horse in tow.

The marshal's assistant decided he would lead the way with the four prisoners, then Miss Fleur followed by Mr Dillon and Carp. Rico would bring up the rear just in case anything went wrong.

They had been riding for less than half an hour when Carp began to complain. Chester heard his boss tell the man that if he didn't like riding in the saddle, he could always find another way to bring him in. Even in the dim light, Carp could see that the marshal meant every word. The self-appointed sheriff was not a brave man unless he had his men to back him up, so, for the time being, he shut his mouth and concentrated on staying on his horse.

It was well before daylight when the little party arrived on the outskirts of town. By this time, the moon was about to set below the western horizon, so the town was dark and splashes of dense black shadow filled the alleyways. Matt couldn't help but think how Sheriff Hicks and his deputy had died, shot in the back amongst these dark, cold shadows. He knew that could just as easily be his fate too, one day, but hoped not. He would rather face his enemies out in the open. Spike Holcombe was headed his way, and he wasn't sure how that would play out. He thought that Holcombe would want an audience if it came to a shoot-out so that the gunman could brag about taking down a US marshal. Still, he couldn't be sure. Maybe Holcombe would decide it was safer to enlist some dark alley as his only witness.

There was no-one on the streets at all. All of the saloons were closed and even the hotel only had one oil lamp burning. Its light tried to penetrate the grimy glass of the windows but met with little success.

Dillon's ribs were reminding him of their battered state with every breath, but this was a job that had to be done. They had reached the jail, and he handed the rope that was leading Carp's horse to Chester. After a sharp word to his prisoner he carefully lowered himself to the ground and climbed up onto the board walk to try the door. Of course it was locked. Chester noticed how his boss was walking stiffly, making a deliberate movement out of each step he took.

Having no luck with the door, he called to whoever was inside.

"This is Marshal Dillon! I have your friend Carp out here. Come open this door before he gets hurt."

He could hear someone moving around inside, and banged on the door again to hurry them along. He wanted to get inside before more of Carp's remaining men showed up. He signaled to Chester to bring the man to him, but before he arrived, a disheveled looking Farrell opened the door a little. It was enough for Dillon to force it open, but the sudden movement re-kindled the fire in his chest. Chester could see what was happening. He stuck a gun to Carp's head and told him to move. Carp offered a mild objection but the cold muzzle of the pistol and the look in the jailer's eyes convinced him to comply. He was also a little sore after riding with his hands tied behind him for the two hours it took to get to town, and that took some of the fight out of him.

"That was a mean way to make a man ride," he complained to Chester.

Chester frowned, "You just be grateful ya was sat in the saddle and not layin' across it. Now move!"

Farrell didn't put up much of a fight either. By the bleary look in his bloodshot eyes, he was feeling the after effects of too much raw whisky from the last night, and probably from Fleur's wine from the night before.

There were four cells in the Great Bend jail. Dillon told Chester and Rico to put Carp by himself in one and the other men, including Farrell, in two of the others. He wanted to keep one cell empty incase they needed it later.

After searching and securing all of Carp's men, Chester returned to the front office to see his boss sitting there behind the desk. He was bending forward and wrapping his right arm around his ribs. Fleur was trying to get the stove going to make some coffee.

"Do you folks have a doctor in this town?" Chester asked her quietly, hoping the answer would be yes.

"No" she replied. " We used to have have one, old Doc Thorne, but he left shortly after Carp arrived. I think he saw what was going to happen."

Chester could see through the window where a few men were gathering in the street in front of the jail. One or two were carrying torches.

"What should we do Mr. Dillon?" Chester was worried now. He didn't know whose side those men were on.

"How many of them?" Dillon asked through clenched teeth.

Chester looked again, being careful not to make himself too easy a target.

"Probably about six, maybe eight," the jailer replied. Without getting squarely in front of the window, he couldn't be sure.

"Let's wait a minute and see what they want." Dillon was used to handling crowds, and as long as they were quiet, he knew it was best to leave them alone. Besides they would have a tough time storming the jail - there was only one door, so whoever came in first would be an easy target.

The coffee was ready, and Fleur had several mugs lined up on the desk all ready. Chester saw her lifting the hot pot from the stove and immediately went to help her.

"Let me take that Miss Fleur. It looks kinda heavy."

He'd picked up a rag hanging by the stove and took the pot from her. He was just about to pour the coffee when there was a gentle knock on the door.

"It's me, open up."

Chester recognized Tebbers' voice. With hot coffee pot in one hand, he unlocked the door with the other. Tebbers stumbled through the opening, having been pushed by a man he hadn't seen before, who was following closely behind. The man was holding a gun to Tebbers' back. Chester didn't stop to think. Seeing the gun, he knew something wasn't right. Without thinking, he threw the hot coffee at the stranger then reached out with his stiff leg and slammed the door closed, sliding the lock with his empty hand. The man dropped the gun and reached for his eyes, which had taken the brunt of Chester's attack.

Tebbers stood there, frozen to the spot, while the stranger was whimpering and rubbing his face where the coffee had hit.

"That's a terrible thing to do," the newcomer whined.

"What happened?" demanded Chester. He bent down to pick up the gun that the man had dropped. It took Tebbers a few moments to gather his wits before replying.

"I don't really know. I think he suspected something when I got back to town and followed me to the telegraph office. I'm not sure if 'ol man Billings got your message out or not, Marshal. He was trying to send it when Farrell fired through the widow and hit him. He fell to the ground. There was a whole lot of blood. I think he was dead but I was too scared to check. I managed to run out the back and hide, but they found me after a while and then once you all arrived, Carl there," he indicated the man who was still rubbing his eyes, "dragged me over here."

"How many more men are there?" Chester wanted to know.

"Maybe ten at most. Word is around town that you have Carp locked up, so I think some of those will not want to stand and fight. Also, I know for sure that two have left already. Last I heard, Mr. Holcombe was trying to get a few men together to come and storm the jail, but I don't think he had much luck."

Chester glanced out the window. It was daylight now and the group of men who were previously standing around had vanished with the darkness. He asked Tebbers if he knew who they were.

"I think they were the remains of Carp's men - they wanted to see if Carl here," he indicated the man who had pushed him in through the front door, "had managed to take over. He wanted a couple of men to back him up, but they wouldn't. Seems folks here have figured out who you are Marshal and heard your reputation."

Chester took the man known as Carl back to the cells and locked him up with the rest of the prisoners. The man was still complaining about the hot coffee being thrown in his face - so Chester, always soft hearted, took him a bowl of cold water and a cloth. By the time he returned to the front office, Fleur was already pouring the contents of a second pot of coffee into the mugs. He looked carefully at his boss. Many times he had heard Doc say how dangerous broken ribs could be. They could pierce a lung if not treated right, he'd said. Chester didn't know a lot about medicine but figured that would be bad. It had to be, because broken ribs were always enough to make Doc very concerned. Now, he was worried because they were holed up here in the sheriff's office in Great Bend and not too sure if Sheriff Carver from Hays had ever received their request to send reinforcements. Add to that, Spike Holcombe was due to arrive any minute and Mr. Dillon didn't look in any shape to be facing him.

TBC