The Only Man I Can Trust

Chapter 18

Chester accompanied his boss back to the boarding house. Tim Kegan and the other deputies had agreed to take over care of the men left in the cells. Dillon was a little reluctant at first, but accepted the fact that he was in no condition to escort the four prisoners to Hays. in fact he was not even looking forward to the ride home to Dodge.

"Ya' know Mr. Dillon, a man sure could do with a nice cold beer about now."

The marshal looked over at his assistant and nodded. "You might be right, Chester."

They pushed their way through the doors of the Red Slipper. Not a fancy place but it was right there, and Matt didn't feel like walking too far.

"You go sit yerself down and relax, Mr. Dillon, and I'll git us a beer." Chester felt very magnanimous treating his boss to a beer - until he remembered that the money in his pocket had come out of the office petty cash box.

Matt watched with a half-smile on his face as Chester carried two beers to the table and set them down. Both men raised the glass mugs and tasted the contents.

"That's not bad beer, Mr. Dillon."

"No," the marshal agreed looking at the less than clean beer mug in his hand, "The beer is pretty good."

There was silence for a few moments while both men quenched their thirst.

"Listen, Chester," Dillon began. "I want to thank you for how you've handled everything. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Aw, good gravy, Mr. Dillon. I only did what anybody else woulda done."

"No Chester, you came along and took over when I needed you most, and I really appreciate that. You saved my life, you know"

The jailer was not used to praise, just as his boss was not used to dishing it out. He blushed a little and took his old bandana from his pocket then wiped it over his face to hide his embarrassment. "Mr. Dillon, you know I couldn't ever let anything happen to you. Doc and Miss Kitty would never fergive me."

They both laughed at that comment, and it broke the tension between them.

"Speakin' of Doc, Mr. Dillon, I don't reckon we should ride home with you feelin' poorly. I booked us two tickets on the train t' Dodge tomorrow. I arranged for the horses to travel too. It should have us home, oh, in about five hours barrin' any livestock blockin' the tracks, a' course."

"Where are you getting all this money from Chester?"

The jailer hesitated a moment. "Well…" He paused before continuing. "Uh, ya' know that cash box in the safe where you keep a little bit a' money, jest in case we need it?"

There was suspicion in Matt's voice as he answered. "Yes, I know. I keep it for emergencies."

"Well I just figured when I got yer telegram that this here was an emergency." Chester looked a little sheepish and turned away.

The marshal thought for a moment, trying to put a stern look on his face, but failing hopelessly.

"So I guess we better not have any more emergencies for a while?"

"Well yes, you…uh you could put it like that, sir." Chester concentrated his gaze into the now empty beer mug in front of him.

"One more thing, Chester. Did you find out anything about who killed that hired hand of Carp's, yesterday?"

Chester appeared self-conscious once more. "No sir. When I got back to the sheriff's office after leavin' you at the boarding house, the body was gone and not a soul knew a thing about it."

Matt thought as much, but it bothered him none the less. Undoubtedly the man deserved killing, but the law didn't look at it that way. There was little he could do about it now. His assistant was right. It was time for them to go home.

()()()

For once the train out of Great Bend left on time. Chester took care of getting the horses loaded and then joined the marshal in the second carriage. For Chester, traveling by train was always a thrill. He was amazed by how fast the countryside seemed to flash by the windows. He had read that some trains in England went as fast as fifty miles an hour, but of course he didn't really believe that. Men weren't meant to go that fast - surely to goodness it would tear their insides out. The conductor had told him that this train might get up to twenty miles an hour if the way was clear and they kept a full head of steam. Chester knew that was perfectly fast enough for anyone.

It was just getting dark as they pulled into Dodge. For Matt, the trip had been an uncomfortable one, and he was ready to find solace in the quiet, familiar darkness of the jail. Chester was mumbling something about going to see to the horses and disappeared.

Matt wrapped his right arm across his chest to support his protesting ribs as he walked carefully to the end of the carriage, and stepped out onto the iron plate. He was about to descend the steps to the ground when a familiar voice greeted him.

"Welcome home, Matt!"

Kitty was walking towards him with a smile that was readily visible even in the soft, dim light of the gas lamps hanging from the depot roof. He had to admit he was more than happy to see her, but wondered how she knew to meet this train. He negotiated the two steps to the ground, being careful not to let Kitty see how bad he felt. He hated to see her worry about him so mustered the last of his strength to stand up straight and put his left arm across her back. It was then he noticed Sam standing back in the shadows.

"Good to see you back, Marshal. I've got your bags, and Chester has already put the saddles in the back of the wagon."

Matt was wondering how he was going to help Kitty up into the wagon when Sam stepped forward and assisted.

"Can you manage, Marshal?" he asked quietly.

In answer Dillon climbed slowly up onto the seat with only one slight intake of breath. In the darkness, he felt Kitty's hand encircling his arm. Even if Sam noticed, he wouldn't say anything.

"Chester wired ahead to let us know you'd be on the train," she explained, moving a little closer.

"Oh, I see," he replied. Chester had thought of everything.

Sam stopped the wagon in front of the marshal's office. "I'll take the saddles along to the stable, Marshal. Moss will take care of them for you. And I'll see that Miss Kitty gets back to the Long Branch."

"Thanks Sam. I'll drop by later, Kitty."

She squeezed his hand before he carefully left the wagon and fished in his pocket for the key to the office.

Grateful to be alone at last he unlocked the door and left it open to let in a little light while he lit the lamp on the wall at the entrance to the cells. The yellow glow gradually broke its way through the darkness as he lifted the chimney of the lamp on the desk, then struck a second match. He lit the wick then lowered the chimney and adjusted the light. They would need more lamp-oil soon, but this was fine for now.

He sank onto the cot adjacent to the wall by the cells. It seemed ages since he had been here in these comfortably familiar surroundings. His ribs were really hurting now after sitting on that train all day. He hadn't wanted to tell Chester and knew that his assistant had meant well by arranging the train home. On horseback it would have taken at least two days of hard riding and that would probably have been worse. He thought about removing his boots, but decided against it. Leaning over and pulling his feet out would only make the pain worse. From past experience, he knew that there would be pain for at least another week. Maybe tomorrow he would go see Doc.

He heard footsteps outside. At first, he thought it would be Chester. He'd have him start a fire in the stove and make some coffee - or maybe on second thought, a little of that whisky he had stashed under the washstand would be more help. Then as the door opened he realized it wasn't Chester's unique gait.

"So, you decided to come home." Adams was putting on his gruffest, most ornery voice. "I heard you were back in town. Also heard you'd taken quite a beating."

"Doc, can't we do this tomorrow?"

"For a man who's been walking around with broken ribs for a week or more, you've been extremely lucky. Don't push your luck any further. Take that shirt off and let me check you over."

Reluctantly, Matt decided the only way he was going to get any peace was to let the physician practice his profession. "What's the matter?" Matt tried to ease himself to his feet again. "Business been bad lately and you're looking for a home visit fee?"

"Oh, you're very smart for an overgrown civil servant. Here let me help you with that."

In spite of the gruffness of his voice, Doc's practiced hands were very gentle as he helped his friend remove his arms from the sleeves and ease the shirt off his back. Even in the pale lamp light Doc could see the the extent of the multiple bruises. Some were still purple while others had already faded to a sickly green. He looked around.

"You still got that bottle of snake oil over there?" He indicated the cupboard under the washstand.

"Yes, if someone else hasn't helped themselves to it while I've been gone."

Doc took one of the coffee mugs from above the stove and checked to see that it was reasonably clean. Then having retrieved the bottle in question from its hiding place, he poured a good measure.

"Here, drink this. You look like you could do with it." He handed over the mug then pulled one of the chairs from under the small table in the middle of the room and indicated for Matt to sit down.

Matt willingly accepted the drink. The whisky was rough and burned as it went down, but then it produced an inner comforting warmth. This was cheap stuff some old cowboy had given him, not the better whisky he usually got from Kitty. Still the effect would be the same.

Doc fetched the lamp from the desk and put it on the table so he could take a better look. His careful fingers felt around a few of the more serious looking bruises. He detected at least three broken ribs. Matt complained a little as the physician's skilled fingers applied pressure over the most painful areas - some out of show and some because he couldn't help it. He took another mouthful of the whisky to hide his discomfort. "Go easy now Doc - this ain't some old horse you're working on!" he complained after swallowing the rough alcohol.

Doc had already placed his stethoscope in his ears. "Stop talking so much and breath in and out for me."

Matt did as he was told to the best of his ability until Adams had finished. "Well?" Dillon asked.

"Come by my office tomorrow and if you're still breathing, I'll let you know." Doc turned away and mumbled to himself as he began reaching in his bag for the bindings he had brought with him.

It was always a painful process. Doc had explained many times that if the bandages weren't tight they didn't do any good, but that didn't make it any easier. "Breath out and don't fight me, Matt. I'll get this over as quickly as I can."

Matt yielded to the physician's ministrations. Right now he had little strength left for an argument.

True to his word Doc finished his task in a few minutes. "Now you just lie down over there and rest for a while and I'll come by and check on you later."

Matt swallowed the last of the whisky from the mug in front of him and reached for his shirt.

Doc was about to help him put it back on when Chester appeared.

"I took care of the horses n'all, Mr. Dillon. Oh, hey there, sorta startled me. I didn't see ya' there."

"I don't suppose you did. What in tarnation were you thinking by letting Matt walk around for a week with at least three broken ribs, then riding on that train for five hours?"

"Now Doc, it ain't all my fault. Ya see there was no doctor in Great Bend and… well, have you ever tried t' tell Mr. Dillon what to do?"

Matt came hurriedly to Chester's defense. "If it hadn't been for Chester I probably wouldn't even be here, Doc, so don't go blaming him. He's the one who rescued me from the jail in Great Bend and then figured out how to catch Carp and the Holcombe Brothers. I owe him my life, Doc." Matt was sitting on the side of the cot by now, with his feet still on the ground. He leaned over and resting his elbows on his knees, ran his fingers through his hair. He just wished everyone would go away and leave him alone now.

Adams was a little taken back by his friend's words. Matt didn't hand out praise like that too often. Anyway, he supposed Chester was right - there wasn't much he could have done - at least he chose the train over a two-day ride. After giving the jailer a hard stare, he removed his spectacles and placed them carefully back in their case.

"In that case, I'm glad you were there, Chester." Then almost as an afterthought he added, "Just be more careful next time." With that he picked up his medical bag and left.

"Good gravy, Mr. Dillon, I did ever'thing I could and…."

"I know Chester, you did more than enough. Don't take any notice of Doc. He most probably had a bad day or someone asked him to check their sick mule. Now, just let me get an hour or so's rest before it's time to make rounds. Maybe you could stoke that stove up a bit and make us some coffee for later.

TBC