(8)

Leaving Bessie behind he stormed from his office, pushing past Will Roniger waiting on the boardwalk. With his face set in stone he walked with determined strides down the street to Doc's office, nearly knocking over Nathan Burke who was deep in a political conversation with Mr. Lathrop. He took the stairs two at a time and burst into Adams office without the courtesy of a knock. Edsel Pry was sitting on the exam table her, prim shirtwaist unbuttoned allowing access to the doctor's stethoscope.

Moments earlier she'd been complaining to him, "I have been experiencing twinges and palpitations of my heart no doubt due to my delicate constitution." She shrieked at the sight of the lawman and made a frantic effort to cover her bosom. The fact her ancient breasts were concealed behind camisole, and binder did nothing to placate her offended sensibilities.

"Marshal Dillon!" She voiced indignantly, "How dare you! I'll have your badge for this!"

He'd put up with nearly twenty years of the old maid's bullying and as far as he was concerned if she wanted his job she could have it. Walking over to her he unpinned his badge and placed it with some force into the palm of her hand. "Take it, it's all yours."

For this once her palpitations were genuine, "Well, I never," she sputtered huffily, as Adams assisted her down from the exam table.

Dillon took a deep breath, attempting to regain his self-control. "Look Miss Pry, I'm sorry I've interrupted your visit, but you'll have to leave, I need to talk to Dr. Adams in private."

Taking full advantage of his advanced years, Adams reprimanded, "See here Matt …you can't just barge in and start ordering my patients around!" Miss Pry had hastily buttoned her blouse. She threw out her chest in the face of the physician. Her voice rose an octave, "Dr. Adams, I hold you personally responsible for this highly inappropriate invasion of my modesty, if you can't keep better control over the state of affairs in your own office, it shall be my obligatory duty to exercise my prerogatives in seeking medical attention elsewhere, moreover I shall not hasten to report this infraction to the Medical Ethics Board of the State of Kansas."

Bessie Roniger had exhausted any patience Matt Dillon had been graced with. The lawman's eyes narrowed to slits, he could have been forcing the most callous gunslinger to "get out of Dodge," from the inflection in his voice, "Miss Pry, I'm not asking you to leave, I'm ordering you to."

Adams was aware there had always been a dangerous edge to Matt Dillon; he couldn't have done his job all these years without it. Like the molten lava of a volcano it dwelt below surface and only because of faint rumblings was it apparent he was headed toward amajor eruption. Noting the deadly seriousness of Matt's voice, Doc put a guiding arm around the spinster and led her to the door. His voice spoke of appeasement, "Come along Miss Pry, I'm sure there's good reason for the Marshal's behavior. You run on home and put your feet up, and I'll stop by to see you in an hour or so."

"Humpf!" she snorted, "There is never an excuse for rudeness, you can be sure my friend State Senator Bartlett Huginslinger, will be hearing all about this." Adams opened the door for her. As she made her way through she remembered she still held the Marshal's badge in her hand, "Here." She said placing it Adams palm.

He kept an eye on the old woman making sure her exit was safe, when she was at the foot of the stairs he shut the door, and turned on Dillon, "Well that was an impressive demonstration," Adams scolded. "Good heavens Matt, what's wrong." The lawman's back was to Doc, his shoulders were hunched and his hands were shoved in his front pockets. Adams was reminded of a mountain lion ready to strike.

"Can it be true Doc?" Matt Dillon asked as he turned around giving the old man a chance to view the torment in his face.

"Can what be true?" He wasn't fond of word games and riddles, and this one was setting his own elderly heart to palpitate.

The younger man looked at the floor, his mind still reeling from the image Bessie had placed there. When he looked at the doctor again his eyes had returned to cold blue steel, "I just had a visit from Mrs. Roniger, she said the reason Kitty left town was because she was going to have a baby - a child fathered by the dog soldiers."

A gut punch couldn't have left Adams more staggered. He took a couple of swaying steps backward until his buttocks rested on his desktop. A whirlwind of memories flew thorough his mind, transporting his thoughts to that hot October day when her badly injured body had been carried by stretcher to this office and deposited on his exam table. She'd been closer to death than life and he knew no remedy he stored in his medicine cabinet could alter the course of her mortality. In spite of that knowledge, he valiantly plied his trade. His first course of treatment had been to extract the bullet, before surgically repairing the grave damage it had rendered. She'd gone into shock; her pulse becoming so irregular he feared he could not keep her alive long enough for Dillon to arrive and say his final good-bye. When all else seemed to be failing, he bowed his head in prayer, beseeching a merciful God to spare this innocent victim. As if in answer to that prayer Matt Dillon appeared, with her hand enclosed in his, he had forced his strength to fill her. Miracles, the old man had learned years before are often grounded in the power of love. She lived.

If it had been the rape alone his actions would have concentrated on that, the douche bag would have been employed. He'd have applied chemicals such as alum or sulfates of zinc to kill the attacker's sperm. As it was the doctor didn't feel he could put her through that degradation with everything else she'd endured. Considering her age and the length of time, which had passed since the assault he'd figured the risk of such action not equal to the possible consequences. He'd asked questions in follow-up, but had not examined her after the wounds had healed.

Dillon demanded an answer, "Is Bessie right?"

Adams moved to his chair and sat down hard. He set Matt's badge on the desktop and removed his glasses, an act, which sometimes allowed him to see a situation more clearly. He stared at his hands and the uselessness of them, he'd saved her life but to what avail?

The lawman took a step forward. "Doc, answer me, Damn it!"

The old man looked up but not at Dillon. On the upper shelf of his battered roll top desk was a photograph of the five of them, Newly, Festus, Matt, Kitty and himself. He'd looked at it often these last months since she'd been gone, as if in looking at it he could gain the answer to why she'd left. Now the answer was staring him in the face. He turned his head to reply. "Yes. It could be true."

Early on Matt Dillon had learned how to take an expected blow without flinching. "When?" He asked.

The old man shook his head, dividing dates from months, "October … she'd be due … July, the end of July …"

Dillon ran splayed fingers through his hair. "I've got to find her … do you have any idea where she'd go?"

Adams shook his head, he felt old, feeble, used up.

Matt's voice held the tension of a wire ready to snap; "I need your help Doc, think, where would she have gone?"

Doc covered his eyes with his hands, he closed them tight behind his fingers, forcing clear thought from his brain, finally his hand dropped and he looked at Dillon. "She wouldn't have stayed in Kansas, not if she wanted to keep this from us. She has friends all over …what about Claire Hollis?"

Dillon nodded, "I sent her a telegram months ago, and she said she hadn't heard from Kitty, but promised to let me know if she did."

"What about that gal from up north …she had an odd name …Melbourne wasn't it? Could she be hiding out there?"

Staring at one another they both realized the futility of this conversation; it mattered not, for he'd learned what he needed to know. "Like you said Doc she has friends all over, she could be almost anywhere." He made a move to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To find her."

"What about this?" Adams asked holding out the lawman's badge.

Matt Dillon gave a rueful shake of his head, as he stared at the worn-out piece of tin. He never should have put it back on after he'd taken it off in October, "Like I said once before Doc, if it was anything else."