15
Matt had sent Festus back to Kansas. He'd been unwilling to go at first, arguing that "ol' Doc `ill have a fit, if'n I high tail if back to Dodge without you n' Miss Kitty."
But Matt had been adamant. "I thank you for all you've done. But I have to take it from here, this is something Kitty and I need to work out alone."
The hillbilly had never had a close intimate relationship with a woman and the whole thing was something of a mystery to him. While his curiosity had been peaked by the unusual series of events he realized he was out of his depth. Somewhat relieved to be dismissed, he finally gave in with a nod of his head and took the next train back to Kansas.
For Dillon the process wasn't as simple. He had to wait until the following morning because of track repairs. He almost bought a horse and started out on his own, so anxious was he to get to her. He realized the foolishness of the idea but it didn't stop him from thinking it.
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Even though the train traveled at the awesome speed of twenty-five miles per hour, it could not go fast enough to suit him. He felt trapped by unspent energy as he watched the scenery pass the window in a blur of green grass and trees, river and swamps, towns and cotton fields. His mind was like the scenery as images passed through his thoughts in the same distorted haze. He tried to make sense of them, but acknowledging his emotions had never been his strong suite. Until the point when Festus had told him where to find her, his quest had been limited to the search. Now his thoughts were forced to consider what he faced when he found her.
How could he make her see clearly enough to believe him? She was the most important thing in his life, despite nearly twenty years of denial. However, with that thought, he was forced to face the question of the child. Could he look at her baby and not see the Dog Soldiers? He didn't think so; he didn't think he possessed that kind of valor. He settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. A prayer came to mind, one he'd learned as a child from an old woman who'd taken care of him for a spell after his parents had died, "The Lord bless and keep those I love. Shower them with blessings from above. Take away from me the sin of hate that I may see the Pearly Gates…"
Seated next to him in the tightly packed passenger car was a heavy boned businessman, dressed in an uncomfortable looking wool-traveling suit. "Storm blowing in…" he remarked, "Could be a typhoon…could be worse."
"That so." Dillon had no wish to be rude, but he wasn't in the mood for polite conversation.
"Yup, read it in a paper … don't always believe what I read `specially when it comes to predicting the weather, trust the Farmer's Almanac more, but them clouds out there, that's a hurricane sky."
Dillon nodded his head and turned to look out the window, hoping the man would take the hint and find someone else to pass the time of day with. The fellow traveler tried again."You got business in New Orleans, Cowboy?"
"You might say that." Before the man could ask another question Dillon pulled his Stetson over his eyes and feigned sleep.
In New Orleans, he hired a cab to take him to Chapman's house. The route took them past the gulf, which seemed abnormally low, as though someone had sucked out the water with a straw. It was an ominous harbinger of a tidal surge, and he realized the truth of the man on the train's prediction. He felt within him the same sort of pressure building. They were headed toward trouble, he'd bet on it.
He paid the fare to the hansom cab driver who stopped in front of the mansion on the hill in the Garden District. He ran through wind and drizzle to the front entrance. Adelheide answered his knock on the door.
"Is this Dr. Chapman's house?"
She studied the handsome stranger at the door. She spoke cautiously, "Ja, but the Doctor isn't in. If dis is a medical matter, I suggest you contact his office at St. Catherine's hospital." She began to shut the door, but Matt wedged his boot in the way.
"I'm looking for someone, I was told she's here."
Addie's eyes opened wider. She nodded her head, thinking this man would be worthy of Kitty Russell, "Are you her friend?"
"Yes. Name is Dillon, Matt Dillon." He removed his hat and shook off the rainwater.
"Come in please." She held out a hand, "I'm Addie Pittlekow, my father is the physician who has been caring for Kitty Russell during her confinement."
"Where is she?"
"I have just gotten here myself. Da cook told me just before she left for home, that Fraeulein Kitty was at St. John's Eve on Lake Pontchartrain."
"Alone?"
"No, she is with Mr. Zebulon who is John's servant, and the hired girl, Renee. I am worried about her also; she should not be out on night like this. There is an old wives tale which says a typhoon brings the baby."
He shifted feet nervously, "This lake Pontchartrain… how do you get there?"
"I'll come with you and show you the way." Addie volunteered.
"No, you stay here in case she gets back before I do, like you said she might need help. Just tell me how to get to her."
Addie gave him the directions; "Der are horses in the back stable, take the black gelding. He is the strongest und de fastest. You do ride English seat, do you not, Mr. Dillon?"
"I do now." He replied for he would have ridden backwards if he needed to.
Despite the gusting winds, Addie went with him to the stables; she threw the saddle on the back of the black horse, while Dillon slid the bit in the gelding's mouth and adjusted the bridle. She set the stirrups long, but they were still much shorter than what he was used to. Climbing onto the saddle, he grumbled, "I feel like a damn monkey." He gave the black horse a solid nudge to the side, and left the stable at a trot.
"Post, Mr. Dillon." Addie hollered before Matt disappeared down the road.
The winds picked up, and if it were not for the Stetson on his head he would have been completely soaked. He noticed folks along the way preparing for an impending storm. Hurricane shutters were being pulled in place and he could hear hammering indicating wooden boards being used where there were no shutters available. He was surprised to see the crowd of folks gathered by Lake Pontchartrain seemingly unconcerned by the threat the weather played. He couldn't worry about them; they'd have to find their own safe haven, it was time for Matt Dillon to look after his own.
He tied the horse to a sapling and headed for the main bonfire. He'd never seen the like of what was going on. Bare breasted women whirling in crazy circles, drums of tin and hide beaten with a variety of animal bones, and a black quadroon of Amazon proportions dancing with an immense snake wrapped around her body. He scanned the crowd looking for the telltale red hair. He called her name as he pushed his way through the mob. His progress was stopped for a moment when a vast Cypress tree, struck by lightning, split and crashed in the distance. He looked through the bonfire, his blue eyes piercing the flames and there she was, looking back at him.