Peter Brooks

The stage from Topeka to Dodge was ahead of schedule for once, but the ride seemed endless to Peter Brooks. After the Walker brothers answered his questions about Dodge, he feigned interest in them and asked about their lives. To his utter boredom they described every detail of ranch life. He was listening with half an ear when the stage lurched to a halt 10 miles from Dodge. Brooks looked out the window, "Why are we stopping?"

Jeb Walker had his hand on the door. "Sorry Mr. Brooks. Clem is always nice enough to let me and Bill jump out here. Our ranch is nearby. Sorry we can't finish telling you about foaling season."

Brooks smiled weakly, "It's all right. Don't forget, I owe you that drink." He watched them leave. They'd been useful, but he was glad to be free of their boring chatter.

They rolled along and had almost reached Dodge when Clem saw Matt riding towards them on his way out of town. Dillon pulled up beside the stage. "Uneventful run Clem?"

"Yep, nice and quiet. You heading somewhere Marshal?"

"Just out to Mrs. Johnson's."

Brooks heard the word marshal and quickly looked out the window to get a glimpse of the man the Walkers had spoken of. He was pleasantly surprised. He'd expected a gray-haired, seasoned lawman not a handsome man barely out of his twenties. Dillon's size probably intimidated some, but a man that young could certainly be manipulated and out-maneuvered. Brooks smiled as the stage moved on, and minutes later was stepping out onto Front Street. Clem handed down his large, black suitcase and a raggedy little boy appeared of nowhere. "Carry ya bags for a penny, sir."

Brooks doubted the skinny ragamuffin could lift a bag much less carry it, but the kid had an appealing eagerness about him. An ambitious boy who'd work for a penny could be useful.

"All right, carry that black suitcase and lead me to the Dodge House."

The boy flashed a tooth-gapped, 7 year-old boy grin and grasped the handle. He leaned way over to keep the bulging bag from scraping the ground and started walking. "Yes sir." Brooks followed carrying his small brown suitcase.

The boy moved along surprisingly fast and they were in the Dodge House in no time. Brooks registered and turned to the boy, "Another penny if you carry the bag up to my room."

The boy nodded and carried/bumped the big black bag upstairs. Inside his room Brooks closed the door and carefully set the small, brown suitcase on the floor. He took the black one from the boy, and tossed it onto the dresser.

Wanting to be helpful, the boy starting lifting the brown suitcase. "I'll put this one on the bed for ya."

Brooks shouted sharply, "Don't touch it."

Too late, the boy lifted the bag and accidentally banged it against the bedpost, striking the latch. The suitcase flew open. Money flooded out, scattering in all directions. The boy froze. He knew he'd seen something he shouldn't have, "I-I-I won't say nothin. Really mista."

Brooks' eyes darkened. The boy backed away in fear, and reached for the doorknob. Brooks lunged and grabbed him by the collar. Before the boy could yell, large fingers circled his neck and squeezed hard. The boy struggled but finally went limp and hung motionless from Brooks' hands. Brooks tossed the child's body into the closet to deal with later.

After washing his hands, Brooks repacked the money, changed his clothes and went downstairs. He smiled at the clerk, "Excuse me, Howie right?"

The clerk looked up, "That's right Mr. Brooks."

"Sorry to bother you Howie, but do you know the boy who carried my bag upstairs?"

"Sure, Felix. He's a good boy. Always out to earn a little money to help his ma."

Brooks nodded, "Seems like a nice kid. I gave him a penny before he started and promised him another when he finished. I guess he forgot. He ran off before I could give him that second penny. Can I leave it here for him? I figure he'll come looking for it when he remembers."

Howie looked puzzled, "Funny I didn't notice him run out. I must have been busy with my books. Sure, I'll give him the penny/."

"Thanks, and could you please direct me to the Long Branch?"

The Long Branch

The place was jumping. Peggy, the pretty, new saloon girl merrily banged out tunes on the upright, surrounded by cowboys singing gustily along. Two poker games were in full swing, one high stakes, with tense players wasting no words; the other, good-natured fun. Painted woman chatted up customers, and men lined the bar talking and drinking.

Peter Brooks stood outside studying the room before pushing through the bat wing doors. The shiny newness of his cowboy shirt and jeans would make him stand out, but he didn't care.

He walked over to the crowded bar and his eyes were drawn to a stunning redhead who was speaking to a bartender. He could tell by the way the bartender behaved that the redhead was his boss. She had to be the woman the Walkers mentioned, Kitty Russell. He heard a voice from behind, "Forget about it. Don't even try."

Peter turned, "I'm sorry, were you speaking to me?"

A stocky, half-drunk cowboy answered, "Yep, you're new and I thought I'd be friendly and save you some trouble. Miss Russell over there is not available. Don't waste your time."

"You called her Miss, as in unmarried. Why isn't she available?"

The cowboy lowered his voice, "It's nothing folks talk much about, but everyone kinda knows. Miss Russell and Marshal Dillon are - well - I'm not exactly sure what, but she's definitely not available."

Brooks wondered if the cowboy was right. "Thanks for the advice, let me buy you a beer." He plunked some coins on the counter and ordered drinks. As he sipped his beer, he watched Kitty move around the room, and couldn't help but admire the way she handled customers, gamblers, drunks and employees. She was a nice package - beautiful, charming, smart and obviously still in her twenties. If she was available he'd seduce her. He'd be dumping his mistress Lorraine when he got back to New York, and needed a suitable replacement. Lorraine was approaching 30 and wasn't as much fun as she'd once been. Besides, she was growing plump. Of course, if Kitty Russell and the marshal were indeed a couple he'd let her be. It would be counter productive to give the marshal a reason to dislike him. In any event he wanted a word with her. He moved to a small table, knowing that smart saloon owners always greeted new customers. As he expected, Kitty walked over with a charming smile.

"Hello, I'm Kitty Russell. Welcome to the Long Branch."

Brooks stood and pulled out a chair, "I'm Peter Brooks. Please join me. I understand you own this saloon. That's very impressive."

She sat down, "Thank you. What brings you to Dodge, Mr. Brooks?"

"I'm looking to start a new business, and Dodge might be just the place. It's a booming town, and I hear the marshal is an exceptional man who's made it a safe place to run a business.

Brooks watched Kitty carefully. A person less astute would have missed it, but a look of loving pride flashed across her face and confirmed what the cowboy had said. Kitty Russell and the marshal were in a relationship.

Kitty nodded, "Marshal Dillon does a good job. He's out of town right now, but if you want to speak to him, he'll be back tomorrow."

"I'd love to. Perhaps you could introduce me."

"No need, you can just stop by his office. If you don't mind my asking, what kind of business are you looking to start?"

"I'm not sure. I'm open to suggestions from a successful business owner such as yourself."

Kitty smiled inwardly as she remembered counting her money earlier, glad to be breaking even. She was about to respond when she heard a glass shatter. " Please excuse me, it sounds like something needs my attention. I'm sure we'll meet again."

Brooks watched her go. Her saloon would serve his purpose nicely, and neither she nor the marshal would ever know what was happening.

TBC