Matt

Matt scoured every inch of Dodge looking for any sign of Felix Clark, the skinny 7-year-old boy with the endearing gap-tooth smile. Everyone in town knew Felix. He lived in the tiny apartment above the barbershop with his mother and sister. His mother had moved them there last year, when his father died. Mr. Clark, as his wife always addressed him, left his widow with nothing but debt, a small dirt farm and two children to support. She sold the farm to pay the debts and did her best to support her children by taking in sewing, but times were hard. Felix helped all he could. He greeted every stagecoach that arrived in town with a cheery smile, and offered to carry passengers' suitcases for a penny.

After questioning almost everyone in town Matt concluded that Howie, the hotel clerk, had been the last person to see the boy. Apparently Felix carried a suitcase for a Mr. Brooks, but left before getting the second penny Brooks had promised. That seemed strange to Matt. Felix was a smart boy who valued every cent. He spoke to Mr. Brooks who verified the story. In any event, that information got him no closer to finding Felix.

After hours of a frustrating and futile search, Matt found himself pushing through the doors of the Long Branch looking for Kitty, needing her presence. She saw him and his face told her everything.

"Matt go get that table in the back, I'll bring us a couple of beers."

Kitty set their drinks on the table and sat next to Matt, not across, so they could be physically close, shoulders almost touching. She watched him stare silently into his beer, "Matt, you haven't found Felix, but that doesn't mean he's not all right. You've found kids who've went missing for days."

"Kitty, those were kids who'd run away. I just don't see Felix being a runaway. He's devoted to his mother and sister.

Kitty nodded, "You're right about that, but what could have happened to him? It's not like he'd be kidnapped for ransom. Everyone knows how poor they are."

Matt shook his head unhappily, "I wish I knew. If he didn't run away, and wasn't kidnapped, where is he?" Matt couldn't sit still. He stood abruptly leaving his beer untouched, "Kitty, I'm going to take another look around. Then I'll go talk to Mrs. Clark. I have to give her an update."

Kitty gave Matt an encouraging smile. As he started to leave she suddenly put a hand on his arm. "Matt, I almost forget. I got a basket of food from Delmonico's for Mrs. Clark. Lord knows she doesn't make much money sewing, and I'm sure she's too distraught to work right now."

Matt knew the Long Branch was barely breaking even. "That's real nice of you Kitty,"

She shook her head firmly, "Matt, it's nothing. The only reason I'm mentioning it is because I'd like you to deliver it when you go talk to her. I'd take it myself but…" Kitty hesitated but lifted her chin and said it. "The truth is, I'm sure she wouldn't accept help from a saloon woman."

Matt's jaw clenched. He knew it was true, and the holier than thou attitude made his blood boil.

Kitty read Matt's mind, "It's not as bad as all that. Not all of them are filled with hate. Yes, there are women who look down on me because of what I do, but I truly believe some others just follow. They don't mean any harm. They're just trying to be accepted by the so called proper ladies."

"Yeah, like that Ladies Auxiliary Club/"

Kitty put her nose in the air and affected a pompous, high-pitched tone, "The Auxiliary Ladies must be very careful about accepting new members. Not everyone is suited to do good works."

Matt couldn't help but laugh at Kitty imitation, but he spoke seriously, "We both know they do a lot more talking than actual good."

"True, so will you take the basket to Rita Clark?"

"Of course special lady, of course."

Mabel Johnson

Mabel's heart with pierced with sorrow as she looked at Felix Clark's young body lying on the ground. She knew the agony of losing a child, and Rita Clark's life was already filled with pain. She'd lost her husband a year ago, just before her baby girl was born. Now her son was dead.

Blinded by tears Mabel slowly got to her knees beside the boy. The ugly purple/black bruises on his neck spoke of an unspeakable horror. They had to have been made by large fingers, but why in good heaven's name, would anyone strangle a little boy. The thought of his suffering sickened her. She lifted his delicate wrist and held it in her fingers. Her heart jumped. She thought she felt a faint pulse. She kept her fingers on his wrist and held her breath. Yes it was there, barely but there. She'd have to move faster than she had in years. She pushed herself to her feet, and bent to lift the boy in her arms. As light as he was, it was a struggle. She tottered, but managed to carry him to her wagon while silently thanking the powers that be, that the marshal had fixed the broken wheel. She hitched up her donkey, stiffly climbed into the driver's seat and took the reins. "Hank, I haven't left our property since you passed because it felt like leaving you. Well, you'll just have to come along. This is something that needs doing."

Alistair Beckenworth

Alistair Beckenworth, the man Matt had received the telegram about, was leaving the cabin that had been his hideout since his escape from Leavenworth Prison. His taciturn host, the prison guard who'd helped him escape, handed him a telegram sent by Brooks and a box Brooks had arranged for. The box contained clothes, a fake beard and an eye patch. Beckenworth thought the eye patch a bit theatrical, but since Peter sent it decided to wear it. The telegram read - Dodge City. Long Branch Saloon. Gus Stringer.

Alistair's host led him outside, "Here's your horse. He's a good one." Alistair mounted and set off. He understood the message. Ride to Dodge City, go to a saloon called the Long Branch and meet with Brooks and Gus Stringer. Stringer would lead him safely to a luxurious villa in Mexico. Once there he'd be able to live the life he deserved, and enrich himself by providing Brooks with beautiful, young Mexican girls.

Gus Stringer

Stringer read the telegram Brooks had sent – Dodge City. Long Branch Saloon. Alistair Beckenworth. He shook his head – Alistair Beckenworth – that there was some name. No matter. He was getting paid royally to take the man safely into Mexico, and make sure he got to the fancy place Brooks had arranged. Stringer was pleased the meeting place was Dodge. His presence would annoy Marshal Dillon. Dillon had arrested him twice but the charges never stuck, and that stuck in Dillon's craw.

He tore up the wire and set out for Dodge.

Dodge

Matt knocked Rita Clarks' door. She opened it looking haggard and exhausted, but her eyes flashed with hope when she saw the marshal, "Anything?"

Wishing he had better news, Matt shook his head, "Not yet, but there's no reason to give up hope. Everyone in town is keeping an eye out. Next I'll get some men and scour the countryside. Felix might have wondered off and gotten lost."

Matt lifted the basket of food, "Someone sent this. Let me set it on the table for you." The apartment was so small he crossed the room in 2 steps.

Rita's eyes widened at the sight of the basket brimming with bread, fruit, chicken, vegetables and preserves. Relief and gratitude washed over her. She bit her lower lip to stem the tears, "I barely have a crumb in the house. Who was kind enough to send this – the Ladies' Auxiliary?"

Matt sighed, "No, but I can't say who. Please just accept it."

Matt wanted to reveal the source of the gift, but knew it best not to, at least for now. He was about to leave when he glanced out the window. To his utter surprise, Mabel Johnson was driving her wagon into town as fast as she could make her donkey go.

TBC