Chapter 17

The next two days passed slowly. Matt seemed reluctant to talk with me and Kitty was busy getting orders together to replace broken glassware and a few pieces of furniture. I checked on Jeffrey both days. After his recovery from the hangover he did well and the wound healed without further bleeding. I told him he didn't have to wear the sling anymore but to be careful and not put too much stress on those sutures for another week at least. Of course he knew that already but it didn't hurt to remind him.

It was nearly noon when Kitty came by. She entered my office almost furtively.

"Kitty!" I called out to her while she quietly closed the door behind her. "What's going on?"

"I wish I knew, Doc."

"Is Matt alright?"

"He seems to be fine physically but he's barely speaking to anyone. I can't even get him to tell me what's on his mind."

"Maybe he'll be better once that escort comes to take charge of those two prisoners."

"I think they get here tonight or maybe tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Do you want me to try talking to him, Kitty?"

"I'm not sure it'll do much good. He really wants to ride out alone and do some serious thinking, but maybe he's also concerned about what Dr. Harrington said."

"I'll see if I can arrange something," I told her. I'd been thinking about going out to check on the Sutter baby I'd delivered a few evenings ago. Breach babies sometimes ran into problems so I needed to go out there to see her anyway. Maybe I could talk Matt into coming with me and stop to do a little fishing at Walker's Creek along the way.

I headed to the stable to ask Moss to get my buggy ready and by pure chance found Matt there checking on his horse.

"Hey, Matt!" I called to him. He looked up and suddenly his face changed. He'd been relaxed when he first turned around but once he saw me standing there, his mood altered and a kind of barrier went up between us.

"What is it, Doc?" His question was almost hostile.

"I thought you might like to do a little fishing. I'm going out to the Sutter place and that'll take me by Walker's Creek. I saw some good-sized chub out there last time I was that way. I could do with some company if you'd like to come along."

For a moment I thought he was interested and about to agree to come with me, but I knew it wouldn't be that easy. I was right. He found an excuse.

"I can't leave town, Doc. I've got those prisoners in the jail and the escort could arrive this evening."

"You've got two deputies, and Amos Hockley is still in town, isn't he? You can leave for a few hours. I'd appreciate the company."

He finally agreed to come so long as I let him stop by the jail first. I had no problem with that. I needed to wait while Moss brought my buggy around anyway. Before leaving, I grabbed a couple of fishing poles from out back of the stable, then drove along Front Street to the marshal's office. He was outside waiting for me.

It usually took about thirty minutes to get out to the Sutter farm, but I deliberately went a little slower so as to give my morose companion time to sort out whatever was going on in his head. The fishing hole on Walker's Creek was about ten minutes ride from the Sutter place so I pulled over.

"Here," I said, handing him the fishing poles and a small box containing line, hooks and a few other things. "Get these set up and find us some bait. I'll go see Ellen and the baby and come join you shortly."

He looked at me with surprise written all over his face. "You're going to leave me here... alone?" There was a note of sarcasm in his voice - but I ignored it.

"Yes, I figured you could handle a little peace and quiet after all that's happened. I should be back within the hour."

I watched as he picked up the fishing gear and walked pensively towards the creek. I knew there was plenty of shade down there and the water was clean enough to drink. In short, it was an ideal place for solitary thought.

()()()

Both Ellen and the baby were doing well. As is the way of most new mothers, she had a lot of questions. I checked the infant and did my best to answer her concerns then assured her that the little girl looked fine. She asked me to stay for a cup of coffee and I agreed - after all, it would give my friend a few more minutes alone by the creek.

It was one of those almost perfect afternoons that occur on rare occasions when winter is about to turn into spring. The air was crisp but not too cold and a light breeze passed through from time to time. I could see Matt there by the creek as I approached. He had both fishing poles set up but he wasn't paying much attention to them. In fact, he was laying back with hands clasped behind his head watching the clouds move across the sky.

I pulled the buggy over and climbed down. I tied the horse to a convenient tree branch then stood and watched my friend for a few minutes before starting towards the water. I made a lot more noise than necessary while descending towards the fishing hole so as not to run the risk of getting a bullet in my head. The marshal sat up and turned to look at me. "Come on down, Doc."

"I didn't want to get shot," I called back as I worked my way along the bank and sat beside him. I picked up one of the fishing poles. "You caught anything yet?"

"No, I didn't see anything worth trying for." I baited a hook and cast it into the creek without commenting on the fact that he'd been staring up at the clouds when I came by. It didn't really matter if we caught anything or not, that wasn't the purpose of the trip. After a long silence, I decided I'd have to start the conversation.

"Kitty's worried about you, you know. She says you've fallen into one of your quiet moods and she doesn't know what to do about it."

I didn't get a reply so I changed my approach. "Tell me what happened in Denver. I read Gabriel Harrington's letter after you left my office the other day. He said you were having some pretty intense muscle spasms when you arrived at the clinic and it took him a while to find something to stop the pain. After that he said you made a rapid recovery. The time you spent in Glenwood was well worth it."

His only reply was a grunt so I continued. "I know you don't like talking about such things but as your personal physician I need to be aware of what happened. You know I don't intend to discuss it with anyone else although Washington might be writing to me when they get Gabriel Harrington's bill!"

There was still no answer but I did feel his mood soften a little. Maybe it was time to change the subject again. "It's none of my business, but I'd be interested to know how you tracked down Hank Delaney. In case you've forgotten I was here in Dodge the whole time, wondering what was going on in Denver."

I waited patiently. Eventually he began to talk to me, hesitantly at first, but he opened up a little more as he went along.

"Have you ever been to those hot springs Doc? Water comes out from the rocks and it's hotter than sitting in a bath tub. It sure stopped all those muscle spasms I was having. Between that and manipulations by one of Harrington's trainees, it only took a week before I was feeling much better. I expect Harrington told you all that in his letter anyway. Kitty and I actually enjoyed some of our time there in Glenwood. There were a number of shops she visited and several fancy restaurants that Delmonico's customers could only dream of." He stopped as if remembering those happy hours. When he resumed his voice was more like his normal self. "You remember I saw Hank Delaney get off the stage in Dodge."

How could I forget that I thought, but didn't want to interrupt him now.

"I was almost certain he was heading for Denver. I hoped I hadn't missed him during my stay at Glenwood Springs because I knew it would be my fault if he got away yet again."

"But you didn't miss him Matt." I pulled on my line thinking I had a bite, but no such luck. "And even if you had it wasn't anything you could have helped."

He thought about it for a moment before continuing. I watched as he looked around, searching for a grass blade to chew on. He found one he liked and stripped off the outer skin before putting it in his mouth.

"Amos was a great help. He'd been finding his way around Denver and located the area where Delaney was likely to hit. One girl had been attacked already but she was lucky and managed to escape. I tried talking to the local law but they weren't interested in what went on in that part of town. In their opinion the girls who worked there were asking for trouble."

Matt switched the grass straw to the other side of his mouth and chewed on it for a while before speaking again. He was thinking and I didn't interrupt. I knew he had something to say that wasn't easy for him.

"There was another night when Amos went out. I wanted to go with him but he insisted that would be too obvious. I knew it was because he didn't want me to hurt my back. Do you know how that felt, Doc? It was as if I wasn't good enough anymore."

"I know for sure that Amos wasn't doubting your ability Matt, but none of us wants to see you crippled. Don't you understand that? You'd do the same if the situation was reversed!"

Sometimes Matt had a strange way of ignoring things he didn't want to accept, but my words did make him stop and think for a while. I knew deep down that mere words wouldn't change the way he saw it. He got to his feet and was now walking up and down alongside the creek. He stopped and stared at the slow moving water. I watched him for a minute or two knowing our time was limited because I had to get back to town before dark. I needed to get him to tell me about that night when Jeffrey was wounded.

Eventually I called out to him. "Tell me about the Elitch Theater and the night you went to the opera. That must have been quite a spectacle. It's been years - way before the war - since I've had the opportunity to see anything like that."

He managed to turn away from the water and look at me. The straw of grass was still perched between his fingers. "You're right, Doc. It was an impressive sight. It was good for Kitty, I could tell she enjoyed every minute. I don't know much about music and such but it was interesting to watch. I think Jeffrey felt quite at home there."

Matt was probably right about that. Jeffrey had grown up in a city where things like opera were part of everyday life. At last he came to sit down on the bank beside me and again I waited. Eventually he started talking again.

"That night I asked Jeffrey to see that Kitty got safely back to the hotel if I wasn't around. He seemed surprised at the time, but I warned him not to say anything before the performance. Amos suggested he and I should exit quietly before the end so that we could get ahead of the crowds leaving the building. We took different routes through that part of town to cover as much of it as possible."

Matt had picked up a stick and was now making patterns in the sandy prairie dirt. I could tell he was thinking, reliving the events of that evening.

"I walked for about fifteen minutes before seeing a young woman ahead of me. She was several blocks away but walking slowly towards me. I thought maybe she was looking for business from the crowds leaving the theatre so I just stood and watched. She stopped a block or so away when suddenly a man ran out of a side street and grabbed her around the neck. I knew I couldn't allow anything to happen to her, but at the same time I could tell that man wasn't Delaney."

The telltale movement of his jaw let me know his mind was focused on that evening.

"I tried to run towards her... but I couldn't move fast enough...maybe Amos had been right. I struggled to reach her before the attacker could pull her back into a doorway."

I noticed that his breathing was faster and a small drop of sweat trickled down from his forehead. Subconsciously he wiped it away with the palm of his hand. I sat quietly, watching and waiting.

"Just as I got to her another man approached. Everything happened so fast after that. This second man was definitely Hank Delaney and he had a large butcher knife in his hand. It was a hand with a finger missing. I managed to pull the first man off and the young woman ran away screaming. Then Delaney recognized me."

My marshal friend stopped and looked towards me, but I'm not sure if he was seeing me or the scene he'd just described. "I fought the two men. I should've been able to handle them but I couldn't. I knew Delaney was behind me and he had that knife. I found I couldn't swing around like I could have done before...all this."

I knew if I felt for Matt's wrist his pulse would be racing, but I didn't want to interrupt him. Just as countless times before, my friend had trouble admitting his own weaknesses or, as he considered them to be, failings. He continued his recounting of that night as if it were something he was ashamed of. A quiet, mumbled voice, eyes fixed on the ground.

"Someone was behind us. At the last minute Delaney turned away. It gave me a chance to deliver a blow to the first man's jaw. He fell to the ground. It was a much younger man. When I was finally able to turn back to Delaney, I saw Jeffrey laying on the sidewalk with blood all over his shirt."

He stopped to breathe, but I could tell his mind still hadn't left the scene. "Out of nowhere Amos was suddenly there. He slugged Delaney with the butt of his gun. I stood there almost confused, panting and scared that my back would lock up all over again. Somehow it didn't but I've never felt helpless like that before, Doc. For those few seconds I didn't know what to do. We had three men on the ground and I was almost scared to move."

I held my breath hoping he'd continue to confide in me. Those feelings he described were something he'd never had to deal with before and Matt Dillon was not a man who shared his fears with anyone. I sat quietly staring straight ahead, hoping he had the strength to tell me more.

"Amos took over. He had a set of handcuffs that he pulled from his pocket and quickly fastened Delaney and his accomplice together. Jeffrey was stirring. I'd thought he was dead - that he gave his life to save mine. But he was alive and trying to stand up. I helped him while Amos dragged the two killers to their feet. He said he could manage them if I could take care of Jeffrey."

Once more silence hung in the air between us, but I could tell that my friend had come back to the present. I'd known this man for so many years and seen him in many moods and situations. Matt Dillon was never one to admit weakness or defeat and it had cost him dearly to tell me about what he saw as a failing on his part.

"You did manage to take care of Jeffrey, Matt. He told me that somehow you got him back to the clinic and Gabriel was able to suture the wound. Don't worry about Jeffrey, he's going to be fine."

"It was a serious injury though, Doc. Something that a man like Jeffrey should never have had to experience. I should have been able to handle the situation. You've seen me survive worse odds."

"I have, Matt - but we're all getting older and our bodies aren't as strong as they used to be. I've seen you face a whole saloon full of cowboys fresh off the trail from Texas. I've also seen the bullet wounds and other injuries your body has taken. Maybe it's time you gave some thought to that. You've been wearing that marshal's badge for what... seventeen or more years that I know of? That's enough for any man." I didn't really know if he heard me - he was still thinking about Jeffrey's injury.

"It was a long surgery Doc. I waited for Dr. Harrington to come out of that operating room of his. He told me how deep the knife had gone and how it was only luck that kept it from piercing a lung."

I was tempted to remind him how many times he'd put Kitty through similar stress but decided that now wasn't the time. "Luck or whatever it was, was there." I assured him. "I know it was a bad wound, but Jeffrey will get over it. Remember that whatever our young friend did, he did of his own free will. He knew he didn't have to get involved but he wanted to. Like you, he didn't want to see someone's life taken by force."

Once again he'd found that stick and was drawing meaningless circles in the sand. It enabled him to talk without looking at me.

"The whole thing was my fault, I should have stopped Delaney years ago. So many women killed, and then at the end it was the same, I didn't do my job and Jeffrey was hurt." The words were soft and mumbled as if dragged painfully from the depths of his soul. I waited several minutes before speaking, just to make sure he had nothing else to say. There wasn't anything I could put into words that would make him see it differently. Comforting platitudes had no effect on my stoic friend. I resorted to cold hard facts.

"I know that's how you feel, but it happened that way and it wasn't your fault. Now you have to decide how to deal with it. Move on or crawl in a cave and hide from it. I think I know what you'll do, but remember you can't go on doing this job forever. You have to begin to figure out how you're going to live with the situation you find yourself in. It's the way things have worked out and the sooner you get that through your thick skull the better we'll all feel."

He looked at me and I almost saw a smile on his face. "You know Doc, you sure can put a fella down!"

"Well, get up and pack this gear back in the buggy, it's time we headed home."

The marshal was in a much better state of mind as we drove back to Dodge. To be sure he still felt bad about Jeffrey being hurt, especially since he considered it to be mostly his fault, but I repeatedly assured him that our young doctor would be fine once I took the remaining sutures out. Deep down I could only hope my words would come true.

I wanted to know more about Hank Delaney and his young accomplice. A man with such a long history of killing apparently for nothing more than personal satisfaction, was an evil curiosity. Medicine didn't know much about the workings of the human mind except that at times it seemed to go very wrong. I was able to fix up a body by removing a bullet or stitching up a knife wound. I could even fix a fever most times with the aid of a little medicine. But the mind was another thing altogether. I'd read a paper or two that were published in the journals, mostly as translations from German. They talked about psychosis and ways in which the mind got off track, but no one knew how to fix it. A man that killed just because he wanted to, and did it again and again for the thrill, that must surely be some kind of serious psychosis. Maybe his mind was just made that way and there was no way to fix it.

TBC