"What a dear, beautiful boy!" she thought, smiling at the memory of the eight-year-old boy's big blue eyes, long, white-blond hair, and dazzling, dimpled smile. The boy was always spotless in his long-sleeved white shirt buttoned up to the neck, and plaid slacks with crisp creases in front. "So unlike the usual rowdy youngsters!"
This was the last thought seventy-year-old Cornelia Sparrow had as she tumbled to her death down the steep stairs from Doc Adams' office. She tumbled and rolled and soundlessly flailed until landing with a thud in the dirt, like a discarded, broken doll.
Young Ronny Penmark stood at the top of the stairs, smiling contentedly down at the crumpled woman who had unwisely promised to leave her dead son's medal from service in the Union Army to the boy in her will. "That will look so great in my collection!" he thought happily. Ronny had been collecting medals since he was four-years-old, and would do anything to get them. And Ronny had always been impatient for the things he wanted.
"What's going on? What was that noise?" Doc blurted as he stepped out of his office with his shirt sleeves rolled up. After glancing at the boy, he quickly looked down at the crowd of people gathered around the patient he had just seen for a slight sore throat. "Cornelia!" he gasped before hurrying down the steep steps, clutching the handrail. By the awkward angle of the woman's neck, he already knew she was dead.
Addison Sparrow, Cornelia's other son, who had just pulled up in his buggy to collect his mother, sat silently staring at his mother's eyes, forever open wide in fright.
Kneeling down by the dead woman, Doc looked up as the crowd parted, and saw the stunned son. "Charley! Charley Baxter! Give me your coat! Quick now!" the doctor demanded, and the startled bystander unbuttoned his tattered old coat, handed it over and Doc gently covered Cornelia's face and upper torso. "Jim Overton! Go get Percy Crump, tell him to bring a stretcher, and then help him take her to his establishment. The rest of you go about your business. NOW!" Standing up, he glared at the remaining bystanders who quickly dispersed, then walked over to the buggy.
"Doc. Doc. She's dead, isn't she?" Addison asked, his light brown eyes filling with tears as he watched Jim Overton hurrying to the undertaker's.
"Yes, Addison, I'm afraid she is. I don't know how or why she fell down the stairs. If it's any consolation, it must have been very quick, if not instant." He put his strong right hand on the other man's right forearm and squeezed. As he thought about taking the grieving man to a quiet corner of the Long Branch for a stiff drink, he felt a tugging on the back of his vest.
"Doctor! Doctor Adams! Missus Spangler promised me Lieutenant Anthony's Army medal when she died!" The small boy with the beautiful face stared up at Doc's incredulous blue-gray eyes.
"Whaa…what did you say, son?" The startled man was sure he must have misheard, but he heard Addison let out a long, sad sigh.
"He's right, Doc. Ma loved little Ronny and promised him Anthony's medal for valor presented by his Company Commander." Major Stanley Green, as many other commanders had done, had a case of brightly beribboned medals made for him to award to deserving members of his army. The only medal officially sponsored and issued during the conflict was the Congressional Medal of Honor. Looking into the sweet face of the boy was oddly soothing, and Addison felt comforted in being able to fulfill at least one of his mother's wishes. "Ronny, I'll stop by the boarding house soon and give it to you."
"Yes Sir! Thank you!" The excited boy turned and ran down the street, all thoughts of the old woman who had been so kind to him already vanished from his mind. Reaching Jonas' General Store, he burst inside looking for his mother. "MOTHER! MOTHER! Missus Spangler died and Mister Addison will bring me his brother's medal that she promised me I could have when she was dead! And she is!" The boy's big blue eyes were sparkling with happiness as he hopped up and down, pulling on his mother's arm. His little four-year-old sister, Rhoda, stood quietly in the background, watching. Rhoda was also a lovely child, but in a less obvious way, with her darker blonde hair, and huge brown-black eyes. She idolized her older brother, and although he basically ignored her, she carefully watched and studied everything he did.
"Ronny, Ronny, calm DOWN now!" Christine Penmark had already heard about poor Cornelia Sparrow from the flock of chattering women who had seen the dead woman and migrated to the store to gossip. She had no idea that her son also knew and had been promised the dead soldier's medal. His happy exuberance over it seemed very out of place, but then she thought, "He's only eight. Much too young to understand death." Taking his hand, she let him lead her out of the store, the boy impatiently pulling her towards their small rented set of rooms in a boarding house on the edge of town. Little Rhoda clung to her mother's other hand, and had to trot to keep up. Christine's husband, Kenneth, was a Colonel in the U.S. Army, and currently away on patrol, and had arranged for his family's living arrangements in Dodge.
As they neared their rooms, the mother and her children were surprised to see Addison Sparrow sitting in his buggy out front. He was slumped in the driver's seat, staring down at the object in his right hand.
Breaking away from his mother, Ronny ran up to the man whose handsome face was etched with sorrow. "Mister Addison! Mister Addison! Did you bring the medal?!" The boy was bouncing up and down in eager anticipation, having spotted the shiny medal hanging from the blue and red ribbon.
Addison looked up and sadly smiled at the red-cheeked, handsome young boy. "Yes, Ronny, I wanted to do what Ma wanted as soon as possible. Here," he said as he handed the medal to the boy. "I know you will take good care of it for Ma, Anthony, and me." Tipping his hat at Christine, he sadly shook his head when she opened her mouth to invite him up for tea or coffee, flicked the reins, and slowly drove away to his empty house.
Ronny squealed in pleasure, held up the medal towards his mother, then turned and ran up the narrow stairs to their rooms. His mother watched Addison's buggy for a few moments, sighed, then she and Rhoda slowly followed Ronny up the stairs. After settling Rhoda in her small bed, Christine turned towards her son in the shared room, who was carefully putting the medal in his treasure box. Standing there, quietly watching him, her eyes rested on the heavy glass globe with the iron cavalry soldier inside that was on the boy's bedside table.
"Ronny. What happened to old Mister Gable in Wichita? He had promised the glass globe to you when he died. How did he come to fall down those icy stairs?"
"Well, Mother, I slipped on the ice and fell against him," the boy said in a low voice. "You remember."
"Yes, but what made you slip? You're always so sure-footed," she queried.
The boy put his treasure box down, went over to his mother, put his arms around her waist, and looked up at her. "Oh, I've got the prettiest mother, the nicest mother!"
Christine Penmark felt a chill go through her as she looked down into that angelic face she loved more than life.
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"Matt, how 'bout a beer?" Kitty asked as her large, sky-blue eyes warmly welcomed the tall, smiling Marshal pushing through the bat-wing doors. Her smile for Matt Dillon was special and only seen by him, as was his for hers.
"Sure, Kitty. Thanks," he said as he pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. "Chester tells me you've hired on Christine Penmark to do some sewing. I've heard she's having a rough time with her husband away. Must get lonely for her and the children."
Kitty let out a bright laugh. "That Chester! He's as much of a gossip as any woman! Yes, Christine is a very good dress maker, and came by yesterday asking if there was any such work to help keep her mind and hands occupied. She sure misses her husband. Funny, but you'd think those young children would keep her busy. I told her to bring them with her when she's up in the spare room working. Or at least the little girl. I'm going to pick up some material in three days, on Thursday, that I ordered for a new dress."
Matt frowned a little and looked down at the mug of beer Sam had brought him, turning it slowly in his big hands.
"What is it, Matt? What's troubling you? Have you heard something about Colonel Penmark being in danger?" Kitty leaned closer, her own hands clasping the mug in front of her.
"No. It's nothing like that, Kitty. I wouldn't mention this to anyone else, but, well, there's something, well…unsettling…about that boy, that young Ronny." Matt's voice was low and hesitant, never wanting to pre-judge anyone, and especially a child, but he felt compelled to say something to Kitty. She was an extraordinarily astute judge of the character of men and women, but a child was different.
"Oh, MATT! THAT boy?! Ronny Penmark is the most beautiful, best-behaved, most polite boy I have ever seen!" Kitty said in some exasperation.
"That's just it, Kitty. He's TOO perfect." The Marshal still remembered the way the back of his neck had tingled one hot day last week when he had looked up from his endless paperwork to see the boy standing in the office's open doorway, watching him. Ronny was backlit, and the glow around his flaxen head of hair had seemed anything but heavenly. His face was in shadow, but Matt had sensed those sharp blue eyes drilling into him, staring at his silver badge. Before he could say anything, the boy had laughed and darted off.
The savvy woman looked at the face of the man she knew and loved so well, and saw how serious he was. She put a hand on his big forearm on the table. "All right, Matt. I'll watch him," she said softly.
To be continued…