June 2013
Counterfeit
"When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male."
Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936)
Chapter 1
Doctor Adams could smell the coffee as he passed the swing doors of the Long Branch saloon. It certainly smelled better than anything Chester made down at the Marshal's office, so he went on in. He could see Kitty Russell sitting there at the table towards the back of the bar – she was reading a newspaper, searching its pages for any piece of information that would give her a clue as to the whereabouts of Marshal Matt Dillon. Just to the left of her was a plate holding a slice of bread covered with plum preserves and her right hand was holding a coffee cup. There was, Doc had to admit, another reason why he didn't want to go along to the Marshal's office, it was not "his" Marshal that would be there. Chester was there, the same desk, table – even the same checkers board, but a different lawman. Marshal Whitaker was a fine man – but he was not Mathew Dillon.
Kitty looked up at him – delivering a wry smile. He couldn't help but notice how drawn she looked and how she had definitely lost weight during these last few months. Her smile had lost its glow and her eyes no longer had that sparkle of life that used to set her apart from others. Oh she could survive without Matt Dillon – but she would not be the same person as she used to be.
"Come and sit down, Doc." She patted the chair next to her and set a coffee cup on the table in front of it.
Matt had been sent on an out of town assignment. They had no idea where he was, what he was doing or when, even if, he would return. It had not helped matters when about 3 weeks after Dillon had left town a large official US Mail bag had been delivered to the Marshal's office. As usual Chester had opened it, but he soon regretted his actions – inside was a formal coat, a pair of cowhide boots, a gun in its holster and a US Marshal's badge. He instantly recognized all these things and began a fast half hopping, half pacing movement around the office. Fortunately Doc opened the door coming to look for morning coffee. He found Chester alternately wringing his hands and running his fingers through his hair.
"Oh Doc, it's a terrible thing, a terrible thing."
"What is Chester, calm down and stand still will you?"
Chester pointed to the mail bag.
"I just opened it Doc, it's terrible."
"You already said that."
Doc gave up trying to get any sense out of Chester and went over to look at the contents of the bag himself.
"It's all Mr. Dillon's stuff. His coat, gun, boots and badge. What do you think it means?"
Doc pulled the grey jacket all the way out of the bag and inspected it carefully. He saw no bullet holes or blood. He picked up the badge and looked at it, likewise the boots and the gun. There was no doubt as to who the owner was but at the same time there was no evidence of any injury having occurred to the person who had been wearing these things.
"I don't know." He ran his hand over his mustache and pulled on his ear, trying to think. "I do know that we mustn't jump to any conclusions."
Chester had never meant to tell Kitty about the coat, but in his flustered state it wasn't many hours before she heard the whole story. She had taken the contents of the bag to her room and after sitting with the coat on her lap for a long time she hung it in her wardrobe. Sometimes she would bury her face in it just to get a whiff of his scent, sadly even that was beginning to fade.
-XX-
Four months earlier a man had stepped down from the stage that arrived in Dodge City from St Louis. He was a very unremarkable middle-aged man, wearing wire rimmed glasses and dressed in city clothes. He was carrying a small leather case in his left hand. He climbed down from the stage and speaking to no one, made his way directly to the Marshal's office where he stayed for almost two hours. Apparently having completed his business there, he crossed the street to get himself a meal at Delmonico's before going to the room he had rented for the night at the Dodge House.
If anyone had been present in the Marshal's office during those two hours, xthey would have noticed the enormous change that came over Dillon when the city man left. At first he sat running his hands through his hair and occasionally shaking his head. Finally unable to sit still any longer he had got up and paced the floor. So many thoughts were going through his mind that he felt pulled in too many directions. At last, it seemed, he came to a decision. He took his gun belt from its designated peg and with short sharp movements fastened it around his waist. Grabbing his hat and firmly slamming it on his head he left the insulating confines of the office and made his way along Front Street towards the one place in town that he could think of as home, a home that he was soon to leave and not know when, or even if, he would be back. He couldn't tell anyone the reason for his hurried departure and he knew this was going to hurt the one person he cared about more than life itself. It was strange that somehow he could never bring himself to tell her that fact, the feelings were there, but the words would never come, and maybe now he wouldn't have the opportunity to even try.
Kitty Russell became aware of the familiar footsteps on the boardwalk and felt her heart give a little jump. No matter how many times she had heard him approach the Long Branch – it always had that effect on her. This time however something was different. She could tell by the rhythm of his step that something was not right.
She glanced up in time to see him looking over the swing doors that marked the entrance to the saloon and now she could see it in his face too, a shadow, a burning, a sadness all melded into one look.
It was all she could do to keep herself from running to him, wanting to feel his arms around her so he could calm her fears, tell her everything would be alright. But that was not to be. He came over and quietly put his hand on her elbow, steering her towards the small office behind the bar.
She did not resist him, but almost felt herself go weak at the thought of what could be so terribly wrong.
He reached back and closed the door once they were inside, then turning towards her he put his arms around her. He was trying to tell her something, but the words would not come.
"Matt, what's wrong!" she almost cried.
His breathing was fast and heavy, he released her and indicated that she should sit in the chair by the desk. He had no idea how to begin, how to tell her what was going to happen, how to tell her how he felt.
She remained silent, knowing that he often had a difficult time finding the right words.
"Kitty, I have to go out of town for a while."
She looked at him carefully; leaving town was nothing unusual for him. He was gone at least once a month, either to Hays or Wichita or even down to the Territories.
"I may be gone a long time."
What did he mean by that? A few days seemed a long time to her, many times he was gone a week and one time it was almost 6 weeks – that had been an eternity.
"Kitty, I have.." he struggled for the words, "I can't tell you anything but I have to go…" he was pacing the floor now.
"What are you trying to tell me?"
"I don't know how long I'll be gone, maybe months. I don't want to leave but it is my job."
"Months? Where are you going?"
"I can't tell you, it wouldn't be safe." He didn't want to tell her that as yet he didn't really know where he would be going.
She took a big breath trying to hold back tears
"When are you leaving?"
"Early tomorrow."
-XX-
She remembered now those awful moments. It had been early spring when he had left, now summer was pulling into the dog days and no word had been heard from him in all that time.
She remembered their last night together, could still imagine the feel of his arms wrapped around her. She had not slept at all, not wanting to miss a single second of lying next to him. It had been in the darkness of night but she had been able to sense, as much as see him breathing, sometimes moving an arm or a leg and occasionally uttering some indecipherable sound. For the longest time he had held her while he slept but eventually a dream had disturbed him so that he turned in his repose. Before the sun was even up he had woken, she knew their time was brief now, and put her hands to his face feeling its familiar rugged contours. Gently they had clung together, each trying to comfort the other, until at last he whispered, not trusting himself to speak any louder.
"I have to go now Kitty." Those were the last precious sounds she had heard from him. He did not want her to come down to the street; no one was to see him leave.
As Quartermaine had requested he dressed in his formal coat and string tie –"try to look like a city man" the government official had told him.
He turned to look at her one last time and she tried to store that image in her mind so it would stay there till he returned.
"Make sure you come back to me Cowboy," she whispered, barely able to get the words out. She certainly didn't want him to see her crying, it was obviously difficult enough for him without that.
-XX-
Her mind came back to the present. Doc hadn't asked her the obvious question. If she had any news, he would be the first one to know about it anyway.
"Anything in the newspaper?" he asked. She stopped scanning the pages for a moment. "It's last week's, from Wichita, and no there is nothing of interest that I can find."
They both knew what 'of interest' meant. For them it would be any word of a certain Marshal.
"Let's face it Doc we don't even know where he is."
She almost sounded desperate – as if she could break down in tears with the worry of it all – but that would not be Kitty Russell. If she cried or gave into feelings of self-pity, it would be in her room, when she was alone, in the dark solitude of night.
"He'll make it back. Matt is a very resourceful man." Doc had been repeating that mantra to himself every day.
They sat in a comforting silence, each picturing the same man, but in a different way, each denying the ultimate fear that he may not still be alive.
The Physician was about to take his leave – he had a number of patients to see that morning and staying busy was all he had to work on right now. He had gathered up his old medical bag with one hand and was about to claim his hat with the other when the batwing doors swung open and Barney from the telegraph office appeared in somewhat of an anxious state.
"Doc I've been looking all over for you. This came in, marked urgent. I brought it right along quick as I could."
"All right, all right, slow down there for a minute." Doc noticed the old operators reddened face and agitated hands as he took the green envelope. Barney knew the contents already but Doc needed to read it for himself. He hoped it was not…no if that had been the case Barney would have blurted it out right then and there, regardless of Kitty sitting listening to every word.
"It's from St. Louis Doc, from a small station at the Stage depot on the eastern edge of town. Not a very skilled operator either."
Doc's hands never shook or fumbled, but he had trouble opening the envelope and taking out the piece of paper inside. He knew Kitty was watching his every action looking for a clue as to the contents before he could read it to her.
He read it quickly and handed the flimsy note to Kitty.
"There is no reply right now Barney, but I think we'd all appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else about this."
The elderly man stood there waiting. He knew the contents of the message but wanted to know more, hopefully Doc would discuss it with him.
"You can go back to your office now Barney." Doc emphasized the words hoping the man would catch his meaning, "thank you for delivering it so promptly."
At last the man turned and left.
"What does it mean?" Kitty asked.
"I don't know exactly but I think I am taking a trip to St. Louis. There's an East bound stage leaving this afternoon – I'll go down to the depot and buy a ticket.
"Make that two Doc, I'm coming with you,"
"Now Kitty – we don't even know that this is from Matt, or what trouble there might be. You'd better let me go alone."
"Oh no you don't, we're both going and that is final."
The physician knew better than to argue with Kitty Russell when her mind was made up. He started for the door.
"Do you think we should tell Chester or Toby Whitaker where we're going?" Kitty was thinking ahead now.
"I think they both left town this morning to ride to Hays with a prisoner that Toby arrested last week, anyway if this is from Matt and he had wanted Whitaker to know about it – he would have sent him word already."
Doc started to head towards the saloon doors. He needed to go see his morning patients.
"I'll go to the stage office Doc, people know I have friends in St. Louis so there will be no comment."
After the Physician had left, Kitty sat back down at the table and read the message on the green flimsy paper once more.
To Doctor G Adams, Dodge City Kansas.
A friend of yours needs help. Contact Jimmie Mathews through this office.
It was signed JM.
That was all.
TBC