Counterfeit

Chapter 3

Kitty Russell left the Long Branch and made her way along the boardwalk to the Stage depot. Her heart sank when the clerk told her the stage that day was fully booked, and the next available seats would be on Friday's stage – 2 days away.

"Thanks" she told the man, "but I really need to leave today."

"You going to visit your cousins there Miss Kitty?"
"Something like that," she replied. She was aware that most of the regulars around Dodge City knew that the Marshal had been gone a long time and either felt sorry for her or were ready to gloat thinking that a saloon owner had no business with a lawman anyway and maybe he had just up and left her.

She left the depot and walked along further towards the Santa Fe office. She had to get to St. Louis as quickly as possible. She just knew that Matt needed her. It worried her a little that neither she nor Doc had ever heard of Jimmie Mathews. That name itself could hardly be coincidence but at the same time dictated caution. All she could feel was turmoil inside her brought on by the urgency of the situation.

It was quite a long walk in the heat of the August day, but in her anxiety she did not notice the weather, her focus was entirely on finding Matt Dillon.

An elderly man wearing a typical railroad cap made from faded blue fabric, greeted her from behind the window in the office.

"Good day Miss Russell," he said with a half smile, "what can I do for you?"

"I need to know how quickly I can get to St Louis."

The man pulled out battered copies of several railroad schedules and ran his finger over long columns of numbers, then he flipped a few pages and repeated the process, mumbling to himself the whole time.

"If you leave tomorrow morning, you can be there in just under two days, it will involve one change of trains, but if everything is on time that should not be a problem."

"I'll take it," she told him. "I need two tickets."

Feeling frustration that she could not get started right away, she never the less managed to hide her feelings and make her way back to the Long Branch.

The morning business was in full swing when she entered the saloon. She wanted to go upstairs and pack a bag, but instead decided to help Sam and Freddie cope with the lunchtime crowds. She had a constant feeling of worry nagging inside her as she served beers and whisky to the cowboys and regulars who came in to sample the free snacks that were set out for lunch. She kept telling herself there was nothing she could do right now. She would feel better once she was headed towards St. Louis. She could not get rid of the feeling that Matt needed her.

'Hang on Matt we'll be there soon' she kept thinking in her mind.

-XX-

The boy looked to be about 13 or 14 years of age. Taking a very indirect route he made his way back to the warehouse to check on the man he didn't really know. He had stopped at corners, doubled back around buildings but so far seen no one trailing him. He had secured the supplies they needed and managed to get the telegram sent, of course Mathews as he now thought of the man, did not know about that. The boy didn't even know who to ask for help, but he put all his hope on the DR. G. Adams that he had been told to go to in Dodge City. He knew that was what they needed – a doctor and a good one at that. There was another name the man kept saying, "Kitty," he had said it many times, but the boy figured "Doc" would be more useful under the circumstances.

In reality it had not been a fourteen year old boy who had persuaded the young inexperienced night clerk to send the message, but at least it had gone through. Hopefully it would bring some help, because right now he did not know what else to do. To be honest he was not sure if the man would still be alive if it took too long before help arrived. And without the man, the boy's future looked pretty grim.

One final look around to check that all was clear and the surprisingly delicate looking boy pushed on the rusting warehouse door and made his way through the semidarkness to the half rotten stairway. He figured this was far enough back in the dark that if anyone should come and look inside the deserted building, they would see nothing.

He had managed to earn a few coins carrying bags for passengers at the stage depot, not the heavy bags of course – he could not lift those – but at least it gave him a reason to hang around and watch out for this "Doc" should he arrive.

Sometimes he had to remind himself that he was not the character he was playing, he didn't want to lose his real identity but right now that one was too dangerous and Maman (she always thought of her with the French word) had said to live the part and that's what she was doing.

The man was pretty much out of it when he got to the stairway. He pulled back the old coat that acted as a cover and with nervous, delicate fingers started to change the dressing covering the leg wound. It looked angry and red and as far as he could tell the bullet was still in there. All he could do was try to keep it clean until "Doc" arrived, and he hoped that would be soon.

He managed to get the man to drink some water – but the only food he had been able to find was some stale bread thrown out by a bakery, and there was no way to get him to eat that. He needed to be in a cleaner place than this – but this was all that was available to two people on the run.

TBC