Counterfeit
Chapter 15
The boy, Jimmie Mathews, held her ground. Just like her mother had told her when they used to explore cities in Europe, "People only notice you if you notice them first." She tried to relax, just play the part. There was a woman with a baby on her lap sitting next to her and she started smiling and playing with the infant. She even tried talking to the woman who didn't reply – but that didn't matter. In the back of her mind she heard the scuffle and the gun shot and watched through the window as a familiar shape fell from the car and rolled down the hill that ran beside the track. The train was slowing and she got up and joined another family that was preparing to leave the train at a small crossroads. She knew they would not even look at her, dressed as she was. It was all she could do not to run and hide as soon as her foot left the train steps, but she walked with the family just in case anyone was watching. She could almost hear her mothers voice, "think like a boy, hands in your pockets, shuffle a little, kick a rock."
It must have worked because when she looked back the train was pulling away and no one else was leaving it.
-XX-
It was almost dark by the time she found him. Somehow he had managed to cut a strip of fabric from his shirt and tie it round his leg to stop the bleeding. Even so there was a lot of the red sticky substance on the ground.
"C'mon, you can't stay here we have to get you to a Doctor."
"No, they'll be checking."
"What then? You can't travel far like this."
Dillon was having trouble trying to think. He wanted to protect the girl. If she was seen with him it would lead Colter to find her.
"Help me find a place to hide out, then make your way to Dodge like I told you."
The girl said nothing, she had no intention of leaving him.
"Come on then, let's get moving."
She helped him up and they made their way in the direction of St. Louis following the railroad track.
They had not quite reached the outskirts of the city when they came to a small grouping of buildings, probably warehouses, at one end of a small village. It was the crossroads where she had left the train. The railroad line branched and part of it wound its way between the buildings so that goods could be dropped off here then stored until needed. Eventually they would be loaded onto other trains or wagons and moved to their final destination.
Dillon hated being dependent on this young girl who herself had experienced more bad things in her short life than most fully grown adults. Somehow she coped, figured out how to survive and kept going. The problem now was how far could he keep going? It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on anything but the pain in his leg. He tried to hide it but the young 'boy' he was leaning on was too perceptive.
There was a pile of leftover railway sleepers lying by the track.
"You rest here a minute and I'll go look for a good hiding place."
Matt was grateful to rest. Walking was becoming increasingly painful and he could feel the warm stickiness of blood working its way down his leg.
Jimmie went off to inspect the various buildings and find a good place to shelter. The fourth one she came to seemed the best bet. It was dark and a bit damp like it had not been used in a while. As her eyes got used to the lack of light, she saw an old mattress lying on the floor – maybe a night watchman had been here at some time. There was a stairway going up along one wall and at the top what had once been an office, still harboring an ancient table and chair. It certainly wasn't The Grand Hotel in Vienna – but it would at least provide shelter until help arrived.
-XX-
"Thanks Jennifer," Matt grunted as she helped him settle back on the mattress she had dragged over to the dark corner beneath the stairway.
"You better get used to calling me Ginny, she said. My mother used to call me that – and when I was dressed as a boy it sounded like Jimmie – so it worked both ways."
He half smiled then groaned as he moved his leg.
"Thanks Ginny."
"I thought we could rest here till daylight."
"You need to go get a train out of here tomorrow. Colter's men will be here soon."
He reached down and gripped his leg, grimacing as he did so.
"And then who's going to see that you get out of here?"
"I'll get some help once you are clear."
She said nothing because that certainly wasn't what she had in mind.
Matt spent a restless night. He just couldn't think of a way out of this mess. Colter's men would find out that he was still alive and come looking for him – he didn't even have a gun worth anything to defend himself with. They could hardly go board a train with him with blood all down his leg – even supposing they could make it to the depot. He could feel a fever beginning to lap around the edges of his mind and smiled to himself thinking that he could really do with some help from Doc right now.
"Jimmie" woke with a start. Mathews – as she now thought of him – was mumbling and talking, but he wasn't awake and he seemed hotter than he should be. He definitely needed more help than she could give.
She decided to go look around the small village and see what she could find. Stuffing her hair up under the felt hat she had been wearing, she set out, surprised to find that it was not even fully daylight yet.
She remembered what he had said about Colter's men coming to find him, and looked carefully around corners as she went. She left the rail-yard and followed the dirt road into the small town that was on the outskirts of St. Louis. She found a general store and told the man who was just pulling up the window shades and unlocking the door in preparation for the day's business, that her Pa had cut his leg bad and she needed some bandages and stuff to take care of it. She also bought some basic food supplies from him using the money Mathews had given her. She was about to leave when she noticed a small depot for one of the local stage lines and there, hanging over the door, was a sign that read "Telegraph." Remembering the name of the Doctor in Dodge City, she formed the message to send, in her head, then strolled across the street concentrating on the role she was playing. Walking into the office she was confronted by a sleepy young man behind the desk where the telegraph key was located. It looked like he had been there all night.
"Can I send a wire from here?" she asked.
"If you've got the money," the young man – not that much older than herself - with a pock marked face and corn colored hair, looked at the scruffy young boy standing in front of him. "Don't think I've seen you around here before."
"Me an' my Pa are just passing through, he wants me to send a wire to someone in Dodge City, an old friend of his."
"Why doesn't he come and send it himself?"
"Well.." think fast Ginny, she could hear her mother say, "..he don't write so good and he feels bad about it."
The man said nothing, just looked at 'Jimmy'. For a moment she wondered if he saw through the character she was playing, but he turned to a box of papers on the desk.
"Write your message out on one of those forms over there and we'll see if you have enough money."
She had never done this before but trying to seem confident decided what to write and after a few minutes handed him the finished note.
"That's fine, it'll cost you a dollar and a half."
Turning out pockets in the old baggy pants she finally came up with enough money and was about to leave.
"Whoa there! – Who am I sending this to?" She managed to recall the doctor's name and address that Mathews had told her.
"What's your name?"
"Jimmie Mathews."
"Where are you staying?"
Jimmie looked startled "Why do you need to know that?"
" So we can deliver a reply if there is one."
"Don't worry – I'll just check back with you here." Jimmie remembered to stuff hands in pockets as he walked away. Ginny had tried to learn to whistle thinking that would add depth to her character – but so far she'd been unsuccessful.
It was broad daylight by the time 'Jimmie' started on his way back to the warehouse. There had been no sign of Colter's men as yet, even so the route the young boy took was circuitous and from time to time he stopped to inspect a particular rock or something on the ground, making the opportunity to look back and check.
Mathews was awake but not making much sense when she arrived back at their hiding place. She had used the coat he had been wearing as a cover to keep him warm last night, but it was flung back on the floor at the side of the old mattress he was lying on. She looked carefully at him wondering who this man was. He was so different from any of Colter's friends. He had treated her decently, even trusted her, and had not thought of her as a commodity to be traded for favors. His face was covered with small beads of sweat that tracked down and onto the collar of his shirt. She had noticed his blue eyes earlier, but now they were clouded and the mass of dark curly hair was matted to his forehead. That hair brought back memories of a Spaniard who had once courted her mother. Genevieve had been very young at the time but thinking about it, she could remember calling him Papa.
Mathews uttered that name again, "Kitty", he had said the same name several times during the night, now he was tossing his head and his hand reached out and finding hers, grasped it.
"Kitty," he said again and seemed to relax for a while.
She knew she had to clean the wound in his leg. She had never done anything like that before, but did watch as a doctor cleaned a wound in one of her uncle's men who had got in a gunfight. All the hands were working somewhere else and Colter had told her to help the doctor. Now she had to remember what he did.
She knew there was a knife in one of her friends pockets, she had seen him use it. She searched his coat and then his pants till she found it. She also found two flat metal plates wrapped in a cloth, she had no idea what they were but they must be important if he had carried them all this way.
Carefully she cut the fabric of his pants away from the wound. It was swollen and hot and red streaks were beginning to run up and down his leg, extending out like the points of a star.
The man in the general store had given her some liquid to clean it with and she opened the bottle and poured a generous amount into the wound. The effect was amazing. The man almost came up off the bed with a scream. He realized where he was and managed to stifle the noise, falling back onto the makeshift bed.
"I'm sorry," she was flustered now, " I didn't know it would hurt that bad."
"It's all right, I wasn't prepared for it that's all." His face was still tight and his teeth clenched. The burning from what he knew must have been alcohol, continued for several minutes. Finally it began to subside and he could think once again.
"Is the bullet still in there?" he asked her.
"I think so. There is only one wound, nowhere where it could have passed clean through. I have never done this before, I know I need to clean it and put a new bandage, can you hold still?"
"I'll try." He could feel her nervous gentle fingers working around his knee, the pain shot through him but tried not to show it because he didn't want to scare her.
"Why didn't you get the train to Dodge like I told you?" he asked when she had finished.
"I had a better idea."
Fortunately he lay back exhausted and closing his eyes, slipped back in to the mists of unconsciousness. He had never asked about her idea.
TBC