The Rescue 40
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Kitty looked back and waved one more time at Maura and James O'Bryan before she steered the small cart they'd given her and Matt around a bend in the road and out of sight. Looking up at Matt, riding beside her, she grinned. "We must be living right, Cowboy." She remarked.
"What do you mean?" Matt asked curiously.
Kitty flicked the reins in her hands and with a thoughtful look. "Well, we just seem to keep running into good people willing to help us, even though they don't know us. Buster, the Atkins, the O'Bryan's. They helped us, Matt. But none of them really knew us."
Matt shrugged. "There are more good people in this world than bad, Kitty. It's just that, until this all happened, our lives and our jobs seemed to bring us into contact with more of the bad. If this whole mess has any silver lining, I guess it's that we're now getting to see the good people in the world."
Kitty looked up at him with a smile as she caressed her stomach for a moment. "That's not the only silver lining." She said. "I know our timing isn't exactly perfect but I'm not sorry for this."
Matt nodded. "Me neither. I'm not sorry for the baby or us marrying or even giving up the badge. I never realized how limited our lives were back in Dodge. But things are different now. And I plan on keeping us alive long enough to enjoy that."
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Clark Grafton had finally made it to the bustling metropolis of Cardinal, Colorado. With each day, the weather had warmed a little more and the snow had largely melted this far south of where the trading post was. But the traveling on foot had still been tiring and he was glad to see a town, any town.
The small village with a lone general store which doubled as the post office and the offices of Mayor and Post Master - James O'Bryan himself – a feed and fuel, a stable and a small café, didn't look like much, but then Grafton didn't intend to stay.
Foot sore, back aching and temper worsening with each painful step, Grafton was looking to get himself a horse, some food and a gun, so that he could continue in his quest for his bounty. Spotting the small café, he chose that as his first destination and limped over and into the warm room, finding a table near the back.
The waiter appeared immediately with a coffee pot and a menu. "Well, what can I get for you this bright and sunny morning, Stranger?" The affable and somewhat overweight man with the handlebar mustache asked him.
Grafton returned the smile with a glare. "Give me a steak, two eggs and some biscuits." He practically snarled at the man, who, recognizing a sour mood, quickly disappeared into the kitchen.
Once his meal arrived, Grafton sat eating as quickly as he could, not wanting to waste time. He paid little heed to the people around him and might not have heard the next piece of conversation had it not taken place so close to his table.
"Well, morning, Mr. O'Bryan." The waiter greeted the store owner enthusiastically. "What can I get for ya?"
"Just coffee and some biscuits, Mike." James O'Bryan returned the smile. "Maura's a good cook, but she can't make biscuits worth a darn."
"I understand." Mike said as he poured the coffee. "Saw your visitors left early this morning." He remarked.
James looked up at him, a little startled. "Uh, yeah." He said, noting the stranger at the next table. "Uh, Mike, could ya be getting me biscuits please. I'm a bit pressed for time."
"Oh, sure." Mike said. "I was just thinking that little red head sure didn't look like she should be traveling. She looked kinda puny, you ask me. But of course since she was riding in that cart and the trail going south ain't too bad, she'll probably be okay."
"Well, I didn't ask you." James snapped. "Now please, Mike. Can ya get me biscuits?"
Though Mike didn't understand James' discomfort with the conversation, he understood the tone and quickly turned and headed to kitchen.
James cast a sideways glance at the bedraggled stranger to gauge his interest. The man hadn't seemed to notice what had been said.
With a small sigh of relief, James made a mental note to apologize to Mike later for snapping at him. But he didn't want anyone to know about the young couple he and Maura had helped, especially a man who looked like this stranger did.
Grafton finished his breakfast and ordered another cup of coffee and two more biscuits. His appetite was good now, as was his mood. He'd heard just enough to know what his next moves would be. Paying for his meal, he stood up and walked out of the café, his physical discomforts forgotten.
His first stop was the general store. Maura was behind the counter. "Morning." He greeted her genially as he walked in.
"Good Morning." Maura did not return the smile. Something about the man grated on her, the moment she saw him. "Can I help you?" She was never the less polite.
"Well, yes, Ma'am." Grafton answered. "I'm needing some supplies and a gun."
Maura looked at him a little speculatively. "A gun?" She questioned. "For what would ya be needin' a gun?"
"Well, you see." He gave her his best smile. "I lost my horse and all my gear, along with my gun, a while back and I've been on foot ever since. I don't mind walking too much, but I sure don't like the idea of being out there on the trail with no food and nothing to defend myself."
Maura wasn't sure of this man and certainly didn't like his looks, but she was in business to sell her goods. And as long as the man had the price she would sell to him.
A half hour later, Grafton walked from the store with a new gun and holster on his hip and a small bag of provisions in his hand. The purchases had taken most of his money, but he wasn't too concerned about that. He'd find a way to get more. Making his way down to the stable, he talked to the stable master about buying a horse.
But Moses Dilby shook his gray head regretfully. "Sorry, mister. I only got three and they're not for sale. I need them for renting out."
Grafton studied the man for a moment. "Alright," he said with a sigh. "I'll rent one from you."
But again Moses shook his head. "I make it a practice not to rent to nobody I don't know." He said firmly.
Grafton's eyes narrowed as he glared at the man and then took a careful look around. He saw no one. Bending down slightly, he reached in his boot for the knife he kept there and with little fanfare, plunged it into Moses' chest, catching him as he fell. Taking another swift look around, he dragged the dead man into the stable, laid him in a stall and covered him over with hay, after combing his pockets and removing what little money he found there.
When he stood back up, he spied a black gelding in the stall next to him that looked pretty good. It took him no time to saddle the animal and lead it out of the stable to the woods where he turned and headed south.
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Sam leaned wearily against the polished mahogany top of the bar and looked around at the noon day crowd. Though busy for that time of day, the men who'd stopped in for a drink or a game of cards or a flirtation with a pretty girl were fairly subdued. Henry, the piano player he'd hired, was sitting at the instrument cranking out one tune after another to the lack luster crowd but few people were paying attention.
Reaching into his vest pocket, he once again pulled out the wire he'd just received that morning. It was from Doc. Though the words were brief it spoke volumes to the craggy faced bartender and made his day a little brighter.
"Found treasure." It stated. "Bound together and safe. Be home soon." Sam wasn't sure but he had an idea what 'bound together' meant and his heart soared at the thought. Of course he knew the chances of him ever seeing either one of them again was nearly zero, it mattered not to the man that cared so much about them. They were safe and together. He was satisfied.
That was until US Marshal Clay Turner came in and sauntered over to the bar. "Afternoon, Sam." The replacement marshal smiled at him. "Looks like a good crowd in here today."
Sam straightened up and forced himself to greet the new marshal of Dodge City with a smile. "Afternoon, Marshal. Yes, we're not doing too badly."
Turner looked back around at the patrons then back at Sam. "Yeah, ya know if that woman, that owned this place before you, hadn't a tried to get rich quick by robbing and killing that fella, she'd be here now, raking in the profits like you are. Instead she's on the run with a five thousand dollar reward on her head. Sure is a shame what gets into some people's heads. Ain't' it?" He gave a furtive glance to see if the craggy faced bartender would bite. He'd heard how the man felt about the fugitive red head.
But Sam gave him no satisfaction. His expression remained neutral. "Can I get you a beer?" He asked politely.
"Ah… oh, no." He tipped his hat and turned for the door. "Got to be going, Sam. You take care now."
Though he showed no reaction at all, Sam was shaken by the news the odious fat man had delivered. He had heard that a bounty had been placed on Miss Kitty's head, but he didn't know it was that much. The knowledge staggered him, knowing that some men would do anything for that amount of money. Anything.
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Clark Grafton was just such a man. After leaving Cardinal, he had followed the trail south for several miles. The tracks of a small cart were plainly visible on the muddy path and he felt certain he would have no trouble finding his prey. However, he'd been fooled and the trickery had left him in an angry state.
When he finally did catch the two wheeled contraption, he found a small little man with an even smaller dog sitting beside him driving the small conveyance and looking irritated at being waylaid. "Who are you?" The little man with the big nose demanded to know, while his small brown and white dog yipped incessantly beside him. "What do you want?"
"Where'd you get this cart?" Grafton demanded in an equally irritated tone of voice.
"That's none of your business." The man declared as he pulled his dog into his lap. "Its okay, Sparky." He reassured the tiny creature. "He won't hurt me."
Grafton's eyes lit up as he pulled his gun and aimed it squarely at the small canine's head. "No, but I'll hurt him if you don't speak up." He cocked his gun and placed his finger on the trigger.
The little man's eyes grew wide and he paled as he desperately tried to hide the little animal under his coat. "Don't shoot, Mister." He said. "I'll tell ya anything you want to know. Please don't hurt my dog."
Several minutes later, Grafton rode off with a laugh. Though he hadn't hurt the old man and his dog, he'd been sure to scare a day's growth out of them, and by their size they hadn't had that to lose. But he didn't care. He now knew that a tall man and a redheaded woman were riding south on an alternate trail and if he hurried he'd be able to catch them by nightfall.
TBC