There's Always Tomorrow Part 12
PLAYIN' ROUGH
Author's Note: "There's Always Tomorrow" is a continuing series starring Matt and Kitty. Each story stands on its own with plenty of new adventures and drama. But new characters come and go, and since change is inevitable, time must move on. Blake Rains reprises his role as a young deputy from "The Anniversary," and it looks like he has what it takes to join our favorite characters. Dodge City has grown a lot since Matt did rounds, and so has the marshals' service. If this is the first story you've read in the series, I hope you'll catch up on the others soon. As always, it's my pleasure to entertain you!
"There's something pretty wonderful about having kids.
But that first one, that's very, very special."
Doc Adams in "Reprisal."
PLAYIN' ROUGH: CHAPTER 1
Matt pulled an apple out of his bag and took a big bite while he re-read the wrinkled telegram he'd stuffed in his breast pocket.
"Require your assistance in murder suicide case immediately STOP
Bart Bradshaw
Sheriff
Eureka Kansas"
He took another bite and watched the prairie roll by out the window. Even in the morning, the window he'd opened couldn't quell the stifling heat, and it was a toss-up between breathing air and the mixture of bits of cinders and water from the big coal fired engine. The miles of nothing that had been the prairie when he left Dodge had turned vibrant and fresh from the regular rains that nourished eastern Kansas. Cattle and sheep grazed contentedly in the lush greenery, oblivious to the struggle animals on the prairie endured. It was enough to make him wonder about the lure of the plains he'd loved for so many years. But lush greenery and fertile ground drew more people, more crime, and more challenges for the law.
He collected the rest of his gear at the Wichita Depot, then walked to the hotel with everything his horse would carry the next morning when he set out for the short ride to Eureka. Out of habit, he bought a second story room overlooking the street, stowed his belongings, then walked down to the livery to see about renting a horse. The pimply-faced stable boy who greeted him looked at his badge, then showed him two horses that were much too small to carry a man his size.
Matt shook his head. "What about that big bay on the end?"
"Cost you an extra five dollars a day, mister," the boy responded without hesitation.
"That doesn't make a bit of sense. I'm a heavy man. Be much easier for the bay to carry me in this heat."
"That badge on your shirt says you got plenty of government money in your pocket, mister. Double or nothing, suit yourself."
It was laughable, then again it wasn't. It crossed his mind that the extra five dollars would no doubt end up in the youngster's pocket instead of the owner's till. There were more ways to tinker with business in this part of Kansas than anyone back in Dodge dreamed of. He fished a ten dollar deposit out of his pocket, for which the youngster eagerly promised to have the horse grained up and ready to go at first light. The two restaurants he passed looked good, but after a brief thought he decided to opt for the less crowded one back at the hotel, where he'd likely find an old newspaper laying around. He reassembled one that had been scattered around on a bench in the lobby, unpinned his badge and stuffed it in his pocket, then found a table in the bar. He was engrossed in the story and pictures on the first page when a buxom blonde took his order. She returned to his table with the frosty beer mug and peered over his shoulder.
"Ohhh, you're readin' about those awful murders, aren't ya'? You go to the races, do ya'?"
"No." He took a long draw and put his money on the table, certain she'd take the hint.
"I've been up there to the races a lot," she babbled on. "Made myself a hundred dollars one time. Course it wasn't cause I knew anything about the horses. Me and this john . . . I mean . . . me and this friend went up together that time and he knew how to bet 'em. He had connections, don't ya' see? Been there a dozen other times but never could hit it big on my own. I think you gotta have connections when you gamble, don't you?"
"I wouldn't know."
"Terrible about the murders, though," she leaned in close. "I mean, how can anybody kill a woman like that? He didn't even love her or nothin'. It was all just for the money. Her husband should have protected her," she managed a sigh, brushing her arm across his.
"I'm sure you're right." Matt stood up and smiled at the waitress. "Think I'll take my beer over to the restaurant. It'll go real good with a steak."
"Oh yeah, sure. They got some fine beef over there. Comes straight from Kansas City on the train these days. Well, say, if you get lonely later on just ask for me, I'll be here till nine." Her eager eyes spoke volumes. She sashayed back to the bar, glancing over her shoulder.
Finally with time to read it, the front page story filled in almost all the blanks for Matt that the sheriff couldn't include in the telegram. A Mrs. Delores Andrews had been shot to death by her husband's bookkeeper, and when Mr. Andrews found her body, he took his own life with a self-inflicted gunshot wound through the ear. The sheriff had the bookkeeper in custody, but a huge list of bettors and horse owners were missing payoffs. The article went on to explain that gambling should be regulated by the United States government and not left to town sheriffs because it was too dangerous for them to manage. The drama was punctuated by pictures of a businessman in a suit and derby hat, standing next to an exquisite brunette who looked to be half his age.
XOXOXO
"You going back to Dodge again today?" Doc asked Kitty over the breakfast Ava had set in front of the family.
"I am. Don't you start with me, Curly."
"I get to go too, Grampa," Sara piped up. "It's test day today at school."
"I thought you like Ava teaching you here at home."
"I do," she said eagerly. "But I like when we go to the real school for test day, cause I get to see my friends."
"It's good for her Doc," Ava explained. "She learns a lot about getting along with others her own age that I can't teach her here at home."
Sara's face lit up. "I get good grades on the tests too, Grampa."
Doc hid a grin, pretending to rub his mustache. "So you think Miss Ava is a good teacher?"
"She's a great teacher. I can beat all my friends in arithmetic and spelling and geography."
"All right. How about geography. What state is east of Kansas?"
"That's too easy, Grampa. It's Missouri," she beamed.
"And the next one?" he challenged.
"Illinois." She put her fork down and rolled her eyes.
"Keep going."
"Well, there's that tippy-toe corner of Indiana and then there's Kentucky and then before you fall in the ocean is Virginia. There are two Virginias, the real one and the west one."
Ava treated herself to a laugh, proud of her student. "Sara, if that's a question on your test, you should say West Virginia and Virginia. There's no such thing as the real one."
"Why not?" the little brunette asked.
"Probably because the people in West Virginia wouldn't like that very much. West Virginia is a real place, just like Kansas."
Sara cocked her head confidently. "I know that. And Kansas came before they did. We won the race. Right, Grampa?"
"Indeed we did. Now go upstairs and get dressed. Your Momma wants to leave for town."
"We can take the surrey if you want to go along, Doc," Kitty offered when Sara was out of the room.
"Two days already this week is enough for me for a while. Kitty, come sit with me in the parlor for a few minutes."
She followed him to the parlor willingly and took a seat across from him, always interested in what he had to say without an audience, and especially when Matt was off on a trip. "You're working mighty hard on the racetrack," he said, searching her eyes for an answer to an unasked question.
She folded her hands on her lap and sighed. "I've paid my dues, Curly. Ava's here with the children every day now that she doesn't work in town anymore. The remount business is good thanks to Tupe's hard work. I can't sit here day after day pretending I'm working on books that only take a few hours to do. The track is a promising new business for our future."
"And you get to see your friends," he smiled, parroting Sara's enthusiasm, knowing all too well how much she enjoyed being around people.
But she ignored him. "It'll be great for Dodge. If we can get past the local cowboy stage, we'll draw contestants and spectators from all over Ford County. The restaurants and hotels love the idea, not to mention Sam and Lily. The Long Branch needs all the business it can get now that the Texas drives are dwindling."
"The Long Branch," he harrumphed. "Young lady, will you never stop working the Long Branch?"
"You don't think it holds a special place in my heart?" She cocked her head. "And you know very well I'm no longer a young lady. I want to set an example for my children. Maybe I can inspire them. I love it, Doc. Always have. The lake is fun, the fishing is fun, but this girl needs to work to be happy."
"Maybe if that overgrown public servant would retire, you two could just have fun traveling and enjoying life."
But she put her hand up and stopped him. "You and I both know how that goes. He's not going to give up that badge until something forces him to. That piece of tin holds a special place in his heart. How about the two days you already spent at the office with Joseph and Mona this week? I thought you were retired. Does medicine hold a special place in your heart? I don't see you giving it up completely. Don't be too quick to judge."
XOXOXO
Eureka Downs racetrack was easy to spot just before Matt got to town, at a good location along Fall River. With no fence, no guards, and no horses around, it had a ghostly appearance, and it sure looked different from his memory of the famous Pioneer track in San Francisco. The spectator seating was minimal; nothing more than wooden risers set into the natural terrain that sloped up from the river. Then again, this was Kansas not California, and the place had only been open two years. He circled the three meager buildings slowly, then rode the bay down into the river to get a well-earned drink.
A man could easily have walked from the track to the heart of town, no doubt a good plan just like the one Kitty envisioned for cowboy racing in Dodge. No matter how small, a racetrack needed customers so it had to be close to town. But something had gone wrong here, terribly wrong. So he rode the short distance and tied his horse up in front of the sheriff's office. The place was locked up tighter than a drum. He beat on the front door long enough to wake the dead, and was turning back toward the hitch rail when he heard a booming voice from behind it.
"What do you need?"
"Sheriff Bradshaw?" Matt asked in his own powerful voice, curious as to why the door was locked.
"Yeah. Who wants to know?"
"Marshal Matt Dillon from Dodge City."
Bradshaw opened the door eagerly, but only wide enough for Matt to skirt through, then he closed it and locked it behind him again before he extended his hand.
"Bart Bradshaw, Matt. Glad you're here. Eureka's sure come on some hard times."
"You alone here, Bart?"
"This isn't Wichita or Kansas City, Marshal. It's Eureka. I haven't been outta this building for five days. You must have got my telegram. Let me introduce you to my problem."
There wasn't even a door between the sheriff's office and the two cells. The prisoner was a pale, blonde, bespectacled man of slight build, hardly the sort to frequent a jail cell. He stood and approached the bars to greet Matt, if you could call a spit aimed at Matt's boot a greeting.
"He's glad I'm here too," Matt quipped, backing out of the line of fire.
"His name's Phineas Sloan, Matt." Bradshaw explained. He's not much on talking."
"Yeah, well I think he's warmin' right up to me."
"You want a coffee?"
Matt shook his head, wondering how anyone could drink hot coffee in this stifling heat. "No thanks. Let's hear the story, Bart."
The sheriff motioned him into the only extra chair next to his desk and started in. "Robert Andrews was a wealthy businessman from Wichita. He built a racetrack here, figuring he'd pull business from Wichita, Kansas City and even Topeka. He was sure enough right. Eureka Racetrack put us on the map. Andrews had business from all over eastern Kansas. Phineas worked for him, ran the office. He collected all the entry money, then when Andrews decided more would be better, Phineas started setting odds and collecting all the wagers."
"Let me guess," Matt interrupted the story, all too familiar with the lure of easy money. "Phineas decided he needed to have more than his wages."
"That's about it. Andrews' wife managed the business for him. When she discovered a lot of missing profits, she confronted Phineas and he shot her point blank in the chest. He has a stash any man would envy, Matt. That's why I wired for help. I don't know what to do about the money or the track . . . and to be honest, I'm probably not man enough to haul him to Topeka for trial. Some of the horse owners are pretty tough cookies. They'd rather see him lynched right here than stand trial."
"Where's the money?"
"Right here in my safe," Bradshaw pointed to a typical lawman's safe that almost anyone could crack. "That's the other reason I haven't left this office for five days. My wife sent that telegram to you, and she brings food twice a day."
"Why Topeka?"
"The judge set his trial date there next Thursday. Everyone in town knows about it. Only way I could be sure to get him there is with a few deputies, but I can't find a single man willing to volunteer."
Matt leaned back in the chair and hooked his thumbs in his belt. He and Frank had been ordered to transport a dozen high risk prisoners in the last year, a sure sign that United States marshals were more of a target than ever before. Sure, it was an honor, but it was at a price. Topeka was a long two-day ride away, and he'd have made it without a second thought if he had Frank or Festus along. It was time for a little creativity.
"Is there a stage to Wichita?"
"Sure, twice a day. It's an easy trip. My wife goes over there to shop. Lots of the ladies do." Bradshaw answered.
"No ladies' shops here?"
"There's places to buy clothes, but not fancy clothes." Completely confused, Bradshaw added, "Where you goin' with this, Matt?"
"Just toying with an idea. I'll take a little walk around town and see what I can come up with. Read you in on it when I get back."
XOXOXO
When Bart Bradshaw opened the door this time, he greeted a marshal loaded down with his saddle bags, a rifle scabbard and two packages neatly tied up with string. Matt tossed the packages on Bradshaw's desk and motioned him to sit down.
"I closed the track, Bart. There's no way to fence people out, but they're not going to be doing any wagering. The cage is locked up and you'll find a sign on it forbidding public bets by order of the United States Marshals Service."
"Can a marshal really do that?" Bradshaw's eyebrows shot up.
"We can do anything we think is necessary to stop crime," Matt explained. "Betting is legal, but it'll be a long time until some investor like Andrews wants to open this track up again because of the corruption and a woman's murder. Just let the sign hang there. Buying it would be like buying a ranch infested with snakes."
Matt pulled two stage tickets out of his wallet. "Phineas and I are going to take a stage ride this evening, Bart. We're going to Wichita. There's a shotgun man on that stage too, so there'll be two of us hired to protect Phineas."
"But I told you . . ."
"I heard what you said," Matt interrupted him. "If there are gunmen watching for a lawman and a prisoner heading for Topeka, they'll be waitin' a while. I'm taking Phineas to Wichita, then we'll get on the train straight from Wichita to Topeka. I'll deposit the money in a U.S. Government account there and the judge can appoint somebody to dole it out."
Bradshaw hadn't even taken his seat yet, but with that revelation, he finally did. "You're taking the money too?"
"In my saddlebags, here. The service would just have to send me back again to get it. Might as well go for broke on one trip."
"All right." The sheriff was studying the packages on his desk. "You bought a rifle too, did you?"
"Not hardly." Matt grinned and ripped the paper off the long package, revealing a lady's parasol. "And in this one is Mister Sloan's attractive dress, just long enough to hide his lovely legs. This other one is his stylish bonnet."
The sheriff blew out a huge breath. "You have GOT to be kidding."
"Look Bart, you want him hauled to Topeka. This isn't my first day on the job. I've been shot at plenty of times, and it's no fun. Now you get Phineas suited up in his fashionable new outfit. The stage leaves late enough that the light won't be very good. Nobody'll give a second look to a man and his wife traveling together."
tbc