Chapter Fifty
The puffy-white wisps of clouds, which had been blockading the horizon since dawn, finally parted. And bright, warm sunshine came cascading down out of the early morning sky over Cimarron.
Francis Wilde watched in wonder as a golden glow suddenly descended upon the group of people who were waiting there with him on the railroad platform.
There were two reasons for the group's having gathered there. Mrs. Edward's sister was arriving--from St. Louis, and Senator David Samuel Fisher was departing--for Texas.
MacGregor and the Senator were busy discussing the distilment process of a certain alcoholic beverage in which bar-r-rley was a major component.
Jim Crown's attention was divided between a beautiful woman and an approaching thirty car train. (The railroad had temporarily altered its normal schedule of trains through the Territory, and had taken on twenty more passenger cars to try to handle the sudden influx a' folks--with a fancy for all that FREE land the Government was gonna be givin' away...come the sixteenth of September.) His boss was bedecked in his best three-piece suit. And the reporter couldn't remember ever seeing the lawman look any handsomer--or happier! Why, speakin' a' 'glows', Jim Crown's face literally radiated--with joy! And why not?! Standing at the Marshal's side, was one of the loveliest ladies Francis had ever met. And in her arms was one of the sweetest little baby boys he'd ever seen. (An believe you me, 'sweet' was not an adjective the writer generally attached to babies--of either gender!)
Francis turned his attention to the remaining two members of their little group--Dulcey...and her doctor. The reporter grinned, seeing that the pretty girl's face was also 'aglow' with happiness. That the two of them were head-over heels in love was evident in that neither of them took any note of the train's arrival--until its passengers began bumping into them as they disembarked.
Then--suddenly--over the din of all those milling people--came an unbelievably loud, sharp, blood-chilling cry, "Do-oc!"
Francis watched as both Jim and Jarrod turned their heads in the shouted voice's direction.
Jarrod because he was a 'Do-oc''.
And Jim because he recognized the challenge behind that coldly calculated cry. The U.S. Marshal had been 'called out' to do gun battles before! The lawman was also well aware that--following the warning--the person being 'called out' had only split seconds in which to react. "Everybody! GET DO-OWN!" Jim ordered--in his most authoritative manner. Then he shoved Katelyn and Jamie away and jumped from the crowded platform. (The Marshal hoped to draw the challenger's gunfire away from all those 'stunned' and 'startled' and innocent bystanders.)
"DON'T SHOOT!" Francis screamed as he flattened himself down on the deck of the platform, dragging Katelyn and Dulcey along with him, "HE'S UNARMED!" They were all unarmed!
Except--unfortunately--for the cold-blooded kid who had screamed out the 'challenge'!
Francis jerked.
And so did Jim--as five rapidly-fired bullets ripped their way into and through his boss' unarmed body. The first slug tore into the lawman's left side--as he leapt from the platform. The next three slammed into his back--as he landed. The last chunk of lead struck Jim Crown full force in the chest--as the impact from the previous three bullets rolled him right over.
Francis jerked again--as three more shots suddenly rang out--to his immediate right. He forced himself to turn away from the gruesome sight on the ground below, and saw his fellow deputy go racing off down the depot platform. MacGregor had borrowed a rifle from somebody--and was in hot pursuit of the Marshal's 'assailant'.
Francis thought of following after him, but--without a weapon--he would just be in the way.
Besides, the Senator had already gone racing off to back the Scotsman up.
The reporter was so sickened by what had just happened, that he thought he might vomit. And he was still so shaken by what he'd just witnessed, that his arms and hands were actually trembling! Turning back--to face his fallen friend--was the hardest thing Francis ever had to do--in his entire life.
His boss was apparently still breathing, for he had pulled himself up into a sitting position. Jim just sat there--with his eyes tightly shut and with his back resting up against one of the large, wooden, packing crates he'd just crash-landed into.
Dulcey was kneeling at Jim's left side, holding onto his hand.
Jarrod was crouched down in front of him, frantically trying to stem the steady flow of blood that was gushing from his patient's ghastly chest wound. "You men! Give me a hand with the Marshal!" the gravely solemn young doctor suddenly demanded--of several of those innocent and still 'stunned' bystanders, "C'mon! We've got to get him to my off--"
"No-o!" the Marshal interrupted, "There's...no ti--"
"But," the lawman's frustrated young physician--and friend--interrupted right back, "You'll bleed to death!"
Jim's eyes snapped open and he shot Jarrod a look which said, 'Yeah...I know. An' you an' I both know that movin' me ain't gonna change matters any...' No, sir! The resourceful lawman wasn't gonna be able to 'think' his way out of this one! The Marshal swallowed hard and then glanced down at the bloodied hand that was covering the gaping hole in his chest. Things were going very wrong inside of him. Things were rapidly going very wrong, indeed! An' no amount a' doctorin' was gonna alter that terribly grim fact. Still, Jim Crown could sympathize with his physician's frustration. The lawman latched onto Jarrod's right wrist and pushed it away from his chest. At the same time, he pulled Dulcey's wrist up and brought the both of their hands together. "Take care a' her, Doctor..." Jim quietly requested.
"I will...I promise! I'll take good care of her for you!" Jarrod solemnly vowed.
"You'd better!" the father and big brother Dulcey never had warned--a bit gruffly. But then he flashed the both of them a rather wry, sly smile, "I expect the two a' you...ta take real good care...of each other...for me..."
The couple in question could no longer speak. So they acknowledged their compliance to the match-making Marshal's last request with two very definate nods.
The lawman's eyes closed for a few moments.
And, when they reopened, Francis found them focused up at him.
Jim studied his guilt-ridden face for a second or two. "Don' you dare!" he exclaimed, dispensing with his second warning in as many minutes. "Francis, don' you even think it!" he continued--sternly. But then allowed his stern look--and his raised voice--to soften some, "Why-y...that 'kid' prob'ly cain't even...READ!" he reasoned lightly--and flashed the author of 'TAMING THE TERRITORY' that rather wry smile of his.
Francis stiffened--as his boss suddenly stiffened and his smile was replaced with a grimace. The reporter took a step or two towards the edge of the platform, but then stopped--as Mrs. Edwards appeared...with some water.
The nurse dropped to her knees before his boss and then held the cup in her hands up to the pained peace officer's parched--and tightly pursed--lips.
Jim felt the touch of a hand on the back of one of his tightly clenched fists, and forced his tightly closed eyes--and mouth--back open.
The woman tipped the cup up.
And his unbelieveably thirsty boss drained its entire cool, soothing contents. "The...two a' you...all right?" Jim Crown anxiously inquired.
"You saw ta that.." the nurse numbly responded--with several solemn nods.
"Hold me, Katelyn..." the Marshal said--so softly that the reporter had to read the lawman's lips.
And the lady tenderly took the man she loved up into her arms.
"He-ey..." Jim whispered--sometime later--as he became aware of the fact that the woman was crying, "No regrets...Remember?" Then his boss pulled back a bit to brush the tears from the lovely lady's beautiful--but damp--eyes.
"No regrets..." Katelyn came back--rather shakily.
Jim Crown smiled sadly up at the woman he loved. "We...make a...a pretty good...pair...you an' I..." he began a bit breathlessly. "Ain'...neither one a' us...kin...lie-ie...worth a darn!" he finished lightly--that sad smile of his broadening into a wry grin.
Katelyn forced a weak smile, herself and then kissed him--for what she now felt certain would be the last time...for she could feel him growing weaker and weaker with each labored breath.
"So little time..." the Marshal muttered regrettably--following their 'goodbye' kiss, "So precious...little...ti-ime." The two of them gazed--blurrily--into each other's eyes for quite a long, quiet while. Then the mortally wounded lawman stiffened and grimaced again, "Katelyn, I-I--" he cried and tried desperately to hold on to her--to life! But both just kept right on slipping away. His wildly racing heart skipped a few beats--and then just suddenly stopped!--all together.
Katelyn grimaced as well--as the Marshal went limp in her arms. "I know, my darling," she assured him softly, "I know..." she repeated. Then she tightened her hold on the lawman and slowly began rocking his lifeless body back and forth. "No-o!" she shouted as two men tried to take Jim from her, "I need more time!" She couldn't let go yet--not just yet! He'd just breathed his last breath--his body was still warm! "Too little time!" Katelyn bitterly exclaimed--and began sobbing softly on the dead Marshal's shoulder. "Too...precious...little...ti-ime!" she numbly repeated--and kept right on crying...and holding on to all that remained of Jim Crown.
MacGregor and the Senator showed up just then, prodding their prisoner along with the barrels--and butts--of their borrowed rifles. The possee reached the place along the platform where a large crowd of bystanders still stood--forming a sort a' semi-circle. The crowd parted as they approached--and their grim little procession halted.
The Marshal's assassin stared down at the 'Legend's' life-less body for a few moments. "I did it!" the kid bragged with a big, broad grin, "I really did it! I KILLED 'Doc' Crown!"
"Why, yer nothin' but a cold-blooded MER-R-R-R-DERER!" an enraged MacGregor reminded the blaggard. "The man was no' even wearin' a gun!" the Scotsman tacked on--from between tightly clenched teeth.
Then, Francis watched as Mac proceeded to 'whack' the grin clean off'n the gunman's face--with the back-side of one of his tightly clenched fists!
"No matter!" the legend's cocky young killer came back, "It'll still be me folks'll be readin' about in all the papers! "ME! I KILLED 'DOC CROWN'!"
"No-o!" Francis quickly corrected as he slipped effortlessly to the ground, "I-I did!" he bitterly stated and then stepped over to stare sadly down at his boss' dead body, "Ah-ah, Jim...I'm sorry...I'm so-o sorry!" When he looked up, a young woman was standing beside him--er, behind Katelyn--holding a baby boy in her arms. Jamie's aunty, no doubt. Francis couldn't quite make out the details of her face. It seemed that there was...something...in his eyes.
##########################
And, speaking of something in someone's e-eyes...
Layer by layer by layer, the thick curtain of fog enveloping Jim Crown's consciousness began lifting. Correspondingly, the already intensely bright light--which was totally engulfing his vision--gradually increased in its brilliance, as well. So the squinting Marshal drew his left arm up--to shield his eyes from the painful onslaught, and slowly turned his head aside.
The lawman lay there...no longer blinded. And--while he was trying to figure out where there was--his whole life suddenly flashed before him! Well, not his whole life--exactly. Just bits and pieces of the last half-a-decade or so of it. He blinked his still somewhat blurred vision into better focus and stared rather blankly about. Those images from the Marshal's past remained right there--right before his eyes!
Actually, pictures from the peace officer's past appeared everywhere! There he was, heading up a posse--shooting it out with the bad guys--placing those who surrendered under arrest--placing those who didn't, jes' plain under--carting the convicted off to prison--the condemned off to be executed. Yes, sir! The lawman lay there, reliving every stressful second of it! A whole lot of the trials an' tribulations of the last five years of his life--were all right there before him--all in black and white--and all signed: Francis L. Wilde.
An', speakin' a' Francis L. Wilde...
U.S. Marshal James Crown fully awoke to the sound of someone shouting. That 'someone' sounded a whole lot like Francis. An' what he was shouting was HIS name! Francis was calling for him! So he tossed his covers off and attempted to rise. Agony and exhaustion overwhelmed him, however...and he collapsed back onto his bed--er, Francis' bed. Another shouted summons from his obviously agitated friend--and he somehow summoned the strength--to slide off of the bed and onto the floor. "Ahhh-ahh! Ow-ow!" were Crown's first and second involuntary reactions to his crash landing on the carpeted, but still hard, wood surface below. "Oh-oh...ohhhh..." the Marshal further bemoaned as he found that he was unable to move any further. The groggy lawman let out another long, involuntary groan--and then shivered. Jim Crown was cold. Except for a flimsy pair of white, cotton pants (Similar to those worn by Mexican peasants.) and his bandages, his battered body was buck naked. He heard the sound of someone's soft steps approaching...and then the 'rustling' of a woman's skirts.
"Huh-uh! Mister MacGregor?!" Katelyn summoned, upon inhaling a startled 'gasp'.
"A-Aye?!" came the Scotsman's anxious reply as Mac arrived--jes' moments later.
"Help me get him back on the be--" the woman's words were drowned out by yet another shouted request for "Ji-im!"s presence in the room next door.
Thusly inspired, the completely prone peace officer made yet another attempt to pick himself up off the floor.
"You lost an awful lot a' blood!" the nurse chastised as she assisted her hopelessly stubborn--and apparently determined--husband to his knees, "You're much too weak ta be movin' aroun' like this!"
Crown didn't debate the issue, "You two gonna lend me a hand, here?...Or am I gonna have ta...cra-awl...down the ha-all?"
Another plaintive plea--from the reporter jes' down the hall--helped the pair decide.
"Thanks!" the otherwise immobilized Marshal muttered appreciatively--as the two draped his arms about their necks and started hauling him to his bare feet.
Then, since the lawman's legs were much too weak to support his weight, the couple continued hauling him--clear into his room and right up to his bed.
Where--much to Dave Fisher's and Dulcey's dismay--a very distraught Francis L. Wilde continued to thrash wildly about.
They sat Jim down on the edge of the bed and he took a hold of his young friend's flailing arms from his old friend, Dave Fisher, "All right...I'm HERE! So. Now. What's all the fussin' about, Francis?"
Francis froze--right in mid-thrash and shot him a look of utter disbelief and absolute amazement. He began to reach for his boss' arms, but then hesitated. Francis was afraid to touch him--for fear he'd disappear! "Ji-im! I'm so-o sorry!...Y-You're NOT dead!" his stunned deputy stammered after Jim gave his arms a reassuring squeeze.
His boss' pale face took on a rather pained expression, "Well, yah don' have ta sound so disappointed," he teased, "'cuz it sure feels like I must a' come mighty close to it--"
"JI-IM!" the reporter interrupted, his voice--and face--now filled with rapturous joy, "It really is 'you'! You really are 'here'! You're really not 'dead'!
"We've been telling you that for the past five minutes!" an exasperated Miss Coopersmith reminded the exasperating reporter.
"Oh-oh, Jim!" a tremendously relieved looking Francis L. Wilde exclaimed, flinging his arms about his boss' neck and giving the resurrected Marshal a hu-uge hug, "You're alive! You're alive! Thank God! You're alive!"
Katelyn caught the really pained expression on Jim Crown's face and quickly came to his rescue, "Take it easy, Francis!" she gently urged, taking a tender hold of the reporter's wrists, "From what I was told, you came awful close ta death yerself!" she added--and released the grimacing peace officer from his nearly dead deputy's vice-like grip, "It appears you both came pretty close..."
"Too close!" Dulcey determined. "And it's time you both got some rest!" she tacked on--in a no-nonsense tone.
Katelyn shoved a steaming cup into Jim Crown's hand and then draped a blanket over his bare shoulders.
Her husband gave her a look of undying gratitude. Then he slowly straightened up and carefully released his held breath.
"I just had the most absolutely awfullest dream I ever dreamt--in my whole entire life!" Francis rather frantically announced, "Talk about a nightmre! I mean...it was all so real! Too real!"
"Yeah. Well, that's that vivid 'writer's' imagination a' yor--"
"I dreamt you were dead!" the 'writer' blurted out, interrupting his boss once again, "An' that it was all my-y fault--"
"Forget about it, Francis!" Jim Crown cut in--with what he thought was some sound advice, "I'm not dead--an' Mister Mareck won't be botherin' anybody...anymore!"
"Aye!" Mac gleefully interjected, "Mareck is in a pine box! And the Judge is in a jail cell--downstairs!".
"An' the Major's still sittin' in the stockade!" Dave Fisher finished--with a flare.
But the reporter drew no comfort from their words. Francis apparently would not--or could not--rest until he had related ev-er-y very vivid detail of his dreadfully appalling dream! The deputy disregarded all requests to discontinue his gruesome narrative--and would not stop speaking until his entire tragic tale had been told!
For the longest time after Francis finally finished, 'dead' silence filled the room. Nobody knew quite what to say.
They might a' remained speechless down ta this day--if Doctor Jarrod Michael Ellis hadn't a' come dashing into the room.
The pained expression--that had been planted on the 'mer-r-r-rdered' Marshal's face for the dream's entire telling--had spread...and was now clearly visible on everyone's visage--including Dulcey's.
"What's going on in here?!" the good doctor demanded of the girl--and glanced around again. Charley Adam's had said that he was sorely needed but--except for the rather odd looks on their faces--EVERYBODY 'seemed' to be jes' fi-ine!
"Nothing," Miss Coopersmith finally answered, still sounding rather dazed, "Francis just had a...a bad 'dream', is all..."
"A-Aye!" MacGregor glumly agreed, "A very BAD 'dream', indeed!"
"The baddest!" Senator Fisher solemnly surmised.
The 'deceased' just sat there, looking very much like he could use a drink. He could! So he raised his steaming cup up and downed several very long swallows of its contents--which was definitely not coffee! The Marshal 'gasped' and then shot his nurse another grateful glance--as her hot brandy did an even better job of warming him up than did her blanket. Jim Crown 'winced' as he saw that his wife was...crying. Francis' reverie had been too real, all right! Wa-ay too real! The peace officer passed his cup on to the 'dreamer' (Who also looked like he needed a nice, stiff drink.) and then tenderly took the trembling lady into his blanketed arms. "He-ey...it was only a 'dream'," he gently reminded her.
"I know," Katelyn quietly confessed--and held on to her legendary husband for dear life, "It must be. Because I could never stand to ever really lose you!"
And, speaking of losing him...
The lady inhaled another startled 'gasp' as the Marshal's head just suddenly dropped onto her left shoulder--and the rest of his blanketed body went completely limp in her arms.
"Rela-ax!" Jarrod told the horror stricken group of Jim Crown's close acquaintances, "I'm sure he's not dead!" he quickly diagnosed and then stepped up to lend the legend's lovely nurse a hand with her burden. "He probably just passed out. This is just his body's way of telling him that it's running a little low on blood," the good doctor explained. "He's going to be jes' fi-ine!" Jarrod concluded, upon completing his initial exam. "Provided we can keep him horzontal--for awhile..." he tentatively tacked on, and then turned his attention to his other patient, "Francis, how would you feel about trading rooms? I think the Marshal might be more...comfortable in his own bed..." Actually, the young doctor was more concerned about his passed out patient's peace of mind. While checking on the legend's condition from time to tome, the physician had managed to examine most of the hundreds of pictures that were plastered all over all four walls of the room next door. Francis' photographs were good...way too good! And, knowing Jim Crown--as the doctor now felt he did--Jarrod knew how uncomfortable it must make the Marshal feel to have to be in the company of all those killers and outlaws again!
"I was just gonna suggest that, myself," the young reporter--who also knew Jim Crown rather well--rather dryly remarked.
MacGregor immediately produced a key, and then--even more promptly--proceeded to release the reporter from his leg irons.
As Mac and the Senator carefully lifted Jarrod's conscious patient up off the bed, Dulcey and Katelyn carefully lowered his unconscious patient down onto it.
The Marshal's head had hardly hit his pillow--and they had barely got him situated--when he started to come around.
"Lie still!" Katelyn sternly admonished, and pressed her husband's forehead back into a horizontal position, "You need ta rest now!"
Jim Crown's half-opened eyes uncrossed. The lawman locked them onto the lovely lady's still damp eyes and his hand onto her wrist, "I'd rest a whole lot easier...knowin' you...were right here...beside me..." he unabashedly announced.
All eyes in the room watched--as the prone peace officer scootched over some and then re-extended his request by patting the empty space he'd just provided for her.
All eyes in the room widened--as Katelyn carefully stretched out on the bed beside Jim Crown--and then snuggled cozily up in his arms. "It's all right," she assured their stunned audience, "We're married."
The group looked even more 'stunned' and then, somewhat skeptical. With all that had been goin' on the past few days, when did the pair ever find the time to tie the knot?!
"Co-on-n-g-gratulations!" Dulcey somehow managed to utter--er, stutter.
"When did this blessed union supposedly occur?" the Senator asked, suddenly giving voice to his skepticism.
"And why were we no' invited?" Mac inquired, sounding a bit put off.
"It happened at around four o'clock in the mornin'--" the Mashal obligingly began, but then hesitated.
"The day before yesterday..." his wife finished for him.
Francis exchanged amazed glances with the two men who were supporting his weight, "How did you ever find a preacher at that 'ungodly' hour?"
"We didn' need a...preacher," Katelyn assured him and stared accusingly into her husband's dreamy, dark eyes, "Did we..."
Jim Crown gazed rather innocently back at her for a few moments, but then smiled in such a wry, shy, sly way that everyone in the room caught on to what had occurred.
Well, almost everyone...
"So then, who performed the cere...mon...y?" the doctor's words trailed off as what had happened finally occurred to him. Then he turned to Miss Coopersmith, looking even more confused, "Can Marshal's do that sort of thing?"
The bride and groom exchanged grins.
"I have it on very good authority," Katelyn slyly replied, "that Marshal's can and will, do--"
"Whatever they kin get away with!" the Marshal finished softly--and then tried to get away with a kiss. Successful in his first attempt, Jim Crown tried to get away with a second, and a third and a fourth, and a--"I kin feel another...powerful urge...ta commit matrimony...comin' on..." the marryin' Marshal quietly confessed--between kisses. And then insincerely added, "You're all welcome ta stay an' 'witness' it...Las' one out...close the door," the grateful groom requested--as his grinning friends graciously declined his weddin' invite and began, instead, to file from the room.
Speaking of the lawman's friends...
Jarrod glanced from the legend's ladyfriend to his leg irons--and then back to his ladyfriend again. "She should be able to keep him 'horizontal'...for a while..." the doctor determined--under his breath, and then turned his attention to his own ladyfriend. "I really do admire his style!" he declared in a whisper--when he caught up to Miss Coopersmith in the hallway.
"Indeed!" the still grinning girl agreed.
"Maybe we could get the Marshal to marry us?" Jarrod half-jokingly suggested--as he latched onto the knob and then pulled the door behind them shut.
"Maybe..." Miss Coopersmith thoughtfully concurred. "Perhaps...later on...you should ask him..." she rather whimsically suggested--and then turned to go.
Jarrod somehow overcame his astonishment and caught up with the pretty girl again. Dulcey still looked every bit as pretty to him. Perhaps even prettier--now that he'd had the opportunity to view her inner beauty.
"I will!" Jim Crown called out to them--through his closed portal.
The couple in the hall exchanged grins.
Then the 'Stranger' pulled the pretty little 'Lady' up into his arms--and kissed her.