Chapter Seventeen
U.S. Marshal James Crown awoke in a fog at around four in the morning, feeling the rather urgent need to relieve himself. He shook his dizzy, drugged head and then ran his incredibly foggy, groggy gaze around the little room. Someone had set a couple of oil lamps on top of his filing cabinet and one of them had been left burning. Its wick had been turned down low so that it cast a soft, warm glow all about the alcove. The lawman found the lamp's dim light easy on his tired eyes. He also found himself to be alone in the room--with no bedpan in sight. So he drew a deep breath--braced himself--and attempted to rise. An exasperated gasp escaped from him as his head and shoulders seemed to be the only parts of his anatomy that he could get clear of the cot. Crown gasped again and then stared down at his chest. No wonder he couldn't sit up! His mid-section had been so heavily bandaged that it made bending currently beyond his capability. His ribs had been wrapped so extensively in fact, that it felt like he had been placed in a complete body cast! The immobilized Marshal smiled, seeing that his left forearm was also wrapped--from elbow to wrist--in a neat, bright, white cloth case. No doubt about it, Francis' young physician had definitely gotten a bit carried away with his bandaging.
Oh well, at least his boots were still on his feet. The lawman was also relieved to find that his gun had been returned to its holster and that his gunbelt was still strapped to his hips. He seemed ready to roll. So that's exactly what he did. Crown braced himself again and then rolled carefully--off of the cot and onto the floor. He came down hard on his hands and knees and--normally--such a rough landing would've really hurt. But the young doctor had drugged the Marshal's brain as heavily as he had bandaged the Marshal's body, so that it wasn't registering much of anything at the moment--including pain. The only sensation he was aware of in fact, (besides the one which had originally awakened him) was that of feeling slightly dru-unk. The lawman pulled his woozy hanging head up and then cracked another smile.
There, sitting up in a chair in the middle of his office--and sleeping soundly--with a loaded shotgun lying across his lap, was his old friend, Dave Fisher. The tired Texan had 'do not disturb' written all over him.
So Crown turned quietly around and then floated off on all fours to use the facilities in one of the cells in his jail.
By bracing himself up against the solid steel bars, the Marshal managed--somehow--to haul himself up off the floor. He was incredibly dizzy, but at least his knees were locking again--so that his legs didn't give out on him--entirely. As the lawman turned to leave, one of his unsteady legs gave way and he went down on one knee. He knelt there for a moment, staring out through the bars against which he had caught himself. What he saw this time caused him to grin outright.
There, lying on the neighboring cot in his jail--face up and fully clothed--was Doctor Jarrod Michael Ellis. The young physician appeared to be sleeping. He also appeared to be smiling up at the ceiling of his cell.
Crown's grin broadened and he managed a couple of amused gasps as he carefully hauled himself back up on to his feet.
The Marshal staggered back into the little alcove--where he floated over to, and then went crashing right in to, his filing cabinet. The lawman caught his balance and shook his light head to get his bearings back. Then he slid the top drawer open and pulled out a crisp, clean, white shirt. Crown kept an entire change of clothes stashed away inside that drawer. He told Dulcey that he kept them there so that he could always appear presentable before the public. In actuality, he kept them there so that he could sneak in and change and, thus, keep the girl from going into complete hysterics every time he came back either beat up, or shot up, or torn up--with a little blood visible somewheres. Because--as soon as Dulcey saw red--she'd start screamin'. No siree, the girl just could not stand the sight of blood! (True, Dulcey did not particularly care for the sight of blood. But what sent her into complete hysterics was the fact that it very often proved to be the Marshal's own blood that he--and his clothes--would come back all bathed in!)
Anyways, Crown's clean stash a' clothes idea seemed to work out jes' fine, for he hadn't heard the girl scream even once in the past two years. And there had been plenty of times he'd ridden in with a little red on him somewheres. Too many times...too much red. The Marshal drew in as deep a breath as his bandages would allow and then released it as an incredibly weary sigh. He was getting too o-old for all this foolishness. The tired, o-old, slightly intoxicated feeling lawman took his clean, white shirt and started stumbling off in the direction of the kitchen--to go get cleaned up.
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The Marshal was a mess. But the Inn's kitchen was an even bigger one! So, after bathing all of his unbandaged surfaces, Crown went to work on the kitchen.
Evident remains of Dulcey's party for him seemed to be stacked and scattered and spilled and spattered everywhere! Why, there wasn't a flat surface in the room that didn't contain at least some degree of the debris. His detached brain handled the mindless, menial chores he'd set about jes' fi-ine, however.
And, speaking of his detached brain...
It seemed the kid doctor was right about morphine being a very powerful drug. For--no matter how hard the lawman shook his swimming head--it remained awash in a foggy, groggy sea, through which it--and everything else--seemed to just float along in sort of slow motion. Crown only hoped that, when and if his head finally did clear again, the young doctor's very powerful drug wasn't gonna leave him with a very powerful hangover.
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Three hours--and practically two pots of industrial strength coffee later--(Caffeine could be a pretty powerful drug, too!) found the Marshal's head feeling a little clearer and the Inn's kitchen looking a whole lot cleaner.
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Dulcey's original destination--after descending the stairs at around seven that morning--was the little room between the Marshal's Office and the Jail. But, upon hearing some strange noises, she quickly changed her course to her kitchen. It sounded to her as though someone were messing around in her kitchen! The girl tiptoed over to the open doorway and peered cautiously inside. One quick glance around the room was all it took for her to realize just how wro-ong she was! (Either she was wrong...or she was dreaming!) 'Someone' had most definitely been UNmessing around in her kitchen--for the counters had been cleared...the dishes had been done...the kettles had been scrubbed...the floor had been swept...the woodbox had been filled---why, the kindling had even been chopped--and there was a fire already going in her cookstove!
The girl's look of surprise turned into one of disbelief and then absolute astonishment as she spotted the only 'someone' in the room. The apron belonged to the Inn's bartender--Fabriccio. But the wry smile belonged to the man whose stomach she had just been sitting on--and whose chest Jarrod had just dug a bullet out of! She had fully expected to find that particular 'someone' lying--unconscious--on the cot in the little alcove. Instead, there he was--standing in front of her cookstove, holding a cup in one hand and a pot of steaming coffee in his other.
"Care for some coffee?" Crown inquired casually and offered the now completely flabbergasted looking female the cup.
Dulcey appeared even more astounded.
The lawman looked even more innocent, "You ain't the only one around here who likes ta 'surprise' their friends!" the man reminded his rather devious adopted kid sister, with yet another rather wry smile. But, instead of being pleased by his surprise, the Marshal saw that the girl seemed to be somewhat upset. Fact is, it appeared to him that the young lady looked downright horrified!
Dulcey was downright horrified! "What on earth do you think you're doing?!" she exclaimed rather horrifiedly and stared rather disbelievingly down at her kitchen table. Not only had her recently bullet-ridden big brother been killing himself cleaning all morning--but he had fixed her breakfast for her as well!
The cringing lawman looked up as the girl finished shouting at him and saw that she was staring down at the steaming plate filled with a 'not yore usual assortment' of breakfast foods. "I, uhh...was gonna go rustle us up some eggs. But there was so much food left over from las' night that, well--it seemed a shame ta waste any of it," the 'not yore usual cook' explained quietly in his defense.
"I'm not talking about tha-at!" Dulcey declared, stepping into the room and waving one arm in the direction of the food. "I'm talking about thi-is!" she exclaimed, waving both arms about her entire kitchen. "Why, I doubt that you should even be out of bed, let alone doing all...THI-IS" she added rather annoyedly and waved her arms about the renovated room again.
Crown stopped cringing again and placed the coffee pot back down on the stove. Then he set the cup down on the table and crossed quickly over to his concerned little mother hen. He took both of her hands in his and flashed her yet another rather wry smile. "Why-y, after all the trouble you went through ta make that mess--jes' for me-e...the very least I could do was ta clean it up! Besides," he continued teasingly, "it's like I told yah before. If I were ta spend more than three or four hours in a horizontal position, my backside really wouldn't know how ta handle it." But Dulcey didn't see his smile, because the lawman still couldn't seem to get her to look at him. The Marshal heaved a heavy sigh of frustration and then frowned down at the floor, "I'm sorry, Biscuit..." he whispered rather wearily, "I wish there was some way that I could make it up to--"
"Stop, Jim!" Dulcey pleaded suddenly, "Plea-ease! Just...stop!"
Crown 'just stopped' and then snapped his hanging head up.
The girl heaved a rather heavy sigh of frustration herself and then finally forced herself to face him, "I'm the one who should be apologizing, here. I should have--and would have--apoligized last night. I had just gotten up the courage to face you--and was about to beg your forgiveness--when Jarrod just suddenly put you to sleep! I'm so sorry, Jim! Honestly, I don't know what came over me! I guess I just got so involved with all the arrangements for that stupid party--that I completely lost sight of why I was arranging it for you in the first place! I was doing it because--for the past five years--you've proven--time and time again--to be a dear and trusted friend who always does his best! Who always keeps his promises..." Dulcey's trembling voice trailed off and tears started falling, "I really don't know how I did it...but--somehow--I managed to forget all that for a few moments last night. Will you please forgive me-e?"
The lawman looked tremendously relieved and then, deeply touched. So that's what it was! The girl wasn't still mad at him, after all! Dulcey had simply been feeling too 'ashamed' to face him. "There's no need for you ta go apologizin', either..." Crown quietly reassured the crying girl, carefully taking her into his arms to comfort her, "Believe me, I understand--perfectly! I haven' exactly been thinkin' too clearly myself these days. I know first-hand how easily a person's mind kin be distracted. An'--when it comes ta forgettin' things--why, I could write an entire book on that particular subject! An', speakin' a' forgettin' things..." he paused to pull back a bit and then gently picked her still-pouting chin up, "Now that we're back ta bein' the best a' the best a' friends again, what da yah say we do what best friends do best...and we'll both forgive an' forget!"
Dulcey smiled a teary, weak smile up at him and nodded, "Thank you so much for your wonderful surprise!" she said, giving her dear and trusted friend a big--but incredibly careful--hug, "It really was very thoughtful of you!"
"Ye-es, it was--wasn'' it!" the Marshal modestly admitted, returning the smile and the hug. "Mus' be the company I keep!" he rationalized out loud.
Dulcey pulled back a bit and grinned gratefully up at him.
He flashed her still another wry smile and then took both of her hands back into his again, "Now that all that's out of the way. How about you, young lady? Did you remember ta save me that dance?"
The girl's grin broadened and she gave him another nod.
"Fi-ine! Then I hope you saved me a nice slow one. 'Cuz I don' know as I exactly feel quite up ta the 'Virginia Reel', jes' now!" the lawman truthfully teased--taking his borrowed apron off and tossing it onto the table.
"The very slowest!" Dulcey assured him softly as he took her back into his arms.
And they went dancing--slowly and carefully--around the kitchen...and out the door.
"The place sure looks 'perty'!" Crown commented as the duo drifted into the dining room and he got his first glimpse of Dulcey's elaborate decorations. "It must a' been some party! I hope everyone realizes how much I really do appreciate all the time an' effort that was expended in my behalf," he added solemnly as they waltzed on past row after row of festively decorated tables, and beneath the now sagging--but still very festive looking--streamers.
"Without you-ou, there was no party!" the girl replied, sounding equally solemn, "A-And everyone hopes that you realize how much we really do appreciate all the time and effort that you have expended in our behalf! Now, let's just forget about that stupid party!" she suggested suddenly. "After all, there are other ways for people to show their appreciation..." she added, her eyes sparkling deviously and her broad grin returning.
The lawman smiled a bit uncertainly and regarded the rather devious-looking, still-grinning girl with one slightly raised eyebrow.
The couple swirled silently out of the Inn and into the Marshal's Office. As they drifted past his desk, Crown spotted a small, white statue sitting smack dab in the middle of his ink blotter. The statue was that of a bird--a pigeon, by the looks of it. "...Other ways," the Marshal muttered as his other eyebrow joined its arched mate. "like that plaster pigeon on my desk?" he inquired, steering clear of the sleeping Senator--and his shotgun.
Dulcey's shoulders sagged a bit and her grin gave way to a look of obvious disappointment, "In the first place--it isn't plaster--it's pure alabaster! And, in the second place--it isn't a pigeon--it's a dove!"
"Oka-ay. I'll buy that," Crown conceded as they exited his office and entered the little alcove, "And did that 'alabaster dove' on my desk have anything ta do with 'whatever' never 'happened' last night?" he asked as they continued on through the alcove and then landed in his jail.
They stepped into and then went sasheying silently around the unoccupied cell.
Dulcey eyed the occupant of the cell next to their's for a few moments before shooting her dance partner a 'You know very well that it did!' look. "The committee," she began as her mouth began again to form a grin and her grin again began to broaden, "of which I was chairperson, felt that the internationally recognized symbol of peace--hand-carved in pure alabaster--would make a perfect paperweight for a Peace Officer--such as yourself!"
The Marshal's by now completely-cleared, quick mind quickly came up with some incredibly 'witty' comments that could have been made just then. But, "O-Oh..." was all the Peace Officer actually said.
"Would you like to hear the inscription?" the 'committee chairperson' asked rather excitedly as the two of them 'escaped' from their cell and went drifting back into the dining room.
Crown was a bit confused by the question--for he hadn't noticed any inscription. He smiled and nodded to the girl--who seemed to be bursting at the seams to share it with him.
"It sa-ays: 'To our friend and Marshal, Jim Crown--from the people of Cimarron. Thank you for keeping the peace for the past five years'."
'Marshal' Jim Crown was deeply touched by the 'people of Cimarron's' rather touching 'inscription'. He found it so 'moving' in fact, that--for a split second--he actually stopped moving.
Dulcey--who was 'in tune' with her dance partner's step--noticed the sudden break in his stride and shot him an anxious glance, "Are you all right?"
"I'm...fi-ine," the lawman assured the worried young woman in his arms, "I jes' ain't accustomed ta bein' 'appreciated'. It's gonna take me a while ta git used ta the feelin'. Not too long awhile though," the appreciated person admitted with yet another wry smile, "'cuz it's a goo-ood feelin'!" His smile caused yet another grin to appear on the girl's pretty face.
And they went ambling off--down along the bar...once around the trellises...and then back into the Marshal's Office again.
Francis had watched them go gliding gracefully--and silently--by from his position on the bottom stair landing. They had been completely oblivious of him. The two of them were obviously off in their own little world--dancing to music only they could hear. Francis' smile had broadened as he watched the couple continue to waltz--clean out of sight!
Just as the dance duo disappeared through the doorway, Doctor Jarrod Michael Ellis came scurrying out of the little alcove and skidding into the dining room--where he spotted Francis and then reported--rather alarmedly--that his patient seemed to be missing!
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you," Francis stated, calmly descending the stairs. "I'm sure he's waltzin' around here...somewheres!" he added rather disinterestedly.
And Jarrod watched--in awe--as Marshal Crown and Miss Coopersmith came waltzing back into the dining room just then--almost as if on cue! The young doctor turned back to the young reporter, looking both amazed and amused.
Francis shrugged and his smug smile slowly broadened into a smug grin.
Jarrod shot him an 'oh brother' look before zeroing his full attention back in on his A.W.O.L. patient, "What are you doing 'waltzing' around here, when you should be in be-ed?!" he demanded angrily.
With the magic of the moment momentarily dispelled, the dance pair ground to a halt and reluctantly turned their attention in the very disturbing--and obviously very disturbed--young doctor's direction.
Dulcey thought the good doctor's good question over carefully, "We-ell, it has to be better for him than chopping woo-ood!" she rationalized lightly in her dance partner's defense.
"Oh, it i-is!" her dance parter agreed, "Much better...an' much more enjoyable!"
Jarrod just stared silently back at the both of them, looking completely bewildered. Then, before the couple could go 'waltzin' off' again, the doctor quickly cut in. But--instead of grabbing the pretty girl's arm--Jarrod latched onto his errant patient's and then started ushering the 'legendary' lawman off across the dance floor in the direction of the alcove--and his vacated cot. "If you had to find something to occupy your time, couldn't you have picked something a little less strenuous?! You go 'waltzin' around here' like that--and you're liable to rip out your sutures!" the young doctor declared, still sounding rather incensed. "Sutures!" Jarrod repeated as the Marshal ground to a halt in the doorway between Dulcey's dining room and his jail and shot the young man tugging on his sore right arm a look that was both a combination of annoyance and confusion, "Those little, tiny snippets of surgical thread that I used to close the incision in your chest back up with!" he explained, sounding extremely sarcastic. "Remember? Earlier this morning?! I told you that I was going to have to cut you open so that I could carve that bullet out of your busted rib cage?!" he added, continuing his bitterly sarcastic 'Marshal memory jogging' comments. "Yes! That means that you now have two fresh holes in you! One--where the bullet went i-in...and one--where the bullet came ou-out! So, now, why don't you just get yourself back into bed--before they both start bleeding again!"
But Crown completely ignored his doctor's advice. Instead, he just stood there--silently--for a full minute, giving the crusty kid doctor a look so co-old that it could've frozen ice!
Francis and Dulcey saw the look--glanced at each other--and cringed. They'd both been on the receiving end of just such a look before. And both had found the chilling experience to be far from pleasant.
Doctor Jarrod Michael Ellis completely ignored his patient's penetratingly cold stare, however, and just stood there in the doorway, looking completely at ease.
At last, the lawman's cold, hard look softened. He breathed a silent sigh of surrender and motioned--with his left arm--in the general direction of his lair. "Step inta my office for a minute, Doctor," he requested, looking and sounding incredibly ca-alm himself. "We need ta have a little...ta-alk."
Again Francis and Dulcey glanced at each other--and cringed.
Again the young man in the doorway remained totally unimpressed, "You mean--just the two of us?" he teased sarcastically, "Doc' to Doc'?"
The Marshal suppressed a smile and motioned with his head in the direction of his office again.
So the young Doc' casually strolled off and unhesitatingly entered the legendary Doc's' lair.
"In my office in one minute, Francis!" Crown told his still cringing deputy.
"Right, Jim!" Francis acknowledged.
"And as for you, young lady..." the lawman began sternly, directing his full attention back in Dulcey's direction for the moment, "I do believe your breakfast is gettin' cold..." he reminded the girl with a warm smile. Then he stepped into his office himself, closing the door to the little alcove behind him.
Once again the Marshal's two young friends glanced at each other--and cringed.