Chapter Thirty-Six
It was also at sun-up that Fort Dawes finally appeared. A sight which both the Senator and his guide found welcome, indeed! Neither man could've remained mounted another mile!
Charley Adams--who'd been without sleep for days--was now in a daze.
And Dave Fisher's fanny was killing him! The politician's posterior hadn't sat in a saddle for so long for so long that--gawd...had it really been over twenty yea-ears?!
"HALT! WHO GOES THERE?!" a rather perplexed young private pondered, upon hearing the sound of their approaching horses.
"Relax, Benton! It's just me," Charley mumbled, half-asleep, to the young man who now stood, blocking the gate.
"Mr. Adams!" Private Benton exclaimed in recognition and relief and immediately lowered the rifle which he had pointed in their direction,"What brings you here at this hour?"
"We need ta see Captain Poullard--pronto!" Charley answered and the two of them attempted to proceed.
But Benton continued to block their path, "I'm afraid that's not possible, sir!" the private proclaimed, "Cap--"
"C'mon, Benton!" Mr. Adams wearily declared, before Benton could proceed, "This is a matter of life and death!"
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," the young guard said, sounding sincere, "But Captain Poullard is off on extended leave. Seems his fiancee took sick or something. She lives back East somewheres. So who knows when he'll be back..."
Dave--who didn't know what to make of the young man's announcement--glanced anxiously in his capable guide's direction.
Charley didn't appear to find the private's words the least bit upsetting. If anything, he looked relieved!
So the Senator leaned back and exhaled a quiet sigh of relief himself.
"Where's Lt. Anderson?" Mr. Adams suddenly wanted to know.
"Asleep, sir," Benton obligingly replied.
"I'm sorry ta hear that, Private," Charley said, sounding sincere, "because that means you're gonna hafta go an' wake him up..."
"I'm afraid that's not possible, sir!" the private proclaimed, "I can not desert my post! I can, however, point you's in the right direction," the young man volunteered. Then he turned and did just that, "You'll find him in that second row of buildings there...third door from the right."
"Thanks, Benton," Charley mumbled--somewhat uncertainly.
"Don't mention it, sir!" Benton came back, sounding absolutely sincere.
Senator Fisher, who had found the conversational sparring match most amusing, smiled and then followed Mr. Adams as he guided his horse around the guard and through the open gate.
They plodded off across the Fort's big, empty, dirt yard, and right past the enlisted men's barracks, pulling their doggy horses up only when they reached a particular entrance to a particular officer's sleeping quarters...which had been particularly pointed out for them.
The Senator just sat there, silently, and watched as his guide got stiffly down off'n his horse. Dave dreaded the idea of dismounting! After sitting for over seven straight hours, he was now fearful that his legs would fail him.
Perceiving the politician's predicament, Mr. Adams obligingly assisted the Senator out of his saddle.
"Oh-ohh, thanks, oh-ohhh-ohhhh..." Dave groaned as he was pulled from his horse and then propped up against a hitching post.
"Try stompin' 'em," Charley suggested, "It helps ta get the circulation goin'..." he added--before goin'.
Dave gave his leaden legs a few quick stomps and then hauled himself stiffly up onto the boardwalk--to stand beside his guide...who now stood before 'the third door from the right'.
"Lieutenant?! It's Charley Adams!" Mr. Adams announced, giving the wooden portal a couple of quick, quiet raps as he pulled it open.
"Cha-arley?!" Lt. Anderson exclaimed, snapping bolt upright in his bed. "What are you doing here?" he groggily inquired of the two intruders in his quarters. "Ga-awd! What time is it, anyways?" he grumbled, glancing around at the gloom in the room, "It must barely be sun-up!" he realized rather annoyedly.
"Our apologies, Lieutenant," Mr. Adams adamantly stated,"but we rode all night ta get here. We've come on a matter of utmost urgency! This is Senator Fisher from Washington..." he added, seeing the officer staring up at his companion in confusion.
"From Texas," the politician quickly corrected and cordially extended his hand, "Jes' call me Dave..."
"Lt. Mark Anderson," the young officer acknowledged, numbly proferring his hand as well. Something suddenly occurred to the rudely awakened gentleman and he used their handshake to pull himself completely up off'n his bed, "You've come from Cimarron?! Did the Marshal make it back all right?!"
"Oh, he made it back, all right," Mr. Adams admitted, "but the Doc had ta dig a bullet out of his chest. He also lost some ribs...an' his right shoulder is pretty much out a' commission. So I wouldn' say he's 'all right'. He needs your help ta get rid a' Mareck an' his men. An' the Senator, here, has some important document--signed by the President--which authorizes you to do just that! Go on..." Mr. Adams urged his companion, "...show 'im that paper you dragged me all the way out here to 'deliver'!"
"First," Dave Fisher said, "we've got ta get rid a' the Major. Mr. Adam's an' I kin testify ta the fact that Mareck gave the Major ten thousand dollars--in return for his services. So get the court martial proceedings started. 'Cuz the sooner that turn-coat's tossed in the guard house--the better!"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," the Lieutenant reluctantly announced, "A preliminary court martial hearing for such a high ranking officer requires a full Military Tribunal," he explained, dressing as he spoke.
Senator Fisher's face fell, "But it would take days ta get enough senior ranking officers together for that!"
"Weeks!" Charley interjected, looking equaly dejected, "This isn't Washington, Senator. It takes a lot longer ta get things accomplished out here."
"Bu-ut...Blakesly took a bribe!" Dave reminded everyone in the room--in the hopes that reason would prevail, "He back-stabbed the Marshal! He belongs in the guard house!"
"Agreed!" Lieutenant Anderson agreed, "And I would relieve the Major in a moment--if I could!"
"Well, why can't you?!" Dave demanded.
"Because," the young officer answered, glancing up from the belt he was busy buckling, "there are a lot of people on this Post who would consider such actions mutinous! And they would do everything within their power to prevent me from assuming command."
"But, if we were to explain the situation to them, surely--"
"This is the Army, Senator," Charley cut in, "Where 'reason' and 'logic' seldom prevail. Yah see, in the Army everything must be done BY THE BOOK!"
The Lieutenant finished dressing and turned back to face his glum-looking guests, "Fortunately for the Marshal, you two aren't in the Army. A-And, if the Major were to mysteriously disappear...Well, as Second-in-Command, I guess that would leave me in charge of the Post..."
"That it would!" Mr. Adams readily agreed, and exchanged grins with their very shrewd host, "Yah know, young man, I've always thought that you were too INTELLIGENT to be an Army Officer..."
"Why, thank you, Charley!" Lieutenant Anderson acknowledged, "...I thi-ink."
"Lieutenant," Senator Fisher shouted, "I could KISS you!"
"I don't think so, Dave!" the Lieutenant quickly corrected and backed up a step or two from his ardant--and now grinning--admirer.
The Senator settled for another handshake.
"C'mon, Senator," Mr. Adams advised, and began guiding the politician towards the door, "before half the Fort wakes up!"
And, in less than ten minutes after leaving the Lieutenant's quarters, the two civilians had Blakesly 'bound and gagged'...and right where he belonged!
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Speaking of being where he belonged...
Jim Crown's backside was killing him! But then, so--it seemed--was every other part of his half-prone, half-propped-up personage. His head, his stomach, his shoulder, his chest--they were all hurting, too...ba-ad! Which--no doubt--contributed to his waking up in such a ba-ad mood! The Marshal let out a long, pitiful moan and tried--unsuccessfully--to roll off of his aching back and onto his left side. He 'gasped'--in both pain and frustration--and then snapped his head up and his eyes open. "You people keep me 'planted' here much longer," he began, glaring irritatedly down at the chain which was keeping his right ankle--and hence him--safely? anchored to his hospital bed, "an' keep..." he mumbled--er, grumbled between long swallows of the cool liquid his pretty--and ever present--nurse was dispensing, "waterin' me like this..." Marshal Crown crankily continued, following several more forced sips, "an' my backside's gonna take root ta this bed!"
Katelyn 'plunked' the tin cup in her hand down hard on the dresser and then glared right back at her patient, looking pretty irritated herself, "You been fightin' a fever for nearly eighteen hours now, an' I'll bet you cain't even remember the las' time you ate somethin'!"
"Breakfast," the man in the bad mood replied, "day before yesterday."
"There! Yah see! You couldn' leave that bed even if you weren't 'planted' in it! 'Cuz--by now--you're too weak from hunger an' exhaustion ta even sta-and! An' if you weren't so pig-headed, you'd realize that that bed is prob'ly the BEST place for you, right now!"
The lawman let his heavy head fall back onto the bed. He didn't have the energy to hold it up any longer. He sighed in surrender and begrudgingly admitted--to himself--that the pretty lady probably was right. Maybe he did belong in bed...for no-ow. "Speakin' a' all that water you been pourin' inta me..." her still slightly peeved patient hinted.
"Jes' set it on the floor when you've finished," the pretty little spitfire calmly instructed--and passed her horrified looking 'husband' a bonified hospital bedpan.
"Now wai-ait!" the lawman began, sounding more than a little ira-ate.
"I'll be back with yore breakfast in just a bit!" the lady calmly continued--but then quickly took her leave.
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The beautiful woman came backing into the Marshal's hospital room about three minutes later, carrying a tray full of food. "Actually, it's nearly noon. So I guess you could call this yore lunch," she announced, picking up the conversation right where she'd left off.
The lawman had a lot on his mind at the moment, and lunch was the very least of his concerns. "Is Mareck still in town?" he inquired rather curtly.
"I don't know," Katelyn replied equally curtly. She placed the tray on the lawman's stomach and then began force-feeding the moody Marshal its steaming contents.
"What about Dulcey an' Francis?" her patient pondered, following several appetizing spoonfuls of hot chicken broth, "Are they all right?"
Katelyn caught the concern and anxiety in her patient's voice and looked up to see it reflected in his face. "I'm...not sure," came back her equally concerned reply, "I haven't heard from either of them all morning. I've been busy," she added in an attempt to cha-ange the subject, "tryin' ta get you cleaned up. It ain' easy bathin' a body that's wearin' clothes...a-an' a leg iron! I knocked myself out givin' you a bath an' a shave! I even rewrapped yore ribs for you, an' you never even noticed!" she summed up, sounding somewhat hurt.
Crown contemplated the woman's rather shocking announcement over for a few moments, "Thanks! For...cleanin' me up. I-I appreciate yore...bathin' me an' all. I'd prob'ly be even more appreciative...if I'd a' been awake at the time..." he concluded with a wry smile.
A smile appeared on his pretty nurse's pouting lips as well. "I'll be-et..." she muttered under her breath, but didn't blush.
"So-o..." the Marshal said as his nurse resumed shoveling spoonfuls of the strengthening soup down his hatch, "What other excitement have I missed out on aroun' here?"
"Excitement?" his nurse queried incredulously, "You were unconscious most a' the night...an' you slept all mornin'. 'Cept, a' course, for the wedding. You were wide-awake for the wedding..."
"Wedding?" her patient gulped nervously, "What wedding?'
"Our wedding," Katelyn calmly replied, and calmly continued with her feeding.
But the Marshal ceased his swallowing.
So the nurse set down her spoon, "You were delirious."
"I wa-as?"
The nurse nodded. "You must a' been completely out a' your mind with fever! 'Cuz you...married us," she tacked on rather tentatively--and waited expectantly for her 'husband's' response to that particular bit of 'exciting' news.
"I did WHA-AT?!" Jim Crown inquired incredulously. But then, seeing as how Katelyn seemed somewhat saddened by his inquiry, he innocently added, "Kin...Marshal's do that sort a' thing...?"
The lady recognized that last question. She, herself had posed it--just prior to their pre-dawn nuptials. "You do remember!" she realized aloud and watched as another wry smile began to appear on her 'husband's' handsome face.
"It ain't every day that a man gets married..." the man rationalized rather calmly and then cringed, seeing as how the lady now looked like she wanted to 'smack' him one.
She did want to 'smack' him one! Bu-ut the soup was getting cold, and he really needed some warm nourishment. So she picked the spoon back up and began feeding him instead of beating him.
The Marshal finished the remainder of his delicious meal in silence. When Katelyn asked if he'd like some more broth or another slice of bread, he gave her a grateful smile, but then shook his head.
The woman gave her supposedly famished patient a somewhat worried once over, "You su-ure?!"
"Yes..." the Marshal assured her with another grateful smile, "...that was very good...thank you."
Katelyn handed her 'husband' a steaming cup and then took the tray away. "You feelin' okay?" she inquired of her curiously quiet prisoner--er, patient.
Crown stared thoughtfully down at the cup of dark brown liquid in his hands--which he sincerely hoped was 'coffee'--and pondered over his reply. He would've liked to answer her in the affirmative...but he didn't wanna lie. "I'm feelin' a little better now...thanks ta you-ou," he finished softly and flashed the pretty lady another appreciative smile. "I'm sorry I snapped at you before. I don't like losin' control..." he confessed, his words filled with double meaning. He guessed that maybe Mareck was right. He was used to running things, or, at least, to having things run pretty much his own way. So he did not like to find himself in any situation over which someone else had control.
"I'm sorry I snapped back," his pretty nurse apologetically announced, "I guess I'm just ti-ired..."
Being the gentleman that he was, Jim Crown immediately scootched over some and then patted the now empty space beside him on the room's only bed.
But the ti-ired lady shook her head. "I don't da-are!" she staunchly determined. "If I was ta lay down now, I'd be out for the rest a' the day!" Then, seeing as how her 'husband' was shooting her a 'An' what would be so terrible about that?' look, she simply stated, "I don't trust you..."
Her prisoner--er, patient gazed innocently up at her for a few moments. But then that wry smile of his began to slowly reappear.
There followed a long, comfortable silence. Which the woman finally felt 'obliged' to break, "You're bein' awfully quiet. You havin' second thoughts?" It had occurred to Katelyn that--now that Jim Crown was no longer delirious--the notion of 'matrimony' might not be so 'appealin'' to a confirmed bachelor with a clear head. "About marryin' us, I mean..." Katelyn clarified, noting the puzzled expression on her 'husband's' handsome face.
The Marshal seemed somewhat stunned by the little lady's clarifyin' statement. He swallowed the last of her strong, black coffee and then held out his empty cup. When the woman reached for it, he latched onto her wrist and pulled her up into his powerful arms. "As a matter a' fact, I a-am. Seein' as how the ceremony was so 'memorable', I'm thinkin' a' performin' it on a daily basis!" Jim Crown clarified and then he kissed her--most passionately.
And the 'passion' of that kiss pushed whatever thoughts about 'second thoughts' Katelyn may have had--completely out of her mind.
Speakin a' whi-ich...
"An'," Jim Crown continued--once he'd caught his breath, "if I had the good sense ta say 'I do' ta you-ou, that jes' goes ta prove one thing: Even when I'm completely out a' my mind, I'm not COMPLETELY out a' my mind..."
Katelyn's smile broadened into a grin.
Her wryly grinning 'husband' winked and then kissed her again.
An' speakin' a' passion!
'If you cain't stand the heat, stay out a' the kitchen!' the little lady--who was about an instant away from losing all control--told herself. Besides, what if the doctor was suddenly to walk in on them?
The Marshal felt the sudden tension in his beautiful wife's body and immediately cut his kiss short.
"Uh-uhh...Would you like a smoke?" the woman wondered as her passionate partner backed off and his dreamy eyes reopened.
Jim Crown's rather riviting green eyes widened in amazement over the little lady's overwhelming offer. "Thanks..." he told her tenderly, "But I've decided ta give that 'dirty an' disgustin' habit' up--for good! If my hands need somethin' ta hold onto from now on...well--they'll jes' have ta develop a bran' new habit--holdin' on ta you-ou!"
Katelyn stared disbelievingly down at her 'husband' for a few moments and contemplated his equally overwhelming announcement over. The Marshal might not say much, but what he did say sure seemed mighty romantic. How could she not kiss him after that?! The lady sighed in sweet surrender and slowly melted back into her very romantic man's arms. She then proceeded to plant a rather passionate kiss of her own upon her pleasantly-surprised looking 'husband's' very inviting smile.
'For everything there is a time...' the gentleman glumly reminded himself, '...even a time for every affair under the heavens...' his reeling head finished quoting. Then--as willing as the woman obviously was--his heart regretably issued his equally willing body the order to 'Back off!' "I believe I will have another bowl a' that bellywash, afterall..." Jim Crown told his lovely nurse as the two of them exited--once again--from extremely close quarters.
"Fi-ine!" Katelyn 'gasped', with a forced smile. Then she picked up his cup, and her tray, and left.
But not for long. Before he knew it, his very beautiful 'wife' was back--with another steaming serving of her delicious chicken soup. Neither of them said a word this time. They just kept staring--silently--at one another with great big smiles on their faces.
"I think you should take a ride out an' check on Jamie," the Marshal suggested upon finishing his second helping of soup and second cup of coffee.
"I'm not leavin' you alone in here!" the little lady doggedly declared, "Knowin' you, you prob'ly have a hacksaw blade hidden in yore hat-band or somethin'!"
'Or somethin'...' her crafty 'husband' silently agreed. Then he added aloud, "Unless I'm mistaken, I ain't the only one around here who needs 'nursin''..."
"Don' you worry none about Jamie. Helen says she has access to a cow. An' I left her several nursin' bottles."
"It ain't Jamie I'm worried about," her 'husband' informed her, "I haven't always been a 'legendary lawman', yah know. Before pinnin' on that ba-adge, I was just a poor, dumb cowboy. An' even the dumbest cowboy knows why a cow bellers when she's separated from her calf. Yes-sir! An' the longer she's separated--the louder she bellers!"
"Are you comparin' me to a CO-OW?!" the woman wondered with narrowed eyes.
"I was merely pointin' out the fact that there may be more than one person in this room who needs 'nursin''..." came back the old cowpuncher's very...diplomatic reply.
Katelyn's cross look vanished and she was forced to smile. The former cowboy wasn't so du-umb, after all. "All right," she reluctantly conceded, "If I kin find someone ta set with you for a while...I'll go."
"Fine! Mrs. Finley lives right next door. I'm sure she'd jes' love ta 'set' with me for awhile."
"Uh-hu-uh..." Katelyn stated skeptically. But then she kissed her 'husband' goodbye and left to fetch Mrs. Finley.
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No wonder the Marshal had been so eager to volunteer the lady! 'Mrs. Finley' turned out to be an easy-going eighty-eight year old grandmother, who could easily have been talked into doing ANYTHING!
So Katelyn decided--instead--upon the loveable old lady's grandson--a big, burly boy capable not only of sitting with, but on the Marshal--if need be. Following five full minutes of coaching, the lady handed the lad a list of strict instructions--along with a shiny, new silver dollar. Then she left to find the livery--and her borrowed buck-board.
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Jim Crown wasn't the least bit surprised when Frank Finley appeared in his hospital room hide-a-way. He knew all along that Mrs. Finley would flunk his 'wife's' inspection. The Marshal had, in fact, banked on it! Katelyn had correctly judged the kindly old character. 'Mrs. Finley' could--indeed--be talked into doing ANYTHING! What his 'wife' didn't know, was that the big, burly boy standing before him could be bribed into doing ANYTHING!
"Doctor Ellis hired me to keep your horse fed and watered, Marshal," Frank Finley informed him, "She's tied up behind the shed out back, all saddled and bridled...and ready to...ri-ide." The boy's words trailed off as he became aware of the fact that the lawman was locked to the foot of his bed.
"Frankie," the Marshal said, speaking very deliberately, "there's a five dollar gold piece in my vest pocket over there. Hand me my boots--an' whatever list the lady gave you--an' it's yores!"
And Frankie readily obliged. He could always give the pretty lady back her dollar.
Crown used the key in his boot to open the lock and free his leg. Then he used the list to find his bullets and gun belt. Suddenly being vertical again, left him feeling terribly light-headed. Twice, he had to sit down to keep from falling down. It took awhile for the incredibly stiff, slow-moving man to pull on his boots, slide on his vest and strap on his gun belt.
"You gonna be all right, Marshal?" the slightly guilty feeling boy inquired--as the lawman replaced his reloaded Peace-maker and started reaching for his hat.
Crown gave his 'sitter' an appreciative nod and then suddenly looked curious, "You wouldn't happen ta know if Roger Mareck is still in Cimarron...would you?"
The boy nodded, "He spent most of last night drinking, so he's been over at his hotel all morning--sleeping it off. Most of his men are gone, though. I think there's only about four or five of 'em still around. If any of 'em see you out there, they're gonna think you're a ghost or something! 'Cuz Francis has got them all convinced that you're dea-ead!"
"Speakin' a' Francis," the Marshal anxiously inquired, "where is he?"
The big, burly boy answered with a shrug of his broad shoulders, "Nobody's seen him...or Miss Dulcey...or the Doctor, since before dawn, this morning."
A strange look suddenly came over the Marshal. The words Dulcey and dawn and Doctor together, triggered something in his memory...something very urgent. But wha-at? The memory definately was there, yet it seemed very vague--so vague that he wasn't quite sure if it indeed was a real memory...or simply something he had dreamed.
"Maybe Mareck'll leave this afternoon?" Frankie volunteered in an attempt to cheer up the now deeply-troubled looking Marshal.
That was it! The missing piece to his puzzling memory problem! Mareck! There was a very powerful, pungent, obnoxious odor...and somebody was shouting at him. The Doctor! It was the Doctor's shouted voice he'd heard! 'MARECK'S GOT DULCEY! YOU'VE GOT 'TIL DAWN TO TURN YOURSELF IN! IF YOU DON'T SHOW...' A feeling of sickening dread came over Jim Crown. The deadline had long since passed! Whatever had become of Dulcey?! "If you leave here, don't talk ta ANYONE!" the lawman abruptly ordered. Then he tossed the lad his gold...and left to go find out.
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The Marshal stepped stealthily out of the doctor's house and onto the back porch--where he stopped. Even under the protective brim of his black hat, his eyes 'winced'. But it wasn't the painful--and sudden--onslaught of positively brilliant sunlight that had halted him. No-o, the lawman's recently bed-ridden--and still a bit feverish--body had been, literally, taken aback by the overwhelming wall of intense heat and humidity into which he had just walked. This wasn't just another typical August afternoon that he was facing though. It was, beyond a doubt, the hottest and humidest day of the entire summer! So far... Fever aside, the temperature had to be hovering at--or maybe even over--one hundred degrees!
After patrolling it's streets--night and day--for the past five years, Jim Crown knew every crack and every crevice in every building in Cimarron. Every space large enough to conceal a man and every single shadow had--out of necessity--been imprinted in his brain. But, being mid-day as it was, there were-en't any 'concealing shadows'...to speak of. So-o, Crown determined instead to keep to the trees on the very edge of town to complete the major portion of his bound to be hot and humid and hazardous journey over to the Inn. The lawman exhaled a long, weary sigh of resignation. Then he wiped the perspiration from his hot, dizzy forehead and finally stepped down from the porch. Wishing to keep as low a profile as possible, the Marshal left his 'saddled and bridled and ready to ride' mount behind.