Chapter Twenty
It took the Marshal an unusual length of time to complete his usual morning rounds.
At least, it sure seemed that way--to the Senator. According to his watch, it was nearly eleven before the lawman finally made it back to his office.
Partly to blame for the delay were all the well wishers who kept lining up along the way. It was also due--partly--to their pace. Jim had taken his own sweet time.
And Dave had followed him...every careful--deliberate--step of the way, "Jes' like old times hey, James?" the Senator said with a smile and continued following his friend--clear into the room.
"Now that's a scary thought!" James came back with a scowl and very nearly slammed the door on him.
"What a' yah mean?!" Dave demanded as he dodged the door, "We had some great times tagether--you an' I!"
Crown tossed Beth's copy of the completely completed--all nice and legally filed--homestead application form down onto his desk and then shot his old friend another 'O-Oh, brother!' look before heading off again.
"I thought I sent you over ta yore place!" Crown stated, stepping through the alcove and up to the young man who was seated on one of the four baggage trunks--which were currently occupying the only open space in his jail.
"You did. And I did go over there. And Dulcey did show me around--every square inch of the place!" the doctor calmly replied and chose to remain seated.
"So what are you doin' back here?" the lawman inquired, his voice filled with growing annoyance.
Jarrod glared back at the lawman, looking somewhat annoyed himself, "I don't know about you, but I can only look at a house for so long," he patiently pointed out to the apparently out of sorts peace officer. "I came back here to get my things!" he added and patiently pointed to the four large trunks--and five smaller crates--which were piled up at his feet.
And the apparently out of sorts peace officer was apparently satisfied with his reply, for he proceeded on through the jail and into the Inn.
Jarrod shot the Senator a 'What's eating hi-im?' glance.
"Don't pay 'im no mind," Dave said, seeing the look, "He tends ta get a little 'surly' when he's sore."
"Then he must be really sore!" the doctor rationalized rather irritatedly.
"You'd be sore, too--if you had ta 'shake hands' with the whole town!" Dave paused to ponder his comment over, "Actually, he only 'shook hands' with half the town," he corrected, "the other half was busy 'slappin' 'im on the back'!"
"Ou-Ouch!" the Marshal's doctor declared with a wince, "I'll bet that must a' felt jes' fi-ine!"
"You should a' been with Custer--at the Little Big Horn!" Jim Crown told his 'old friend' with the big mouth.
The two startled men turned their attention to the doorway--within which Crown stood, holding a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.
"You could a' TALKED the Sioux inta surrenderin'!" he added and shot the silver-tongued Senator a highly annoyed glare.
So-o, what started out as a death wish ended up as only an insult. Dave breathed a silent sigh of relief and then flashed his partner a smug smile, "I knew yah didn't mean it!" he half-truthfully declared and turned back in the young doctor's direction, "We're like brothers!" he said, solely for his benefit.
"Yeah!" Jim sarcastically agreed, "He's Cain an' I'm Abel!" he said, also for the young doctor's benefit.
"That's not so!" Dave adamantly declared.
"O-Oh? Not so-o? Then why have you been tryin' so hard ta kill me--for the past ten years?!"
Dave completely ignored his partner's completely ridiculous accusation and directed his attention back to the now alarmed-looking young doctor, "The man's been Marshalin' his whole life! I figured he might as well be gettin' paid for it. Ri-ight? So, ten years ago, I talked 'im inta pinnin' on that ba-adge."
"You tricked me inta takin' this job!" Crown corrected, "Jes' like you tricked me inta comin' here! Well, I'm tired a' yore little 'tricks'! An' I'm tired a' listenin' ta you two talk! Fact is, I'm jes' tired--period! An' I want ta spend a nice, quiet afternoon--ALONE--at my desk--with no disturbances whatsoever! So, will you kindly get yore things OUT a' my jail?! An' then keep yourselves OUT a' my sight! Plea-ease!" The Marshal completed his polite--but direct--order and began taking his leave of them. Then something suddenly occurred to him and he stopped in the alcove's open doorway to glare menacingly back at the two now somewhat amazed looking men, "Anybody who sets foot in this office--with the exception a' Charley Adams--is gonna find him--or her--self starin' out at the world from between bars! Is that understood?! Goo-ood!!" the lawman exclaimed before his even more amazed looking audience could even answer.
The two now completely flabbergasted looking men flinched as the door to the alcove suddenly slammed shut in their faces.
"Yes, siree..." Jarrod declared softly, "He must be awful sore."
But Dave paid his pained partner no mind, "All that walkin' caused me ta work up a sizable appetite. I'm gonna go grab me a bite ta eat. What about you? Kin I buy you some lunch?"
"I appreciate the offer, Senator. But I think I'll just stay put--for now. Dulcey went off a little while ago to see about hiring a wagon. And I've been anxiously awaiting her return. No-ow more anxiously than ever!" he added, giving the closed door to the alcove an annoyed glare.
"Suit yerself!" the Senator suggested with a slight smile, "Sa-ay, do me a favor, will you? If it looks like somethin' interestin' is about ta happen around here, let me know, huh? I'll be at the little diner jes' down the street, gnawin' on a big, thick, juicy steak."
Jarrod nodded his acknowledgment of the legislator's reasonable request and returned his slight smile.
The Senator turned to leave, but then stopped and glanced back over his shoulder, "Don' worry, Doctor. In jes' a few more hours--everything'll be jes' fi-ine!" Dave winked and smiled again--and then disappeared out the door to the alley.
Jarrod stared rather dubiously after him. The young doctor had found the Senator's rather cryptic comments to be more confusing than reassuring and he sat there, wearing a worried frown.
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There was somebody in town who hadn't heard about the Marshal's little run-in with Roger Mareck. That is, of course, until that certain somebody had a little run-in, herself--with the biggest gossip in all of Cimarron, Samantha Pringle.
The door to the alley flew open and Dulcey came barging in to the jail with such reckless abandon that she crashed headlong into Jarrod--and very nearly dislodged him from his trunk.
"Whoa-oa! Are you okay?!" he inquired as he caught the girl in his arms and kept her from falling.
"Where's Ji-im?!" Dulcey asked back rather breathlessly. Her answer to his question was totally dependant on his answer to hers.
Jarrod locked his big, blue eyes on to the little lady's and saw that hers were once again filled with the deepest concern for her dearest of friends. "He's in his office. Why-y?" he wondered--with a twinge of jealousy, "Is something 'interesting' about to happen around here?"
The girl glanced gratefully up at the ceiling and exhaled an audible prayer of thanks. "Something dreadful is about to happen!" she declared as her still deeply troubled gaze returned to his level--and her labored breath returned nearer to normal. "Come on!" she urged, pulling herself free from his embrace, "There may still be time!"
Jarrod glumly loosened his hold on the girl. But then his sagging morale was lifted as the little lady took a firm hold on his hand and started hauling him off--in the direction of her kitchen.
As they reached their destination, Dulcey pulled the doctor to an abrupt halt and then took an even tighter hold--this time on both of his hands. "Roger Mareck is leaving town!" she anxiously announced to her captive audience.
Her captive audience just stood there, looking confused. Apparently, she wasn't the only somebody who hadn't heard about he and the Marshal's little run-in.
"Is he the one who hired all those men to kill the Marshal?" he inquired at last.
The girl nodded solemnly.
Jarrod looked even more at a loss, "Well, then...what's so dreadful about tha-at?!"
Dulcey stared incredulously up at the incredibly dumb doctor, "Don't you see-ee? It's all over town! Jim's bound to get wind of it!"
The young man obviously didn't see, for he repeated his initial question--rephrasing it just a bit, "And what would be so dreadful about tha-at?"
"I told you!" the girl told him, her voice filled with growing impatience, "The Marshal is a man of his word! And I just learned that Jim has his heart set on stopping Mareck! So, if you're right about his medicine--and about him not thinking too clearly--well...if he does find out about it, something dreadful will happen, all right! So you see, we simply must think of a way to stop him!"
"To stop who?"
"Ji-im!"
"From doing what?"
"Stepping in front of Roger Mareck's moving train--for starters!"
The now completely confused young man tried for several unsuccessful seconds to collect his jumbled thoughts, "So, you don't want to stop Mareck from leaving town, and you don't want the Marshal trying to stop him, either..."
"Ri-ight!" Dulcey declared, sounding relieved to see that the kid doctor had finally caught on, "Will you help me think of something? Please? I don't have the faintest idea where Francis is! And there's simply no time left to go looking for him!"
Jarrod caught the tone of desperation in Dulcey's voice and saw the pleading look in her beautiful blue eyes. So, he was her second choice! Bu-ut a choi-oice none-the-less. Certainly there was something to be said for tha-at! "Of course, I'll help you!" he said, giving the girl a warm smile and her hands a reassuring squeeze, "And so will Senator Fisher. The three of us can stand at the doors and turn everybody away from his office."
"I already thought of doing tha-at," Dulcey glumly declared, "It won't work. It'll keep people from going in. But it won't stop him from going out. And, if he goes out--even for just a little while...well, I told you...the whole town's talking about it."
Jarrod looked glum, also...but then suddenly brightened. The solution was so simple he'd nearly overlooked it! "He couldn't hear anything...if he were aslee-eep!" he hinted deviously.
"True!" Dulcey agreed, "But I don't think we can count on him 'taking a nap', right now."
"True!" the doctor agreed, "We would have to...put him to sleep. Just for a couple of hours..." he added, seeing Dulcey's look of dawning understanding turning into one of uncertainty. "Sure! By the time he woke up, Roger Mareck would be long go-one!" he finished with a flair and finally succeeded in convincing the girl.
"Yes. I suppose his backside could handle that," Dulcey reasoned out loud to herself. Then she stared back up at her co-conspirator--looking curious. "Putting him to sleep is a fine plan. But how do you propose to go about it? You're not going to break something over his head, are you?!" she inquired hopefully, "Because I couldn't possibly be a party to that!"
Jarrod couldn't believe the girl could possibly accuse him of anything so-o...crude. The doctor shot Dulcey his look of disbelief and then started dragging her off--in the direction of the jail. "That sedative I gave you last night was just a mild one," he said and released her hands so he could start rummaging through his things, "I have something in here that is a hundred times more powerful!" he explained in a whisper.
Dulcey waited while the doctor searched through the crate containing his pharmaceuticals.
Jarrod examined the labels of dozens of bottles before he finally found the drug he'd been looking for, "Just pour a little of this in his coffee," he continued in a whisper, "and all his troubles, your troubles and our troubles will be over--for a few hours, anyways!" he finished whispering and held the little glass container up almost reverently.
Dulcey looked even more horrified by this proposal than she did by her head bashing idea. "Oh! No! I couldn't!" she assured him, also in a whisper, "I'd be much too nervous! And he'd sense that something was up! No-o, I would never get away with it." She gazed glumly at the bottle's contents for a few moments before shooting her co-conspirator a confused stare, "Why can't you do it? After all, it was your idea."
Suddenly, it was Jarrod's turn to look horrified, "O-Oh no! Not me-e! Just because I spent the night in that cell doesn't mean I want to spend the day in there, as well! No-o, I say we wait for the Senator to get back from lunch. He could probably pull it off all right."
"There isn't time, I tell you! While we're waiting for Mr. Fisher to finish eating, Jim could step outside and hear all about how Roger Mareck is leaving town at two o'clock!"
Jarrod shifted his gaze from the girl to the door...and back to the girl again. "But, if I go in there, he's going to lock me up! You said it yourself--the Marshal is a man of his word! And his orders are: No one goes in there but Charley Adams!" he stopped, looking thoughtful.
"Forget it!" Dulcey advised, "Charley's not due back for nearly a whole nother hour, yet."
The doctor sighed in defeat and reluctantly rose to his feet, "You promise, if I fail, that you'll come visit me--in jail?" he wondered, his whispered voice so tender that it was almost inaudible. He smiled as his melodramatic request caused the lovely young lady to smile.
"I'll visit you faithfully!" Dulcey vowed, "Three times a day--at the very least. The Marshal pays me to feed his prisoners..." she added by way of an explanation.
And, this time, the two of them exchanged grins.
Jarrod glanced at the door again, and his grin gradually faded. "Wish me luck!" he muttered uncertainly, making one last whispered request.
Which Dulcey readily granted. "Good luck!" she wished. Then--on impulse--she pulled herself up and planted a kiss on the handsome young man's left cheek.
Things were suddenly beginning to look up for Jarrod. Why-y, here the day wasn't even half over, and not only had he gotten to hold the lovely young lady in his arms--but he'd also just been kissed by her!
Dulcey retreated out the door--in the direction of her kitchen.
Jarrod lingered there in the jail for a while, reliving the magic of the moment. As he turned and took hold of the door's knob, the thought of her kiss still filled his mind. And the light, lavender fragrance of her perfume still filled his nostrils. Jarrod heaved a long sigh of satisfaction. Then he palmed his powerful sleeping potion and pulled the heavy portal open. Things suddenly turned very bleak again for Jarrod. Things suddenly turned very blea-eak, indeed!
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At the moment, thoughts of a kiss were also on the Marshal's mind. Crown had no choice. It was either he and Katelyn's kiss...or his breathing. The only drawback to using their goodbye kiss for a distraction was that it caused both of his arms to ache. The terribly tired lawman paused in his slow, deliberate pacing to stare longingly at the cot in the little alcove. He was deliberating whether or not he should dare to lie down--when he saw more than heard the knob move on the door between the alcove and his jail. Crown tensed and drew on the door.
And that is why things looked so bleak for Jarrod. Once again, he found himself looking down the legend's gun barrel. It was an incredibly unnerving experience. One he knew he would never get used to. Jarrod forced his gaze away from the gun and stared up at the person who was pointing it at him. Surprisingly, the Marshal seemed more disappointed than angry or upset with him. Then, realizing that he'd just been headed off at the pass, the doctor decided to retreat and try again--using a different approach. "Uh-Uh...Dulcey just wanted me to tell you that your lunch will be ready in about an hour!" he exclaimed in one long breath--and then quickly closed the door.
The lawman stared at the door in disbelief and slowly began holstering his gun. Then--just as his left hand started reaching for his throbbing right shoulder--the door between the bar and his office flew open. And--as the young doctor reappeared--so did his drawn gun.
Jarrod stared at the Marshal in amazement. Despite whatever else may be ailing him, his patient did have incredible reflexes! He forced his uneasy gaze away from the gun--again--and quickly glanced around the room, "I, uh...hate to bother you again. But this is important!" The coffee cup was setting right there on the edge of the desk, not four feet from him. "You see, I've been thinking about what the Senator said. You know, about carrying around some personal protection..." he continued as he came into the room and then started side-stepping over to the desk, "So I've decided to buy a gun. And...well, with you being a 'legendary gunfighter' and all, I figured you could probably give me a few pointers!" he concluded and then made a pretense of examining his patient's plaster pigeon. But before he could pour any of his powerful sleeping potion into the cup, the Marshal pressed the barrel of his gun into his chest and then started backing him away from the desk.
"As a matter a' fact, I do have a few!" Crown conceded and then proceeded to press his prisoner back out the door and into the bar, "Unless you're fully prepared ta use it--never even pick one up in the first place! And, if you should ever decide ta shoot, remember that speed ain't as important as accuracy!" he continued, backing the young man through the bar and into the dining area, "So, if you're gonna practice anything, practice aimin' first! You can always work on your dra-aw, later." He backed Jarrod clear through the dining area and into the jail, "An', finally--unless you kin shoot real strai-aight--you're gonna end up killin' someone or bein' killed!" The keys were hanging on a peg on the wall beside the door to the alcove. The lawman latched onto them with his left hand and then pressed his prisoner right into a cell, "No-ow...you think about that for a while!" he ordered, stepping back out and pulling the cell door shut, "I want you ta do a whole lot a' thinkin' about that!" he continued and left-handedly locked the door, "'Cuz--if a man don't use what he's carryin' on his shoulders--it don't matter what he's carryin' on his hip--he's more than likely gonna die...rea-eal young! An'--unless someone is dyin'--don't you dare open this door, young lady!" he added--for Dulcey's benefit.
The girl appeared in the doorway to the dining area and reluctantly nodded her acknowledgment of his order.
Crown saw her nodding and seemed satisfied because he tossed the keys back onto their peg and turned to go. But then he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder at all the young doctor's 'things' which were still occupying the only open space in his jail, "Get rid a' this stuff, will you!"
"Yes, Jim! Right away!" Dulcey vowed.
"An' don't bother fixin' me any lunch...I'm not hungry."
The girl nodded again and--this time--he did leave.
Dulcey turned to her co-conspirator and shot the glum-looking young man a questioning glance.
Jarrod just continued to gaze glumly out through the bars of his cell. "Sorry," he muttered dejectedly, "I tried...TWI-ICE! And nearly succeeded--the second time."
"We should've used a decoy," Dulcey muttered, sounding equally dejected. "While you kept him distracted at this door, I could've slipped in through the other and doctored his drink. I thought of it in the kitchen just now," she explained, seeing the imprisoned physician's highly irritated look.
"Maybe we could still do it that wa--" Jarrod stopped and stiffened as the girl suddenly stiffened and stared off in the direction of her kitchen.
"Someone's here!" Dulcey declared, "It might be Francis!" she added excitedly and exited the jail.
The girl returned to the jail a few moments later--with the Marshal's fishing partner in tow.
"Gee, Miss Dulcey. I didn't think you'd mind. You told me at breakfast ta come back for lunch!" the man stated in his defense.
"I don't mind one bit, Charley," Dulcey assured him in a whispered voice. "You can have all the lunch you like--after you've heard what we have to say," she added conditionally.
Charley sighed in relief and stared longingly--first at the chicken leg in his left hand...then at the date nut bar in his right. "Go ahead," he told the girl, "I kin eat and listen at the same time." And so he could. And so he di-id.
"Roger Mareck is leaving town!" Dulcey announced.
"That's wonderful!" Charley declared with a broad grin. "That's not wonderful..." he corrected, seeing the two young folks' frowns.
"No it isn't!" the girl agreed, "Because Jim is bound to hear of it and I just know he'll try to stop him! He has his heart set on stopping him! And you know how Jim is!"
"Yea-eah..." Charley conceded, sucking on a piece of chicken that was stuck in his teeth, "So...what does all this got ta do with me-e?" he wondered nervously.
"We're trying to keep Jim from getting himself killed. But we need your help," Dulcey replied and gave the Marshal's fishing partner her pleading, desperate look.
Charley suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, "Just what did you have in mi-ind?"
"It's simple," Jarrod assured him, "all you have to do is pour a little of this into his coffee."
Charley regarded the bottle--which Doctor Ellis had produced from out of nowhere--almost fearfully. He was almost afraid to ask what it contained--almost, "What's in it? Some kind a' medicine?"
"It's a powerful sedative," Dulcey explained. "We figured we'd put him to sleep until Mareck leaves."
"Yeah!" Jarrod chimed in. "We can either put him to sleep for four or five hours...or wait for Mareck's men to put him to sleep forever!"
Dulcey appeared horrified by the young doctor's morbid statement.
Charley found their whole plan horrifying, "You'd better leave me out a' this!" he exclaimed, "You'd better leave the Marshal be, too! The man's not stupid! I'm sure he knows what he's doin'!"
"I wish I were," Dulcey stated sadly, sounding on the very verge now of tears, "All I really do know is that he's in no condition right now to try stopping any trai-ains!"
Charley turned from the Marshal's young lady friend to the Marshal's young doctor.
Jarrod nodded his solemn agreement, "He's got two bullet holes in his chest...some badly bruised and busted ribs...and something is very wro-ong with his right shoulder."
Charley looked more horrified than ever and like he'd just lost his appetite.
"And he wasn't in that great a shape even before he got shot!" the doctor added--even more solemnly, "He looks like he hasn't slept in a week! I know for a fact that he didn't sleep last night!"
"Ye-es!" Dulcey glumly conceded, "And now, the Doctor's afraid that he may not be thinking clearly!"
"He told me himself that the pain was interfering with his concentration," Jarrod announced--with yet another nod. And he offered their now completely stunned audience another opportunity to help them--by passing the bottle to him through the bars of his cell.
Charley gradually regained his composure and reluctantly accepted the young doctor's offering, "I ain't sayin' I'm gonna do it, mind you. Let's jes' say I'm--considerin' it."
"Fair enough," Jarrod stated, reaching through the bars to give their latest co-conspirator's arm an appreciative pat.
"Oh, thank you, Charley!" Dulcey declared, suddenly appearing all smiles again. Then she bent forwards and planted a kiss on the grey-haired gentleman's right cheek.
Charley blushed and brushed the kiss away with the back of his hand, "No-ow...there's no call for tha-at! I ain't done nothin', ye-et! An' I ain't said that I would do it, neither!"
"We know, Charley," Dulcey assured him, "you're only considering it."
Jarrod nodded his concurrence.
Charley appeared pleased that the two knew exactly where he stood. Then he stared at the young doctor in confusion--as it finally dawned on him exactly where he stood, "What'd yah do to get yourself locked up?"
Jarrod shrugged, "I just went in there and asked if he could give me a few pointers about buying a gun," he replied--half truthfully.
"Na-ahh!" Charley stated disbelievingly, "There had to be some other reason! He would never arrest anybody just for tha-at!"
"There was one other reason," the young doctor had to admit, "I wasn't you!"
Charley's smug look turned to one of disbelief and then confusion again. He handed Dulcey his untouched date nut bar and his half-chewed chicken leg. The powerful sedative was put in his front pant's pocket. Then he stepped around the crates and trunks and up to the alcove's closed door--where he wiped the grease and crumbs off on the sleeves of his coat before knocking--very loudly. Charley glanced back at the two young folks and waited for an invitation to come in. The memory of what had happened the last time he'd entered the office was apparently still fresh in his mind.
"Is that you, Charley?!" the Marshal's muffled voice inquired cautiously.
"Yeah, Crown! It's me!" Charley assured him.
"...Well, come on in!" the lawman urged, following a long silence.
Charley opened the door part ways, "You're not gonna arrest me...just because I'm a little early, are you?" he called through the crack.
There was another briefer bout of silence.
"No-o, Charley..." came back the Marshal's bemused reply, "I'm not gonna arrest you!"
Charley exhaled an audible sigh of relief. Then he slipped through the crack and closed the door.
"Hey! Wait a minute!" Jarrod panicked as the pretty young miss started disappearing, also. "You can't just run off and leave me here like this!"
The girl halted and aimed a questioning glance back over her shoulder.
"I'm...hungry!" he explained rather pitifully.
But Dulcey didn't pay the prisoner's pitiful excuse much attention. "He-ere..." she paused and passed the food from her hands to his, "That'll have to hold you until I get back. I've got to go round up a wagon and 'get rid of this stuff'!" she added, reminding the young man of the mess he had left in the middle of the Marshal's jail.
And--while the young doctor's attention was directed at that mess--Dulcey vanished out into the alley.
The door closed, leaving Jarrod standing there...all alone in the jail...staring glumly out at the world...from between bars!