For the Love of Chester

	FWAP!
	“Got another one Miss Kitty,” Chester Goode announced gleefully.  
	Dr. Galen Adams brushed the bits of ruptured horse fly off the green felt table and scowled at the younger man, “Chester, I know Kitty is paying you in drinks to get rid of these flies, but do you think you could leave them a little more intact?”
	Chester looked at Doc with an exasperated expression, “Well Doc, I’m just doing what it takes to… hold real still…”
	With fly swatter poised, Chester pounced as Doc ducked and upset the table.  The blow knocked the doctor’s hat onto the floor and the rest of his nearly full beer mug into his lap.  The fly lay only stunned on the table.  Chester thwacked at it again leaving no doubt as to its fate.  
	“Kitty!” Doc roared when he recovered from the attack. He was flopping the crumpled black hat back onto his head when the saloon owner came hurrying over.  It was clear what had happened, she just wasn’t sure how.  “Good grief, what happened?”
	Doc was irate, “This… Neanderthal Ignoramus just hit me with a deadly weapon!  I ought to have Matt throw you in jail.”
	Chester bristled and looked ready to defend himself with the swatter, “What did you call me?”
	Kitty stood between the old friends ready to keep them separated till they cooled off so she could find out what was going on.  She knew Chester wouldn’t hit Doc on purpose for anything in the world.  With hands held up, Kitty asked firmly, “Chester, what happened?”
	The marshal’s assistant pushed the stray lock of dark hair away from his forehead, “I was doing what you wanted, killing flies…”
	“More like pulverizing them!” Doc interrupted hotly. 
	Chester fired back, “Well they’re dead ain’t they?”
	Kitty put her foot down on the arguing, “Doc you hush up.  Go on Chester.”
	“Well I told him to be real still cause there was this fly on his coat.  If he hadn’t moved I wouldn’t have knocked his hat off,” Chester explained logically.  
	“And I suppose I dumped the beer on myself?” Doc challenged.  
	“You knocked it over when you hit the table when you ducked,” Chester retorted a little haughtily. 
	“Why you blundering boob…” Doc said and advanced a step or two.  
	“Don’t you call me names Doc!” Chester warned and held the fly swatter out like a sword. 
	Kitty Russell had had enough.  With flames practically shooting out of her hair, she ordered, “Doc, go change your pants.  Chester, don’t hit people with the swatter.  Now, shake hands the two of you and forget it!”
	“But it was a nearly full glass,” Doc complained.  
“And you’ll get another full one when you get back,” Kitty replied tersely.  
The two men stayed frozen in place for a few seconds then relaxed.  They were shaking hands just as Matt Dillon walked through the batwing doors, “War over already?”
	“Hello Matt,” Kitty greeted.  Doc started to say something, but Kitty’s stern look just made him glare at Chester, “I gotta go change my pants.”
	Kitty said quietly, “Chester could you get that cleaned up for me?”
	“Sure Miss Kitty,” he replied and went into the back room for the mop and bucket.  
	“Let’s sit down,” Kitty suggested and pointed to a table where the coffee pot was already sitting.  
	Dillon waited till they were settled to ask, “What was that about?”
	Kitty waved at the air, “Oh Chester hit Doc with the fly swatter and Doc wants to make a federal case of it: assault with a deadly weapon.”
	Matt chuckled and tipped his hat back on his head, “Those two’ll never change.”  
	“It’s this heat… and these damned flies.  I thought they were gonna get into a knockdown drag out fight,” she recalled.  The coffee was stone cold but it still tasted fine.  
	Chester Goode finished with the mop and bucket and headed over to sit down, “Mister Dillon.”
	“Oh, have something for you,” Dillon said and pulled out an envelope addressed to Chester.  “This came in the mail.”
	Surprised a real letter came for him, Chester wiped his still damp hands off before taking it.  The postmark read New Mexico Territory but he didn’t recognize the writing and the return address was smeared.  Opening it carefully he pulled out a lengthy page to read to himself.
						
								May 30th
Mr. Chester Goode;
		I am writing to you on behalf of a patient here at the Santa Fe Sanatorium.  The patient’s name is Chavela and has been a patient here since her rescue from a band of Comancheros two years ago.  Her physical condition is completely recovered but her mental state is still unstable.  However, she has made remarkable progress considering the condition she was in when she arrived here and is no longer considered a threat to herself or others. 
Due to the bylaws of this institution it is required that after a length of two years any patient must be remanded to either a relative or guardian or sent to the asylum in Albuquerque for further treatment.  I feel that this would be detrimental in her recovery.  What she needs most is someone familiar to her.  She informs us that her family was killed by the band of Comancheros led by Solis.  She says that a man named Chester Goode from Dodge City, Kansas once told her he wanted to take care of her for the rest of her life.  I am only writing this to you now because time is running out for Chavela here at this facility and I need to have a reply to this letter before July 13th.  After that she will be at the New Mexico Territorial Asylum for the Insane.  

			I remain, sincerely yours, 

			Dr. J. Dudley Finch

	Stunned, Chester could only blink at the words till Kitty prompted him, “What is it Chester?”
	“Could I have a drink?” he asked so quietly they almost didn’t hear him.  
	Kitty and Matt exchanged glances, “Sure, Sam, whiskey please.”
	Dillon leaned forward to tap the envelope lightly, “Chester?” 
	The marshal’s assistant gulped and with a shaky sigh managed to say, “Do you remember me talking about Chavela?”
	He couldn’t go further he was too choked up.  Sam set the glass down on the table and poured it full.  “Just leave the bottle Sam,” Kitty instructed.  
	Chester stared at the glass of dark amber liquid for so long that Kitty finally slipped the letter out from under his hand and held it so that she and Matt could read it together.  They were just as stunned as he was.  So much so that the swing of the batwing doors and the familiar shuffle of Doc Adams across the wood floor didn’t register till he was at the table. “Well, I’m dry and thirsty,” he growled. 
	Kitty started at his voice and decided it would be better if she talked to Doc before he said something else to make things worse.  With a wave of her hand, she urged Doc over to the bar.  He could sense something was wrong so he went with her, “Who died?”
	“Shhhh,” she warned, “It’s not who died, it’s who’s alive.”
	“The way he looks it can’t be anyone less than Abraham Lincoln himself.”
	“Doc, listen to me, it’s Chavela,” Kitty hissed.  Doc was a little blank.  He’d heard the name but couldn’t place it.  Kitty added, “The gold charm he wears all the time.”
	Light dawned.  Years earlier, Chester’d tried to find Chavela after he’d recovered from the head wound trying to escape from Solis and his men only to be told that she’d been killed when the Comancheros had been wiped out by a troop of Cavalry down in Arizona.  Since then Chester hadn’t quite been the same.  He’d begun wandering instead of staying around Dodge as if he was either a haunted man or a hunted one.  Taking his beer over to the table, Doc sat down without a word.  Dillon handed Doc the letter to read as Chester sat just staring at the untouched whiskey glass.  No one spoke until Chester suddenly scraped the chair back from the table.  
	“Where are you going?” Doc asked concerned.  
	Without looking back, Chester replied, “To find out how much a ticket to New Mexico will cost.”  

	“One way or round trip?” Martin asked from behind the barred ticket window.  
	Chester paused.  He hadn’t thought that far ahead.  He just knew he had to get there that’s all, “One way.”
	The ticket agent checked the rate chart, “Twenty-six dollars and fifty cents.  Round trip is only forty five.”  
	His heart fell.  It might as well as have been two hundred.  He’d had nearly that amount a month back or so but it was stolen.  It had taken him six months to save it too.  He only had three weeks this time.  He never felt so poor in his life.  It wasn’t so bad when it was just himself but now someone else depended on him too.  With the number looming in his head, he turned away crestfallen.  
	He was so distracted trying to find some way to get the money he didn’t notice Doc walking up to him.  “What did you find out?” the physician asked. 
	Chester leaned against the wall to the Cattleman’s Association building as if he were the only thing holding it up.  “That I’m a poor man with no hope of getting rich.”
	Doc figured as much.  Chester had never been one to save a penny or two and the two dollars a week he got from Dillon barely paid for his food and whiskey.  The physician nodded toward some back steps away from the street, “Let’s go sit down a minute.”
	Chester followed after him, sat down hard and kept a steady eye on his crippled knee.  Doc handed him the letter, “Chester, do you know what you’re doing?”
	The younger man glared at his elder, “I’m not stupid Doc.”
	“I didn’t say that,” Adams replied softly.  “If this letter is true, Chavela has been to hell. She’s not the same woman you knew.  She may never be.  Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in that type of situation?”
	With complete sincerity, the pain filled dark eyes turned to the doctor.  Pulling the gold charm out from under his shirt, he held it out, “How much is my life worth Doc?  She paid for it with her soul.  Don’t I owe her whatever I have to give?”
	Adams nodded.  Realizing there was no way out of it, Doc said, “I’ll send a wire down to New Mexico to see what else I can find out about her condition before you go.”
	“I can do that Doc,” Chester replied sullenly.
	“You can’t go throwing your money away on telegrams when you’ve got to save it up for a ticket,” Doc pointed out logically and started off to the telegraph office.  
	
	Matt Dillon kept tipping the beer mug so that the beer caught the foam and then sloshed back down to the other side.  Kitty sat next to him sniffing.  Matt knew if he looked at her she’d just say something about the dust up her nose.  Problem was he didn’t want to admit he had dust up his nose too.  
	Doc came back in and stopped at the bar first, “Sam, give me a whiskey.”
	Flopping down a dime, he carried his glass over to the table.  
	“Well?” Dillon asked.
	“He’s over at Moss’ trying to sell his horse and the saddle,” Doc informed and took a healthy drink.  
	Kitty sighed, “Oh no.  Matt isn’t there anyway you can advance him the money?”
	The marshal gave them a sideways glance, “Considering he’s trying to sell government issued property I think that’s enough of an advance.”
	“Oh yeah,” she lamented.  They’d forgotten that Chester’s horse was really one that the War Department issued for Dillon to use.  It was just that he’d been riding it for so long only Matt would have remembered it wasn’t his.  Not that he would say anything about it.  He’d just log it as lost somehow.  
	The three sat pondering what it would be like without Chester.  It wasn’t as if he were going away for good, but they all knew he probably wouldn’t be back.  Kitty suddenly scooted back and headed for her office muttering something about doing the books.  “She’ll be all right,” Doc assured.  
	“Yeah,” Matt answered, finished off the beer, and glanced over at the half empty whiskey glass Kitty’d left.  He downed it as well.  As if he needed an excuse he said, “Didn’t want it to go to waste.”
	Doc shrugged, “Nope, that’d be a bad thing, waste like that,” and picked up the glass Chester had ordered and never touched to finish it as well.  

	She wasn’t hungry a bit but Kitty dressed for dinner anyway.  She had to since it was the informal see-you-later party she’d arranged for Chester right before the train left for Albuquerque.  She didn’t want to say it was a going away party but everyone in town knew it was.  It was only supposed to be Matt, Doc, her, and Chester in the private room at Delmonico’s but enough people knew about it that she’d be extremely surprised if that’s all that showed up.  Taking a final look in the mirror she pressed the curl into place as a knock on the door made her answer, “Come in.”
	Matt opened the door, dressed in his salt and pepper with a new string tie and his black hat in hand.  Kitty found that a little odd, “Haven’t seen that out in a while.”
	“Thought it’d look better than the other one.  Guess I need a new hat,” Dillon pondered and looked her over, “You look nice.  Is that new?”
	A sour expression came over her face, “New to you maybe.  I’ve had it in the wardrobe for a while.”  
	“Oh, well you have so many dresses,” Matt said with a smile.  Kitty chuckled, “Yeah, I guess I do.  Well, let’s get it over with.”  
	
	As big an appetite as Chester had, he didn’t feel like eating anything.  He knew he’d better though.  Train fare was pretty lousy and Delmonico’s was gourmet by comparison.  The four friends sat, poking at the food, making stabs at conversation that seemed to fall flat, and keeping an eye on the time.  Dillon kinda wished he’d had an emergency and been called away, but for once in his life no one seemed to need him.  He cleared his throat and the others looked at him as if he were going to make an announcement of some sort.  Matt opened his mouth and forced a smile, “Well Chester, they complain about it being hot here, but down in New Mexico, it’s a lot worse.”
	Doc added, “And dry, real dry.” 
	Kitty tried to put her two cents in, “It probably never snows.  I bet your knee won’t bother you as much as it does here.”
	Chester nodded, “You’re probably right.”  
	There were things he wanted to say.  Years of favors and advances, free drinks and free medical advice, and most of all the friendship of three of the most loyal people he’d ever known tried to form in his head, but nothing seemed to come out that didn’t sound stupid or worse, make him tear up.  The minutes ticked away.  Finally the first whistle of the train getting ready to go made them stir.  Kitty paid the bill and the four hurried out to the depot.  Chester’s bags were already at the station, checked in and probably loaded on the train.  Along the way they met several townsfolk who wished Chester well, speedy return, or wondered where he was going.  By the time they finally made it to the train, there was little time for much more than a hug and a goodbye.  
	Chester faced his employer with a lopsided smile, “Mr. Dillon.”
	“I think you can call me Matt now Chester,” Dillon grinned and remembered what he had in his pocket.  “I wrote out a letter of recommendation for you, in case you’d want to go to work for a lawman in New Mexico when you get there.  But, you’re always welcome to come back, anytime.”
	“Thank you… Matt,” Chester said touched and took the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket.  
	Beside Matt, Kitty Russell couldn’t hold back anymore.  Unable to talk, she just hugged him hard, tears flowing down her cheeks, “I love you Chester.  Never forget that.”
	Chester nodded, hugged a woman he’d loved as dearly as any woman he’d ever known but couldn’t have, and sniffed back his own tears.  “Miss Kitty, I’ll never forget, never.”
	“You write,” she demanded.  
	“First chance I get,” he promised.  
	The boarding whistle went off; there was only another minute till he had to get on.  Doc had no goads, no verbal blows, he held out a hand, “Chester.”
	The bashful man took it.  The two men who had spent their entire acquaintanceship bickering and bellowing at each other, stood, connected by the simple fact that deep down, they loved each other.  “Chester,” Doc winked.  
	“Doc,” he answered and with one last look at his friends he nodded.  Stepping onto the back of the train he decided that if he didn’t say what he wanted to now, he’d never get it said, “I just want you to know, this will always be home, and you will always be my family.”  
	That was it.  Doc grumbled through his mustache and quickly wiped away the tears, Kitty just sobbed even harder, Dillon looked down at his feet and then back up, looking Chester in the eye was about the hardest thing he’d done in a long time.  Steam began to engulf them, and the wheels began to turn as the train slowly started forward.  Chester grinned his boyish grin, and started waving.  As the train pulled out he caught sight of the others he’d known in Dodge City.  Festus Haggen and Quint Asper had headed over from the blacksmith shop, Sam Noonan had been able to get away from the Long Branch long enough to come over, and even Wilbur Jonas had managed to make it out of the store to watch as the train and Chester faded from view.  
	Back on the platform, Kitty was still bawling.  She’d cried her handkerchief full and was still going.  Matt and Doc looked at her and Matt looked a little concerned, “Think you need to give her something Doc?”
	“I didn’t know she’d go all hysterical on us.”
	Kitty sniffed, “Oh shut up.  If you two want drinks, then come on.  I’ve not got all day.”  
	With that she turned on her heel and left them standing alone.  Dillon grinned and stepped closer to Doc, “She doesn’t get that upset often.”
	“Nope, but, I can’t say I blame her.  Gonna miss him.  Dodge is always so quiet when he’s out of town,” Doc admitted. 	
	“Yep, Chester’s one of a kind all right,” he agreed and they started to walk over to the Long Branch.  Along the way they caught sight of Festus and Quint sparring around as they went back to the blacksmith’s.  “But I have a feeling it’ll still be pretty lively around here without him anyway.”