Winterborn

This chapter can be read as a standalone story but it will make more sense and give you the background of the characters and the story line if you read the first chapter

As always constructive comments and emails are welcome and appreciated. .

*********************

Friday morning Dillon was late reporting to Tom at the marshal's office, he didn't get there until 8:30. He yawned as he walked through the door. Tom looked up from his desk and laughed.

"You look like you been rode hard and put away wet, Dillon."

"Sorry about being late Tom; I overslept. It won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it," Tom replied. "When I get home Juanita wants me to start painting the house. All and all I'd rather sit here in my office." He laughed a little and added, "I was sorta hoping I'd have to ride out to investigate something so I didn't have to go home."

Dillon returned his smile as he got a cup of coffee. "Sorry Boss, I guess you'll have to go home now."

"Couple of things to talk to you about before I leave. Tom lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. "Just got a telegram from my deputy, Bill Moore. Guess I should say my ex-deputy; he's not coming back from Shreveport. Sez he has to stay for family reasons. Personally I think he got tired of having to brace those rowdy cow hands." Tom got up to get coffee and sat on the edge of his desk.

"The other thing is related; your three months will be up in two weeks. I know you only agreed to stay for that period but I'd appreciate it if you could give me another month. By that time there won't be many cattle drives coming through; it'll be getting too late in the season what with winter coming on. Maybe I can find another deputy by then; if not you'll be free to go, I won't try to get you to stay and no hard feelings."

Tom watched his deputy for his reaction to the request. "Think about it for a day or two and let me know."

Dillon took a sip of his coffee and sat down in the chair in front of the desk. He looked back at Tom for almost a half a minute before replying.

"Don't need to think about it, I've already made up my mind. I was gonna talk to you today," Dillon stopped, chuckled and then continued. "Before I was late coming in that is. I'd like to stick around a while if it's okay with you. I've become very fond of this little town and the people in it."

"Sure it not just one special person in town that you've become fond of; maybe a certain widow that runs a boarding house?" Tom saw by the flush that came over Dillon's face that he'd hit close to the truth with his teasing.

Dillon got up and refilled Tom's cup and his own, trying to hide his feelings. He ignored Tom's comment about Emma and said, "I feel at peace here; it's the first time I've felt that way since before the war. You're a good boss Tom and a better friend. You and Juanita have taken me into your home and made me feel welcome."

Tom smiled at what to him was good news. He liked Dillon and respected him for the job he'd been doing. The young man seemed to know just when to push and when to take it easy facing down drunken cowhands. He was fair but didn't allow much leeway from the laws of the town. Most importantly, Dillon didn't have a god complex just because he wore a badge.

"I'm sure glad to hear that Dillon. You're welcome to stay as long as you've a mind too." Tom paused for a few seconds and said, "Sorry about teasing you."

Dillon realized he'd given his feelings away and replied, "Its okay Tom. I know you didn't mean anything by it. How'd you know anyway?"

"It helps to be able to read people in this job. Besides sometimes things just stand out when you look at them the right way. Why don't you take today off?"

"Don't want you to have to work another shift," Dillon responded.

"You can work for me tonight instead. Go get some sleep or do the errands you didn't do yesterday."

"How'd you know I didn't do the things I normally do on my day off?"

Tom grinned at his deputy and replied, "I saw you and Emma ride off yesterday. It's one of those things that stand out that I talked about. Now get, see you this evening."

Dillon left the office, surprised that Tom knew about him and Emma. He didn't want to go back to the boarding house right away; he didn't want Emma to think the only reason he came back was for another romp in the bedroom. Dillon wasn't sure if last night was a onetime thing or the beginning of something more. He smiled and thought either way last night was probably the best night of my life.

Running late, Dillon had missed breakfast so he went to the café first. After eating, he wandered over to the general mercantile to see if the shirts and trousers he'd ordered had arrived. Leaving that store he went to the laundry run by a woman and her two daughters.

Dillon had started to dress a bit nicer since becoming a deputy marshal. He began to wear whipcord or wool pants, collared shirts with a string tie, and sometimes a mid thigh length frock coat. Each week the girls at the laundry washed and pressed his clothes; it cost him twenty five cents a week. It was an expense he hadn't had before but it sure beat doing his own things. Besides, he liked the way he looked and felt wearing cleaned and pressed clothes.

His next stop was Sam Jordan's, the gun smith. Dillon only had to fire his pistol a few times since becoming the deputy; he depended mostly on the scattergun he now carried.

Dillon's Remington .44 had been recently converted to using the new metallic cartridges. He made a point of increasing his supply every month after getting paid. As Dillon walked to the gun smith's he smiled and thought about the advice he'd gotten from his Grandpa Flynn. Grandpa always said, "You could get by without food for quite a while and even get by without water for a bit but if you needed it you couldn't get by without ammunition. Always remember that Dillon."

******************

Shortly after Dillon became the deputy marshal, Sam Jordan and Dillon became good friends. A drunken cowhand decided he wanted to trade in his old pistol for a newer model. The problem was that he wanted to trade even. When Sam refused the conditions of the deal, the cowboy got belligerent and pulled his pistol on Sam; demanding that Sam make the trade.

Dillon had entered the gun smith's just as things were about to get out of hand. "I don't believe Mr. Jordan cares to do business with you. Holster your gun before I have to explain in more detail," Dillon ordered.

The hand turned to see a double barrel shotgun pointed at him by a Deputy Marshal with a determined look on his face. The man was drunk but he wasn't a fool; he put his gun back in his holster and raised his hands. Dillon walked over took the man's pistol and stuck it in his belt. "You want to press charges Mr. Jordan?"

Sam shook his head no. "He's just drunk. I was about to give him the gun he wanted. Then this afternoon or tomorrow I would have asked you or the Marshal to ride out to his camp and talked to the range boss. Most of the cattlemen don't want trouble with the towns they stop at so he would have gotten my gun back for me."

Dillon turned back to the cow hand and told him, "Mr. Jordan is giving you a break; y'all get back to camp. I don't want to see you in town again until your herd moves out. You can pick up your gun at the Marshal's office when you leave." He carefully lowered the hammers on the scattergun as the man went outside and rode out of town. "Sorry for the trouble Mr. Jordan."

"Sam's good enough between friends Deputy." He started to chuckle and motioned toward Dillon's shotgun. "I see you followed Tom's example. Ain't it amazing the effect a double barrel shotgun has on people when it's pointed at them? Makes em real docile, real quick."

Dillon laughed too, "That's the same thing Marshal Ryan told me."

******************

Today Sam greeted Dillon warmly as he entered the store. "What can I help you with today, Deputy? The usual thing?"

"Yes sir. Cartridges for the Remington and shells for the big Colt here," Dillon replied holding up his shot gun.

"Not that I'm complaining about the business but why buy so much ammunition"? Dillon told him about his Grandpa Flynn's advice. "You're Grandpa was a smart man," Sam responded.

Dillon's final chore was to stop by the saloon and pay his monthly tab. He didn't drink much but sometimes he would have lunch there. He also would go into the saloon for a beer when there was a cattle drive passing through. Dillon or Tom's presence in the place would let the cow hands know that the law was nearby in case of trouble.

He found Charley, the barkeep, just opening up. Normally the saloon didn't open for business until midday, but Charley always opened up a little early to make sure the place was cleaned up. Dillon paid his bill and stepped back into the street.

No more putting it off, he told himself. I'll have to go back to the boarding house if I want to get some rest before work tonight. Damn, I hope Emma doesn't get the wrong idea bout me coming back. He stepped into the boarding house and started toward his room. Randal and Jacobs, the only other full time guests, were at work so it was very quiet.

"Who's there?" Dillon heard from the kitchen. Emma came to the entryway to see who had opened her door. "Oh Dillon, I didn't expect you. Come into the kitchen and I'll make you some lunch. You're probably hungry; you left without breakfast this morning."

Dillon didn't say anything and before he could move toward the kitchen, Emma stepped close to him and put her arms around his neck. Wearing a playful frown and a small smile she said, "Don't leave again without saying good bye." Emma leaned in, kissed him, took his hand, and led him to the kitchen.

Following Emma Dillon thought, well I guess I don't have to worry about how Emma feels about last night.

They didn't spend every night together but more nights with than without. They settled into an easy relationship that made both of their lives better and Dillon was glad he decided to stay in Wichita Falls for a while. There were no illusions about them spending the rest of their lives together, but it was good for right now and that was good enough.

Dillon and Emma didn't flaunt their relationship publicly. The only time they went out together in town was shopping at the mercantile or other businesses for the boarding house. He made a point of not holding her hand or taking her arm; other than to help her up or down off the wooden sidewalks or into a wagon. Dillon was sort of the draft horse, carrying the packages back for Emma.

The two "friends" took rides out into the surrounding country side several times; sometimes on horses and sometimes in a surrey. Other than at night after the other boarders had gone to bed it was the only time they were alone together. Three months after he and Emma rode out to her husband's grave and the beginning of their relationship, Dillon found out that they hadn't been as secretive as he thought.

Juanita Ryan insisted that Dillon come to Sunday supper at least once a month. She felt it was the least she could do for the man that had probably saved her husband's life. Although she was about the same age as Dillon, she mothered him like a lost child.

Tom, Juanita, and Dillon were sitting at the dining room table drinking coffee after supper. Juanita looked at Dillon and remarked, "Now don't you just clean up fine. I've never mentioned it but you look like a real gentleman Dillon."

He grinned and fingered his tie; he was 'dressed' for two reasons. Dillon felt he should be presentable when he went to his friends the Ryan's and he had to go to work after supper. "A gentleman should always dress for dinner with a fine lady," Dillon bowed to Juanita. "And those cowhands just naturally respect a man that's better dressed and don't have cow dung on their boots."

"Wouldn't be a certain widow that you get dressed up for, now would it Dillon?" Juanita smile and then laughed at Dillon when he blushed.

"I....eh....I don't know what you mean," Dillon stuttered.

Tom laughed and said, "That dog won't hunt son. Everybody in town knows about you and Emma."

"Well, hell...sorry Juanita. That's just what Emma needs is a bunch of people talking behind her back," Dillon replied.

"Don't worry about it Dillon," Juanita said. "Most folks are glad to see her in good spirits. She laughs and jokes and talks with people just like she did before her husband was killed. Emma's sort of a town pet."

Tom nodded his head in agreement and added, "Bout the only ones not happy with you two is some of those bible thumpers over at the church. They want everybody to be as unhappy as they are so I wouldn't pay them no mind."

Dillon left shortly to go to work. I'll have to talk to Emma tomorrow about all this, he thought. I hope she's not too upset.

The next evening as he ate the late supper Emma had left for him he got his chance to talk to her. She poured him a fresh cup of coffee and joined him at the table. "It makes a woman feel good to see her man eat her cooking," she said with a little smile reaching out to touch his hand.

"Emma, I'm sorry," Dillon said. "I thought we were keeping things quiet but according to Juanita most of the town knows about us." He took her hand and continued, "I didn't mean for your standing in the town to suffer because of me."

She chuckled and then laughed out loud. "I know all about it. Some of the lady's and I have talked about you and I. Do you really think I care what the town thinks? One thing that Jamie taught me in our years together is do what you want. If it doesn't hurt anybody, do just what you want."

Emma paused and took Dillon's hand again, "We're not hurting anybody and you're what I want. Okay?"

Dillon couldn't help smiling. He grabbed Emma and pulled her onto his lap. "Other than Tom and Juanita and maybe a couple of others, I don't care what any of them think. It's my job to help protect them but I don't have to care what they think."

From that evening on, Dillon and Emma were seen more often around the town. Juanita saw them coming out of the mercantile holding hands and smiled. Things are out in the open now, she thought. They're good for each other.

On one of Dillon's days off he was confronted by the pastor of one of the local churches and three female church members as he came out of the general store. He tipped his hat to the ladies and started to walk around them. The oldest woman stepped back in front of him.

"Mr. Gallagher, you do realize that you and that woman are living in sin don't you?" The two women with her nodded their heads in agreement.

"Yes em, I guess some would see it that way."

"What do you plan to do about your whoring ways?"

Dillon's blue eyes turned icy and his ears seemed to flatten against his head like a big cat getting ready to attack. "Ma'am if you were a man I'd make you pay for those words. Excuse me." He stepped around them to leave. Before he got more than two or three steps, the pastor spoke up.

"Deputy you have to stop what you're doing with that woman," he said. "She's a Jezebel."

"Pastor, I won't extend the same consideration to you that I did to the ladies. If you insult Mrs. Boudreaux again I'll have to overlook you being a man of the cloth." Dillon's stare caused the pastor to step back and hang his head.

"My life and actions are no concern of yours," Dillon told them. He turned and took two steps, but stopped turning back to the church members. "Tell you what Pastor, you have the God you believe in have a talk with the God I believe in. When they get done jawing have one of them get back to me." As Dillon walked away he was so angry his hands were shaking.

The next Sunday evening as Tom Ryan was leaving his office he turned to Dillon and said, "Understand you had a run in with Pastor Jennings. He was in here complaining that you threatened him."

"Guess I did." Dillon explained the confrontation with the pastor and his flock.

"Thanks," Tom said with a big smile. "I'm glad you didn't beat the hell out of him, even though he probably deserved it. It'd be tough to explain that to the town council."

Late Sunday evening Dillon was making his rounds; inspecting the town to make sure everything was okay. He heard a shot and then three more coming from near the church. As he rounded the corner of the last building he saw three cow hands facing the people who'd been at the evening services.

One of the men had his gun pointed at Pastor Jennings. The other two of them held pistols on the men that had stepped forward to help the pastor.

Dillon stepped softly until he got into position. Pointing his scattergun at man facing the pastor he said, "I think we've had about as much fun here as we need too. Don't you boys?"

The three turned and saw the shotgun pointed at the leader. "Put your guns on the ground and step back, DO IT NOW," Dillon ordered.

One of the men started to turn toward Dillon. Before he could Dillon said, "Mister I'll shoot you where you stand if you keep moving. I just cleaned this gun; don't make me dirty it up killing you. I'll say it one more time; drop your guns on the ground and step back."

The man in the sights of Dillon's shotgun looked at his two friends and said, "Do what he said. That scattergun's pointed at my belly."

All three cowboys dropped their weapons and stepped back. "Now that's better boys. Maybe I won't have to get my shotgun dirty after all." Dillon looked at the group from the church. "Charley, pick up their guns will you? Sam I've got three tie ropes hooked to my belt, come get them and truss these fellars up."

Pastor Jennings was trembling but was beginning to get some color back on his face. He was obviously shaken. Dillon went over to Jennings and asked, "What happened Pastor?"

Pastor Jennings tried to talk but couldn't. Charley came over and explained. "These men said they saw the pastor and some others carryin temperance signs against drinkin and the saloon being open on Sunday. Those three came into the church and said they were gonna make the pastor change his tune." Charley stopped to chuckle.

"What were the shots?" Dillon asked.

"I guess they decided that the pastor needed to learn how to dance. The one shot at the pastor's feet. I know it's not really funny, but it was funny," Charley added.

Sam had the three men tied and helped Dillon get them headed in the right direction. "C'mon boys, let's head over to the jail. I'll let Marshal Ryan decided what to do with y'all tomorrow."

"If you hold us till morning, we'll miss the herd. They're leaving at first light," one of the men said.

"You shouldn't have shown your displeasure with Pastor Jennings and his temperance signs I guess," Dillon replied.

After locking up the three men, Dillon wandered over to the saloon that the men had been drinking in. He stepped inside and looked around. There were six or seven hands standing at the bar and a man that had to be the range boss sitting at a table. He was watching his men as they drank and shaking his head.

Dillon walked over to the table, "I'm Deputy Gallagher; I just locked up three of your men, Mister."

The range boss looked up, "I'm Carl Jones. How long before I can get them out? The herds leaving at first light and I'll need those boys."

"That's up to Marshal Ryan. Normally I'd just let them sober up and send them back to camp. They got a little too rambunctious so the Marshal will decide what to do with them." Dillon went on to explain why he arrested them.

Jones shook his head in disbelief. "The only thing dumber than cattle are some of the hands that drive them. Anyway can I get them out in time to leave with us? If we don't get to San Antonio in time the prices might change."