CHAPTER 20 - DODGE STATION

JULY 1ST, 1834

WEST PLAINS, MI

“Winfield Cass!" the leader of the gang yelled from the center of the road, "I'm callin' you out."

Winfield sat still inside the saloon. Everyone knew who he was, but nobody knew why he had to go out there. The sheriff was dead. He had been dead for three days now. 'This gang has no respect,' Cass thought to himself. The body of the poor defeated sheriff lay strewn about in front of his hallowed-out office. Winfield threw down his last card on the table and got up from his cushy seat in the bar. As he walked out the front double-doors, the dealer checked his hand, "Straight flush with the river wild. Winner!" He had no guns in his holster, no holster at all. Winfield Cass was twenty years old and walked out of the town saloon wielding nothing but a shovel. The gang leader stirred on his horse, "Now what are you gonna do with that, boy?"

"Well first, I'm gonna bury the sheriff like he deserves."

"And then?"

"Then I'm gonna give you what you deserve."

The entire gang laughed as they rode around Cass. He maintained a straight course for the sheriff's office. The dirt was kicked up all around him. He could barely see where he was going. The dust settled and Winfield was gone. Everyone looked to the gang leader. His mouth did not move, and his eyes were limp. His dead body fell off the horse and there Winfield Cass sat behind it, wielding the gang leader's guns.

As the body fell to the floor, the rest of the gang could see the handle of the shovel sticking out of his back. Winfield fired while they were too distracted and put them all down before any of them could fight back. The crowd came out to cheer him on, but he did not care. He had saved this poor little town. Winfield buried the dead sheriff for his daughter, the woman he loved. Winfield Cass became sheriff and married the girl. The townsfolk were a sentimental bunch and used the iconic series of events to affectionately anoint him with the nickname he would go by for the rest of his days...Wild Card Cass.

AUGUST 9TH, 1865

OUTSIDE DODGE, KS

Six silhouettes walked down the brandished new train line with the big yellow sun, being fried by transparent waves, setting behind them. Ira could not believe his entire regiment of troops was gone. He was reduced to nothing, just like before. All he had was his modified and his hat. Perhaps that’s just the way it had to be.

Peyton’s excitement could not be explained by mere relief. He had never felt this good. For the first time in a while, he felt like he had a new lease on life. In this quiet, last leg to Dodge, Peyton finally felt solace in life and comfort in happiness. Marshall, on the other hand, walked beside him without the slightest clue what to think. What was it that just happened? Divine intervention? What did he see back at the abandoned church in Wichita that made him go temporarily blind? His life was riddled with the unbelievable as of late. And Wild Card walked next to poor Marshall, making sure he did not buckle under the pressure of knowing. Knowing what?

It was getting late, and the path was getting dark. They departed from the tracks when they came upon the last ridge before the town. "The lights down there are Dodge," Wild Card pointed out to Emma.

"I say we split up," suggested Ira, "I'm going to the fort, anyone wanna go with me?"

"I will" Peyton volunteered as he walked next to Ira who continued formulating a plan, "Marshall and Wild Card head for the city, and Will and Emma stay back here."

"Now wait a minute, Ira" Will demand, "I can fight."

"You're still hurt, and you need to watch your wife," argued Ira.

"I can take care of myself," retorted Emma.

"I know… I wasn’t trying to be… Fine, Emma, you come with us to the fort and Will go with Marshall and Cass into town."

"Okay." Ira's brother approved of this plan.

They sneaked down the ridge under the cover of night. Marshall, Wild Card, and Will Davis silently entered Dodge City as Ira, Peyton, and Emma made their way to the army base on the outskirts of town.

Marshall walked next to Wild Card, as Will was a few paces ahead of them, out of earshot. This was the first time Marshall had a chance to get Cass alone, a chance for him to finally get some answers. Marshall's first question was obvious, "What do you think he knows?" he said referring to Will.

"Not much, or else he would have told Ira or Miss Riley by now."

"Davis."

"I'm sorry?"

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"Her last name is Davis, like her husband's," said Marshall.

"Right," agreed Wild Card, trying to shake off Marshall's glare.

"What the hell is goin' on, Cass?"

"Now is not the time, boy," Wild Card permitted.

Marshall drew on Wild Card, stopping their forward motion. Will turned around and said nothing. He could tell by Marshall’s eyes, the man was furious.

"Tell me now, Winfield or I'll kill you where you stand."

"Oh, we both know… that's not true."

Marshall's brow began to shake. His pulse was jumping and choking. He wanted to, but Wild Card was right. Marshall could not kill in cold blood. It was not who he was. He lowered his gun and Wild Card Cass walked away from him. As Cass walked by Will, Will remained looking back, facing Marshall. He let Wild Card pass, and then turned, following up behind him, leaving Marshall alone. Marshall walked behind both of them, frustrated more than ever, and looked back, for Ira and Peyton; but only saw the darkness.

Ira was busy talking with the guard at the front gate of the fort. Peyton could barely hear him, and was too distracted by their beautiful companion, Emma, who was currently explaining her entire life story to Peyton. But he did not care, for looking at her pretty face, with her fair skin and those big bright eyes was pleasant beyond compare.

"Ira was my best friend, and William was always jealous of that. When the army told us that he died, we both changed. It wasn't until the end of the war that we found out he was still alive."

"How did you know?"

"He wrote me a letter."

Ira walked back over to them, "We're clear to go in," he said.

Emma and Peyton put their conversation on hold and the three of them walked into the fort. Ira was brought to the commanding officer, a lowly Colonel in over his head. Ira informed him of the train wreck. The Colonel was flabbergasted. They were counting on those reinforcements. The Colonel continued to say, "All we have currently holding down the fort are three battalions of injun infantry and the hired guns from the newspaper ad."

Ira had completely forgotten about the newspaper, his original reason for heading to Dodge. Oh, how the times had changed since he left Appomattox and the war.

"How many came?"

"About fifty men. A real rag-tag group if you ask me."

"What are we gonna do, Colonel?"

"Pray."

"Sir?"

"Go into Dodge tonight. First sign of trouble, send a rider."

"And our orders once we're in the town?"

The Colonel continued to speak and Ira memorized his orders. He repeatedly responded, "Yes sir."

And finally the Colonel bid him away, "Good luck."

"Thank you, Colonel"

“Oh, and Davis!"

“Yes, sir?"

"One word of advice..." The Colonel lowered his voice as the door swung after Ira let go of it, revealing Peyton just outside, "...Don't trust that Quade character. No matter what he says. He didn’t get the name Blackheart for picking daisies."

“No, just fertilizing them, sir." Ira walked out of his office, rounding up his two companions waiting outside, and told them the mission. They were to secure quarters on a private street. "Any sign of trouble and we send a rider for back-up. That rider is you Emma" finished Ira.

"Okay," Emma announced, she hesitated as the nerves got to her and stuttered a little, "I- I can do that."

"There are three horses waiting for us downstairs. We are leaving now. Go get ready as I inform the men of their orders." Ira walked down the stairs and Emma blushed. Peyton looked over at her and laughed.

She looked back at him and felt she needed to respond, "I've just never seen him be so… commanding before." They followed down the stairs and got to their horses. Ira joined up with them shortly and stared over at Peyton.

“What?” Peyton queried.

“You’ve built quite a reputation for yourself around these parts, friend.”

And just like that, the burden of his past came down heavy on Peyton’s shoulders, one more reminder that he could never get away from who he was. They left the army base, and Ira did as the Colonel ordered. He prayed that this plan wouldwork.

Marshall, Will, and Wild Card Cass stood in the shadow of Dodge City. “Not a big town, is it?” Will looked around the corner down the alleyway. At the end of the alley was Dodge's main street. "What do we do? Where do we go?" asked Will.

"The train station," Marshall devised, "They'll be looking everywhere for us, right? Once our train blew up the train station became the last place they need to look."

"Good thinking, Marshall." Wild Card Cass approved. They went around the back and down the street.

"Will, go ahead first, kept the brim of your hat low and make sure the coast is clear, then give us the signal."

Will ran the crossroads, and through the doors, into the station. Marshall stared at Wild Card, still furious. His temper coiled and fused with his heart. Marshall no longer trusted Wild Card.

Will walked into the train station. It was almost empty. The office looked closed, and the saloon was bare. Will went over to the barkeep. He did not recognize a single person in the bar, nor the station. Outside, Wild Card and Marshall met three familiar riders. Will gave them the go ahead, as Peyton, Ira, and Emma hitched their horses outside the train station.

Everyone entered the Dodge City train station saloon. The barkeep looked down the line at them. Wild Card sat next to Emma who sat with her husband. After Will sat Ira, and then Peyton and Marshall. They all had a drink and prepared for the day to come.