"Liberty, Love & Loot" (The Best 4th of July Ever)

By DetroittiggerFan (written June 1999)

Here's another moldy oldy I've rescued from my closet files. In this year of Covid-19—on this July 4th holiday—stay home and stay safe. Read some fan fiction if you have nothing better to do! Please excuse any typos I've missed. Microsoft Word makes writing easier but many times it substitutes all the wrong words for the right words—if you know what I mean.

Disclaimer: This story is for non-profit, fanfiction entertainment purposes only. It is intended purely for the enjoyment of true "Gunsmoke" fans—whether they be the folks who saw the show back in the 50's, 60's or 70's…or the younger crowd who know the show and characters via the everlasting re-runs. (Bless you, "Me TV" and "TVLand") We're all equal in the CBS television "eye". All rights for profit belong to CBS Television and the creators of the original characters. Now on with the show!

Chapter 1

"Hull id steddy, Wooie!" the man at the top of the ladder grunted between clenched teeth.

Louie Pheeters—Dodge City's own man of no means had been distracted as he watched the half-completed Independence Day parade float wheeled up the street. A stick figure cloaked in chicken wire had nearly tumbled off the wagon. The driver had pulled up short to avoid a man rolling a barrel of root beer across the middle of the road. "I'm sorry Festus," he apologized. His hound dog eyes stared up into the sunlight. "What did you say?"

Festus Haggen yanked away the penny nails he held gripped in his mouth. "I said hold the blamed ladder steady, Louie! Are you fixin' to help or not? This ladder is a'wobbelty enough without you a'jigglin' on it!"

"I'll do better," Pheeters nodded and promised. He took a tighter hold on the base of the twelve-foot ladder and focused his concentration on the job at hand. He watched dutifully as Festus returned to tacking up the last of the red, white and blue bunting against the Cattlemen's Association's Building. The deputy gave a last determined whack with the hammer and drove the nail home. He then climbed back down carefully, watching to make sure his spurs didn't catch on any rungs like they had earlier in the morning. He rubbed his sore elbow as he gazed up at his work in satisfaction. "Town's beginning to look mighty fine, ain't it, Festus? Louie stated proudly.

"It's shinier than a bald man's noggin'," he agreed. "This here particular Fourth of July is shapin' up to be the brand-spankiest ever for Dodge City folks. I'll dadgum promise you that! Now Louie—what time do you have on that pocket watch of your'n?"

Louie reached inside his frayed coat pocket and pulled out a tarnished silver timepiece. "It's getting on near two o'clock, Festus. We'd better get over there before them ladies come looking for us," he warned.

"'Spect so," Festus agreed. "Well now, help me with this here ladder and we'll get a move on." They both took a firm grip on each end of the ladder and headed off down the street. As they passed the Long Branch, they could see owner Kitty Russell standing out front. She had just put the finishing touches on her own July 4h decorations. She had spent the better part of the last two hours adorning her windows with a colorful "Happy 100 Birthday, U.S.A.!" sign—complete with brightly exploding fireworks and Old Glory waving with 37 stars. She now stepped back to critique her artwork.

"Afternoon, Miss Kitty!" Louie called out and tipped his beaten derby.

"Hello there!" she waved back cheerfully. "Festus, those street decorations look wonderful! You two have worked so hard! Why don't you both come in here for a beer on the house?"

Louie pulled up short at the tail end of the ladder, jerking Festus to a sudden stop. Festus cranked his head around and spouted a silent cuss towards his helper. Louie didn't notice or care. He was preoccupied by addressing Miss Russell's kind offer. "Mighty nice of you, Miss Kitty. But unfortunately, Festus and I are required to be elsewhere. Perhaps later this evening you will indulge us?"

She stepped out onto dusty Front Street and shaded her eyes against the harsh glare of the July sun. "Oh? I thought you boys had got all the draping tacked up?"

Haggen gave a peevish tug on the ladder by jerking it hard. Louie flinched and stumbled forward. He looked up in hurt betrayal. "Hey!"

Festus tipped his own hat. "Thank you, kindly, Miss Kitty. Yes'm we're done with hanging up all the doo-dads but now the Ladies up at the oxillary are a'waitin' on us to help with another job that needs a'doin.'"

Louie smiled in tolerate exasperation. "Festus, please. How many times do I gotta tell you? It's pronounced "Aux-zil-la-ree". It is not Ox-i-larry!

Festus frowned and growled. "Oh, stop your hoo-rahhin', Louie. She knows what I'm talkin' about."

Kitty smiled fondly at the both of them and stepped back and up onto the covered boardwalk. "Alright, then. I'll you see you both later? There'll be a cold one waiting for you both." She gave them a thumbs up gesture.

"You betcha!" Festus winked and flashed her a whiskered grin.

"It'll be a pleasure," Louie assured her and made a show of bowing like the gentleman he was at heart. The two-man train ladder shuffled off down the street.

She turned back to her window and touched the paint with the tip of her pinky to see if it had dried. She wasn't aware of Doc Adams' presence until he was standing beside her, watching as she surveyed her handiwork. "Careful!" he admonished, "Don't smear it! It'd be a shame to ruin such a masterpiece."

She tilted her auburn head and rewarded him with an appreciative smile. "Why thank you, Doc! That's the first compliment I've heard today."

The doctor tilted his hat back and scratched the side of his head. "Well, good heavens! And here it is two o'clock in the afternoon, you poor neglected woman! Let's go inside and have a glass of your finest lager. I'll probably charm you with one or two more nice things before I'm through." They gathered up her art supplies and went inside the saloon. Doc headed towards his favorite table as Kitty went behind the bar. She returned to his side with mugs of cold brew. She settled herself in a chair and then sipped her drink with a thoughtful expression on her face. Doc noticed her look. "Something wrong?"

"No, but…I have been wondering what exactly has been going on," she hinted at intrigue.

"What in thunder are you talking about?"

Her voice took on a gossipy quality. "Have you noticed the amount of time Festus has been spending down at the Ladies Auxiliary Meeting Hall?"

Adams chuckled and gave his salt and pepper mustache a quick swipe of his hand. He nodded in understanding. "As a matter of fact, I have noticed he's been kind of scarce lately." Doc pointed with his index finger, "…and if you ask me—I think our Mr. Haggen had better watch himself down there."

"Oh?" Kitty's perfect eyebrows arched in response.

Doc took a sip of beer and swallowed the amber liquid before responding. "Call me crazy, but I think Bertha Stufflebaum is gettin' ideas about him."

"Ideas? What kind of ideas?" Kitty's eyes grew wide in surprise.

Doc looked her in the eye. "Sweet ideas."

Kitty bubbled in shocked amusement. "Bertha Stufflebaum! Oh Doc, you're talking nonsense!" She paused to think for herself for a moment. "Now—Hildy Hartford, she I could see. After all, she rides that mule of hers to town every Saturday."

Doc shook his head. "No, I tell you, Kitty. Bertie Stufflebaum has a new dimple in her cheek and Festus has put it there!" he insisted.

"Doc!" she objected. "Bertha Stufflebaum is 70 years old if she's a day. She just buried her husband less than a year ago and Gus was in his eighties, wasn't he?"

Doc took his finger and traced the lip of his beer mug with it. "Age has nothing to do with it, young lady! The problem here is everybody in Dodge knows Bertie is no spring chicken—but she doesn't seem to realize it! The day that woman acts her age is the day she keels over dead. Festus had better be careful—that's all I'm saying. I think Bertie's looking for husband #2. He may be it."

Kitty sputtered in a protesting chuckle. "Hmph! Listen to you! I swear all you men are alike! You go on like getting married is a life sentence to Leavenworth!"

"Now, I didn't say that!" he weakly defended himself.

After a moment more had passed between them, she speculated. "'Course now…it wouldn't be all bad for Festus. She is the wealthiest widow practically in all of Ford County. She has that nice, big house and no children to leave all the money to when she does die." She tasted her beer again and then continued with a knowing nod, "Festus would be doing all right if they were to get married."

Her dear friend couldn't help but to give her an incredulous smirk. "You women! Any excuse to have a wedding."

She paid him no mind as she rested her chin on the knuckles of one hand and then tapped the table with her fingers on the other. "Doc? Do you think Festus would? I mean…is there a chance he might like the old gal in that way?" She gave her friend a sly sideways glance.

Doc thundered. "Good heavens, NO! The poor boob doesn't have any idea as to what's happening to him! He's just caught up in rising creek water and he better wake up before the flash flood hits—that's all I've got to say."

"You mean to say Bertie's just taken advantage of his good nature? Festus is soft hearted and always wants to help."

"Exactly. Mrs. Stufflebaum has him putting in all this work for the July 4th doings—then she just naturally invites him to supper afterwards." Doc drained the last of his beer. "He'd better be on his toes. Next thing you know she'll be wanting him to escort her to social affairs and out of town trips."

Kitty couldn't resist her urge to tease. "Be careful yourself, Doc. You get to worrying too much and folks will begin to think you're jealous!"

Doc rolled his eyes.

"No, no…," she continued her torment with her crystal blue eyes twinkling in merriment as she fought back a giggle. "Come to think of it—you and Bertie would make a fine match! Maybe Festus had better keep an eye out for you tapping on his shoulder and cutting in on him and Bertie at the next barn dance?"

Doc pushed back in his chair and stood up. "Oh, hush your nonsense," he groaned in protest. He decided to quickly change the subject. "Where's Matt?"

"Out to Fort Dodge on business. He'll back later."

"Good. I wanted to tell him those no-account hill brothers are skunking about town."

Kitty looked up in confusion. "Who?"

"You remember—Merry Florene's kin?"

"Oh, my yes. Those two. Roland Daniel and Elbert Moses, wasn't it?"

Doc reached into his pocket and tossed a coin onto the table to pay for his beer. "They're the ones. I don't trust 'em as far as I can throw 'em."

Kitty sighed in agreement as she pushed back from the table herself. "Trust them or not, I suppose they have the same right to be in town for the party as everyone else." She reached to take the physician's empty mug and scooped up the coin.

"The pair of them are trouble. Plain and simple. That's all those two halfwits amount to—trouble! Matt had better keep an eye on them." As he started for the door, he paused to pull out his pocket watch. "Good heavens, look at the time. I'll be out to the Fleshers this afternoon to check on Eli if anybody needs me. I got word this morning he was kicked by his plow horse and is pretty stoved up. I should be back well before suppertime. See you later, young lady."

"Bye, Doc," she smiled.

The batwing doors of the Long Branch pushed open just as he was about to exit. In walked Roland Daniel and Elbert Moses themselves—as if summoned by the good doctor's comments about them. Kitty watched as the brothers stood to either side to allow Doc to pass between them and out the door. They then clumped inside and up to the bar rail, hitching up their saggy, patched trousers and spitting a wad of chew into the brass spittoon. Doc popped his head back inside long enough to make sure Kitty caught his "speak-of-the-Devil" reaction to the brothers' appearance. She nodded and waved him away. "Barkeep—let us have a bottle of whiskey," the older of the pair, Roland Daniel asked as he glanced casually around the saloon. He had a two-week's growth of beard and he most likely hadn't bathed in two months.

Sam's trace of a smile on his haggard face was professional and respectful. But his deep voice was all business. "That'll be two dollars, gents. Let's see your money."

Elbert Moses was lanky with slouched shoulders. He looked equally as down on his luck as his brother with the same personal hygiene standards. He made a snort of self-righteousness as his brother reached a grubby hand inside the pocket of his jeans. Roland Daniel extracted two coins and slapped them down on the bar. "Thar ya be!" he snarled loudly. "Now give us a bottle before we decide to take our drinkin' bidnez somewhere else."

Sam's expression did not change. He simply placed the whiskey and two shot glasses before them as he picked up the silver dollars. Roland Daniel kept a wary eye on the bartender as he snatched up the bottle of rye and the glasses. Roland Daniel slid down to the far end of the brass rail bar and grabbed the entire bowl of peanuts in a defiant gesture. Elbert Moses jutted out his boney chin and waited for Sam to make a comment. But the veteran barkeep merely ignored them and moved to the other end of the polished mahogany bar to wait on another customer. The brothers slunk to the back of the saloon and hunkered down at a table with their prizes. "Tell me again what we gonna do," Roland Daniel said as he uncorked the bottle and splashed the liquid fire into a shot glass.

"I done told you a hundert times already!" Elbert Moses hissed as his eyes rolled to the top of his head, his prominent Adam's apple slid up and down his throat.

"Tell me agin, anyways. How much you think we're gonna git?" Roland's voice grew in excitement and greed. He helped himself to the bottle and poured himself a drink.

Elbert slapped his brother hard and a cloud of fine dust lifted into the air. "Shush! Keep your voice down, stupid! You want everybody in this here saloon to know what we're fixin' to do?" He clenched his jaw and gave his brother a hard stare of warning.

"Don't call me stupid!" Roland Daniel snapped back. "I got me jist as much smarts as you! Maybe more—Ma done told me once." But he did lower his voice and peered around nervously to see if anyone in the sparse crowd had overheard. Then he pushed back from the table deliberately and hunched forward. He tugged off a grimy, worn leather boot and hoisted it up onto the table. "But tell me agin!" he whispered fiercely. "Whatya reckon? Two or three hundert dollars?" He then stuck his big paw into the peanut bowl and dumped a handful of the roasted shells on the table. He then began to use his boot heel like a claw hammer to smash and crack the peanut shells open. He then commenced to pick at the nuts and pop them into his gaping mouth.

Elbert helped himself to the peanuts and washed some down with a slug of whiskey. He leaned closer to his brother and in a hushed brag said, "Ha! That'll be just the start! The way I got it figgered—it'll be closer to maybe five hundert dollars! I hear tell that ladies' high society group puts on this here July 4th shindig every year. All the money from all the different booths are given up to the charity pot. And this year being a special July 4th…all that's goin' to mean is to be a heap mo' money in the pot!"

Roland Daniel started giggling like a naughty schoolboy. He spit to the floor a bit of peanut shell. "Bless them ladies' hearts—givin' to charity and all! They jist don't know WE be the charity this year, do they?!"

Elbert Moses snorted happily and joined in with his brother's laughter. "No, they don't! No, they don't! And they best not find out t'either." He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his ragged shirt and continued. "Now…as soon as it gets dark tonight—we've gotta tippy-toe like baby cats on cotton balls and get into the shack where all them Chinamen fireworks are kept."

Roland's eyes lit up in excitement as he dumped the rest of the peanuts onto the table and began smashing them gleefully with his boot heel. "And then watch out!" he guffawed. "KABOOM! KABOOM! KABOOM!" He did his best to mimic the sound of explosions with bulging eyes and puffed out cheeks.

"Jist hush now and drink up, boy! We got us a few more things to 'speculate on—but boy howdy! We sure as shootin' gonna add to the hijinks around this town tomorrow for dang sure!"