Disclaimer: I am not a doctor or lawyer, and I don't play one on TV. I try my best to make details accurate and relevant to the time period, but for the sake of the plot I might not always succeed. This story was inspired by my recent experience as a juror in a trial where the entire case rested on the credibility of a single witness.

The Witness

Chapter 1

"Anticipation"

Matt Dillon tossed and turned in his cot, his mind cluttered with images of the pint-sized man who had become such a giant thorn in his side. The irony might have amused him had the situation not been so serious. He listened as the clock ticked away seconds in the quiet of the night, wondering how many remained until his 8am stage to Hays. Rarely did he have trouble sleeping after a long day at work, but he had more on his mind than usual. The trial at which he would be the star—the only—witness had been postponed so many times he had wondered if it would ever take place. Both to his relief and his dread, it was finally scheduled to begin.

Testifying at trials was a common part of his job and not something he normally lost sleep over. In the early days it had almost been exciting, seeing the judicial process in action, knowing that he was doing his part to keep dangerous men off the streets. But the luster had quickly worn off, and it had become just one in a sizeable list of duties he was bound by oath to perform to the best of his ability. He had long ago been forced to make peace with the reality that he was frequently the driving force in sending accused criminals to their deaths. It didn't mean he had to like it—quite the contrary, more often than not he hated it. Death was depressing, it was final, and it was to be mourned, whether it unfairly struck innocent people or was legally administered by the state. But as long as he followed the law, he could look in the mirror at the end of the day and respect the man looking back.

Matt had dealt with a lot of unsavory characters in his career, but few made his skin crawl like the defendant in this case. Byron Krug was born the third child and second son of a wealthy railroad magnate in Hays City by the name of Thomas Krug. The oldest, Rebecca, was a model child who had the misfortune of being born a girl. Thomas loved his daughter, but he desperately wanted a boy—someone to carry on the family name and someday take over the business he had worked so hard to build. When Gordon came along two years later he thought his dream had come true, but it didn't take long to recognize that something was terribly wrong. Having a bright girl who was developing normally, the contrast was stark. Both physically and mentally, Gordon lagged behind his sister in every way, and as he grew into a young boy it became apparent that Thomas' worst fear had been realized—his son was a dullard. He would likely never marry and have children, and he certainly would not be able to take over the family business.

It took over five years for Mary Krug to become pregnant again. Even the best doctors money could buy were unable to figure out why she had trouble conceiving, but when it finally happened Thomas was ecstatic. He ate, drank, and slept the new child, refusing to consider that it would not be a boy. He bought boy clothing, collected boy playthings, made lists of boy names. That his wife was sickly and having a difficult pregnancy seemed to escape his notice. When she finally went into labor, it was both a joyous and tragic day—she gave birth to a healthy boy, but she died in the process.

In his grief, Thomas resolved that this son would be something special, a fitting tribute to his late mother. He named the boy Byron after Lord Byron, Mary's favorite poet and an example of greatness. Though all the children had a privileged upbringing, Byron was especially indulged. The only thing he ever lacked in life was discipline, and he eventually grew into the type of person one might expect under the circumstances despite his father's good intentions. He was spoiled, selfish, lazy, and temperamental, traits that endeared him to few friends and even fewer women. He was, however, very smart, and that bode well for the future of the family business. Thomas convinced himself that Byron's petulant ways and youthful indiscretions were typical for a boy his age, something he would surely outgrow.

When Byron was nineteen, his father died unexpectedly of a heart attack. In his will, Thomas left Byron the company and the entirety of his estate, with instructions to dole out money to Gordon in amounts he could handle. For all his faults, Byron did look after his big brother, who worshipped the ground he walked on. Rebecca was left nothing, knowing it was not a rebuke from her father but rather a reflection of his antiquated views about women. Unmotivated by money, she had distanced herself from her patriarchal family after marrying a journalist from Kinsley whom she had met, ironically, when he was covering a story about her father's fortune. Although she was very happy with her husband and completely unsurprised by the will, the unfairness had stung her deeply, especially since Byron was such an ass.

Byron wasted no time enjoying his fortune. He had little interest in the company beyond the money it generated, figuring he could pay other people to run it and reap the rewards he deserved. Though barely five feet four inches tall, with a slight frame and decidedly unattractive features, he fancied himself as quite the ladies' man. He pursued women relentlessly, and while there were plenty available in Hays for a price, none was willing to give him everything he wanted. The perfect woman—beautiful, obedient, and impressed by his status if not his stature—must be out there, if not in Hays then somewhere better.

And so it was in that frame of mind that Byron had fatefully traveled to Dodge City looking for some action. Perhaps the Krug curse, as he was apt to call the mysterious phenomenon that blinded women to his desirability, had a limited radius. Dodge had more saloons, gambling, and women than Hays, and his odds would surely be better there.

Linda Harrison was the unfortunate recipient of Byron's Dodge experiment. It was only her second day working at The Long Branch, and she was already beginning to wonder if she was saloon girl material. Introverted and inexperienced, she had taken the job in rebellion against her strict widower father as proof she could make it in the world on her own. Kitty was hesitant to hire her, but she was short on girls at the moment and Linda had seemed so determined. On her first shift, Linda's standoffish demeanor had either irritated men or caused them to ignore her altogether. And now, during the slowest part of the day with few customers and no excuses, she found herself trapped at a back table with a diminutive, obnoxious man who would not take no for an answer.

Linda had tried to be polite, but it was obvious subtlety would not work with Byron Krug. When she had finally ordered him to leave her alone, he had whipped out a pistol and waved it around, asking if she knew who he was, looking ridiculously like a child playing cowboy. With Sam was downstairs retrieving a barrel and Kitty at the bank making a quick deposit, Linda was the only employee in the place and understandably frightened. That was when Hud Brimley, unarmed and equally frightened, ran out of the saloon to fetch Marshal Dillon.

Matt was used to occasional disturbances at all the saloons, from crooked card games to drunken brawls, and he wasn't sure what to expect when Hud told him there was trouble brewing at The Long Branch. He didn't stop to ask questions—seconds could make the difference between life and death—so he simply hurried over to check it out. When he arrived, the man he later learned to be Byron Krug was aiming his gun at Walt Frazier, a businessman merely passing through Dodge and the only other patron currently in the saloon. Walt had merely been trying to help a young lady in trouble, and Krug was yelling that he had warned Frazier to stay out of it. Matt quickly drew and ordered Krug to drop his weapon, but it was too late. The gunshot hit the unarmed Good Samaritan in the chest, and he fell to the floor like a rag doll as Linda screamed. Krug then turned toward the marshal, who got his shot off first and hit the killer in the lower abdomen.

Byron lost a lot of blood but Doc was able to save him, knowing he was likely just delaying the inevitable. It wasn't the first time Doc had patched a man up so he could face his own execution in good health, and the irony didn't escape him. Like Matt, he had a sworn duty which he was bound to uphold no matter how personally distasteful it may sometimes be. It was a shared character trait that had fostered a deep friendship between the two.

Byron Krug would have been just the latest in a long list of criminals Matt had arrested, destined to become at most a footnote in the history of 19th century crime, if not for one thing—money. He had obscene amounts of it, and everyone knew there was a different kind of justice available to people who could afford it. He had hired Gregory Hardy, the best and most expensive criminal lawyer in Kansas, to defend him. Hardy was a weasel of a man with slicked back hair and a thin moustache, and he wasted no time in proving why he was worth every penny. Byron languished in the Dodge jail all of two days, receiving a transfer to a hospital in Hays after Hardy filed an emergency motion questioning the state of his health and quality of his medical care. Next he secured a change of venue to Hays due to hardship on a dimwitted brother who depended on him, giving Hardy a much more favorable jury pool that wasn't as familiar with Matt Dillon's reputation. The trial was subsequently postponed several times as Hardy chased down his own witnesses and experts, and everything Byron had said to Matt and Doc after his injury was ruled inadmissible after Hardy presented psychological research showing the unreliability of statements made under physical duress. His coup de grace was the striking of Hud Brimley from the witness list after discovering that Hud's uncle had long ago worked for Thomas Krug and been fired after a dispute. It was a weak connection that Hud wasn't even aware of, but it was enough to convince the right judge that his testimony would be prejudicial.

That left Matt Dillon and Linda Harrison to provide the state's case, and the state had a slight problem—no one could find Linda Harrison. She had fled The Long Branch after recounting to Matt the traumatic events leading up to the shooting and had not been seen since. Her father claimed she had not come home and he didn't know where she was, but his story seemed very suspect. A struggling farmer raising four children, he suddenly had a brand new John Deere plow and an unlikely story about where he had gotten it. Matt suspected that he had been paid handsomely to send his daughter away, perhaps to an out of town relative, until the trial was over. However, despite his best efforts at tracing the money and locating Linda, he had come up empty. The state's case against the defendant had suddenly become Matthew Dillon vs. Byron Krug, one man's word against another's. In a rare loss for Hardy, the judge ruled that the exceptions to the hearsay rule applied and Matt could relate Linda's eyewitness details in his testimony. The conditions for exception were that the witness in question was unavailable, and the person to whom the witness spoke was deemed credible. Even Hardy knew it was a stretch to challenge Matt Dillon's credibility, and he didn't fight the judge's ruling. He would have to rely on other tricks.

So on the eve of this journey to Hays, where his testimony alone would determine whether a guilty man could buy an acquittal, Matt's stomach was in knots. If Hardy managed to trip him up, a killer could go free. It was that very real possibility that kept him counting the ticks of the clock for most of the night.

TBC