Part One: The Giant Slayer

He knew he couldn't withstand much more. The mix of blood and sweat stung his eyes as it trickled down his forehead, and his sides ached with such intensity that he thought the next breath he took would surely be his undoing. He heard their laughter; it seemed to come from all around him as he lay in the dirt.

"Don't seem like he's gonna get up this time!" A lanky young man chortled. As he reared his foot back for another kick he grunted "Best I make sure of that!"

"Hold it right there!" The powerful voice stopped the attacker in mid kick. Three pairs of eyes turned toward the big man sitting astride the buckskin. "Put your hands where I can see them, and step away from the boy."

The three men did as they were told, reluctantly giving up their violent game. "We was just teaching him a lesson was all," the shortest of the three whined. "Ain't no reason to pull a gun on us!"

"Uhh-hunh. Three against one, seems a little unfair to me," Dillon stated as he dismounted his horse.

"Well, he shouldn't have been looking at my sister. 'Sides, what business is it of yours?" retorted the lanky man.

"I'm making' it my business." Matt knelt down beside the boy, gently rolling him onto his back, causing the tormenters to step back from the youth. "You all right?"

"I'm hurtin' terrible mister. I didn't do anything, I swear. They just jumped me."

"If you can ride, we'll head back toward Hays. You can press charges there." Matt continued with his inspection of the young boy. He appeared to have taken a good beating, but nothing seemed broken upon further scrutiny.

"I ain't pressin' charges, they'd just come after me even worse. I just want to be shed of them," the boy ground out between clenched teeth.

"Not sure your making the right choice, but I can't stop you." Pulling a bandana out of his pocket, he began to wipe the blood off of the boy's swollen forehead. "Get outta here, you three. And if I ever see you around this boy again, you'll have me to deal with!"

The attackers mounted their horses, and rode off, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Matt looked around and saw another horse, old and swaybacked, about 25 yards down the road. "That your mount down there?" he asked as he raised the young boy into a sitting position.

"Yeah, she ain't much, but she's all I got."

"Think you can ride?" Dillon asked, attempting to help the boy stand.

"Iffin' it'll get me outta here and away from them crazies, I'll ride!"

The marshal walked the horse toward the boy and helped him into the saddle. "So where you heading?" Matt asked as he tipped his hat back on his head.

"No place in particular, just heading," the boy replied despondently.

"Well, you probably ought to have someone look at those bruises and cuts. Why don't you ride into Dodge with me, I'll have Doc Adams look you over?"

The boy looked up into the big man's face. "Say, I didn't thank ya names Jeremiah Tyrone Branham and I thank you for your help sir." Trying to sit up straight he thrust his much smaller hand toward the big man.

A small grin crept across Matt's face. "Glad to help. Name's Dillon, Matt Dillon."

"Saw you was a lawman, by your badge. You a sheriff?"

"Nope, US Marshal outta Dodge. Speakin' of Dodge, we better get riding, it'll be dark soon." As the pair began the trek to Dodge, Matt found himself wondering how this young man found himself out on the prairie by himself, and in such a heap of trouble. From the looks of his skin and the light fuzz on his jaw, Matt guessed the boy not to be much past 19. He was of slight build, though obviously muscular, someone accustomed to hard work. Matt had noted earlier the boy didn't wear a gun, and his clothing reminded him of a homesteader or farmer. Jeremiah had an ingratiating grin, even though it was slightly lopsided thanks to a swollen bottom lip.

Lagging slightly behind, Jeremiah looked at the imposing figure before him. He noted the lawman rode slightly back in the saddle apparently to compensate for his long legs. Jeremiah knew little about him, but he knew he showed him kindness, something the boy hadn't experienced in a very long time. He could tell by the way the Marshal had studied him; he was trying to get a read on him. Jeremiah decided he would only reveal what he had to, hoping to avoid exposing too much of his past.

Early the next morning, the unlikely pair rode into Dodge. The previous night found Matt answering Jeremiah's seemingly unending questions about Dodge and life as a lawman. The swollen lip the young man had received in the altercation had caused him to lisp some, but did not deter his enthusiasm; however, a long night on the hard packed prairie dirt had seemed to douse the boy's exuberance and the morning ride had been relatively quiet.

"Say J.T", Matt said, addressing the boy as requested, "why don't you head on up to Doc's office, and I'll meet you there shortly."

"Marshal, I can't be beholdin' to no sawbones, ain't got a dime to pay him."

Matt grinned. "According to Doc, nobody does. Go on, let me worry about Doc."

A steely looked crossed the young man's features, and he raised himself in the saddle as far as his sore ribs would allow. "I ain't any charity case, Marshal."

Matt noted the way the boy held himself, and he smiled inwardly. He saw a great deal of himself in this independent young man; the brashness, the pride, the need to be taken seriously. "No one said you were. We'll figure out a way for you to work it off. Now go on."

After stabling Buck and checking in at the office, Matt made his way up the rickety stairs that led to Adams' office. He paused outside of the door, drawn to the animated conversation being held inside.

"I'm telling ya Doc, he held off all three of them no goods, just with the look in his eye!"

"The look in his eye, hunh? Did he happen to have his gun in his hand?"

"Sure he did, but I could tell, they wouldn't done nothin' even if the Marshal would a been holding a puppy! Soon as them boys got a look at his badge and his size," a giggle erupted from J.T. "they was high-tailin' it like a rabbit caught in a rain storm!"

Matt chose this time to enter through the door. He wasn't one for accolades, and he hoped his presence would put a stop to this particular recollection.

Doc Adams looked up as the door opened, and shoving his hands in his pockets, he snorted, "Well, look there, it's David the giant slayer himself!"

A bewildered J.T. looked from one man to the other and said "David? I thought you said your name was Matt, Marshal Dillon."

Doc nearly choked on his laughter, and Matt shot him a menacing look. "Well, it is, J.T. That was just Doc trying to be funny. He does that every now and then, usually doesn't work out too well for him."

Walking up to the exam table, Matt addressed the doctor. "So," he asked, tilting his head toward the boy, "he gonna be okay?"

"Him? Oh yes, he's gonna be just fine. I'd have to say he was pulled from the clutches of death just in time!" The smirk on the old man's face was not lost on Matt, who shook his head in resignation.

"Fine then. Come on J.T., I think it's time you met a higher class of Dodge folk." Matt laid his hand on the young man's arm and guided him toward the door. Calling over his shoulder to Doc, Matt extended an invitation to join them for supper later that night.

He couldn't stop staring. It wasn't that he'd forgotten his manners; he was pure and simply mesmerized. From the moment the Marshal had introduced him to the redhead, he had found himself lost in her bright expressive smile and brilliant blue eyes. Add all that to her easy manner with him; the boy knew he was a goner.

"Umm, J.T., did you hear me?" Kitty asked, leaning in toward the young man.

Embarrassed, the boy cleared his throat before responding. "Ah, no ma'am, I didn't. Guess I'm a bit more tired than I thought."

Kitty patted his arm, her touch causing a tingle to course through him. "You poor thing! Has Matt found you a place to stay yet?"

J.T. was drawn to the slight pout that formed on Kitty's lips, wondering what it might be like to kiss them. The look was not lost on Matt, nor was the boy's smitten demeanor.

"No, not yet Kitty, but I think we'll head out right now and see what we can do about it," Matt responded tersely.

Kitty looked up at Matt and offered, "He can stay in one of the rooms here if you can't find anything."

Matt nearly interrupted Kitty in his urgency to quell that idea. "No! I mean no, that shouldn't be necessary. I imagine Hank'll put him up, in turn for some work." Turning to J.T. he commanded, "Let's go." When he was sure J.T. was heading out the batwing doors, Matt turned to Kitty and said, "I'll see ya later Kitty."

Kitty had to smile, the emphasis on "I'll" gave an indication that her cowboy was a little jealous. Clearing the beer mugs from the table, she thought a little jealousy wouldn't hurt him any.

TBC