Kitty's Outlaw

Season 3, Episode 4

Author's note: this is a short story based on the episode "Kitty's Outlaw." I have added one conversation at the end that fills in some of the information omitted at the time in the episode that would have been a spoiler at that point.

Scene 1

It had been a typically quiet morning in Dodge City. The sun was shining and people were out doing their shopping and working at their jobs, Howie Uzzell, the desk clerk at the Dodge House, was busily writing in the desk journal as he needed to keep track of the day's tasks to be assured that the guests were well looked after. Hearing a door opening above him he paused, curious as to which guest might be emerging from his room.

Quickly he realized from the placement of the footsteps and the sound of the stride that this was the man in room 12. Normally Howie would be preparing in his mind a cheerful greeting, but as the man descended the steps the clerk paused in his writing and with an expression that could only be a measure short of terror, he watched the gunman with the nicely creased pants approach. Setting his pen aside to give his full attention to the stranger, he could only hope that he hadn't given any cause for complaint.

The gunman alighted from the stairs, stepped up to the desk, and paused as he dropped the room key in front of Howie.

"G-good morning-, Mr. Yankton," Howie stammered.

"Morning. About that Breakfast you sent up to my room," Yankton replied.

The lump in Uzzell's throat seemed to double in size, fearing that any offence taken by the man could be fatal.

Yankton, enjoyed the sense that he was respected and feared. Howie held his breath, waiting for the coming assessment.

Yankton nodded, and after a pause said, "It was fine."

Relieved that he could breathe again, Howie replied, still hesitating, "Well that's good. I'm real glad you liked it, Mr. Yankton."

"I did. Just fine."

As Yankton turned toward the door, the clerk noticed his knees were shaking and his palms were sweaty. Most of the visitors that came to Dodge were easy to please, but when one of these men stayed here, the staff was on edge, not wanting to give any cause for a bad reaction. Howie wiped his brow as the stranger headed to the street.

Yankton stepped into the sunshine, gazing at the bustle of the street. He was tall and lanky, his broad-brimmed white hat shading his face from the sunlight. He wore his gun belt as natural a part of him as his self-assured demeanor. After a thoughtful pause, he headed east on Front Street.

Scene 2

In Wilber Jonas' General store, Mr. Jonas and Marshal Dillon were at the counter going over the ledger assessing the outstanding balance for the Marshall's office, while Chester was enjoying examining all the merchandise on display.

"Oh, and here's a later entry. Now on the 8th there's 5 pounds of coffee…"

"Mr. Jonas, what's this one here?" Dillon inquired.

"Now, on the 4th of the month it shows you come in to pick up a 10 gallon can of coal oil."

"Uh huh."

"Mind, you said you meant to come in on the 3rd, 'cause that was the day you first discovered the lamps was clean empty, but you was busy with a killing or something. Anyway you didn't pick it up 'til the 4th."

"It says all that on the bill?"

"The bill reads 'Coal oil, 10 gal, 30 cents." Jonas was distracted by Chester's rummaging around behind the counter to see what might catch his fancy. "Oh, and here's a later entry, same day, 3 lamp chimleys." Jonas mispronounced the word and had a puzzled expression on his face.

"Yeah, well Chester filled the lamps that day."

"You don't break the chimleys as a rule."

"It does if you set the can down on them."

Chester interrupts the accounting to scoot past the proprietor for the fourth time to examine some hair tonic. "You mind if I try a mite of this tonic, Mr. Jonas, just to see if it's alright for me, you know?"

"A mite. It's alright, Chester."

Squeezing past Jonas again, Chester says, "Excuse me," and setting his hat aside, steps up to the mirror mounted on the wall. The mirror was there for the convenience of the customers, but just now Mr. Jonas was finding it's placement a tad inconvenient.

Returning to the book, he reads, "On the 8th here's 5 pounds of coffee…" just as Chester pours too much of the tonic on his hair, raising a ruckus at Jonas's shoulder.

"That tonic gets in your eyes and makes them smart!"

"It'd be nice if it worked that way on your head, too!" was the retort. Jonas bent down to return to the ledger again, but before he could say a word, Chester dropped the bottle of tonic and quickly reached to the floor to grab it, giving the shopkeeper a quick shove.

"Chester, darn it, I am trying to work out the Marshall's payment here!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'd help you if I could, but I ain't too good at figures."

Dillon tried to return to the task at hand. "Now look, Mr. Jonas. What's this one here on the 9th? Horehound of licorice."

"Well, that's what it says. Don't you recollect getting any horehound of licorice on the 9th?"

Chester crosses behind Jonas again to see the varieties of hair tonic in stock. "I used that green tonic before, but you've got yellow here and you've got red."

"Yeah, it smells just like the green one." Jonas was quickly reaching his limit of tolerance for Chester.

"Marshall, where was I?"

"Horehound of licorice."

Chester, noticing the accounting going on, and upon hearing the mention of the horehound of licorice, asks, "You got any fresh, Mr. Jonas? That last I got wasn't up to snuff. It was kind of old and crumbly-like."

Exasperated, Jonas tells Chester, "No, I do not have any fresh."

The Marshall, noticing Chester's question, said, "Well, I guess that belongs on the bill too, then."

Just then, Chester excuses himself for about the 8th time, wanting to try another tonic. Flustered, Jonas had had it, and told him, "Chester, you don't need another bottle," brandishing a mallet that was at hand to add emphasis to his words.

Chester leaned back to the shelves, away from the weapon Jonas was about to use where the hair tonic had been applied, reached to his eyes complaining that they were smarting again. Jonas, knowing he couldn't kill Chester in front of the Marshall, set the mallet down, and pointing to the front of the store, told Chester, "Now look. You go over there and you stay by that window, or somebody's going to get their throat cut for sure."

"Well, if you feel that way about it, Mr. Jonas,"

"Chester, you got me so edgy I'm ready to fly."

Chester seemed baffled by how crotchety Jonas was acting, commenting "Well, for ever more." Turning to head in the direction indicated, Jonas grabs the bottle of tonic Chester was about to carry away. Chester paused to say, "Well, I never."

Easing up to the window, Chester glanced back, confused by the shopkeeper's surliness. His feelings had been bruised, not noticing how close his head had come to being in the same condition. He leaned his elbows on the window display hoping to pass the time by watching the passers-by in the street. There was always something of interest happening on Front Street.

The first person Chester spotted was Yankton with that appearance that silently spoke of trouble ahead. "Mister Dillon, there's that man again." Dillon kept a close watch on the town and any strangers that might threaten the peace or the townsfolk.

"What's he doing now?"

"Well he's just walkin' and lookin' just like he always does," as Yankton crosses the street toward the store.

Dillon moves toward the window to see for himself. Observing the gunman stop on the sidewalk and look up and down the street, he commented, "Two days of walking and looking. Maybe he's figuring to buy the place."

"Well he sure has been studyin' everything enough. I never seen a man take such an interest in a town."

"I have, Chester."

"What do you mean- you know him?"

"Not him, but I know his kind. You see enough of them, you get so's you can recognize that look. "

"Well there's nothin' about his look that means a thing to me."

"He's trouble, Chester. I don't know just what kind or when it will happen, but he's trouble."

Just then, Yankton seemed to have noticed something he wanted to check on more closely, and he moved back across the street toward the shop on that side. Kitty Russell happened to be walking down the sidewalk on that side just then. Dillon and Chester watched Yankton closely. Yankton removed his hat in a sign of respect for Kitty as he stepped up to her.

Expecting Kitty to brush him away as she often had to with his type, Chester noted, "He's headed straight for Miss Kitty." Instead, she greeted Yankton like an old friend. As they eyed him suspiciously, he smiled at her and they even clasped hands as they faced each other. Chester glanced at the Marshall, not sure how he would react. "Well, he's sure no stranger to her, that's for sure."

"No, I guess he isn't." The pair on the far walk were laughing and speaking warmly.

"You know, you don't see her look at a man like that too often."

With a sly grin from seeing that look more frequently than most men, he replied, "No, not too often. Come on." Dillon moved away from the window and headed for the door, leaving the matter of the bill for later. Chester followed behind him expecting the Marshall to confront the couple on the far boardwalk..

Instead, as they moved out the door, Dillon started heading toward the office. Chester was confused by this seeming indifference on Dillon's part, but Matt's instincts led him not to confront them together. Chester hesitated, watching the pair across the street. Then he turned to follow the Marshall, calling from behind, "Mr. Dillon, Mr. Dillon. You know what I can't understand? It's why Miss Kitty would be talkin' to a man like that, you know, that you say means trouble."

Dillon continued to move away, crossing the street. "Chester, Kitty knows a lot of men."

"Well, yeah, sure she does. You know, it could be she doesn't know what kind of a man he is. That bein' the case, maybe you ought to talk to her."

"I'll do my talking to him, Chester."

"She's takin' her leave of him. Now'd be a good time."

The Marshall stopped his walking and looked back. He saw Kitty had turned away from where they were standing. "Yeah…Yeah, maybe I will talk to him. Look, you go on back to the office, huh?" pointing in that direction with his thumb.

Chester hesitated, not wanting to miss out on anything. But as he said, "Oh, well I…" he realized Dillon was already walking away from him, so he turned for the office.

Matt strode toward Yankton who was again crossing the street, but watching Kitty as she was leaving, so Matt grabbed his arm to get his attention. Somewhat surprised, and not interested in being interrupted, Yankton turned toward him and asked, "You want something, mister?"

Dillon slipped his fingers into his vest pockets as if he were looking for some change. He did this out of habit. It kept his hand away from his gun, letting the person he was talking with know that this wasn't a direct challenge while allowing him to keep his trigger finger ready in case it was needed. "I think you've been around Dodge long enough to know who I am."

Putting his hands on his hips, also keeping his options open, Yankton replied, "Sure, you're Marshall Dillon."

Dillon recognized a southern drawl as he tried to evaluate him up close. "Is there anything around town you don't understand? Maybe I can help you out." He didn't want to challenge him, just to let the gunman know that he was aware of his presence in town. That was an important part of the job of United States Marshall in Dodge City.

"Well, I been out of civilization for 3 months, Marshall. I'm just trying to get used to it again."

"You got a name?"

"Cole Yankton. That's no summer name, in case that's what you're thinkin'"

"What have you been doing that's kept you out of civilization for so long?" The lawman's instincts made him wonder if Yankton had spent some time in jail.

"Oh I been out tradin' horses between the settlers and Indians."

"You all through with that now?"

"Yeah, I did pretty good. Sold everything I had."

"Well, most men come into Dodge with a stake, they spend it gambling. I haven't seen you around a saloon yet."

Folding his arms across his chest, he seemed to be getting impatient with this questioning. "I'll get around to that."

"You planning to stay awhile, are you?"

"I just come through here to get the Santa Fee for Wichita."

"Uh-huh. Well, it leaves every day."

"You know, you act like you got something against me."

"No," Matt said, giving a bit of a laugh and a shake of his head, then added, "No, not yet."

"Well, I reckon you bein' a lawman, you got to be suspicious of everybody."

Dillon wanted to let him know he was being watched, answered, "Not everybody."

Yankton didn't like the way this was going, so he tilted his head to one side and somewhat defiantly said, "Well, there's nothin' wrong with me, Marshall, so don't you worry about a thing."

"I won't."

"Good."

"Maybe I'll let you do the worrying." He turned away from Yankton, leaving the man standing in the street thinking about how the Marshall might affect his plans.

Scene 3

Evening in the Long Branch Saloon can sometimes be pretty wild and sometimes it can be very quiet. So far this was in between, Kitty was making her evening rounds visiting with patrons at the bar and tables and keeping an eye on the card games and carrying a nearly empty glass, waiting for a customer to offer to fill it for her. She looked up in time to see Matt walk in the door as he was making his evening rounds hoping that the jail would stay as empty as Kitty's glass.

Matt strode across the room, tilting his hat back and smiled a greeting, "Hello, Kitty."

She met him part way, returning the greeting. He motioned toward one of the only empty tables and asked if she would like to sit down. He was always happy to spend a few minutes visiting with her. Her good looks were a welcome relief from the dusty cowboys and hardened gunslingers he spent so much of his time eyeing. And it was a nice change from looking at Chester and Doc as well. But tonight he wanted some information, and for this she could be the best source available.

He shifted a chair slightly for her as a gentleman might, and they sat down. Noticing she seemed unusually preoccupied, he asked, "What's the matter, is something wrong?"

"No, not a thing." She realized he wouldn't be satisfied with that answer. For a man, he could be very insightful sometimes, although at other times he couldn't see any better than a blind man. So to deflect his inquiry before it got into an area she wasn't prepared to go with him, she looked at her drink and added, "Unless maybe it's this drink. If Red keeps this up the saloon is gonna go broke."

"Keeps what up?"

Lifting her glass, she moaned, "He's practically stopped watering the whiskey!"

Matt, smiling, replied, "Oh, I see."

"It's only half water."

"All I know is, the less whiskey people drink, the less trouble they make for me, Kitty." As he looked at her he saw her gaze was as distracted as her thoughts seemed to be. Her attention was on the door. "What's the matter?" he asked as he turned to look over his shoulder to see where she was looking.

He spotted Cole Yankton standing just outside the door. The gunman had a hard expression on his face as if he wanted to come in, but didn't want a confrontation at this time. And Kitty seemed to be disconcerted by Cole as well. They held their eyes on each other as if in silent communication.

"Oh, yeah, you know him, don't you?" Matt was finally able to open the subject he was curious about. But Kitty was intent on Yankton and didn't reply. The newcomer had made his decision to enter the saloon and was approaching their table.

He stepped up to where they sat, removed his hat, and greeted them. "Kitty, Marshall."

Kitty didn't realize the two men were even aware of each other's presence in Dodge, so she asked, "You two know each other?"

The gunman looked at the Marshall and asked, "Would you say we know each other, Marshall?"

"Well, I'd say we've met, Yankton. I don't think we know each other." His lawman instincts always kept him wary of these type of strangers.

Turning back toward the lady, Yankton said, "I was hoping I could see you, Kitty."

Kitty and Matt's eyes met in that silent communication of two people who knew each other well, but respected each other's privacy. After a moment she knew he would accept her excusing herself, and he knew she had a past he must accept and not pry into. "You can, Cole. Excuse us Mattt."

Dillon politely stood as she rose and said, "Sure." Cole held her chair as a southern gentleman would, and the two moved toward the door in the back of the room. The back alley would afford them a place to be alone for their conversation. As they stepped out, they were both intent in their thoughts, unsure of how to proceed in light of their past and their present circumstances.

Kitty moved a few steps out into the dim light of the alley, so Cole paused at the door, having closed it. She finally turned and they moved closer, pausing for just a second, and fell into an embrace, pressing their lips together, as long lost lovers. This was the embrace she had longed for from Matt for the several years they had been close, but he never felt the freedom to draw her into a relationship when his job could easily turn her into a widow at any moment, plus it required his absence from Dodge City frequently, often for extended periods.

After their lingering kiss, Cole looked into her eyes and said, "I thought you had forgotten about me, Kitty."

"I thought I had too."

Scene 4

Afternoon arrived in Dodge as a warm spring day often does with sunshine, chirping birds, and citizens of the town scurrying about on their business. But not everyone about the streets was in a hurry. Doc and Chester were strolling along, passing the time in conversation. They were moving along Front Street in the general direction of their respective offices. Theycame upon the Office of the United States Marshall for Dodge City, Kansas, as the sign next to the door said. There they observed the lawman leaning back in a chair on the boardwalk, arms folded, hat tilted forward over his eyes, and a long piece of straw protruding from between his lips.

Doc, in an ever playful mood, said, "Well, Chester, look at that. There sits the Marshall of Dodge City, half asleep."

Chester joined in the frivolity. "Yeah."

Doc continued, "Yep. Crimes being commited all over town, widows are being robbed, old men getting their throats cut, children being sold into slavery, and there he sits, suckin' on a straw, digestin' his dinner.

"Yeah, yeah. He don't look none too lively."

"Why if I had a gun, I could shoot his heels off."

"Well, I could go out and get you one."

Matt raises his head and says, "Why don't you two sit down and quit your bragging."

"Maybe we ought to sit down, Chester, I don't know. Just for appearances sake. Make him look less conspicuous."

Laughing and dropping into chairs on either side of Dillon, Chester comments, "I tell you, this is one part of my job I surely take pleasure in."

Matt sits up, tilts his hat back and light-heartedly says, "Let me tell you something. I wouldn't hire either of you two to drive a tent peg into quicksand."

Chester, stretching and yawning, says, "Now Mister Dillon, there's no need for you to talk like that."

Doc interrupts, "Well now, don't answer him, it's just his bad conscience talkin'. He's ashamed of himself."

"Doc, didn't you ever hear of a man sitting and thinking?"

"Oh, yes I've heard of it. Don't see it done much anymore, though. Now tell me, what could you be thinkin' so hard about?"

"Him, Cole Yankton. " Dillon pointed across the street and up a few doors. There stood the gunman leaning on a hitching post next to his horse. He was standing in front of Duncan's Dress Shop, staring up the street. The trio of chair occupiers were over Yankton's right shoulder. He was evidently unaware that he had drawn anyone's attention.

"Is that who that is? I seen him once before today."

Chester asked, "Where did you see him, Doc?"

"I just looked out my window a while ago and he was right across the street, and he was a-talkin' to Kitty."

"You're kidding.," was Chester's retort. After a pause when you could see him thinking, he added, "You know, that's beginning to gall me a little bit, him talkin' to Miss Kitty like that all the time."

Matt showed some impatience. "Chester, why shouldn't he talk to her?"

"Well…" hesitating. "No reason, only…"

Doc chimed in, "Oh, you're not foolin' me a bit, Matt. You're bothered about it just as much as Chester and me and everybody else."

"Well, it's just like I was telling Chester, Doc. Kitty knows a lot of men."

"Men like that? Outlaws?"

"He told me he was a horse trader."

Just then the conversation stopped as they saw the dress shop door open and Kitty emerged. Cole stepped onto the boardwalk and they stood facing each other closely as they had the other morning. After a few seconds, Chester, sitting up in his chair said, "There, they're at it ag'in!" He turned back and forth between his companions and the couple up the street. "What on earth do you suppose they have to say to each other all the time?"

Doc, leaning forward in his chair said, "I don't know, Chester, but look how she keeps nodding and she's agreeing to something."

Just speakin' for myself, I don't like it a bit. Not one bit."

About that time, the couple bid each other a farewell, and Cole turned back to his horse, unhitched it, mounted up and rode away. Doc commented, "Well there. It looks like he's leaving town. Good riddance."

Matt asks, "Do you like that better, Chester?"

"Yeah, I do."

Doc says, "Looks like you won't have to worry about him after all, Matt."

"Maybe." Dillon was always worried when one of these men came to town and seeing him leave didn't mean the threat was over.

Kitty stood watching Cole ride away, deep in thought. Matt gazed at her, not sure of what this all means. Kitty turned toward the Marshall's office and saw Matt looking at her. She smiled briefly at him, then turned to head in the direction of the Long Branch.

Chester, always wanting to offer advice, asked, "Mister Dillon, why don't you ask Miss Kitty about him tonight? You said you was havin' supper with her tonight, didn't you?"

"Yeah, Chester, I'm having supper with her."

Scene 5

Matt and Kitty had decided to have a dinner at the Mexican Restaurant tonight at her suggestion. It was a chance to be alone together somewhere they weren't as likely to be disturbed as if they were in town.

Kitty asks Matt, "You like the enchiladas?"

"Yeah. Well, maybe I'd like them better if I knew what was in them."

"Haven't you ever had them before?"

"Not very often. You know, for one thing, this is too far to walk out here. This is hardly part of Dodge."

"It's just on the edge of town. I don't think you like Mexican food,"

"I grew up on it, Kitty."

"The walk's good for you. It gives you an appetite."

"That why you brought me clear out here?"

"No, I just get tired of eating at Delmonico's and those places. A little change of scenery is good for you once in a while."

"Yeah, as long as it's for the better."

Kitty hesitates, looking into her companion's eyes. Finally she says, "Matt, you haven't asked me about Cole Yankton." She knew he had seen them visiting around town, and felt an explanation was required. Her relationship with Matt was always low key, but it did need reinforcement by frankness when it was appropriate.

Thoughtfully, he answered, "No. Should I?" He had a bit of a smile on his face indicating how much he trusted her to tell him what she thought she needed to in her own time.

"I just thought maybe you would."

Just then, their plans for a quiet supper alone were interrupted by Chester hurrying in. "Mister Dillon, what are you doing out here? I thought I'd never find ya'."

"What's the matter?"

"Three men busted into the bank and got away with $10,000."

"You got any idea who it was?"

"Yeah, well, one of them anyway."

Rising from his seat, the Marshall asked, "Who?"

Hesitating and taking a glance at Miss Kitty, he finally answered, "Cole Yankton."

Buckling on the gun belt he had set on one of the extra chairs at the table, Matt looked at Kitty. She returned the look, now feeling a desperate need to explain, she said, "Matt…"

But Dillon didn't have time now for any talk. He needed to get on the trail of the thieves, so he said, "We'll talk about it later, Kitty." With that he turned and hastened toward the door of the Cantina.

Chester, following right behind, said, "I brought your horse, but we're going to have to go some if we intend to catch them."

Kitty was left sitting there, stunned by this turn of events, and worry for Matt's safety, as well as any impact this might have on their relationship.

Scene 6

Riding hard trying to catch up to the outlaws, Matt and Chester slowed down to talk. "You sure they headed south out of Dodge?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. 'Course they did get a head start on us, us havin' to look all over Dodge for ya'."

"With as black as it is, we might as well be waiting until daylight."

"Cole Yankton ain't waitin' for daylight, Mister Dillon."

"I know it." Dillon smelled smoke and realized there must be someone camped nearby. "Isn't that a fire over there?"

Looking in the same direction, Chester says, "It appears to be." They moved off the trail toward the place, hoping for information. They knew that the robbers would not have stopped only a couple hours out of Dodge.

Seeing only one horse, they knew this was just a drifter passing through. As they approached, a cowboy arose and came in their direction. The Marshall said to him, "Evening. You been here long?"

"Long enough to be woked up twice."

"We're trailing some men. They might have headed this way. Did you see anybody tonight?"

"I ain't seen nobody. But about an hour ago I heard some horses ride by."

"So they headed south?"

Nodding, the cowboy said, "They woke me up, too."

"I guess we're going in the right direction, Chester." Turning back to the cowboy, he said, "Much obliged. "

The cowboy had his interest aroused. "They runnin', Marshall?"

"Yep."

"Well, they couldn't keep up the pace they was settin' when they went by here. The country to the south gets wild. If they're figurin' to dig in, I know the likely spot."

"Where is it? How far?"

"'Bout an hour's hard ride. You follow this trail 'til you come to a rise off to the left. There's an old lean-to shack behind it that you can't see 'til you come up on it. If I wanted to hide myself, that's where I'd go."

"Much obliged to you."

The two man posse headed back toward the trail they had been following and resumed their hard ride in pursuit of the gang of three.

Having followed the cowboy's directions, they were able to find the shack by about 2 AM. The smell of the campfire alerted them to the presence of the trio. They got off their horses at a safe distance, grabbed their rifles, and eased toward the hideout. They stopped among some trees to give them cover while assessing the situation. They could see Yankton and another man by the fire in front of the lean-to. The unknown man was kneeling, adding more wood to the fire. Yankton, reclining against his saddle, warned, "Don't make the fire too big."

The other man looked at the gunman. "Don't matter. Won't nobody find us tonight."

Chester looks at Dillon and notes, "They aren't even botherin' to hide, Mister Dillon. If it was me, I'd get myself in that shack."

"Well, yeah, but they'd a-been safe enough if it hadn't been for that cowboy, Chester."

"There are only two of 'em."

"The other one's probably in the shack."

The unidentified outlaw threw a couple more sticks in the fire. Being early spring, it was a crisp morning and he wanted the warmth. Yankton was not pleased. "You're bound to make a big fire, aren't you?"

"I can't just set. I don't feel easy."

"You were mighty easy a while back. You said they couldn't find us."

"Well, just the same, I don't like stoppin'. We oughtta be riding."

"How they gonna find us? They aren't bloodhounds."

"You ain't always right, Yankton.' After a pause, he continued, "I'll give you credit for one thing. At least that tin-horn marshall never showed up."

"Don't give me credit."

"Yeah, that gal helped you out, didn't she. What's her name?"

"Her name's Kitty and I don't want to talk about her."

From their seclusion, Matt and Chester could hear the conversation. Chester looked at Matt and said, "I was afraid of something like this."

"You talked enough about her before, Yankton."

Getting riled up, Yankton raised his voice. "Look, the Marshall was out of the way, wasn't he?"

The other man was getting aroused as well. "That's what I said!"

"That's all you need to know! You leave Kitty's name out of this."

"You're awfully touchy about her, ain't ya?"

"You keep talkin', I'm gonna put a bullet right through you."

Putting his hand to his holster, the outlaw advised, "I wouldn't try it, Yankton."

Dillon, sensing that the time was right to make their move, said quietly to his aide, "Chester, I'm going to move in on these two, you take the one in the shack. You ready?"

"I'm ready." They got up off the ground where they had been hiding and moved forward. Stepping out of the cover with rifles raised, Dillon shouted, "All right, put your hands up, you're covered." The two outlaws rose from the ground, drawing their revolvers, not willing to give up without a fight. And then the third emerged from the shack with his pistol ready as well. They began firing wildly, not taking the time to aim, but the two pursuers were ready and returned the fire. The two men who had managed to get on their feet fell to the ground with fatal wounds. Yankton, who had been on his back, hadn't gotten off the ground before Dillon's bullet hit him, knocking him back down. As quickly as the firefight began, it ended. Matt and Chester moved forward, rifles at the ready in case one of them was still able to put up a fight. But as they came up to the hide out, it was evident only one man was still alive.

"Put your hands up, Yankton!"

From a sitting position, and having had his gun knocked out of reach, Yankton knew he was captured. He raised his hands and assented to the lawman.

"All right, Yankton, get on your feet."

Yankton struggled to get to his knees and finally said, "I can't, Marshall. I'm too dizzy"

"What?'

Looking down at his stomach, he replied, "I been hit." Then he fell back onto the blanket he had been laying on. He was passed out. Dillon came up to him, laying aside his rifle, and looked at the wound.

"By golly, Mister Dillon, we mustta' got him, too." Standing off to the side, Chester still held his rifle in position in case the situation were to change.

"Yeah. Well, not quite, Chester. He's still breathing, anyway."

"There's a wagon over there. Maybe we can get him into Dodge."

"All right, we'll try it. But first, let's find the money."

"Yes, sir." Chester pivoted to look around, then as an afterthought, turned back to the Marshall, hesitating to bring up what he was thinking, but unable to get it out of his mind. "Mister Dillon, that's awful about Miss Kitty, ain't it?"

Matt paused thoughtfully, looking down, momentarily lost in his thoughts. Then coming back to his instincts, and not wanting to consider the possibilities, he faced Chester and said, "Come on, let's get to work."

Scene 7

Yankton was laid out on the surgery table in Doc's office with Doc Adams at his side. The door opened and Matt strode in, asking, "How is he, Doc?"

Taking off his glasses and putting them in their case, Adams answered, "Well, I've done everything I can for him, Matt"

Yankton added, "I ain't gonna make it. I never thought I could."

Dillon, always trying to be helpful, said to the patient, "There's always a chance, Cole." That was the first time Matt had ever used his first name, but now it didn't seem to matter as much to maintain the gruff manner of lawman to gunslinger.

Yankton showed he was also a man, not just a villan, addressed Matt. "Marshall?"

"Yeah?"

"My partners, they're both dead, aren't they?" He had been unconscious for the ride back to Dodge.

"Yeah, we buried them both last night, before we brought you in."

Just then, the door opened again, and Kitty came in. She was dressed in her usual finery, but her expression was one of distress. "I knew he was here. I had to come." She came over to Cole, and Matt and Doc moved away to give them as much privacy as they could in the small examination room.

Yankton looked into her eyes. "Hello, Kitty."

"Cole."

"I got a bullet in me."

"I know."

"Anyway, I'm- I'm glad you came. There's something I want to tell you." His southern drawl had become a bit softer in his quiet voice.

"You save your strength, Cole. Talk is kind of useless sometimes."

"Yesterday I had in mind askin' something of ya'. A favor, sort of. But when I got close to ya', I knew I couldn't. And I'm glad. Those things didn't work out so good."

"I'm sorry, Cole. I'm sorry you got hit."

"Thanks- for coming, Kitty. I won't bother you no more."

"Aw, Cole." Then seeing the life slip out of her friend, She repeated, "Cole?"

Looking away as tears came to her eyes, she said, "I think he's dead, Doc." The doctor came back to his patient, felt the wrist where the pulse should have been, then drew the blanket up over Yankton's head in a sign of respect. Then he turned away. Losing a patient, no matter how evil that person was, was still distressing to the old doctor.

Kitty looked over to Matt who was sitting on the bed in front of the side windows of the office. She moved toward him, unsure of how the events of this week would affect their relationship. She began, back where their conversation in the Cantina had left off. "Matt…"

Standing up, Matt said, "Kitty, look, you don't have to explain anything."

"Yes, I do." Turning her head, she added," I want you to hear this too, Doc." Adams moved closer to let her know she had his attention.

"You both think I tried to help him, don't you?" She looked from one friend to the other. "Well, don't you?" Their silence spoke volumes of their desire to not speak what their hearts feared.

Matt finally spoke, "Well, Kitty, a lot of things made it look like you did."

She nodded. "I know."

He added, "But I guess I'd have to hear you say it before I'd believe it."

Doc chimed in, "I would, too."

"Well, thanks, but…"

"Let's just forget about the whole thing, huh?"

"No, no. Wait a minute, Matt. I don't know whether I can make you understand this or not, but I want to try." She hesitated, trying to put her thoughts together. "Cole, he's been in California for years. That's why you never heard about him. But I heard of him and what he's been doing. When I saw him here in Dodge, I didn't think at first about why he might be here. It had been such a long time. I was kind of glad to see him."

"Kitty, listen, you don't have to explain..."

"No, I want to say it, Matt, I want to say it all." Taking a few steps to gain her composure, which she had almost lost, she continued. "I got to thinking that he came here because he thought that I might help him. But he did a real nice thing. He didn't ask me to. He didn't make me say no."

She paused, reflecting on the past. "Oh, Cole… Cole Yankton… New Orleans… I was just a girl… He was the first man I ever knew… The first grown man…I don't know whether you can understand this or not, but… to a woman...that would make him…special."

Feeling the sudden urge to be alone, she turned quickly and went out the door, leaving Matt and Doc facing each other. They stood there feeling the pain Kitty was going through. Finally Doc gained enough composure to speak. "That Yankton was a fool."

Matt had to agree that any man who would leave Kitty when she loved him was a fool.

Doc added, "He should have stayed with her."

"Yep," was Matt's reply, but the slight smile on his face said that he was glad that Yankton had been a fool. Looking up, he said, "She's all right, isn't she Doc?"

Post script Additional conversation: Kitty and Cole as he prepares to leave town.

As Kitty comes out of the Dress Shop, Cole steps up to speak to her. He had seen her go into the shop, and so was waiting outside for her.

"Cole, what a nice surprise."

"I just wanted to see you one more time before I go."

"Why are you leaving?"

"I don't want to be a problem to you. I respect you too much for that."

"You're not a problem. I enjoy seeing you again."

"You have your own life to live here. You make a nice living with the Long Branch. And I can see that the Marshall is a good man for you. Better than I could be."

"I know that you've had problems in California, but you can make a new life here, start over."

"No, I can't change my ways."

"But in New Orleans…"

"No, even there, you didn't see the real Cole, only what I let you see."

"Look, Matt is a good man, and he can help you get a new start. He and I are going to supper tonight. Let me talk to him, and see what he can do."

"No, it just won't work. I have to go meet some friends. You say you're going to supper with Dillon?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, I found a real nice Mexican Cantina, up on Elm Street. You might go there."

"That's a great suggestion. That new cook they've got at Delmonico's has got to learn how to cook a steak. And the walk will give me more time to talk with Matt."

"Well, I better get going. Kitty, I will always remember you."

"I'll never forget you, either, Cole."

As they parted, they knew not to kiss. If they did, it might change everything. As Kitty watched Cole ride away, she knew that the choice was right for her as well.