Chapter 1 - Murder of a Stranger
Roy Hammond came to Dodge City from his farm outside the little town of Maize near Wichita because he was finally going to be able to branch out and start raising cattle. The cattle were prize specimens, and thanks to the kindness of Bear Sanderson, 50 head, including a prize bull, would be held out of the auction so he could afford to buy them. He and his older boy, 11 year-old, tow-headed Donald, would be driving the herd home. His wife Elsie and younger son, seven-year-old Albert, stayed behind to tend the farm.
Roy bought the cattle Bear's hands had separated out into their own pen in the stockyards by the train depot. Come morning he and Donald would start for home with them. The two of them ate a quiet supper at Delmonico's then returned to the Dodge House to talk about how they would start the herd on its way toward Maize with the dawn.
"It's getting late son. I think you'd better turn in. I just want to make one more check on the herd and then I'll turn in too."
"Pa, you're gonna watch that herd aint ya? I may be young, but not so young I didn't notice how there was some who'd steal what's now ours."
"I've got to. Mr. Sanderson's men won't be tendin' to our cattle now that they're all bought and paid for, especially not overnight, and the stockyard watchman won't know whose cattle they really are. I'd hire someone, but we're strangers so I don't know who we can trust. Besides, we ain't got the money to pay 'im."
Marshal Matt Dillon, making his rounds, watched the gangly stranger walk toward the stockyards. He didn't know for certain that the man was Roy Hammond, the man Bear told him about but he sure fit the description. Besides, his gut told him something was about to happen. It was just too quiet, even for the first few days of the cattle season. Still, he didn't feel there was any need to hurry or even let the man know he was being followed. His leisurely pace turned into a run when shots rang out. Matt arrived to see the night watchman firing at the rapidly retreating backs of two cowboys as they rode south. He'd have to catch up to them in the morning. Meanwhile, there was plenty of work for him to do here.
"You might as well leave off your firing. They're too far away for you to hit them in the dark unless you're real lucky. Now, I need to know what happened here."
"Marshal, Bear told me a stranger dressed like a farmer would probably stop by to keep watch on the 50 head in the far pen. I seen him and let him walk on by. Anyways, those two I shot at musta been hidin' out waitin' for their chance 'cause the stranger caught them just as they was about to open the gate. The stranger give 'em a warnin' and fired his scattergun high. They ran for their mounts but turned long enough to fire back, only they didn't aim high. Sorry, but I was too late."
Matt, when he reached the gate to the far pen, knelt down by the man lying there. There was no doubt Roy Hammond was dead. The papers in his shirt pocket confirmed his identity. He'd have to make arrangements for the transport of the body and the cattle tomorrow. Tonight, the hardest task lay ahead of him. He had to tell a boy that his father was dead. He told the watchmen to keep an eye on the pen and Hammond's body until morning and then walked slowly back toward the center of town.
Matt didn't bother to wake the night clerk when he walked up to the desk in the Dodge House. Instead, the tall marshal turned the register around so he could see which room Hammond and his son were assigned. He slowly climbed the stairs, heading for their corner room. When he arrived, he gently knocked.
"Who is it?" a sleepy voice that still had the higher pitch of childhood asked.
"Sorry to disturb you, son. I'm Marshal Dillon. I've got something important to tell you. Would you please let me in."
"I reckon you'd better wait for my pa, mister. He'll be back before first light."
"It's your pa I've come to talk to you about. Open the door, son. I don't want to have to say what I need to say through a closed door in a hotel hallway."
Matt heard the lock turn and then the door was open. A barefoot boy in his nightclothes stood there looking up at him. He was about five and a half feet tall with brown eyes and a head full of straight blond hair. He took in the badge and Matt's expression as he backed off to let him inside. Matt closed the door softly behind him.
"You really are a marshal. I wasn't too sure when you knocked. What's happened to my pa?"
"I don't know how else to tell you except to come right out with it. Your pa's dead. He was shot trying to prevent a couple of men from stealing your cattle. I'll go after them as soon as there's enough light to pick up their trail, but you've got some quick growin' up to do. You have to decide what to do with the cattle and whether you want your pa buried here or at home."
"If it's all the same to you Marshal, I'd like to take the cattle and pa home, but I'll need some help doin' it. I sure don't want to keep you from goin' after the men who killed my pa. Since it can't be you, do you know of anybody you trust enough to come with me?"
"I for a fact do. He's been my assistant for close to ten years now. He won't let you down, I promise."
