Chapter 1 – A Chancy Job

Matt Dillon had survived another season of Texas cattlemen and the killers and spoilers that preyed on the cowboys who drove the herds north while facing every hazard the trail could throw at them. Many were hardly more than boys who, after three month on the trail, were anxious to let off steam upon reaching the railhead in Dodge City. Their hard earned pay burned holes in their pockets. The combination of money and pent up energy made for a wild time leading to lives wasted over petty arguments. Through it all the US Marshal in Dodge worked tirelessly and unselfishly to keep his town whole and prevent as many deaths as possible.

The cow town that had become Matt's home again shrunk down to mostly its permanent residents. There were still a few stragglers left over from the throngs of strangers, but just their presence didn't worry him. Once he finished the paperwork, he could continue to ignore them, unless they caused trouble, and finally relax in the Long Branch with the red-haired half soon to be sole owner.

The season kept Kitty Russell busy as well so they'd precious little quiet time, or for that matter, any time together. Matt had sent his assistant Chester off to enjoy himself by spending the little money he managed to accumulate in his pockets on any given day. The office was quiet. Nobody was there to interrupt him while he finished the latest report for Washington. All he had to do was complete it before someone burst in.

Ten minutes later the big man smiled as he blotted his signature then sealed the report in an envelope. Stuffing the envelope in his inner vest pocket, he buckled on his gun belt, grabbed his hat and left his office, pulling the door shut behind him. Matt's long legs quickly carried him down the boardwalk to the stage depot where Jim Buck was busy securing the last of his passengers belongings for the nine o'clock run to Hays. The road was well-traveled enough that darkness had no effect on the time it took to get to the town to the north.

Matt arrived at the depot as Jim turned around to grab the reins to leave. He handed his friend the envelope, knowing it would be on the eastbound mail train from Hays at about this time tomorrow. Despite the delay, his report would reach the nation's capital sooner than the less direct route out of Dodge. Thus, he hoped to ensure his continued employment for another five years unless death or, short of that, permanent incapacity stopped him from wearing the badge. That symbol, worn over his heart, defined his life even to his risking losing Kitty to any man she found acceptable who could give her a home and family. Still, for the rest of the evening, he hoped, the badge would take second place. Like Doc told him this morning, he needed to take time to be Matt Dillon the man.

He made his way across the few remaining feet of boardwalk to the beckoning batwing doors of the Long Branch Saloon. As was his habit, Matt surveyed the barroom, noting Chester playing poker with three other locals and Kitty carrying a tray of beers to the poker players and a bottle of her best whiskey and glasses to the nearby table where four local businessmen sat celebrating their profits. Pushing his way into the room, his keen eyes spotted trouble brewing. The lawman took over.

"Hold it," he ordered, but was too late to stop the young man from firing his 45 at the man who stood not more than ten feet away.

Luckily no innocent bystander was in the line of fire. The intimidating lawman pushed his way through the milling crowd to the non-descript man lying prone in front of the bar and the cocky, dark-haired young stranger standing over him. The stranger eager to meet this new challenge began to step away, simultaneously drawing the gun he'd just used. However, before he could clear leather Matt closed the gap with one giant step and with his greater reach used his own Peacemaker to knock his would be assailant momentarily unconscious.

"Chester, lock him up," Matt declared handing his assistant the gunman's pistol just as the man began to stir.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Dillon," Chester Goode replied while Matt knelt down to examine the downed man.

During all the excitement Kitty sent her bartender Sam for Doc Adams, allowing the marshal time to question the bystanders before the town doctor arrived to announce what the lawman already knew – the man was murdered. Nary a soul claimed to have seen or heard anything more than Matt. What he did learn while examining the body was the unarmed victim's name, Jerry King. At least that's what the papers in his pocket indicated. Ten minutes later the marshal was back at his office.

"What's keepin' yah from openin' this cell door? Are yah too dumb to know where yah left the key? That deputy of yours sure is."

"Now why would I let you go?" Matt replied, ignoring the insults. "It can't be because you're claiming self defense. In case you didn't notice, Jerry King wasn't armed."

"Who's that?" he snapped before seeing the lawman's expression. "Oh, the man in the saloon," he added, thinking better of his flippant response. "He was crowdin' me. Spilled his drink on my sleeve when his arm bumped mine. I called him on it, once he moved far enough away to draw."

"Too bad for you he moved away to avoid a fight."

"Too bad fer him. One thing in his favor, he didn't worm out of it like you. Hittin' me like you done was downright cowardly. We'll settle this like men soon as you give me my iron back."

"That won't happen. What name should I use to file a murder charge?"

As soon as Kyle Stoneman deigned to provide his name Matt turned his back and strode away, closing the heavy door between the office and cells as he made his way to his desk. Grabbing a pencil, he scribbled a note requesting a circuit judge to preside at the trial. To his surprise a wire from Sheriff Brock Turner informing him his prisoner was wanted down in Meade for robbery and murder was waiting for him in the telegraph office. Matt tore up his original note for the Attorney General's office in Topeka and sent a wire to Turner, informing him Stoneman was locked in the Dodge City jail on a new murder charge. He sent a second message to Topeka asking where the trial on the combined charges would be held.

Two days later Matt, leaving Chester to look after the town, escorted his prisoner to Meade. Although he remained cuffed throughout the 35-mile journey, Stoneman attempted to wrest the marshal's gun from him when they stopped to water the horses and grab a bit of jerky to eat. The wily, restrained man came much too close to succeeding for Matt to feel comfortable until his prisoner was locked in the single cell in the tiny Meade jailhouse.

"In the interest of efficiency the defendant is being tried on the murder and robbery charges stemming from the bank holdup here in Meade and the murder charge that arose from the incident in Dodge City together," the newly appointed Judge Caleb Brooker declared, who had been Matt's lawyer slightly less than a year ago, declared the next morning. "Due to his responsibilities as United States Marshal for Kansas, the main witness for the Dodge City charge is here," the man who'd been Matt's lawyer nearly a year ago continued. "If need be, we'll delay these proceedings a day while secondary witnesses make their way to Meade, but according to the information given me, I don't consider it necessary."

None of the parties involved with the trial, with the exception of Stoneman, thought such a delay would in any way alter the outcome. Hence the lawyers didn't attempt to change the judge's mind. Testimony was given concerning all charges for the jury to deliberate upon. They returned their verdict and sentence was passed before most folks considered it time to head home for supper. Again, in the interest of efficiency, Judge Brooker ruled Marshal Matthew Dillon, as part of his duties as the US Marshal for Kansas, immediately escort the prisoner to Hays for hanging.

Matt, desiring to be rid of his prisoner as quickly as possible, decided on efficiency as well. Not wanting to waste time stopping at home, Matt informed Chester by telegram that he'd be gone at least five more days. Rather than involve the sheriffs in Spearville and Lacrosse, causing more delay, he camped with his prisoner out on the prairie in hopes of shortening the journey by a couple of hours a day. It was risky, but he felt if he succeeded it would be worth it.

It took two full days, even with shaving off some five hours, to make the 110-mile trip to Hays. Each time they stopped to rest or camp, Stoneman made yet another stab at killing the lawman. Matt, despite the chains and rope securing his prisoner, didn't let down his guard whether the stop was short or long. When they were 20 miles from Hays, Stoneman came close to overpowering the tired lawman. Had it not been for the adrenalin rush, Matt wouldn't have broken his prisoner's chokehold when the killer wrapped his cuffed hands around the lawman's neck. Dillon's breath was raspy for the next hour.

Despite his exhaustion and the late hour, Matt decided camping for a second night was too dangerous. Therefore they pushed on, arriving at the Hays jailhouse at dawn. After making sure his prisoner was secured in a cell, the sleep-deprived marshal chose to give Buck a much-deserved rest before catching a few winks for himself. The hanging, which he was required to attend, was set for three that afternoon. Matt awoke in plenty of time to fulfill his duty, but left as soon as the trap door opened to drop Stoneman through the opening and break his neck. However, before leaving he sent a wire to let Kitty, Doc and Chester know he'd be back in Dodge in time for breakfast the day after tomorrow. That is, he'd make it home unless someone bushwhacked him along the way. He'd been away a day shy of a week.