It was a cool late autumn day, with the sun shining brightly and the temperatures unseasonably warm. In fact the sun was quite warm when one stepped out from the cooler breeze from the north which indicated that these warm days wouldn't last too much longer.

Doc paid the paperboy his nickle and unfurled the newspaper as he made his way across the street from Del Monicos to the Long Branch Saloon. It was mid morning and time for another cup of coffee.

There was nothing of great interest in the headlines - just some news from Boston which reported new arrivals of ships that were bringing more immigrants to the country. Doc marvelled at how quickly things seemingly were changing, "I bet in twenty years this whole area will be settled," he said to himself as he continued toward the saloon.

Kitty Russell was with Sam Noonan, on the boardwalk out front of the saloon as they were discussing shipments of beer and other spirits to the saloon while Sam swept the walk, "I'll make double sure that we don't get short changed again, Miss Kitty," Sam smiled.

"I know you will, Sam," Kitty smiled and then spotted the doctor crossing the street. "I sware, one day he's going to get run over by a wagon as he reads that paper," she chuckled.

Sam blushed, "I don't think he'd like to see his own name in print over that one," he then laughed causing Kitty to burst out laughing, "No, I don't think so," Kitty said as she pulled herself together as Doc approached. "Good morning, Dc," Kitty said.

Doc didn't look up, "Hum, morning Kitty," he muttered as he pushed through the swing-doors still looking at the newspaper. Kitty's eyebrows rose as she watched the doctor and then looked over to Sam, who could only shrug not knowing what Doc was doing.

Kitty twisted her lips and with a slight huff followed the physician into the establishment, followed by Sam.

Doc sauntered to a table near the back of the room and sat down. The whole time he didn't take his eyes off the newspaper. Kitty watched and her eyebrows then knitted together as she marched toward the doctor, "Doc? Is everything all right?"

Doc looked up over the expanded sheets of newsprint with an odd look on his face, "Well of course it is. Isn't it?" he the grumped.

"Well, I don't know," Kitty said, "you hardly said hello just now and you have your nose stuck in that newspaper for some reason..." she furled out her hands to make her point.

"Hum," Doc said as he realized that he was indeed engrossed in the newspaper, as Kitty pointed out. "I guess I was just caught up in this article about this so-called baseball game," Doc stated.

"Baseball?" Kitty placed her hands on her hips. "I've never heard of it?"

Doc chuckled, "No doubt you haven't. It's a man's sporting game played on a diamond," Doc smiled.

"Well if it has men and diamonds, I should like to know!" she chuckled as she sat down next to Doc.

"The field they play their game on has a diamond shape to it. It's an old sport here and only recently leagues have been competing," Doc continued.

"Oh?" Kitty questioned.

Doc sat forward in his chair and placed the paper flat out on the table, "Yes. Competing."

"For what?"

"For a trophy or something," Doc answered.

Kitty chuckled, "That sounds silly," she said as she jokingly swatted at Doc's arm.

"It's true," Doc said as he tried to convince Kitty. Even the look in his eyes and the fact he knowingly brushed his right hand across his moustache wasn't enough.

Kitty's eyebrows knit together again, "Don't grown men have better things to do than to play games?"

Doc nodded, "I suppose so, but these fellows get paid to play. They travel all over the place - from New York to San Francisco!" he said ticking his head. "The world sure is changing," he added.

Kitty sat back, "People get paid for this?"

Doc nodded, "and people pay to see it," he stated as he stared down at the newspaper on the table.

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"All right men," coach James O'Connor bellowed through the change room, "That was a good game, and we need to focus on Louisiana next. However, to get there, we have a bit of a train ride ahead of us and a stop or two in cattle country," he growled.

"Cattle country?" William Slater said aloud.

"Yeah. Cattle country. It's right next to the Indian Territories, in case you are wanting to look that up in an atlas," O'Connor growled at Slater.

"Not really," Slater meekly answered.

"I thought as much," O'Connor stated s he turned to face the other men of the Chicago White Stockings team. "Remember men, we won the championship just three years ago, and we are do out time again," he said as he strolled passed the men as they prepared for their journey to Louisiana.

Chuck Pearson nudged Slater, "You sure like to get under his nose don't you?" he said while chewing on his tobacco.

Slater shrugged, "I was only askin' a question," he looked down at his leather glove which looked more like an oversized glove with a hint of padding. "I hope we beat Louisiana," Slater said as he balled up his right hand and smacked it down into his glove.

"From what I have heard, it shouldn't be hard," Pearson laughed. "Lest get ready for the train," he nudged Slater again.

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Matt slowly walked up Front Street and tipped his hat at the ladies as they were out and about doing some shopping. He paused on the boardwalk just up from the jail house and spotted Festus who was just leaving the livery stable. Matt checked both directions of the busy street before he ventured across, "Festus?"

The deputy looked up at Matt, "Oh, hiya, Matthew," he smiled as he continued walked up the street with Matt at his side.

"I didn't see you first thing this morning," Matt stated.

Festus stopped and looked at Matt, "Were you looking fer me fer a reason, Matthew?"

Matt shook his head, "No. No particular reason," he said as the two continued up the street.

"Wall that is a big relief," Festus stopped in his tracks and his shoulders sagged.

"Well, just what were you doing?" Matt has to asked.

Festus looked up at Matt and formulated his words, "Matthew. You know that old feller Brooks?"

Matt nodded.

"Wall he put in a whole big order with Mr. Jonas," Festus began to explain. The echos of the past came back to Matt, "Go on, Festus," he said trying not to roll his eyes.

"Wall that feller only paid half his bill with Jonas and said he'd pay the rest when his order was delivered," Festus sighed.

"Let me guess, he didn't pay you the rest..." Matt said.

Festus drew his breath and shook his head no.

"And now you are going to tell Jonas," Matt continued.

"Wall I have to say something to him," Festus' voice was barely audible.

Matt tucked his thumbs into his belt, "Why didn't Brooks pay the rest of the money?"

Festus looked down at his boot and played with the sand on the street, "He said that Jonas didn't send everything he asked for," the hill man stated.

"And just what didn't Jonas send?" Matt was growing angry.

"He wanted Jonas to send a case of whiskey. For the winter, he said," Festus looked up at Matt. Matt knew he had to sort that mess out sooner than later or he'd have Wilbur Jonas on his back as well. "Leave it with me, Festus," the marshal sighed and continued up the street to the Long Branch Saloon.