Hat pulled down low, not wanting to see or greet anyone, Matt rode into Dodge and dismounted in front of the stable. The door was open but no one was in sight. It was likely the stablemen were off playing poker, and that suited Matt fine. He was in no mood for small talk or answering questions about the bank robber he'd gone after. He led his horse into a stall and took time with watering, feeding and grooming. There was no place he wanted to be; no place he could go to escape from himself. His life was a disaster.

Horse taken care of, he walked down Front Street looking straight ahead. He thought about going to Doc's but the idea of talking, even to Doc, was painful and exhausting. He decided to go to his office. Digging through 3 weeks worth of mail might at least be a distraction.

"DILLON."

Matt heard his name and turned. A gunman stood before him with an eagerness in his eyes that Matt was all too familiar with. It took a few seconds, but he recognized his challenger. A man he'd sent to prison 15 years before, who'd been released last week.

"Saul Williams, isn't it? You've served your time. Why look for trouble that will send you back to jail?"

Williams laughed, "A dream Dillon, everyone deserves a dream. Mine is to see you lying dead in the dirt, the way you left my brother. One way or the other, my dream will come true."

Williams drew. Matt drew faster. As he fired a voice yelled, "Marshal, the roof."

Matt turned and fired again, just as a rifleman standing on a roof pulled the trigger. One big blast echoed though the air. The shooter tumbled off the roof, Matt crumbled to the ground

People streamed out of saloons, shops and homes. Doc raced to Matt. Newley ran to the man who fell from the roof. He looked a lot like Saul Williams, another brother probably - another dead brother. Festus leaned over Saul Williams. Matt's bullet had gone into his chest, and he was bleeding profusely. He grabbed Festus by the shirt with a bloody hand and whispered, "Dillon's dead, right?"

Festus removed the bloody fingers that were clutching him, "Wrong, Matthew's alive."

Saul Williams' eyes filled with rage, and took his last breath. Festus got to his feet, hoping the words he'd just uttered were true, and hurried to Doc to find out.

Doc was kneeling on the ground trying desperately to stem the flow of blood from Matt's abdomen. He felt Festus approach and spoke without looking up, "Festus, get a stretcher from my office and 4 strong steady men to carry it. This is bad."

There was no shortage of volunteers to carry the stretcher, but Festus had Newly, Sam and a strong, young farmer named Gus help him. Once the marshal was on the examination table Sam and Gus left, knowing they'd be in the way. Gus joined the crowd that had formed outside Doc's, and quietly answered questions as folks pressed him for information. All he could say was that the marshal was still breathing when he'd left.

Sam dutifully went back to the Long Branch. The place was deserted so he stood outside the door, watching the crowd for any sign of news.

Everything was quiet and still, as if the town was holding its breath, when minutes later Kitty and her companion David Miller drove back into town. David stopped the buggy outside the stable, and looked at Kitty with admiration in his eyes. He gently touched her cheek. "You are more beautiful than you know, and all of London will love you as much as I do."

He climbed out and swung her down with an air of gallantry, "I'll take care of the horse and buggy, and then meet you in the Long Branch."

She nodded and brushed her lips against his, before heading towards her saloon. As she walked she felt an eerie quiet in the air. A man stepped out of the shadows, "Good evening Miss Russell." She gasped, startled by his sudden presence. He smiled and she recognized him as one of the two dark haired strangers who'd been constantly watching her. She muttered a greeting and kept walking, then she saw the crowd outside of Doc's. Her stomach twisted, it could only mean that Matt was hurt. She rushed over and started pushing through the crowd. Some people moved, but others glared and held their ground. They'd seen her openly showing affection for David Miller, and questioned her right to go to the marshal.

Ignoring angry looks, she elbowed her way through and hurried up the stairs.

When she reached the top she shoved the door open, unintentionally making a clatter. Doc didn't turn to look, but Kitty felt two sets of eyes upon her. Festus' eyes bore into her with disappointment and distain. Newley's eyes were not as hostile, but were filled with questions and confusion.

"Got it." Doc's words jarred their attention back to Matt. He lifted his forceps. A small piece of lead was held between the tips. Still focused on his job, Doc carefully cleaned and sutured the wound as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. No one spoke. Finally Doc set his instruments aside, wiped his brow and covered Matt with a blanket. He whispered to no one in particular, "It's going to be touch and go."

Everyone in the room was frozen in silence. Matt groaned and turned his head. He'd lost consciousness from pain, but was waking up. As Matt's eyes slowly opened, Doc stepped away to fix a dose of laudanum to make him sleep. Kitty instinctively moved to the side of the bed as she'd done so many times before. No one tried to stop her, no one spoke.

She immediately saw beyond the wound and pain. He looked exhausted, sad and spent. Her heart went out. He kept his eyes upon her. He didn't have the strength to speak above a whisper, so waited until she was close enough to hear. His voice was barely audible, "I saw you with him. Go, please go. I don't want your pity." The effort of speaking exhausted him and his eyes fell closed. She moved to touch his cheek, but Doc's hand stopped her. His voice was quiet but firm, "I can't afford to have him get upset. I'm sorry but please go." Doc turned from her, and focused on his patient. He put the cup with laudanum to Matt's lips, "Drink Matt, drink it all. The pain will drift away and you'll sleep." Matt briefly thought that there was pain that could never drift away, but welcomed the idea of sleep, and gladly swallowed the milky liquid.

Kitty tore her eyes from Matt, and left without a word. As she walked through the waiting throng everyone made way. She was a few feet beyond the crowd when she heard Doc's voice. He was standing on the landing outside his office, "Folks, I don't have much news except I got the bullet out, and he's alive, but it's going to be some time before I know anything else. Go on home. Anyone who is a praying person might want to say a prayer. Anyone who isn't – well – maybe you should give it a try this once. It sure won't hurt."

The crowd slowly disbursed. Some went home, others gathered in groups to talk. Some went to a saloon, to have a quiet drink.

Kitty went into the Long Branch and walked to the back table where David was waiting.

Several men wandered in after her and gathered at the bar. The atmosphere was gloomy. Sam poured drinks and everyone spoke in whispers.

Kitty sat across from David. A pitcher of beer was on the table and he filled a glass for her. "I heard about the marshal. Folks here must think a lot of him. They seem real worried."

She took a long swallow of beer, "He does a lot for people."

David smiled, "That may be so, but not enough for you it seems."

She finished her beer, and set the mug back on the table, "Would you pour me another please?"

TBC