Chapter III

The new day shone brightly as a tall man sat in the marshal's office of Dodge City. His name was James Butler Hickok, but his friends-no matter how small the circle was-called him "Jimmy". He was leaning back in his chair, drinking a cup of coffee. The morning was young and quiet, not much activity going on as it was too early for the shops along the Main Street to be open.

The jingling of spurs and boots near the front door had Jimmy glancing up from his coffee cup. "Morning, Prescott," he greeted as his deputy, Nathaniel Prescott entered the office. "Did those miners give you any more trouble?" The deputy shook his head as he helped himself to a cup of coffee. "Nope," he replied. "The threat of jail time was plenty enough to quiet them down."

Jimmy nodded firmly, "Good. This might be a young town, but it'll never grow if people are causing trouble." Draining his coffee cup dry, he stood up from the chair, collected his hat and headed out the door. "I'm going over to the café for breakfast, if you need me."

Entering the Howling Dog Café and Hotel, Jimmy headed for the counter. "Morning, Dorothy," he called. "What's Cook got going for breakfast?" The tall waitress approached where Jimmy sat. "Bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee sound good?" Jimmy nodded eagerly and Dorothy went off to the kitchen. He let out a heavy sigh; while this young town was quiet and peaceful, he wished there was some more action going on.

Dorothy returned with his breakfast. "Here ya go," she said as she placed the plates on the counter. "Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and a nice cup of black coffee, enjoy your meal, Marshal." Jimmy's face lit up. "Thanks, Dorothy." He dug into the eggs and bacon. "Cook's done it again!" he mumbled with his mouth full. Dorothy laughed at him as she walked away to return to the kitchen. The toast was just the way he liked it-dark, but not burnt.

Jimmy was finishing up his coffee when a man came running into the café looking for him. Jimmy watched the man with a curious gaze in his eyes as he waited for him to catch his breath. Benjamin Warren took a few minutes to gather his thoughts together. "Marshal," he began. "We have problems with some ranchers and Indians." Jimmy sprang out of his chair and towered over the man, his eyes showing the hint of lethal retaliation. Benjamin might have been a bear of man, with his short, stocky body but he wasn't a gun fighter like the marshal of Dodge City! All he knew about was raising cattle and hunting when needed to do so. When he saw that look in the marshal's eyes, he knew the guilty party will wish they hadn't come to this area.

The two men exited the café and mounted their horses. "Show me where they are and what exactly is going on between the ranchers and the tribes," Jimmy instructed Benjamin as they headed out of town.

"Well, Marshal," Benjamin struggling to find the best way to describe the issue. "It seems some of the ranchers are losing their stock overnight. When they check them before turning in for the night, everything is fine, and then in the morning-some have disappeared!"

Jimmy shot the man a look of disbelief. "Are you telling me cattle are disappearing without a trace?" He pulled his horse to a stop right there on the trail, stubbornly refusing to go any further until Benjamin explained himself. "I thought you said Indians were involved in this?"

Benjamin pulled his horse alongside Jimmy's and rested his hands on his saddle, letting out a sigh. "I did, Marshal," he replied. Dropping his gaze when Jimmy shot him another look, he spoke in a quiet voice. "The ranchers aren't sure which tribe is taking their stock. It could be the Comanche or it could be the Kiowa."

At the mention of the Kiowa tribe, Jimmy let his thoughts wander to his old friend, Buck. He wondered whatever happened to the part Indian man. It had been several years since he had seen Buck. "Take me to the spot where the last time this happened." Jimmy ordered Benjamin. "I need to see for myself how big of a problem this is right now, before it gets worse."

The two men rode over to almost nothing but flat land. Jimmy wasn't scared, just uncertain of what he'd find.