Charlie Barton had a gun in his hand as Sam and Festus came through the door of the little shack. "Sam?" The bartender smiled and bounded across the room and the young man dropped the gun on the floor.

"Charlie!" Sam threw his arms around his nephew and Charlie winced.

"Take it easy, Sam."

Sam drew back, contrite. "I'm sorry, boy. How's the arm?" The young man pulled up his sleeve and displayed his arm. It was torn but healing and the bartender sighed with relief. "That's not so bad."

Charlie covered the wound. "That's not what's worrying me."

Sam looked at him sharply. "How did it happen?"

"Well, I was on my way to California..."

The bartender broke in. "What about your mother?"

"It was Mother's idea. Pa was a blockade runner during the war..." He met Sam's eyes briefly, then went on awkwardly. "He made a lot of money, Sam. Enough to set up a shipping line after the surrender. He never has less than half a dozen ships going back and forth to England and now he wants to start a line to San Francisco. I was going to look into it for him."

Sam's voice was dry. "Lucky for him the war came along."

Charlie said angrily, "Pa did what he thought was right!"

"So did I!" snapped the bartender. "I didn't get rich off it, though. I didn't even manage to keep my home or my family." He took several deep breaths, then went on more quietly. "Maybe we should talk about what you're doing here."

Charlie looked sheepish. "I was supposed to take the train, but I thought it would be...I don't know, an adventure...I decided to take the stage." He laughed a little. "It was an adventure, all right. Three men held us up and I got shot. Festus here found me on the prairie and when he mentioned Dodge City I remembered the letter you sent mother. I asked him to get you and, well, here we are."

Festus and Sam exchanged a look and the bartender said slowly, "Charlie, I still don't understand why you don't want a doctor to take a look at you, or why you'd rather stay here than come into town."

The young man shifted uneasily on the bed. "Well, I...that is..." His voice trailed away.

Sam looked stern. "I think I'd like to get the real story now."

Charlie said sullenly, "I already told you everything."

"All right. I'm getting Doc and then I'm going to have a talk with the marshal."

"Now wait a minute!" Charlie jumped to his feet, then sat down heavily. He had broken out in a cold sweat and Sam sat next to him.

"Charlie, if you're in some kind of trouble you'd better say so now. If you won't trust me I'll have to let the marshal handle it." The young man looked at Festus. "Festus is my friend. Anything you want to say to me you can say in front of him."

Charlie struggled with himself, then confessed. He had gotten into a bad crowd and his mother, anxious to separate him from their influence, decided to send him to California. Without her knowledge, two of his friends went with him. "It was all in fun, Sam." Charlie's voice dropped. "It was supposed to be fun, anyway. We took the train to St Louis and then we caught a stage. It was carrying a lot of money..."

The young man seemed reluctant to say anymore but Sam pressed him. "What happened, Charlie?"

"We were the only passengers and Jerry and Stuart started talking about how easy it would be to take the money." Charlie hung his head. "I thought they were joking. Mother didn't like them but I thought she was just being too hard on them." The bartender waited in silence and after a moment the young man went on. "We were going through a pass in the hills and they...they shot the driver and the guard. We cut the horses loose and pushed the stage down a ravine and then we just rode away..."

Sam's face turned white. "You killed two men?"

"Not me!" Charlie grabbed his uncle's hand. "Sam, I swear...I swear on the graves of Adam and David and Tommy...I didn't have anything to do with any killing! I thought they were joking. I didn't even know they had guns!" Sam was frowning but he didn't say anything as Charlie went on. "We came out on the prairie and I wanted to get away from them, but they said I was in too deep. I said I'd take my chances and they..." He stopped and rubbed his arm. Sam waited and finally the young man whispered, "I thought they were my friends. They shot me...left me to die out there..."

"What about the money?" asked Sam.

Charlie buried his face in his hands. "They were carrying it. They must still have it."

"What did you say their names were?"

"Jerry Wells and Stuart Anderson."

Sam looked at Festus, then back at his nephew. "All right, Charlie. You stay put here until we can get to the bottom of this. Do you want to send a message to your mother?"

Charlie shook his head, avoiding his uncle's eyes. "I don't think she'd be too pleased to get a message from Dodge City."