Brian MacGregor swallowed down the last of his whiskey and his sons waited for him to finish, "Come on Pa. If you don't get moving, that marshal will have call it a night and we'd be left dealing with that whiskered deputy of his," Peter stood.

Brian nodded, "It's time."

Clarence looked around the saloon. Not many folks noticed they were there, "Seems to me this place it pretty unfriendly," he looked back over to his father. "It sure can be, son," was all his father said while he walked to the swing doors of the saloon.

Kitty's eyes looked up to Sam's, "I'm glad to see them go," he looked back to the door.

"Me too, Miss Kitty. The last thing the Marshal needs right now is for them three to cause trouble again," Sam continued to wipe down the bar.

"Well, be sure, Matt won't let that happen again," Kitty stood and followed the MacGregors out to the street. She watched them walk slowly to the jail house. Kitty motioned to Sam to join her, "Sam, maybe you should stay here with the shot gun, just in case."

Sam looked over the doors down the street and nodded, "Good plan, Miss Kitty," he said as he walked quickly back to the bar for the gun.

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"Matthew, the way I figure it, ol' Doc should have gotten through half of his rounds today and will finish up tomorrow. After all," Festus made a point in stressing, "he did say he wasn't going to do his full rounds this time out," Festus' eyebrows rose upward to his hat band.

Matt nodded, "Yes, Festus, he said the same thing to me," Matt settled into his office chair behind his desk and was about to continue his conversation with the hill man, but the door opened and Brian MacGregor and his two sons stepped down into the room, "Matt."

"Brian," Matt said then pursed his lips.

"It isn't what you think. I mean none of the boys are in trouble this time," MacGregor moved toward the desk.

Matt's eyes watched the men and then shifted to the older man standing in front of his desk, "I'm glad to hear that Brian," he remained watchful.

"Look, Matt. I know we're not on what you might say talking terms right, but I need your legal advice," Brian said somewhat awkwardly. Matt then knew there was more to Brian MacGregor's visit to Dodge, "All right. What's up?" The marshal asked in a low concerned tone as he leaned back in his chair and waited for MacGregor to speak.

Brian fussed for a few minutes as he wasn't certain really where to start, "Okay. It's like this. You know I have had that land of mine for...well as long as I have lived here."

"I do, and you have also caused a few folks to leave because of your so-called rights," Matt countered.

Peter stepped next to his father, "Pa, what is this going to do for us?" He whispered. "Hush, Peter. The Marshal is right. I was heavy handed to some," the rancher's grey eyes locked onto his son's. "It's my battle now."

Matt's eyebrows rose, "Battle?"

Brian returned his attention to Matt, "Yes, you heard me right. Battle."

Matt slowly stood and leaned on his desk, "Out with it Brian. I didn't think this was a social call." Matt began to look impatient.

Brian MacGregor sighed, "It's Tobias Dyer. He's cut the water off from y north pasture and he threatened us just this morning that if we touched the damn he'd shot us. Matt, my cattle are dying!"

Matt nodded, "I figured that this was going to happen sooner of later." The marshal moved out from behind his desk and tucked his thumbs into his belt, "and I suppose you want me to ride over to Tobias Dyer's and tell him to remove the damn."

Brian scratched his whiskered cheek, "Er, yeah, something like that."

Matt moved closer to MacGregor, "Need I remind you that you are the one who is really breaking the law. You're squatters. You never legally registered your claim."

Brian MacGregor's face flushed with embarrassment, "How dare you!"

"It's a fact. And if you care to read about it, here are my books," Matt pointed to a row of books on a lower shelf next to his desk.

"I knew we shouldn't have come here Pa!" Peter barked. Matt's blue eyes glared at the young man. "Hush up Peter," MacGregor said under his breath before his looked back up to the marshal. "It is too late to register what I have left to protect it from Dyer?"

Matt pondered the question as he walked back to his desk and sat, "I can't see why not. But, you'll have to wait until the morning. And", Matt pointed at the elder MacGregor, "If I hear of any trouble from you or your boys tonight, I'll see that you will spend a day in there," he thumbed toward the prisoners' cells.

MacGregor's jaw muscles flexed in hidden anger and he nodded gruffly at Matt before he left the jail.

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Doc adjusted his coat collar to try and get warm as the night air grew cooler. Standing by the small fire helped, but the late night breeze and the on set of drizzle were making the sat at the small encampment next too unbearable. He watched as Anna continued to feel Jakob the liquid and the baby seemed to respond favourably.

Doc's next concern was whether the rest of the Baranski family had contacted the illness from the foul water. He shivered and pushed his hands deep into his trouser pockets.

Cyryl watched the doctor and pushed himself up from helping his wife with the infant, "Doctor, you should not be out here in this weather," he placed his hand on Doc's shoulder. "Let's us put up a tarpaulin to make a bigger tent for all of us and the fire," the farmer smiled.

Doc agreed, "That's a fine idea, Cyryl. It should do the trick," Doc followed the young man to the back of the covered wagon. The drizzle seemed to get heavier and Cyryl looked over to Doc was he pulled the large canvas sheet from the wagon, "If this keeps up, we might need a boat!" he joked.

Doc looked up into the night sky and nodded, "It does seem to be getting heavier, doesn't it?" The drizzle had become rain and it was now coming down steadily.