The first two caves Clem led Matt and Chester to were cold, dark, and empty, with no fresh wagon tracks or hoof prints.
Frustrated and becoming despondent, Matt took a deep breath and strengthened his resolve, knowing Kitty, Doc, and the others were depending on him.
"We'll find 'em, Mr. Dillon! I jest know we're getting closer!" Chester spoke to encourage himself as well as the Marshal.
Clem turned his horse towards the third cave, looking up at the darkening sky. A mile or so along, his lanky dog began loudly baying and raced ahead. The three men goaded their horses forward, racing after the dog.
In about fifty feet, the men could see a crumpled man's body sprawled ahead. Jumping down, Matt hurried over and turned the body over, sad that the old Kendall man had joined his battered wife in a rough and needless death. He didn't even need a nonexistent note to tell him that only four people remained in need of rescue. The absence of a note bothered him, as any change in a murderer's routine was troubling. He worried that the men were getting bored with their cruel game and the lives they had in their hands.
"Clem, let's get to the next cave as soon as we can. This poor man is proof that we're on the right route now. Chester, stay here and bury this man as quickly as possible, then catch up. You'll see our tracks for about another hour before the light goes. And Clem, you'd better leave your dog here with Chester so we can sneak up quietly."
"Yes, Sir. I'll sure hurry to do a decent job on this man." Chester tied the squirming dog to a nearby tree.
Matt and Clem slowed down their horses as they neared the third cave, then tied them to a tree and proceeded on foot, both men with rifles at the ready.
Mat looked over at the old hunter. "Mr. Hopper, Clem, I don't want you to go any further once the cave is visible. These men are cold-blooded, vicious, unpredictable killers like none I have ever dealt with. You can help guide Chester in."
The old hunter thought for a moment, then nodded his head. It was important that Chester catch up with the Marshal as soon as possible.
The sun was setting as Matt now crawled closer to the third cave. He had seen fresh wagon and horse tracks, and now heard the faint nickering of an unseen horse. Peering into the dark cavern, he saw the faint light of a small fire near the entrance. He angrily realized that the men inside must think no one could find them.
Hearing faint rustling behind him, he pulled his six-gun until he saw it was Chester creeping up with his rifle.
"They in there, Mr. Dillon?', Chester whispered.
"Yes. We're going to shoot them as soon as we can, preferably in the head, no warning and no mercy."
Chester was initially shocked, then thought about dead Sonny Collins, then young Perry Crane shot in the stomach and tied to a chair, gloves stuffed in his mouth. He had seen the blood-stained photo of the young woman that Mr. Dillon had found on Perry. To him, the worst deed was the old woman dressed in Miss Kitty's blouse in a cruel joke on the Marshal. Then to find her old husband dumped on the ground like so much garbage was stomach-turning.
"Yes, SIR, Mr. Dillon!"
"Chester, if we don't get a clear shot soon we'll have to wait until first light."
Chester could see the worry and frustration on Matt's face, and his own insides were clenched from trying not to think about what Miss Kitty, Doc, and the other two prisoners were enduring. He knew that Doc would sacrifice himself to save Miss Kitty, and hoped that it didn't come to that. He and Doc constantly bantered with each other, but were close friends who would fight for each other.
Matt and Chester lay on their stomachs, rifles pointed at the cave entrance. Both kept glancing at the sky periodically, trying to will the sun to stay in the darkening sky.
An hour later, when the light had faded more and the full moon was faintly visible, Matt saw movement just inside of the cave entrance.
"Are you ready, Chester? I'll take the man on the left, and you take the one on the right. A good, clean headshot, Chester."
Chester nodded, understanding that a wounded murderer might go back inside and take it out on the prisoners.
The two buckskin-wearing brothers sauntered outside, each lighting a cigar. When they turned towards the front, two sharp cracks from the Marshal's and Chester's rifles drilled each between the eyes.
Running forward, Matt and Chester kept their rifles at the ready. Matt paused just long enough to prod the two men with his boot to ensure they were dead. He and Chester then carefully entered the cave that was dimly lit by the small fire near the entrance, and a small torch on either wall further back.
Matt was anxiously scanning the dark cave as he slowly walked forward, Chester covering him further back.
Doc, Kitty, Phyllis, and Tim were also anxiously trying to make out the two tall men approaching in the growing darkness, worried that the murderers had killed again and were now heading for them.
Kitty's sharp eyes recognized Matt's walk and she pulled away from Doc and struggled to her feet, leaning against the cave wall.
"Matt! Oh, Matt." Her voice was choked with tears, but he heard.
Doc, Phyllis, and Tim all struggled upright, too, exhaustion setting in from the stressful hours they had all spent.
Matt made out Kitty in the deepening gloom and hurried forward, still watchful but exultant.
He was only about thirty feet from her when Phyllis' eyes widened, and she flung herself in front of Kitty as a shot rang out. Kitty couldn't hold her up with only one arm, and they slid back down to the ground together.
A grizzled old man in filthy buckskins, holding a rifle, stepped out of the gloom into the dim firelight.
"Got one of 'em! You, big man, and the gimp are next for killing my boys!"
Swinging his rifle towards the Marshal, he was killed by Chester who still had his rifle at the ready, covering Matt.
"That ol' man musta lived in here, Mr. Dillon. Sure glad I saw him.'
"Thanks, Chester." Matt griped his friend's arm for a moment before he ran over to Kitty. He and Doc gently rolled the spinster off of Kitty, who immediately sat up and put her good arm around her, clutching her tightly.
"How is she, Doc?" Matt watched as Doc assessed the massive wound in the woman's back, then looked up and sadly shook his head.
The front of Doc's shirt that Kitty was wearing was soaked with Phyllis' blood. Kitty looked down at it, thinking that it easily could have been her own blood.
"Doc? Do something!", Kitty pleaded, while knowing it was hopeless.
Matt and Doc tried to disengage Kitty's arm from around the limp body, but she pulled away.
"Phyllis, it's Kitty. I won't leave you. You shouldn't have done it, but I want to thank you for what only a brave and true friend would do."
Kitty had her head down next to Phyllis' and then heard a faint, wheezy voice:
"Kitty. Kiss your Matt once for me. Love him once for me." Phyllis used her last bit of strength to turn her head and look at the big man with the piercing pale blue eyes, now full of gratitude and sorrow as they met her eyes.
Her head lolled back and Doc did a quick check for life as Kitty sobbed and refused to release her.
"Come on Darlin'. Doc and I need to take care of this brave woman."
Matt managed to carefully free Phyllis' body from Kitty, laying it down on the ground. Taking off his vest, he helped Kitty put it on to cover the blood on the shirt she was wearing.
"I want her buried in Dodge, Matt, not out here near these butchers."
"Of course, Kitty, whatever you say. I'll be right back."
Matt walked over to the stacks of supplies by the entrance and brought back two fresh wool blankets to wrap Phyllis' body in. Then he put her over against the wall. He and Chester dragged the three buckskin-clad murderers outside and covered them with large stones. They would bury them more properly than they deserved in the morning.
It was dark outside now, so Matt got more blankets for everyone to lie on and to cover themselves with. Chester started a large fire after bringing back wood, and all arranged themselves around it.
Chester had discovered a coffee pot, and some coffee beans and hardtack in the mounds of supplies, and was busily boiling up the coffee.
Matt lay with his arms around Kitty, holding her with a firm gentleness. He could hear her sniffling once in a while, but the warmth of his chest and his loving arms lulled her to sleep.
Chester looked around, holding metal cups of coffee in his hands, but everyone was asleep. Shrugging his shoulders, he sat back on his blanket blissfully drinking the hot, strong brew. It had been a day deserving of as much coffee as he could hold.
The next morning, after taking care of the murderers' bodies, Matt and Chester packed the wagon out front with blankets and helped Tim and Doc up into the back. They hitched the horses still grazing behind the brush, and tied their borrowed horses' reins to the back, along with the murderers' horses that they would give to Clem. Chester got up in the driver's seat, and Matt picked up Kitty, laid her on blankets in the back, got in, sat down, and carefully pulled her up against his chest, arms around her.
The easy gait of the wagon lulled Doc and Tim to sleep. Kitty shifted, pulled Matt's head down with her one free arm, and gave him a long, tender kiss.
"That one was for Phyllis. The second part of my promise to her will have to wait."
Matt looked down at her quizzically, his pale blue eyes meeting her sky blue ones. Once more he realized, as Kitty often told him, that he had a lot to learn about women. He tenderly ran his finger down her cheek as her eyes started to close. She lay her head against his chest again and slept.
Doc stirred in his sleep, trying to find a comfortable position for his broken ankle. Then he remembered the scalpel he had hidden in his other shoe as a last resort to save Kitty from those brutes.
Pulling it out, he stared at it thoughtfully, wondering if he would have been as automatically brave and self-sacrificing as the middle-aged woman whose blanket-wrapped body was at the back of the wagon.
Throwing it as far as he could, he believed he would have done whatever it took to save the young woman he loved so much.
There is no greater love
Than to lay down one's
Life for one's friends
-John 15:13
End.