Grant Shay was dead. Shot while drawing on Marshal Dillon after trying to force Kitty to leave with him. One other of his gang had been killed and four survived the struggle that ensued when Will Helmick's improvised explosion from stolen bullets had gone off.
Now Matt and Festus had to get themselves, eight hostages, and four surviving outlaws safely to Dodge with only seven horses and one mule. Matt quickly assessed the situation and made the necessary assignments:
The outlaws would be handcuffed and each would be roped to a horse. All four horses would be led by Festus and the young man, Johnny Hutton, on Festus' mule, Ruth.
Mrs. Starkey and her son Josh would ride the fifth horse.
Will Helmick and railroad magnate Bruce Follansbee would ride the sixth horse.
The stagecoach driver and his wounded guard would be settled in the kidnappers' small shack as comfortably as possible with food, water, and blankets until Doc could make it from town. The Marshal would send one of the waiting posse on ahead to Dodge as fast as he could to notify the doctor of the situation. Matt had assessed the wound and found that the bullet was in too deeply under the collarbone for him to attempt to remove it, but fortunately, the bleeding was under control from Kitty's bandaging.
Matt and Kitty would ride the seventh horse, big Buck.
"Come on Kitty, we'd better get started." He had padded the front of his saddle with his bedroll, and now held out his big coat for her to slip her arms into. "It's gonna get cold when the sun goes down."
The beautifully bedraggled woman looked up at him in gratitude, relief, and love. She knew how she must look with her luxuriant head of red hair swirled up into twists and tangles, her face dirt-smeared, and her makeup long gone. Even so, his pale blue eyes sparkled at her, full of his own relief and love. Too tired to speak, Kitty nodded her head and gave a slight smile as she wrapped the tent-like coat around her.
Matt put his hands around her waist and lifted her up onto the sturdy horse, then he swung up and on. He put his strong right arm around his passenger, and holding the reins with his left, looked back at his fellow riders.
"Everyone ready? Let's try to get as far as we can before dark," he called out, meeting Festus' eyes in agreement. The loyal hill man looked back at the shackled prisoners on the horses he led, and was satisfied by the men's slump-shouldered, head-down demeanor.
"All right, ya bunch! Don't ya git any fancy thoughts in yer heads 'bout tyin' anything,'" he yelled, determined to drag these men back to jail, mainly for endangering Miss Kitty. The tough man loved her with a deep, protective fierceness as the other half of his "Matthew." "Johnny, you keep a close eyeball on those varmints!" Festus instructed. The solemn young man sitting behind him nodded, taking his assignment seriously. His life had been spared by the lovely saloon owner and he would never forget it.
The procession headed out with Matt and Kitty in the lead, followed by Festus and Johnny leading the prisoners, Mrs. Starkey and her son, then Will Helmick and Follansbee.
The exhausted young woman nestled herself against her man's broad chest and relaxed in the comforting feel of his muscular arm around her. Soon, she nodded off, lulled by the easy rhythm of the horse and the beating of Matt's heart against her ear. She startled awake when the caravan reached the waiting posse at the bottom of the hills. Matt explained about the wounded stagecoach guard, and lean rancher Peter Brown wheeled his horse around and galloped off towards Dodge and Doc. Festus and Johnny joined the rest of the posse which surrounded the handcuffed outlaws on their horses. Matt and Festus nodded as they separated, the posse making better speed towards town.
"You all right, Kitty?" the big man softly asked, looking down at his precious passenger who looked like a doll wrapped inside of his rough coat.
"I'm fine…now…but I could use a little water, Matt. We all got only one swallow from a shared canteen yesterday afternoon." She wouldn't have mentioned it, but she was feeling a little lightheaded from thirst, hunger, and the constant high level of stress and adrenaline throughout the ordeal.
"Oh, I should have thought of that, Honey!" He pulled up his canteen hanging from the saddle's pommel, shook it, unplugged the top and handed it to her. When he saw how her hands shook, he quickly took it from her and carefully held it to her dry lips. "Let me, Kitty." After she drank, he put the opening where her lips had been to his and drank, winking at her as he did.
The other members of the small procession were also stretching and drinking and adjusting for the ride ahead. Mrs. Starkey had young, sleepy Josh sit in front of her instead of behind where he had been grasping her waist. A big young posse cowboy had tipped his hat and insisted she take his coat, which she now wore with the front enveloping her small son. The pretty widow was now looking forward to spending more time with good-natured and resourceful Mr. Helmick who had been so kind to her son. Josh happily dreamed of counting hawks and eagles to impress him.
Follansbee released his death-grip a little around Will Helmick's waist, much to the gambler's relief, and vowed to himself to never travel by anything but his own private railroad car ever again. Anywhere it didn't reach wasn't worth the trip! He now knew he was a soft, spoiled, weak man, but thoughts of his massive fortune soon pushed that away into the dark recesses of his mind.
Will Helmick grimaced as the frightened older man gave him another tight squeeze when their horse snorted and shook itself. He eyed the back of the widow on the horse ahead of him and thought about his plans for a harmless flirtation. He realized that the ravishing and feisty red-haired woman nestled in the big Marshal's arms was impossibly out of his league. Chuckling to himself, he knew that at least by the end of their shared ordeal, he had surprised and impressed her. Then the boy came to mind. He had entertained young Josh to take his own mind off of the situation, but a part of him knew that there was something more there, seeing the admiration in the boy's eyes. Maybe Mrs. Starkey should be more than a few hours of joking smiles.
Matt looked around and waited for them to settle. "Let's go, folks," he loudly commanded, and started his big Buckskin on the way again. The sun was setting, but all had told him they wanted to press on rather than spend another night in the prairie, despite the offer of a roaring fire, coffee, and jerky.