Rawlson's Daughter

by dinacarter

The daughter of Ben Rawlson, a rancher and friend of Matt's, claims that the Marshal is the father of her child. Her false accusations have serious consequences.

RAWLSON'S DAUGHTER

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Disclaimer: This fanfic was written for entertainment purposes only, and is not intended to violate or infringe on the copyrights as owned by VIACOM / PARAMOUNT, nor to realize any profits.

Summary: The daughter of Ben Rawlson, a rancher and friend of Matt's, claims that the Marshal is the father of her child. Her accusations have serious consequences.

Rating: pg-13

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"Can I get you some more, Marshal?" Kate Rawlson smiled down at Matt Dillon, a cast iron pot cradled in the crook of her arm.

Matt returned the smile and held up his plate for a second helping of the delicious stew. "Kate, you sure are a mighty fine cook," he said appreciatively. This was indeed better than sitting around a campfire somewhere out on the prairie between Hays City and Dodge, chewing on a piece of leathery jerky.

Kate blushed. She scooped another ladle onto his plate for good measure before returning the pot to the stove.

Matt turned to the rancher sitting across from him. He had traveled to Hays two days ago along with a prisoner, and he had run into Ben Rawlson at the trial. Matt had known the rancher for some years, but hadn't seen him in a while, so he had gladly accepted Rawlson's offer to spend the night at his ranch before returning to Dodge in the morning.

"I'm much obliged to you for puttin' me up, Ben," he said.

The older man waved him off with a smile. "Oh, nonsense, Matt. You know, you're welcome here anytime." He took a sip from his coffee and a frown began to darken his features. "Besides," he then added, "you done us a great service by bringin' that Walker-kid in."

"Just doin' my job, Ben." Matt washed down the last of the stew with a big gulp from his coffee. "You know, it sure didn't take that jury long to convict him," he then added thoughtfully as he recalled how short the trial for Seth Walker had been.

The rancher made a scoffing sound. He shook his head. "Can you blame 'em? That kid shot old Abe Collins in cold blood when he caught that li'l weasel stealin' his horses." He tightened his grip on the coffee mug. "If you ask me, hanging's just too good for that no-good bum."

There was a sudden, choking sob at the other end of the table. It had come from Beth Rawlson, the couple's eighteen year-old daughter and only child.

"Excuse me, please," she murmured quietly when she realized that she was suddenly the center of attention. She pushed her chair back and rushed from the room.

Kate and Ben exchanged a confused glance. Neither one of them had noticed the tears that were streaking down her pale face, but the Marshal had.

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Ten months later.

Chester Goode cracked another sunflower seed open with his front teeth. "You know, Mr. Dillon," he said, "what more could a fella want; a belly full of food, a bed to sleep in and enough money in his pocket for a beer ev'ry now an' then." He flicked the shell onto the boardwalk and let his idle gaze sweep over the crowded street.

It was Friday afternoon and the mid-June sun shone warmly, but not yet hot, onto the streets of Dodge. The past few days had been unusually quiet. Matt had a feeling that the peace probably wouldn't last too much longer, so he did, what he thought would make the most sense at the moment; rest up and take it easy until his services were needed.

After enjoying a filling lunch at Delmonico's with Chester, he had made his way back to the office where neither prisoner nor paperwork were waiting for him. Now he was comfortably stretched out on a chair on the small front porch of the jail, his assistant alongside him who was busy littering the boardwalk with sunflower seed shells.

Matt yawned and stretched himself. "Yeah, I'll remind you next time you're broke."

Chester stared at him. "Well, now...what do you mean by that?" he wondered. "I don't owe you anythin', do I?"

Matt pushed his hat back and opened one eye to glance at his assistant. "As a matter of fact...you do. Seven dollars and fifty cents, if you wanna know." He gave the brim of his Stetson a tuck, pulling it down to shade his face.

"Seven dollars an' fifty cents?" Chester sputtered in disbelief. "How, in the world, can that be?" He was about to give the matter further thought when he saw Doc Adams shuffling up onto the sidewalk.

The physician looked rather tired and disheveled. His string tie was dangling loosely around his unbuttoned collar, his shirtsleeves were rolled up and his worn gray coat was carelessly slung over his shoulder.

Doc dropped himself into the nearest chair with a grunt. "Hello, Matt. Chester."

The Marshal pushed the brim of his hat back. " Hello, Doc," he said. "You sure look like business is boomin'."

Doc waved him off tiredly. "By golly, let me tell you somethin'...I just got back from the Stevens'."

He paused, and a proud smile began to twitch the corners of his mouth. "Delivered a fine new baby boy for them last night."

Chester was delighted by the news. "Oh, my goodness, ain't that nice," he cooed.

Matt agreed. "You did, did you?" he said smiling. He knew that the doctor considered delivering babies one of the more pleasurable aspects of his line of work. "So," he then added, "how many does that make for them?" He remembered that the Stevens' had one or two when they first came to Dodge five years ago. There had to be at least five by now; they pretty much had a baby every year.

Doc rubbed his neck and began to count. "Well, let me see. This one's a boy...that makes four, an' the two girls...six altogether."

Chester shoved another sunflower seed into his mouth. "Well, now will you look at that. They's sure keep you busy!"

"Yeah, well, I tell you one thing though..." A slight frown now creased the doctor's forehead. "It'd be a lot nicer if someone'd paid me in hard cash once in a while."

His eyes shifted to his little black medical kit sitting next to his chair. He sighed.

Matt caught it. He pointed at the bag. "Preserves?" he wondered. Mrs. Stevens was known for her preserves.

"Strawberry," confirmed Doc grumbling.

Chester eyes twinkled with humor. "You know, Doc, you oughtta look at it like this... leastways you ain't gonna starve to death."

Doc's bushy brow furrowed. He cast Chester a sore look. "Well, you don't exactly look as if you gonna have to worry about that either!"

Confused, Chester looked down at himself. "Now what's that s'posed to mean?" he queried indignantly. But Doc wasn't paying any more attention to him; his gaze was following a buckboard wagon as it was slowly rolling down Front Street.

The driver was a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early fifties. He struck an imposing figure as he sat proud and straight on the high seat, the reins firmly clutched in both hands. There was somebody else sitting beside him. It was a woman. She was shielded from view by the man's body, but Doc could see a glimpse of wavy brown hair cascading down her back.

Doc gave the Marshal a nudge. "By golly, Matt," he exclaimed, "isn't' that-"

"Ben Rawlson," Matt finished the sentence for him. His face broke into a smile. "Well, I'll be doggoned."

He hadn't seem the rancher since last August when he had brought Seth Walker to Hays for his trial. Matt couldn't believe that it had been ten months already. He clambered to his feet. With his thumbs casually hooked into the top of his belt, he watched as the buckboard come to a stop in front of the Dodge House. The rancher climbed off the seat and proceeded to walk around the wagon.

Matt stepped off the porch and crossed the street, weaving his way around several wagons and horses, to greet his friend.

Ben Rawlson was about to help the woman down when he took notice of the approaching lawman. He froze. His face darkened. With quick strides he rounded the buckboard.

"Hello, Ben," exclaimed smiling as he came to a stop a few feet from him, his hand extended in a greeting.

The punch came completely unexpected and caught Matt square on the mouth. He staggered backwards, instinctively pressing the back of his hand against his bleeding lip. Bewildered, he stared at his friend.

Ben Rawlson's eyes were burning with fierce anger. "You bastard!" The hands at his sides were balled into white fists. He drew a ragged breath and expelled it through clenched teeth. "I've been dyin' to do that," he whispered hoarsely. "And believe me, I'm not done with you yet, Matt."

With that, he straightened and stalked off towards his wagon.

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"Well, now, let's take a look here," muttered Doc as he carefully began to wipe the blood from Matt's swollen lip.

The Marshal was perched on a chair inside the jail, trying to figure out what had possessed Ben to attack him. By the time he had been able to collect himself, the rancher and his daughter had already disappeared inside the Dodge House. Doc had rushed to his aid and wisely ushered him back into the office under the pretense of wanting to see after his lip.

Matt had realized right away what Doc was trying to do; but he, too had figured it smarter to allow himself to cool down first before going after the rancher for some answers.

"...go on now, there ain't nothin' to goggle at!" Chester was standing in the doorway, grousing at some of the townsfolk who had flocked around him on the porch, curious to know what had happened. With a loud thud, he closed the door from the inside.

"Well, I swear to goodness..." He shook his head in disbelief as he limped over to where Matt was sitting. He stooped down and eyed the Marshal's lip with concern. "You hurt bad there, Mister Dillon?"

Doc waved the young man off as if he were some kind of pesky insect. "He's fine, Chester," he snapped. "Now if he'd just hold still for a minute-"

Chester threw the doctor a rather unfriendly look. "Well, forevermore, he muttered insulted as he stepped aside.

Matt shot Doc an impatient glance. He was eager to have a little chat with Ben Rawlson in hopes of getting an explanation for the less than friendly reception. "You through with me there, Doc?"

The physician stepped aside, giving the Marshal a quiet affirmative.

Matt rose to his feet. "Thanks, Doc." He touched a careful finger to his swollen lip and flinched.

"You know, I just don't understand this at all." Doc shook his head as he snapped his bag shut.

Matt grabbed his Stetson from its peg.

"Well, neither do I," he grumbled darkly, "but I sure aim to find out."

He slapped on the hat and ducked out the door-only to suddenly find himself face to face with the man he had intended to see.

Immediately, Matt tensed. He took a deep calming breath to force down the anger that was beginning to well up inside him. "Ben, I was just comin' to see you. " His tone was guarded, his eyes fastened on the rancher's.

Ben Rawlson regarded the lawman coldly. "Well, you can save yourself the trouble. I'm here now."

The other's tone caused Matt's stomach to give a slight lurch. "You mind tellin' me what that was all about?" His voice was husky with annoyance as his hand reached for his cut lip.

Ben glared at him with unmistakable hostility. "Matt, that's nothin' compared to what I'm gonna do to you."

If the rancher's words did anything, they confused the Marshal even more. He had to fight hard to keep control of his temper that was quickly threatening to gain the upper hand. "Don't you think it's about time you came right out with what you're accusin' me of?"

For a moment, Ben regarded him suspiciously. "You really have no idea, don't you?" He waited for a response. "All right," he then said stiffly when Matt remained silent. He turned to the woman behind him. "Beth, get over here."

Until now, Matt hadn't noticed the young woman who had been standing a few feet behind her father. Ben took hold of her arm and pulled her to his side.

Without as much as a word, Ben stared at the Marshal in silence, his eyes challenging Matt to acknowledge something he had no knowledge of.

Puzzled, Matt regarded the young woman. He did notice the infant cradled in her arms. He was a little surprised. There hadn't been any talk of Beth getting married when he saw them last. He still had no idea what Ben was driving at.

Beth kept her gaze downcast and made no attempts at lifting it, so the Marshal turned his attention back to the rancher. "Well? I still don't see what you're gettin' at."

Ben regarded him with disbelief. "Matt," he said, and there was a trace of sadness and disappointment in his voice, "we've known each other for a long time...how could you've done this to us?"

Matt looked at him, lost. "Done what? What are you talking about?"

Ben ignored the query. "I'm gonna give you the chance to make this right," he growled instead. "You have until sundown tomorrow to think about it."

Matt's brow furrowed with confusion. His hands clasped around his belt buckle. "Think about what? You better spell that out, because I don't know what you're sayin'."

"You need it spelled out? All right, Matt, I'll spell it out for you; either you marry Beth or I'm gonna kill you."

Matt's expression grew blank. "Marry her?" he repeated uncomprehendingly.

Ben glared at him coldly. "You know where you can find me. I'll be waitin' for you." Then, without another word, he took hold of Beth's arm and ushered her back towards the hotel.

Matt stood dumbfounded. He numbly watched as Ben and his daughter crossed the street. He still had absolutely no idea what the rancher was accusing him of, but it obviously had something to do with Beth.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Doc's voice startled him from his thoughts. With a thoughtful swipe at his mustache, he watched as Ben Rawlson and his daughter disappeared into the Dodge House. He turned to look up at his friend. "I'd say, it's pretty obvious, Matt."

Matt's brow furrowed. "All right, if it's that obvious, why don't you explain it to me," he said crossly.

By now, he just about had it; he was a straightforward man. He expected the people around him to be the same with him.

Doc scratched his ear. He cleared his throat, suddenly, feeling a tad embarrassed. "Well," he said," somehow, Ben seems to think that you have somethin' to do with that baby."

"The baby? Oh, come on, Doc..." Matt protested half irritated, half baffled. This was ridiculous, so utterly crazy, and yet-

As he thought about it some more, it became painfully clear to him that the physician was probably right. It certainly would explain Ben's strange demand for him to marry Beth.

Matt was stunned. He felt a cold sinking in the pit of his stomach as he began to realize the seriousness of the situation.

"Mister Dillon?" Chester's voice roused him from his thoughts. His gaze traveled over the faces of some of the curious onlookers. Ben had certainly spoken loud enough to draw the attention of half of Dodge, he thought grimly. He couldn't help but wonder whether they had understood the meaning behind Rawlson's words.

Matt exhaled loudly. False accusations were something he had enough personal experience. His mind drifted back to an incident barely two years ago when Red Samples had framed him on a murder charge in hopes of ridding Dodge of his presence so that the gambler could run his crooked games in town. Luckily, with the help of his old friend, Bill Hickock, he had been able to clear his name.

Unsure of what to do next, he turned and stalked back into the jail, followed by Doc and Chester.

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"...an' that's all," Matt finished when he was done recalling to his friends how he had spent the night at the Rawlson's ranch last summer. It was early evening, and Chester had more or less talked him into joining Kitty and Doc at the Long Branch for a beer.

He hadn't felt much like venturing out, much less like discussing the affair regarding Ben Rawlson and his daughter, but Doc and Chester were his friends, and Kitty-well, she was much more than that.

Doc swiped a quick hand across his mustache. "Say, don't you have any idea, why Ben 'd think that you-" He hesitated, not comfortable with speaking out loud the offensive thought.

The mere idea of what Ben was accusing him of made Matt's face turn red with embarrassment and anger. "What makes you think, I know?" His reply was a little testier than he had intended. He leaned forward onto the table. His fingers were absently fidgeting with the handle of his beer mug.

Kitty sighed. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Matt...I'm sure, there's an explanation for all this." She had known Matt for over five years and probably knew him better than anybody-except maybe for Doc. There was no doubt in her mind that he was telling the truth.

"Well, yeah, especially with you sleepin' in the barn an' all," Chester added, remembering the Marshal's earlier account of that night.

Doc scratched his chin. "Tell me, Matt, was there any time at all where you were alone in the house with Beth?"

Matt shook his head slightly. "No, Doc. After supper I went outside to wash up an' then I went into the barn. " He paused and then added with emphasis, "an' that's where I stayed 'til the next mornin'."

"Could it be that Beth maybe left the house that night and Ben saw her?" wondered Kitty.

For some reason, Kitty's question irritated Matt. "How would I know," he grumbled.

Kitty raised a reproving brow and he immediately felt bad. "Look," he added, his tone calmer now, "like I said...I was asleep."

Everyone at the table was aware of the mounting tension, and for one long moment, an awkward silence reigned. The gay banter and noises of the patrons surrounded them, but Matt felt strangely cut off from it all. His mind was reliving that night over and over again, trying to figure out whether he had missed a small detail somewhere.

"Matt?"

Kitty's warm hand on his arm suddenly jostled him from his thoughts. He turned to face her. She nodded meaningfully towards the entrance.

There was Ben Rawlson, standing on the threshold. His gaze scanning the saloon. For a second, his eyes came to rest on the Marshal. His face twitched slightly, but then he directed his steps towards the bar.

Matt pushed his chair back, about to jump to his feet, but Kitty's grip on his arm firmed.

"Matt," she implored. She knew him well enough to realize that his usually good judgment was clouded by anger.

For a moment, Matt hovered indecisively. But before he could say anything, Doc spoke up. "Wait a minute there, Matt," he said. "Let me go an' talk to him. Ben's a sensible man, he'll listen to reason."

Matt dropped back down into his chair. Maybe the rancher was more willing to talk to the physician and give him the answers he hadn't been able to obtain; although he had to admit that beating the answers out of Ben probably would be much more satisfying at the moment.

"All right," he grumbled reluctantly, "be my guest."

Doc rose to his feet and made his way up to the bar, the eyes of his friends following him.

Kitty smiled reassuringly. "Matt, it's goin' to be all right."

Her words and the tender touch of her hand, caused him to tear his gaze away from Ben and Doc. He cast her a weary smile. "I sure hope so." With that, he lapsed into thoughtful silence again, his eyes absently fixed on the empty mug in his hands.

Kitty and Chester exchanged a worried glance and then turned their eyes back to the bar where the physician seemed deeply engaged in conversation with Ben Rawlson.

The minutes passed painfully slow. It was difficult to tell whether Doc was having any success; their conversation was drowned out by the lively banter of the crowd and the tinny sound of the piano and their faces didn't give any indication as to what they were saying either.

At last, the doctor broke away and shuffled back towards their table. His face was blank and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He lowered himself back down into his chair.

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Kitty was the first one to speak. "Well?" she prompted. She regarded the doctor curiously.

Doc didn't say a word. He shook his head slowly, a disgusted look on his face.

Matt exhaled loudly, but otherwise remained silent. Somehow, he had already figured that Ben wouldn't talk. All he could do was hope that the rancher would come to his senses before-

Before what? He suddenly found himself thinking. Surely, Ben wasn't serious about killing him.

Kitty glanced across the table at Doc. She gave him a small smile which said 'thank-you-for-trying'.

Back at the bar, Ben had just finished his whiskey. He was now talking with two cowboys who had been standing on the other end of the counter. They were gesturing and nodding, stealing furtive glances at the lawman.

Kitty couldn't hear what they were saying, but she didn't have to; she knew.

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It was well past midnight and the Long Branch had just closed its doors for the day. The saloon was usually the Marshal's last stop when he was doing his rounds, and more often than not, he ended up there for the night. For some reason, he had finished a little earlier tonight and had found Kitty still busy with the nightly closing procedures.

"You know, Matt,...I was just thinking..." Kitty closed the door to the safe and straightened. "Have you had a chance to talk to Ben's daughter at all?"

Matt was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He sighed. "No, never got around to it."

Kitty looked up, the hurricane lamp in her hands. "Well, I think you should. I'm curious to hear what she has to say."

Matt moved aside for her. He pulled the door to the small office shut and followed her. "Believe me, so am I," he said gloomily. He watched as she gave the bar room one final, inspecting glance.

The saloon, which had been filled with people, music and noise only a short hour ago, was now empty and quiet. The chairs had been placed on top of the tables and the floors had been swept in anticipation of a new day and a new crowd.

"Trouble is," he went on, watching as Kitty carried an empty beer mug over to the counter. "I don't see how. I doubt that Ben would let me even near her."

The pretty redhead nodded thoughtfully. "Well, that's probably true."

Matt took the hurricane lamp from the bar and motioned her to walk ahead of him up the stairs.

"Matt?" Kitty suddenly stopped halfway up the staircase and turned to face him. The flickering light from the lamp bathed her pretty face in a soft glow. He thought that it made her red hair appear even redder-if that was possible. "I could try and talk to her."

He knew that she was serious. Despite himself, Matt smiled. "Yeah, I figured as much." He gently nudged her along, preferring to continue the conversation in the privacy of her room.

Kitty watched as he placed the oil lamp on her dresser where it cast guttering, smoky shadows onto the walls.

"I'm curious. Do you really think that it was Beth who told Ben that you-" She broke off, not able to bring herself to say what the rancher was accusing the lawman of.

With a scowl, Matt plopped himself down onto the settee. "It's quite possible." His eyes were on his hands as they fidgeted with the Stetson they were holding. "She sure didn't seem too surprised when Ben confronted me." He paused, recalling how Beth had refused to even look at him. "But that still leaves the question 'why'?"

He looked up and watched as she began to pull the pins from her hair, sending a cascade of red hair tumbling down her back.

That was a good question, Kitty thought. What reason could the girl possibly have for accusing Matt of being the father of her child? "Maybe she's afraid to tell Ben who the real father is," she mused out loud.

Matt frowned, unconvinced. "Maybe so. But why pick me?" Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair.

The splashing, coming from the next room, told him that Kitty was washing up. His mind turned back to that night he had spent at the Rawlson's place, trying to recall again every detail, no matter how insignificant. Suddenly, he remembered how Beth had left the dinner table that night, obviously distressed over something. Matt straightened, struggling to bring the conversation he had with Ben that evening to mind. They had discussed the trial of Seth Walker, along with some other irrelevant issues, like the prize of cattle, but nothing that would have warranted her strange behavior.

His earlier altercation with Ben came to the forefront of his mind again. I'm gonna give you until tomorrow at sundown to make your choice.

To make his choice? There was no choice to make. He had nothing to do with Beth's child. He hadn't laid as much as a finger on the girl. She was almost still a child herself.

There was no reason to wait until tomorrow night. He would go over to the Dodge House first thing in the morning and make Ben listen to him.

Matt was pulled from his thoughts as Kitty, now dressed in her nightgown and frilly robe, re-entered the room. She regarded him curiously when she noticed that he hadn't made any attempts to undress.

"I know how you feel, cowboy," she said gently, "but it's getting late and there's nothing else you can do tonight. You might as well try and get some sleep."

She placed a slender hand on the side of his face and then brushed back an unruly curl that had fallen on his forehead. "Who knows...maybe things'll look different in the morning."

Matt lifted his gaze to her and heaved a sigh. "Yeah," he said unconvinced, but nevertheless, giving her a small smile, "maybe so."

He dropped his Stetson onto the table and rose to his feet to undress. Soon, he was stretched out alongside her on the comfortable cast-iron bedstead.

But as much as Matt tried, sleep just wouldn't come. Two hours later, he was still gazing thoughtfully into the semi-darkness of Kitty's room. A soft breeze came in through the open window, gently playing with the lace curtains. The cool night air felt good as it settled on his face and bare chest, doing its part to keep him awake.

Maybe Kitty's right, he thought to himself; maybe he should let her try and talk to Ben's daughter. There was a good chance that Beth would be less intimidated by another woman and more willing to talk. He was convinced that Ben's behavior was the result of something that his daughter had told him; something that was far from the truth.

His musings were interrupted as Kitty began to stir beside him. His eyes wandered down to the pretty redhead who was snuggled against his side. Her left hand was resting on his stomach, and Matt couldn't help a slight shiver of awareness at her touch. For a moment, he regarded her with warm tenderness as he listened to her slow, even breathing. Kitty knew him better than anybody, probably even including himself. She was his confidante, the one he shared his innermost feelings with-something that hadn't come easy to him at first. He knew that she believed him without question and the thought was assuring.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he slid back down onto his pillow and brought his arm around her, pulling her body closer against his own. Her hair was tickling his face, its familiar, flowery scent filling his nostrils. Ever so slowly, he ran his hand along the curve of her shoulder and then further down her side, savoring the softness and warmth of her skin and the comfort it gave.

With a soft moan, Kitty began to stir as she became aware of his touch. The gentle urgency of his embrace communicated to her his need for comfort. She molded herself closer to him.

"Go, to sleep, Matt." Her hand began to tenderly slide across his chest in soothing circles.

The motion elicited a low murmur of content from him. Kitty's earlier words now came back to Matt; maybe things'll look different in the morning. Yes, maybe they will, he told himself confidently. He took a slow, deep breath and finally closed his eyes.

It was a good thing that the Marshal didn't know what the new day would have in store for him.

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Doc Adams pulled the watch from his pocket and snapped it open. He briefly glanced at its face. It was almost eight in the morning. With a satisfied grunt, he snapped it shut again and shoved it back into his pocket. He shuffled over to the coat rack to retrieve his hat and coat and then slipped out the door.

Even though it was still quite early, the town was already bustling with activity. Wagons were going up and down Front Street as people had begun to go about their daily business.

As the physician stepped up onto the raised sidewalk of Jonas' Mercantile, he was greeted by excited talking coming from inside. Curious, he entered the store. A group of maybe ten to twelve men were all crowded in a corner, loudly carrying on among themselves. Doc shuffled over to find out what the clamor was all about. Some of the men were waving dollar bills in the air and Doc realized that they were all clustering around somebody. He began to circle the group, trying to find the best spot to shoulder his way in.

"Oh, Doc," someone suddenly called out to him, "come over here!" It was Wilbur Jonas, the store owner. He was standing a little off to the side, clutching several dollar bills in his hand.

Doc pushed his hat back to scratch his forehead. "Well, what in tarnation's goin' on here, Jonas?"

Jonas didn't seem to have heard him. "Say, who are you bettin' on, Doc?" he wondered instead.

Doc blinked. "Beg your pardon?" he asked confused.

"I'm bettin' five dollars on the Marshal," Jonas rattled on. "He's the faster gun." He paused for a second and then added. "Although I have to say...I can't much agree on what he did to that poor Rawlson girl."

"What'd you just say?" Doc didn't want to believe his ears. "Did I just hear you right? You're bettin' on who's gonna..." He bit his lip to cut off this line of thought.

The tone of the physician's voice wasn't lost on the storekeeper and it somewhat curbed his enthusiasm. He shrugged. "Oh, come on, Doc, the whole town's talkin' about nothin' else-"

Some of the other men had taken notice of the developing argument. Anderson, the freight clerk stepped up to Doc. "I'm bettin' two dollars on that Rawlson-fella. I heard he used to be a good shot in his day."

Loud murmuring now erupted as everyone else tried to voice their opinion.

Doc was dumbfounded. "I don't believe it", he mumbled to himself and with that, he stalked from the store.

Moments later, he literally flew through the door of the jail. "Matt, by golly, do you know what they're doin' out there?" He came to a halt in front of the desk where Matt was about to take a sip from his coffee. He shoved his finger into the lawman's face while his other hand pointed angrily towards the door.

The Marshal looked up, politely puzzled. "No, but I'm sure you gonna tell me."

Doc ran an agitated hand across his mustache. "Doggone it, Matt. I just came from Jonas' store and those fellas over there are placin' bets on who's gonna win tonight!"

Matt raised his brows. "Win tonight? What're you talkin' about?"

"Oh, for heaven's sakes," said Doc impatiently, "they're bettin' on you an' Ben!"

In an instant, Matt's face turned serious. This had gone far enough. He was going to put an end to this right now. He had planned on letting Kitty try and talk to Rawlson's daughter first, but Doc's words shed a whole new light on things.

The physician saw the thoughtful expression on his friend's face turn into one of determined resolve. It alarmed him more than just a little. He brushed a quick hand across his mustache again. "What're you fixin' to do, Matt?" he wondered uneasily.

Matt came around his desk. "I'm gonna go and see Ben," he said.

Doc closed his eyes for a second. He took a deep breath before opening them again. "What makes you think, he's gonna listen to you?"

Matt pulled his gun belt from its peg and began to buckle it up. "I'll make him listen, Doc. This has gone far enough." He put his foot on the seat of the nearest chair and began to fasten the leather strap around his thigh.

Doc sighed resigned. He realized that there wasn't much else he could do or say. "Well, you just be careful."

Matt grabbed his Stetson and slapped it on. "I aim to."

With that, he ducked out the door and was gone.

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The Dodge House was almost straight across from the Marshal's office. Matt was about to cross the dusty street when someone suddenly called out to him.

"Hey, Marshal!"

Matt stopped and turned.

"Just wanted to wish you good luck tonight," Doug Seymour said, grinning. "Not that you need it, mind you. I bet five dollars that you're gonna outdraw that Rawlson-fella."

Matt took a deep breath, trying hard to force down the surge of anger welling up inside. He wasn't very successful. "Get out of my way!" he growled. He shoved the gambler aside and crossed the street with angry strides.

When he reached the hotel, he pushed open the door and entered. The lobby was empty, save for Moss Grimmick who was comfortably lounging in one of the upholstered chairs. He was reading the latest edition of the 'Dodge City News' as he did every morning. He looked up when he saw the lawman.

"Mornin', Marshal," he greeted him with a nod and then turned back to his paper.

"Hello, Moss." Matt nodded in acknowledgement and headed for the counter where Howie Uzzell, the hotel clerk stood.

"Mornin' Marshal," he said, politely as ever, but the usual smile was missing.

Matt noticed it at once, but he had more important things to worry about at the moment. "What room's Ben Rawlson in?" he asked.

Howie pursed his lip in thought. "Ben Rawlson..." he repeated slowly as if having to think about it first.

Matt felt the last of his patience fade. He grabbed the ledger from underneath the clerk's hand and flipped it around so that he could find out for himself.

"Thanks," he said when he had found what he was looking for. He shoved the book back at the surprised clerk and headed for the staircase.

Matt had made it halfway up, when he suddenly found himself face to face with Beth Rawlson. The young woman was as surprised as he was. She froze. The baby clutched tightly to her bosom, she stared down at him, uncertain.

For one, long moment, they were regarding each other, neither one knowing what to say.

Matt cleared his throat. "Beth," he said at last, breaking the awkward silence, "I'd like to have a word with you."

She didn't answer. Instead, she stiffened, her eyes turning searching towards the top of the stairs.

Matt knew right away who she was looking for.

Seconds later, Ben Rawlson appeared on the top landing. He quickly took in the situation.

"Stay away from her, Matt, you've done enough damage already!" His voice was threatening and the right hand which was poised readily above his gun, reinforced his words.

Matt saw it and tensed but didn't back down. He raised his hands to show that he had no intention of starting a fight. "I'm not goin' anywhere 'til you hear me out, Ben."

Ben pulled the colt from his holster and pointed it at the lawman. "Stay where you are." He eyed the Marshal coldly and then addressed his daughter. "Get back up here, Beth."

Ben's mouth twitched as she made her way past him onto the landing, but his gaze remained focused on the lawman. "Go, Matt," he said hoarsely. "I gave you 'til tonight."

Matt didn't move. He took a deep, controlling breath, determined to make the other hear what he had to say. "Ben, listen to me. I don't know where you got that fool-notion from, but I've got nothin' to do with that child. I never laid a hand on your daughter." He nodded at Beth. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Ben's face darkened. He considered Matt's words for one short moment. "Beth," he then said, turning to his daughter, "tell him what you told your mother and me."

The young woman paled even more. She drew a shaky breath and clutched the infant tighter to her chest.

"Beth, answer me!" Ben regarded her impatiently. "Did Matt do this to you?"

Tears began to spring up in her eyes. "Yes," she sobbed. With that, she turned and rushed back towards her room.

Ben's face hardened. He turned. "Matt, you abused our friendship, you dishonored my daughter and our family. I'm gonna give you a chance to make this right. You gonna marry Beth or not?"

Matt wasn't sure which was stronger; his frustration or his anger. He didn't try concealing either. "You got the wrong man, Ben," he growled. "Beth's not tellin' you the truth."

But Ben was done talking. "Go...get out. You have until sundown. I'll be waitin' for you then."

Matt felt a shudder run down his back. His eyes wandered from the barrel of the colt up to the rancher's eyes; what he saw in them, made him loose the last of his hope that this could be settled peacefully. There was a strong finality in the way Ben stared at him, a determination beyond reasoning. "I'm not gonna put my gun against you, Ben."

The rancher's face remained expressionless. "Then you'll die, Matt."

He holstered up his gun and walked back upstairs, leaving the Marshal to stare after him.

.

Matt was angry as he walked back to the jail. A small part of him felt that if Ben wanted to call him out-fine. Maybe he wouldn't refuse to fight him.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he literally ran into Kitty as she was just leaving the jail.

"Well, someone's in a hurry," she remarked dryly.

Matt looked down at her, startled. "Kitty, I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Matt." She regarded him with uneasy curiosity. "Where've you been? I was lookin' for you."

He sighed and regarded her unhappily. Kitty knew immediately where he had been. "You went to see Ben."

Matt nodded slowly. His anger was suddenly gone, replaced by a dark, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Kitty regarded him with open concern. "I take it, it didn't go too well?"

"Nope." He braced himself against the brick wall, his helpless gaze fixed on the plank flooring of the porch. He rubbed the back of his neck.

Kitty sighed. "Matt, I-" she started to say, but broke off when she noticed a couple close by, watching them with unabashed interest.

The Marshal lifted his gaze. His face immediately darkened. "Come on," he said with an irritated glance at the elderly couple, "let's go inside." He took hold of her elbow and opened the door to usher her inside.

Kitty turned to him as soon as the door had closed. "Oh, Matt, this is getting ridiculous!"

"You tell me..." Annoyed, he tossed his hat on its peg. Ben Rawlson had come to Dodge less than a day ago and had managed to turn half the town against him with his false accusations.

Kitty tapped her bottom lip in thought. This had gone far enough as far as she was concerned. She knew what she had to do. "Matt, I'm going over there right now and see if I can't talk to her," she said resolutely.

The Marshal drew a tired breath. "Look, Kitty, I tried...Doc tried. What makes you think, Ben'll let you talk to her?"

She arched a knowing eyebrow and smiled slyly. "Well, for one thing...I'm not going to ask Ben."

Matt regarded her quizzically.

"I'm sure that Ben doesn't keep her locked up in her room all day."

He nodded slowly. "I s'pose not." It was certainly worth a try, and who knows, maybe Kitty could get the girl to talk. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "All right, but you be careful."

Kitty gave his arm a reassuring pat. "I'll be just fine, Matt."

With that, she slipped out the door.

.

.

.

Kitty had been gone for a little more than an hour. Matt's eyes wandered over to the window. Normally, he would be sitting at Delmonico's by now, having lunch. Not so today. It wasn't just the lack of appetite that kept him away, it was mostly the people.

All morning long, townsfolk had been whispering behind his back, staring and pointing at him wherever he had went. Some had approached him and told him that they 'were on his side', while others had outright voiced their disapproval over the presumed affair with Beth Rawlson. Words like 'the poor girl' and 'he oughtta be ashamed' were still ringing in his ears. Matt just about had it.

Needing something to take his mind off things, he had begun to sort through a stack of circulars that really didn't need sorting. His head turned from the window as the door to the office was opened.

It was Chester.

"My goodness, Mister Dillon," exclaimed the young man as he limped over to the desk where the Marshal was sitting, "them folks are just plump crazy out there!"

Matt cast him a quick, weary glance. "What's the matter now, Chester," he wondered, not exactly keen to find out. He paused and his eyes narrowed when he noticed Chester's bruised face. "What'd you do? Get into a fight?"

Scowling, Chester fingered his rapidly swelling eye. "Oh...well...you remember that there Morlan-fella? You know, the one that always likes to give you trouble?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah,...what's he doin' now? He pointed at Chester's face. "Besides beatin' you up that is?"

Chester started to squirm uncomfortably. "Well, it ain't so much what he does...that don't bother me none...it's what he says."

Matt managed to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "Well?" he prompted wearily instead, "what's he sayin'?"

"Mr. Dillon, he's out there a-tellin' ev'ryone that wants to listen that you ain't fit to be Marshal anymore on the account of that Rawlson-girl...he says, it serves you right if Ben Rawlson shoots you down. What do you make of that?"

Matt was not too surprised. " Oh, that's just talk, Chester." He waved him off and turned his attention back to the circulars.

Chester disagreed. "Well, I know that," he argued back, "but a lot of folks already seem to be agreein' with him."

The Marshal took a deep breath, He held it for a moment before tiredly expelling it. "Look, Chester, I can't stop people from talkin' just because I don't agree with 'em."

Chester cast him a sullen look. "Well,...maybe so...but it still ain't right."

Matt regarded his assistant for a moment. He was touched by Chester's loyalty, and he was glad to have him on his side. But he also knew that he couldn't arrest every person in Dodge that spoke out against him; if he did that, he'd have to add on to the jail.

The ghost of a smile flickered across his face as he nodded at Chesters's swollen eye. "You better do somethin' about that eye there."

Chester frowned. "Oh, never mind about that." He was more concerned with the way people talked about his friend than the state of his eye.

.

.

.

Kitty wasn't sure how long she had been sitting in the lobby of the Dodge House, pretending to read the newspaper, but she was certain that she could recite the front page from memory by now. At last, just when she thought she couldn't stand it any longer, she spotted Ben Rawlson coming down the stairs. He was alone.

This was her chance.

As soon as he had left the hotel, she put the paper aside and approached the counter. She gave the clerk her best smile. "Howie, what room is Miss Rawlson in, please?"

Not at all surprised by her inquiry, the clerk looked at her knowingly. "Room six, Miss Russell," he informed her and then quickly added,"but if you're lookin' for the young lady, she's out back."

He winked and then pointed at the door leading onto the back porch of the hotel.

Kitty stepped out onto the porch. Her gaze swept the small garden. She had no trouble, locating who she was looking for. There, sitting on a bench beside a trellis, covered with pink climbing roses, was Beth Rawlson. She was rocking her baby, softly singing to him.

For a moment, Kitty's eyes lingered on the enchanting scene. It stirred familiar feelings inside her. They were feelings of longing-a longing for things beyond being the successful co-owner of the Long Branch saloon and the Marshal's woman.

Kitty sighed and shook off her thoughts. "Miss Rawlson?" she asked as she stopped in front of Beth.

Beth's head jerked up, alarmed.

Kitty quickly raised her hands. "I'm sorry," she said smiling, "I didn't mean to startle you. May I sit down?"

Beth nodded, but regarded Kitty suspiciously. "How did you know my name?"

Kitty didn't think it wise to come out with the truth right away. "News travels fast in Dodge," she replied instead. "My name's Kitty Russell."

Beth cast her a shy smile and then turned her attention back to the baby who had begun to fuss.

There was a moment of comfortable silence as Kitty watched Beth interact with the infant. She leaned in closer for a better look at the little one.

"That's a beautiful baby," she said.

Beth smiled at her words. "Isn't he?" She fondly stroked his small head which was covered in dark peach fuzz.

"What's his name?"

The young woman's eyes continued to linger on her baby with the typical pride of a new mother.

"His name's Jacob," she said, "but I call him Jake."

Kitty nodded. "That's a nice name. You and your husband must be very proud."

Right away, the smile on Beth's face faded. "Miss Russell, I think you know that I'm not married."

She studied Kitty's face for a brief moment. "I also think you know why I'm in Dodge."

"Yes, Beth, I know why you're here."

There was no sense in beating around the bush. The sooner she could get some answers, the quicker this affair could get cleared up. Kitty took a deep breath. "Beth, we both know that Matt Dillon isn't the father of your baby." Her voice was calm, yet firm as her eyes searched Beth Rawlson's.

At her words, the young woman's eyes narrowed. Her face turned dark.

"Yes, he is!" she blurted out. "He-he came to my room and-and he..." she suddenly broke off and swallowed heavily. Tears were glistening in her eyes. "Yes, he is," she added in a defiant whisper.

Kitty knew that she had struck a nerve. "Beth," she said coolly, "the Marshal said that he was in the barn the entire night."

Beth looked at her with fierce resentment. "How would you know," she challenged angrily.

Kitty held her gaze firmly. "He told me," she replied matter-of-factly. "And I happen to believe him."

There was no doubt in her mind as to who was lying here, and the girl's act didn't fool her one bit.

A look of comprehension suddenly began to dawn on the young woman's face. "He sent you, didn't he?" she said, referring to Matt.

"No, this was my idea," Kitty stated flatly. Well, maybe not entirely, but that was beside the point, she figured.

Beth stared at her for another second and then her pretty face stiffened. "Go away, leave me alone!" she suddenly burst out.

Kitty arched an eyebrow. She rose to her feet. She looked down at the young woman. "I will," she told her calmly, "but first you listen to me. Your father and the Marshal are gonna meet on Front Street tonight."

Beth's eyes remained pinned to the infant in her arms, but Kitty knew that she was listening.

"Let me tell you somethin', honey," she went on to say, "your father is no match for Matt Dillon."

At Kitty's words, Beth lifted her gaze. Her lips began to tremble. They moved slightly as though she was going to say something.

But Kitty was far from being finished. "I don't know what it is, you're playing at," she said, her face now hard, unsmiling, "but unless you stop this, your father's gonna die tonight."

With one, final warning glance at Ben Rawlson's daughter, Kitty turned around and left.

.

.

.

It was almost three o'clock. Matt stopped pacing the office and began to stare out the window again. Kitty had left well over two hours ago and he hadn't heard from her since.

His hope, that she had been able to talk some sense into Ben's daughter was steadily growing slimmer with each passing minute. He wanted to go out and find her, but he didn't trust his own temper. What if someone approached him again-which, in all likelihood, was bound to happen, given the fact that all of Dodge was aware of the impending fight by now?

Ben was his friend-or at least he still wanted to think of him that way. He couldn't possibly draw against his friend. He didn't want this fight; he hadn't asked for it. Matt tried not to think about it, but the same thought kept haunting him.

"Matt?"

Completely lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed that the door to the jail had been opened. His head jerked around, and his eyes came to rest on Kitty.

"How'd go?" He ran a restless hand through his hair.

Kitty noticed how tired he looked. There was an unusual weariness in his eyes. "Well, when I confronted Beth, she outright accused you at first."

Her words caused the Marshal to draw himself up. He inhaled sharply. He wanted to say something, but restrained himself when he realized that Kitty had not finished yet. He nodded instead.

Kitty went on. "Matt, I think I gave her something to think about, and unless I'm very much mistaken, she's gonna talk to Ben."

He blew out a tired breath and turned back to the window, bracing himself on the brick wall with his hands.

"Well, let's hope so."

Her touch had always been a source of comfort to him, but this time, he barely took notice of her gentle hand on his arm. He began to once again stare out into the street, not wanting her to see the helpless expression on his face.

.

.

.

Beth was thinking hard. Up until now, she hadn't even bothered with considering the consequences of her actions. She had been too angry, too hurt over Seth's death to even think clearly.

All she knew was that she hated Marshal Dillon. She hated him for bringing Seth in. In her mind, it was the lawman who had caused his death, not the young man's own irresponsible actions. They had planned on leaving quietly when she had found out that she was carrying his child. She knew that her parents never would have accepted Seth Walker. But unfortunately, things hadn't worked out as planned. When she hadn't been able to conceal her condition from her parents any longer, they had of course demanded an answer. Driven by fear of her father and hatred for the Marshal, she had accused the lawman of seducing her.

Unfortunately, the one thing she hadn't counted on, was her father taking her to Dodge and making her face the Marshal, demanding that he marry her. Had she known that this might happen, she would have thought about it twice.

Beth had no intention of getting married to Matt Dillon; all she wanted, was for her father to hurt him. Hurt him for causing the death of the young man she had loved.

Now, for the first time, she realized that there was good possibility that her father could get hurt, or even worse, get killed.

Beth bit down on her lower lip until it hurt. She knew that she had to talk to her father and tell him the truth, no matter how difficult it may be.

A series of sharp knocks on her door suddenly interrupted her thoughts. She took a calming breath. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Beth," came Ben Rawlson's tense voice from the other side of the door.

Beth hastily wiped the tears from her eyes before opening the door.

Ben stepped inside. He glanced around the room. "Where've you been?" he wanted to know as his eyes came to rest on her.

Beth found herself staring up into her father's face. "Pa, please don't do it!" she suddenly burst out before she could stop herself.

Immediately, Ben's eyes narrowed. He looked down at her suspiciously.

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Please, Pa, it's not too late. Let's just go back home."

Comprehension suddenly lit up the rancher's eyes. His face hardened. "Who've you been talkin' to, Beth?"

In an instant, what little courage she had, was gone. She found that she was afraid again. She couldn't do it. She couldn't tell him that it was all a lie.

"Pa, please...you'll get yourself killed," she pleaded faintly, her voice now no more than a desperate whisper.

Ben looked at her in disbelief. "Go home? After what he's done to you...to your mother and me?" He shook his head. "No, Matt Dillon's gonna pay for this!"

A whimper escaped Beth's throat. She pressed the back of her hand over her mouth to stifle it.

Ben grabbed her by her shoulders. His eyes began to search his daughter's. "Pull yourself together, Beth. Nobody's gonna have to die if he agrees to make this right, Beth."

"What if I don't want to marry him?"

His grip on her shoulders tightened. "What do you mean?" he demanded. He was studying her face her intently. "It's his child, isn't it?" He shook her slightly when she didn't reply. "Answer me!"

Beth lowered her gaze, unable to look him in the eye. "Yes," she whispered.

For another second, Ben's eyes lingered on his daughter.

"Good," he then said, satisfied. "That settles that."

He let go of her arms. "Now get yourself cleaned up and we'll go and have a bite to eat."

.

.

.

It was almost eight now. As the minutes continued to tick by slowly, a tense silence had fallen over the Marshal's office. It was a silence that neither one of the two men present seemed either able or willing to break.

Chester sat perched on the edge of his cot, whittling away at a piece of wood with his pocket knife. His lack of enthusiasm was obvious. Matt, having gotten the sudden urge to do something, had pulled one of the shotguns from the rifle rack and begun to clean it.

His mind wasn't in it, and it showed. His hand was absently running the oiled rag repeatedly across the same spot while his eyes stared blankly down at the gun.

Soon, the sun would set and Ben would call him out. Then he would be forced to make up his mind. It was the only thing, he had been able to think of as the day had progressed. He still hadn't come to a decision. Would he draw on his friend and potentially kill him, or refuse to fight and risk being killed himself? Ben wasn't a gunman. Matt knew that the rancher wouldn't stand a chance against him.

He tried telling himself that it would be self-defense, but he couldn't convince himself. In his heart, he knew that it wasn't so. It would be murder. And why? Because Ben chose to believe a lie rather than give him a chance to explain his side.

The creaking, as the door to the jail was being opened, made him look up. It was Doc.

"Matt," he exclaimed excitedly as he shuffled over to the desk, not even bothering with shutting the door, "that baby...by golly...that's no newborn at all!"

Doc's words were met by a puzzled frown.

"Baby?" echoed Matt confused, "what're you talkin' about?"

Doc rubbed his neck. "I was just over at Delmonico's and I saw Ben and his daughter there. She had the baby with her. Let me tell you, Matt...that's no newborn there."

Chester put down the knife and looked at the physician with interest.

Matt's frown deepened. "So? I don't see where that's gonna help me any."

Doc rolled his eyes in response, annoyed at the lawman's obvious lack of understanding.

"Well, don't you understand?" he groused irritably. "From what I've seen, that baby has to be at least two, most likely even three months old."

He paused, waiting for Matt to make a connection, but the Marshal simply stared at him blankly.

"Well, goodness gracious," he said exasperated. "Just think, Marshal...how long ago was it that you stayed at Ben's place?"

"Last August, Doc," said Matt, deciding to play along even though he still had no idea where this was going.

Doc nodded.

"Last August. This is June. Count, Marshal."

Matt was ticking off the months in his head. Apparently, not fast enough for Doc.

"For heavens sakes...don't you see?" he prompted impatiently. "Nine months, Matt. It couldn't have been you. Even Ben can't argue with that. I bet that baby was probably born around April."

Chester, having had his nose in several of the doctor's medical books, caught on to what Doc was trying to say. "You mean," he said, comprehension dawning on his face, "she was already-"

The physician nodded. "She was already with child when Matt was out there."

Finally, Matt began to understand.

Chester was excited. "My goodness, Mister Dillon, even Ben can't argue with that now, can't he?"

Matt turned his gaze to the window. He watched as the last rays of the sinking sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

"I sure hope so, Chester."

.

.

.

His hands were trembling as Ben Rawlson fumbled with the buckle of his gun belt. For a second, he hesitated. His daughter's words were springing to his mind as her muffled sobs, coming from the adjoining room carried to his ear.

Let's just go back home, Pa, please.

Yes. They could just go home and no one would get hurt. The only problem with that was the fact, that he would have to live with the knowledge that his daughter had been dishonored by a man that he had trusted, a man that he had considered his friend. He couldn't do it. He couldn't live with the shame that Matt Dillon had brought over his family, especially not with the child, which had resulted from this undesired union, to serve as a constant reminder.

No, Matt had to pay if he wasn't willing to make this right and marry her.

His face grew taut. He finished buckling up his holster. The gun felt unusually heavy at his side. Ben drew the colt from its holster and regarded it. He wasn't a gunman. But he was a good shot.

He had killed a man once. It had been a cattle rustler who had opened fire on him and his men. He had taken him down with one clean shot in the chest, killing the man instantly. There hadn't been any bad feelings on his part, no regret. It had been either him or the other. This wasn't going to be any different.

Ben's mouth drew into a thin line. Matt Dillon had taken something precious from him. He had the right to defend himself and the ones he loved. The possibility that he could be the one getting killed in the process didn't even enter his mind as he shoved the gun back into its holster and started for the door.
.

.

.

"MATT!"

Ben's shout carried across the street like the sharp crack of gunfire.

The Marshal's head jerked up at the sound of it. Slowly, he rose from the edge of his desk where he had been perched, filling the empty chamber of his colt with six cartridges. He swallowed once and slid the gun back into its holster with customary ease.

Over the years, he had been in his share of gunfights. The tense anxiety he always felt right before one hadn't lessened with time. But this was by far worse; the knowledge that the man he was about to face didn't deserve to die, was wearing on him badly.

Up until today, it had always been clearly defined. The badge on his chest had placed him on the side of the law, giving him permission to kill if need be. But this was different. Ben wasn't some outlaw; he was his friend.

His heart was pumping heavily in his chest as he strode over to the door. He would try and talk to Ben. He would try and explain to him what Doc had said.

He could feel Doc's and Chester's eyes on him as he reached for his hat. What if Ben refused to listen?

"Mister Dillon," Chester said in a final effort to persuade him not to go.

But Marshal interrupted him. "You two stay here."

The firmness with which he spoke, silenced any further objections. Chester regarded him deeply worried. So did the doctor.

It wasn't so much that Doc was afraid that Ben would gun Matt down; most likely, it would be the other way around. The question just was, how would Matt deal with having been forced to draw on his friend, maybe even killing him.

Ben's voice sounded again.

"MATT...I'M WAITIN'!"

The lawman straightened. He took a deep breath. His right hand brushed over the butt of his colt. His left reached for the doorknob.
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.

.

An empty street greeted him as he stepped out onto the porch. But although Front Street was deserted, Matt was certain that people were watching from behind the safety of their windows.

His eyes moved down the street to the Long Branch where he saw that a crowd had already gathered on the plank sidewalk to satisfy their morbid curiosity. Excited whispers were erupting from it as people had begun to take notice of him, pointing in his direction.

Searching the mob, his eyes quickly singled out the pretty redhead standing a little off to the side. She wasn't partaking in the conversations that were taking place around her. Her face, in contrast to the others, was sober. When their eyes met for a brief moment, he could see the unspoken fear in them.

He swallowed and turned his gaze away, letting it come to rest on the man that was standing maybe forty yards from him in the middle of Front Street. Ben's hands were hanging loosely by his sides. His face was tight, without expression of any kind.

Matt stepped down from the porch and walked out into the street.

"Well?" Ben called out to him, and the murmuring crowd outside the Long Branch fell silent. "You made up your mind?"

A cold lacing of sweat was glistening on the rancher's brow.

Matt's heart was thumping loudly in his chest. His eyes were fastened tensely on the rancher.

"I have," he replied evenly.

"And?"

"I can't do what you're askin' me, Ben. I'm tellin' you again, I had nothin' to do with this."

Immediately, Ben's face darkened. His eyes narrowed.

Matt could see the fingers of his friend's right hand open and close nervously as they hovered above his gun.

"Ben, listen to me," he tried again, his voice more urgent now. "Don't do it."

He could feel his own fingers twitching, the muscles in his right arm instinctively tense.

"You made your decision." Ben Rawlson's voice was curt. "Now be prepared to pay up!"

Matt felt a shudder run down his back. The rancher wasn't going to listen. If he was just better with words; he wanted to explain what Doc had said, but his mind had suddenly gone blank.

"You're makin' a big mistake, Ben," he warned, desperately trying to get control of his scattered thoughts.

"It's you who's makin' the mistake, Matt."

There was a finality in Ben's words which told Matt that he was through talking. His eyes fixed on Ben's gun hand.

He tensed. His hand flew for his colt, the instant the rancher's hand went for his gun.

A sudden movement to his left distracted him for a split-second. The colt froze in his hand.

"PA! DON'T! I lied, I-"

The agonized scream that filled the street was drowned out by the roar of Rawlson's colt. It was followed moments later by the sharp gasps of the crowd.

Then, for a second, there was a shocked silence.

All eyes fastened on the crumpled figure of Beth Rawlson lying sprawled out in the street between the two men.

In an instant, Matt had his gun holstered up and rushed to her side. As he crouched next to her, he could see that Ben's bullet had struck her in the shoulder. She was unconscious but breathing.

Suddenly, Front Street was coming to life again as people were rushing towards him-all except Ben Rawlson who was still standing frozen. The hand, which was still holding the gun, hung loosely by his side as he stared down in disbelief at his daughter.

Matt looked up at the people surrounding them.

"Someone get Doc!" he yelled desperately.

He could have saved himself the trouble; the second, he had heard the shot, the physician had grabbed his medical kit and rushed from the jail. Chester was following closely at his heel.

The doctor examined the young woman quickly. "We have to get her up to my office, Matt!"

The Marshal nodded and looked up at the bystanders. "Some of you men give Doc a hand here." Then he turned his attention to Ben.

The rancher was still standing motionless, staring mutely at his daughter.

Gently, but firmly, Matt pried the gun from his grasp and shoved it into his own belt. "I'll take this, Ben."

Still, the other didn't say anything. He didn't even seem to acknowledge as the Marshal placed a hand on his shoulder and began to usher him along to Doc's office.

They stopped when they reached the Long Branch. "Kitty," said Matt as she came rushing up to him, "there's a baby over at the Dodge House that needs you."

She nodded. "Sure. Don't worry about it, Matt."

An assuring smile flitted across her face as she allowed her gaze to linger on him for another moment. She was unspeakably thankful that he wasn't hurt. She gave his arm a quick pat and headed for the hotel.
.

.

.

"Well, you ready, Beth?" Ben Rawlson smiled down at the young woman who was sitting on the edge of Doc's bed.

A week had passed since she had been accidentally shot by her father when she had tried to stop him from facing off against the Marshal. Thanks to the physician's expertly care, the wound was healing nicely, and she was finally ready to return home.

Ben turned to the lawman standing alongside Kitty who was cradling the infant in her arms.

"Matt, I know, I said it before but-" He suddenly broke off, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. He swallowed and took a deep breath. The thought that he had tried to shoot his friend because of a lie his daughter had told, was still filling him with shame and embarrassment.

Matt gave his friend a clap on the shoulder. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Ben," he said.

The older man nodded and held out his hand. "Thanks, Matt," he said quietly.

Matt accepted it, shaking it firmly. He knew that there were no words that could adequately express how Ben felt, and he had no need for them.

Sudden loud clomping coming from the stairs outside, caused everyone to turn towards the door. It was Chester. "Well, Ben, I got your wagon all ready. It's waitin' for you downstairs," he announced.

Ben acknowledged him with a nod. "Thank you, Chester." Then the rancher shifted his attention to his daughter. "It's time, Beth."

At his words, Kitty stepped up. "Well," she cooed softly to the baby boy in her arms, "good-bye, little man."

She tickled his rosy cheek one last time, eliciting a happy gurgle from the infant. Then she stepped forward and handed him over into the waiting arms of his grandfather.

Matt was oddly touched by this display of tender affection. Without realizing it, his face took on a proud expression. He had never told Kitty, but he loved watching her whenever she interacted with children. It always reminded him that she was so much more than just simply Kitty Russell, the confident and independent co-owner of the Long Branch saloon and his woman. He knew in his heart that one day, when the time would be right for both of them, he'd love nothing more than for her to be the mother of his children.

Suddenly embarrassed by his own thoughts, the lawman self-consciously ran a hand through his hair and lowered his gaze. His hands were toying with the brim of his Stetson they were holding as he quickly glanced around, hoping that nobody had noticed.

But Doc had. A knowing smile began to spread across the physician's face. He swiped a hand across his bristly salt and pepper mustache as he stole a sideways glance at his friend.

"Marshal." Beth Rawlson's voice jostled him from his thoughts. "I'm terribly sorry to have caused you so much trouble." She lifted her eyes to him, the embarrassment for her actions reflected on her face as she apologized once again.

Matt gave her a sincere smile. "Well, it's all right. It's all over now."

He didn't harbor any resentment because of what she had done. Although he was well aware that her thoughtless actions easily could have cost somebody's life.

He nodded at the baby in Ben's arms. "Take good care of him," he said. "He'll grow up to be a fine rancher one day."

At the Marshal's words, Ben's face broke into a proud smile. "Don't you worry, Matt. I'll make sure of that."
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Soon, the young woman was sitting on the high seat of the buckboard, the infant securely tucked in her arms. Chester's hand was holding the reins, waiting for Ben to claim his seat.

"Oh, Doc," the rancher suddenly said. He began to fish in his pocket for something. "I almost forgot." He pulled out three shiny ten-dollar coins. Before the physician could say anything, Ben had shoved them in his hand.

A moment later, he had taken his place beside his daughter. With one swift motion, he shoved the brake forward and then snapped the reins down onto the horses' backs. Ben gave his friends a final nod, and the wagon lurched forward. Soon, it was rattling down Front Street, trailing a small cloud of dust behind it.

Doc shook his head in astonishment. "Well, I'll be doggoned..." He looked down at the shiny gold pieces in his hand. "I'll be doggoned." He couldn't remember the last time he had thirty dollars all at once in his pocket.

The proclamation caused Matt's face to split into a grin. He pulled Kitty closer against his side and gave her shoulder a tender squeeze.

Her gaze shifted from the physician to the tall man beside her. She smiled and gave him a wink. They both knew that Doc didn't get paid too often in cash and they both enjoyed watching his delight over the unexpected windfall.

Still touched by Ben's generosity, the physician continued to softly mutter to himself as he shuffled back over onto the sidewalk.

Chester chuckled. "You know, Doc," he said as he pointed at the doctor's hand, "that sure's a lotta money you got there." His eyes were twinkling with humor. "Don't you let it go to your head now."

But even Chester's words couldn't destroy the good mood the doctor was in. "Oh, be quiet, Chester," he piped back.

Matt let go of Kitty and clasped his hands around the buckle of his gun belt. He flashed the doctor a mischievous grin. "Well, I don't know. Chester's got a point there..."

The remark caused Doc's good mood to sour ever so slightly. He glared up at his friend. "Oh?" he groused, "since when are you an expert authority on money? You never seem to have any when I ask you to buy me a beer!"

Right away, Matt made a face, but Kitty quickly took hold of his arm. "Come on, you two," she said. "How about I'll buy you all a drink?"

The prospect of a free beer was enough to placate the doctor. "Well, by golly, what're we waitin' for?" He seized Kitty's elbow, ready to usher her along, but then he realized that she was staring after Ben Rawlson's wagon as it was slowly disappearing from view.

Feeling Doc's eyes on her, she turned and heaved a small sigh. "You know, I think I'm gonna miss that little fella."

A look of mild surprise passed across Matt's face. He had found the last week rather challenging, to say the least. Not accustomed to being roused repeatedly in the middle of the night by the piercing wails of an infant, he had ended up on his cot at the jail three days into the week in hopes of getting some badly needed sleep.

Doc regarded her with an expression of controlled amusement. He sniffed and rubbed a hand across his mustache. "You know, Kitty, there's a simple cure for that."

Kitty arched a curious brow. "Oh? And what's that, Doc?"

Doc smiled mischievously. "Well, why don't you and Matt just have one of your own? Or two or three for that matter." He gave her a wink, his eyes crinkled with humor. "You two'd make nice babies, you know...tall, strappin' li'l fellas with red hair."

Matt's face took on a rather crimson hue. He shot his friend a brief look of annoyance before lowering his gaze to the tips of his boots. But despite his efforts, his embarrassment over the doctor's comment was all too obvious.

Kitty wasn't sure what was funnier; the doctor's remark or the expression on Matt's face. She couldn't help but laugh. She knew that Doc hadn't really been serious, but apparently, Matt had failed to notice. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she looked straight at Matt. "Who says, I haven't already thought about that?"

Matt blinked, startled. He swallowed, but before he could say anything, Kitty gave him a wink. Smiling, she tucked her hand under Doc's elbow and the two set off down the plank sidewalk towards the saloon.

Matt made a face. He pushed his Stetson back and scratched his forehead. He wasn't quite sure whether he had understood exactly what she'd just said, but it had almost sounded as if-

"Well, come on, Chester," he then said when he noticed that his assistant was looking at him rather puzzled, "let's go an' see about that beer."

With that, he gave him a friendly nudge and proceeded to follow after Doc and Kitty.

"Yes, Mister Dillon," Chester nodded eagerly as he fell into stride alongside the Marshal. "Maybe Doc'll buy the second round."

"Yeah," replied Matt grinning in a tone that suggested it'd be more likely to snow in August. His eyes fastened on the back of the pretty redhead walking ahead of him.

No, surely, she couldn't have been serious. Well, then again; maybe he should have a little talk with her as soon as possible-just to make sure.
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~THE END~