Matt had managed to find his way out of the canyon in the dark, but couldn't find his horse. He had bedded down, and at first light began to search for Buck. After several hours, he found the gelding lazily grazing under a tree. Dillon shook his head.
"Damned horse..."
Feeling tired, hot and cranky, Dillon climbed up on the large animal, and began riding toward Dodge. He took another swig of water from the canteen, unable to relieve the parched feeling in the back of his throat. If it got any hotter, he'd have to head for shade and ride at night, although adding any kind of delay to his trip wasn't something Matt was interested in doing. He'd try and hold out for as long as he could. Damn but it was hot...
The better part of the day had slipped by, and Kendall was still sitting at the same table in the packed Longbranch, nursing a beer. All day long it had been the same story, cowboys and townsfolk helpin' themselves to chairs at his table, engaging him in conversations he could have cared less about, occasionally sharing drinks with him for his trouble. Strange town; the folks a bit too friendly, and the walls started to close in on a fella. He put the glass to his lips once more but found he couldn't muster the strength to take a sip. He swallowed hard and realized his throat felt like it was closing up on him. He looked toward the bar, where Kitty Russell had been standing, and found he couldn't focus his eyes. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and still he couldn't quite clear his head.
He squinted, trying to focus on the figures at the bar, and he realized they were staring at him. No, they were pointing guns at him. He stood, yelling at the top of his lungs.
"Why ya drawin' on me, I ain't done nothin'! I said I ain't done nothin'!"
But they didn't back down. Kendall drew his gun, and aimed at the redhead. The sound of a single percussion ripped through the Longbranch, and then there was not a sound to be heard.