Matt gently shook the lock on the door of the express office, and was satisfied that it was shut tight. He moved on to the general store, the bank, and Delmonico's, and all of them were secure. And that certainly didn't explain the funny feeling he had in the pit of his stomach, nor the hairs prickling the back of his neck. He looked around Front Street, but it was completely quiet. And yet there was no explanation for his well-honed sixth sense alerting him to trouble that didn't seem to be anywhere. Yet there was something amiss: Marshal Matt Dillon would stake his life on that sense of knowing.
Festus gently spurred his mule into a slightly quicker pace. He hadn't anticipated the sudden chill in the night air, but fall had arrived. If he pushed a little harder, he figured he could pull into Dodge by the wee hours.
"Come on, Ruth, let's get a move on there."
The mule picked up his pace slightly, but nothing would be fast enough for Haggen; at least not on this night. He couldn't explain it, but he had the oddest squiggledy feeling scrambling up his insides. He glanced around the pitch-black of the prairie, eerily illumined by the full moon, and he shivered. It was silly, he knew, and yet he couldn't keep the childhood stories told around the fire when he was little from crawling into his mind. Visions of goblins, ghosts and evil demons floated through his mind, and Festus tried hard to shake himself of the ill-begotten notion that something terrible was about to happen. He knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn't convince his insides to stop shaking like jelly.
He spurred Ruth harder still, and the mule began to canter. Festus couldn't clear the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he pushed in on Ruth's sides with his legs, encouraging yet more speed from the mule. Ruth broke into a run, and for a moment Haggen felt slightly calmer. But it only lasted until Ruth missed his footing, hitting a rock on the trail. Festus felt the animal going down, and tried to jump free, but his spur caught on the stirrup. Ruth tumbled forward, kicking Festus hard in the midsection as he went down. The deputy's head smashed into a boulder, and the large mule rolled on top of him, fighting to right himself. Once again standing erect, and completely spooked, Ruth ran a ways further, dragging Festus behind him.
Finally the spur came unhinged, releasing Festus from the unwanted ride. And Ruth never even slowed down, leaving the deputy broken and unconscious in the underbrush of the prairie.