Doc stared at the faded tintype and felt the sting in his eyes. He hadn't looked at it in years, and he had not anticipated the strength of emotions it could still render within him. When he couldn't bear it any longer, he gently pushed the photo into his vest pocket, and reached into the small drawer, pulling out the ring he had polished the night before. He had been unable for many years to make himself read the inscription he knew was on the inside, and today was no exception.

The heavy footfalls on the staircase alerted him to the inevitable. He slipped the ring in the same vest pocket with the tintype, and looked around his office, ensuring that everything was in its place. The soft knock came a moment later, and standing, Doc straightened his vest and walked to the door, opening it.

"Morning, Matt."

The grim look on the marshall's face left little in doubt.

"Doc..."

The old man smiled gently. "Just lemme get my coat and hat."

Dillon frowned. "You expecting me?"

Adams nodded. "Yep. Something Ruth Bradley said last night...and I didn't figure it out until this morning, but by then I knew she would tell a different version of what happened."

"But why?"

Adams shrugged. "What does it matter? The outcome's the same, isn't it?"

Dillon stood in the doctor's way. "Just hold on a minute, Doc. I sent a telegraph to Judge Brooker, and I asked him if you could just remain up here until the trial." Matt looked away. "I just don't see any reason to lock you up, Doc. It's not as if you'd run."

"No. No, Matt, I ain't gonna run. But you have to consider some other things."

"Like what?"

"Like that badge, and the responsibility that comes with it." Dillon glared at the doctor, but Adams continued, "Just what are people going to say if you don't lock me up and I'm charged with murder?"

"I don't care what people say--"

"--Well you'd better. They're going to say that you're giving special treatment to your friends, and as a U.S. Marshall, you just can't have that kind of talk, Matt. You can't."

Dillon could barely look Adams in the eyes. "What I can't do is put you behind bars, Doc. I just can't do that."

"Well then I'll just do it for ya. Come on..."

Doc put his hat and coat on, and together the two men walked to the jailhouse, passing many who stood teary-eyed along the boardwalk, knowing what was transpiring. They entered the office, but there was no sign of Festus anywhere. Matt hung his hat on its customary peg, but couldn't bring himself to step any further into the room. Doc shook his head and walked back into the room where the cells were and waited. A few long minutes later, Dillon appeared with the keys. Swallowing hard, Matt unlocked a cell, and held it open for Doc, although the marshall couldn't look at Adams' face. Doc walked into the cell and then turned, waiting for Matt to close it, only to find out that the marshall had already left the room, and the door wide open. Slowly Doc closed the cell door, hearing the lock click into place.

And then he felt his stomach jump slightly, the reality of the position he was in truly hitting him.

He swallowed hard and called out to Dillon, "Matt?"

Dillon stuck his head in the door. "Yeah?"

"Come on back here a moment, will ya?" Dillon appeared, but he looked like he was going to be sick. Doc kept his voice conversational, "Festus make any coffee this morning?"

Matt shook his head. "'Fraid not, Doc. He, uh, left kinda early."

"Well where'd he go?"

"I don't know."

"Oh."

Matt pat one of the strong hands that gripped the bars between them. "Don't worry, Doc. This won't be for long. I'll get to the bottom of it." He paused then added, "It would help me to know what it was between the two of you."

The dark countenance quickly covered Doc's face. "You don't need to know nothin' of the kind. I told you what was pertinent, the facts of last night. That's all you need."

"Doc..."

"No sir. Now you can believe me or not, Matt, but Ruth Bradley's lyin' about what happened last night."

"Doc...this could get a little sticky."

"You mean my word against hers?"

Matt didn't know how to break it to the old man, so he just said it. "Doc, this could be a hangin' charge. And it's not just your word and hers. There's all the people who witnessed what you said in Delmonico's, and then there's what I saw when I arrived at the Dodge House."

"You tellin' me you're gonna testify against me?"

"I'm going to have to testify to what I saw and heard, yes."

Adams felt like he had been kicked in the stomach by his best friend, and his legs suddenly felt weak. He backed up to the cot and sat down heavily.

"Doc, you okay?"

"I'll be fine."

"Let me know if you need anything."

"Sounds like I need a lawyer."

"You want me to get one?"

"I think you'd better, Marshall."

Dillon visibly flinched upon hearing Doc call him 'marshall,' but let it go. Doc couldn't be feeling any other way than abandoned at that moment, and Matt felt more than sick over it.

Judge Brooker sat in his chambers listening intently to what was being said. Doc stood between Dillon and his own lawyer, Tom McClennan, and facing them were Ruth Bradley and the Ford County District Attorney, Jeffrey Beeman.

"I believe that Doc Adams' reputation speaks for itself, Judge," McClennan said, "there is no reason to keep a man of his standing locked up until trial."

The judge pursed his lips. "Except Mr. McClennan, that this is not a robbery charge or disorderly conduct. It is preconceived murder."

"But Judge," Matt added, "you've known Doc Adams for years, do you actually believe him to be some kind of flight risk?"

Brooker looked down, disgusted. "Of course not. But the law is the law, Matt, and you know it. A murder charge is just that, and I can't make an exception, not even for Doc Adams." He turned to Jeffrey Beeman. "You have your witnesses, Mr. Beeman?"

"Yes Judge. I intend to call Ruth Bradley as an eyewitness, and then of course a few patrons who were at Delmonico's and witnessed Doc Adams threaten the deceased, and I intend to call Marshall Dillon as a hostile witness."

Brooker looked up at the man. "Hostile?"

"It's well known, Judge Brooker, that the Marshall is a very close personal friend of the accused. So yes, I would call that a hostile witness."

Matt glared at the man. "Are you sayin' you think I'll lie?"

"I'm saying you're a close, personal friend of the accused, and I intend to call you as hostile."

Adams spoke up for the first time, "Then why call him at all?"

"Because he is a key witness to the end of the murder."

McClennan interjected, "Alleged murder, Mr. Beeman. My client is innocent until proven guilty. Or have you forgotten?"

"I haven't forgotten a thing, Mr. McClennan, just make sure none in your party gets lost going up to Hays."

"Hays?" Dillon asked.

Brooker looked down, then finally back up at Dillon. "Yes, Matt, the district attorney felt that it would be a more fair trial if it took place in Hays. He feels that he will not be able to find 12 impartial men in Dodge."

"But the alleged crime happened here in Dodge," McClennan said, "the trial should be here."

The judge shook his head, "Unless the DA has an objection. And he does. If there are no further objections, questions or statements, I'd like to adjourn for now."

"I have one thing, your honor," Adams said.

"Go ahead, doctor."

"I would like to see Marshall Dillon excused from this trial, your honor. It's not only a huge conflict of interest for him, but I don't see how his testimony can shed any light on the facts that either Miss Bradley or myself cannot. Furthermore, it is my learnéd opinion that the burden and strain on him could possibly prove detrimental to both his health and his ability to continue as the Marshall of Dodge City."

"Your honor, I object to this entirely--"

"--Just a moment, Mr. Beeman, you'll have your say." Brooker looked at Adams, "And you're asking me to believe that this has nothing to do with the fact that his testimony will damage your position?"

"Your honor, if you want me to plead guilty here and now to save him from this, then so help me, I'll do it."

"Doc--"

"--Hush, Matt." He looked Brooker in the eye. "It's my understanding that the outcome of this trial could mean that I hang--"

"--You deserve it for killing my father!"

Brooker reprimanded her, "Miss Bradley, you will remain still until recognized by the court to speak."

"That's a little formal for an inquest, isn't it Judge?"

"That goes for you as well, Mr. Beeman, I won't tell you again." He looked at Adams. "Dr. Adams, are you saying that you are guilty as charged?"

"No your honor, I am not. But I would rather hang myself than see Matt put into a position where he has to live the rest of his life thinking that he had some part in it."

"I'm sorry, doctor, but the prosecution has a right to call a hostile witness, and I must allow it."

"But judge--"

"--Enough, Dr. Adams." He looked at Dillon. "You are to lock him up in the Dodge City jail until he is transferred to Hays for trial, two days from today."

"Two days?"

"Yes Mr. McClennan, is that a problem?"

"No sir, just a little surprising."

"I see no reason in dragging this out any longer than necessary."

Matt handed Adams a cup of coffee through the bars. "Not as strong as it usually is, but it'll probably do..."

"Still no sign of Festus?"

Matt looked sadly at Adams. "'Fraid not, Doc."

He took a sip of his coffee and winked at Matt. "A little weak, but it'll do."

Dillon felt his stomach drop. "Doc, I wish there was somethin'--"

"--Well there ain't, and I don't want you thinkin' about it anymore. You're gonna make yourself sick." Adams sounded slightly vulnerable. "Kitty ain't been around much, has she?"

"Uhm, no, Doc, no she hasn't."

"Oh. I just wondered you know."

"Yeah, I know." He looked at the old man. "I'll be back in a little while. Do you need anything?"

"No, no, I'm fine Matt."

Dillon walked out, closing the door behind him, knowing damned well that Doc Adams was far from all right.