Matt felt a large lump forming in his throat as he watched Sheriff Taber slam the cell door home. The tall lawman rested a hand on one of the bars in silent support of the occupant. Taber headed toward the connecting door.
"I'm sorry about this fellas, but the law's pretty clear about it."
"It's not your fault, Tom, we know that."
Taber started through the door and hesitated. "Judge Dalton intends to start the trial first thing in the morning, better eat while ya can. You two hungry?"
Dillon looked at Doc sitting on the cot, and the doctor silently shook his head. Dillon responded, "No Tom, but a little hot coffee'd be okay."
"Sure thing. I'll start a fresh pot. Matt, I can make up a bunk for you out here..."
Dillon once again looked at the man he had known for so long, and felt sick inside. "If it's all the same to you, Tom, I'll just take the empty one in here."
"Don't make no difference to me. I'll start that coffee..."
He closed the door and Matt turned to Adams. "Doc? You holdin' up okay?"
"Sure, Matt, just fine."
Dillon pulled a chair up to the bars and sat down. "I want you to tell me again what happened that night."
Agitated, Adams stood and began pacing. "Oh hell, Matt, what good'll that do?"
"I don't know, Doc, we might've missed somethin' is all..."
Adams stopped and walked over toward the bars, reached out a hand to squeeze Dillon's shoulder. "I know you wanna help me, Matt, but nothin's gonna change this. Ruth Bradley came to my office, told me her father was ill. I went with her to the Dodge House, and he was waiting for me with a gun in hand, drunk as a skunk. He fired at me, but was so boozed up, he missed. I disarmed him, thought about killin' him, didn't and left. He attacked me on the landing, we struggled, the gun went off, and well, that's when you came in, so you know the rest."
"Why in the hell is Ruth Bradley insisting that you came there to kill him?"
Doc's face grew red with anger and he took up his pacing once more. "I don't know."
Dillon stood. "Doc, I've known you a long time, and you're not telling me everything."
"So now you think I'm guilty?"
"No, but by golly, before I get on that witness stand tomorrow, I want the whole story."
Adams blinked away tears, his voice becoming soft, "You don't know what you're askin'..."
Matt reached through the bars, pulling the small man closer to him. "Please Doc..."
The old doctor's voice sounded vulnerable, "I didn't kill the man, Matt, not on purpose. I swear it."
Matt squeezed the shoulder under his large hand. "I know you didn't, Doc. I'm just trying to find a way to save your life."
"But Matt--"
"--Doc, this isn't just for you. It's for Kitty, and Festus...and me."
The old man nodded, the stark honesty almost too much to bear. And he knew he couldn't keep the truth from Matt any longer.
Ruth Bradley sat in the dark of her hotel room, Kitty Russell's words once again running through her mind. What if the woman was right? She slammed her eyes shut against the guilt of her own heart, and the sorrow she remembered seeing in Miss Russell's face. But her father was still dead, and someone should have to pay for that. And someone would. Dr. Adams would. The soft knock at her door made her jump. She stood, uncertainty filling her.
"Who is it?"
"Marshall Dillon from Dodge."
"Just...just a moment, Marshall."
She dried her face, straightened her hair and lit a lantern, then opened the door.
"What is it, Marshall?"
Dillon removed his hat. "I'd like a chance to speak with you for a moment, Miss Bradley. It won't take long."
"Is this official business, Marshall Dillon?"
He twisted his hat in his hands. "Well yes and no, miss..."
"What does that mean?"
"Please, may I come in?"
"I don't think so, Marshall, no. You see, I had a similar visit from Miss Russell in Dodge to no avail. I'd like to avoid another such confrontation."
"Kitty spoke to you?"
She noted the surprise in his voice. "Yes she did, Marshall. I get the feeling that you people would do or say anything to save your town doctor."
His eyes narrowed in anger. "We'd just like the truth, Miss Bradley; nothing more, nothing less."
"I have given it to you."
"No Miss Bradley, I don't think you have."
"He killed my father, Marshall, you saw it yourself." A smile of satisfaction crossed her face. "You'll have to testify to it tomorrow."
"What I saw was your father fall down the stairs and Doc standing with a gun at the top. It could easily have happened the way he says it did. My testimony won't matter one way or the other. It doesn't prove anything beyond what Doc himself says happened."
"Doctor Adams took my father away from me, Mr. Dillon, and he's going to pay for it."
"Your father took Doc's entire family from him, Miss Bradley. But Doc didn't kill him for it."
"My father was a great doctor, Marshall Dillon, with a wonderful reputation. No half-shod country bumpkin's going to take that away from him."
"You'd rather see Doc dead than to have the truth about your father's drinking come out, wouldn't you? You're a very selfish woman, Miss Bradley. And if I were you, I wouldn't count on this truth staying hidden."
"It won't save his life, Marshall."
"If you were a man, Miss Bradley, I'd flatten you."
Dillon put his hat back on his head and left without waiting for a response. A moment later he heard the door slam, and a slight smile turned his lips: the woman wasn't without a guilty conscience; perhaps it could be used to their advantage. He sighed, hoping there'd be enough time.