Matt banged on the door again, an impatient frown settling on his forehead.

"Do ya think he ain't here, Mr. Dillon?"

"I don't know what to think, Chester."

Just as Dillon was preparing to bang on the door once more, it suddenly opened, and a bleary-eyed Dell Stevenson glared at him.

"Whaddya want, Marshal?"

Matt looked the man over, and quickly came to the conclusion that he had been sleeping off an alcoholic binge.

"I want to talk with you for a few minutes, Mr. Stevenson." The large man just stared for a moment at the lawman, so Matt continued, "Mind if we get outta the cold for a minute?"

After another long stare, the man moved away from the door, allowing Dillon and Chester to step inside. The place was neat enough, but it was fairly obvious by the lack of heat and any coffee brewing that Stevenson had been sound asleep when Dillon pounded on the door.

"I ain't got no coffee on." The man looked around his own place briefly, as if searching for something. "Don't know where the womenfolk have gotten off to..."

Dillon's eyes narrowed, sizing up the man. "Your wife and daughter are in Dodge, Mr. Stevenson."

"What?"

Chester spoke up, "I found 'em on the side o' the road, Mr. Stevenson, they was ice cold and in pretty bad shape."

"What was they doin' there?"

Dillon's voice held a hard edge, "I was hoping you could tell me that."

"Well why don'tcha ask them?"

"They're in too bad of shape to talk just now."

Stevenson ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know...I ain't seen neither of 'um since last night. Cain't see what fool thing that woman was doin' goin' out in the cold, and takin' the youngun with her..."

"They seemed pretty beat up."

Dillon glared at Stevenson, who squirmed slightly under the marshal's scrutiny.

"Whaddya mean by that, Marshal? I ain't done nuthin'..."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Don't know what business it is of yers anyway, Marshal, whut goes betwixt a man and his family is his own knowin's."

Dillon moved closer to Stevenson, his voice grinding with irritation, "If I find out you've been beating them, Stevenson, I'll--"

"--You'll whut, Marshal? My womenfolk ain't gonna tell you nuthin' if'n they know whut's good fer 'em. Besides, thar ain't no laws agin a man keepin' his family in line."

"You make me sick, Stevenson," Dillon spat out. He turned to Goode. "Come on, Chester, let's go."

"Yes sir, Mr. Dillon."

Chester stepped through the door, and Matt turned to face Dell once more. "Don't you take one step outside the line, Stevenson, because I'll be waitin' for you. And if you beat either Mary or Cassie again, you'll answer to me, law or no law."

Dillon slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Dell Stevenson glaring in his wake. Chester turned to the marshal.

"Mr. Dillon, you cain't do nuthin' legal about him beatin' on Mary and Cassie..."

"No I can't, Chester."

"Well, you didn't really mean what you said in there, didja?"

Dillon sighed deeply. "I'm hoping the threat of it will be enough, Chester." He looked into the deputy's deep brown eyes. "That's all I have at my disposal."

The two men climbed on their horses and headed for Dodge.

Chester looked back at the small cabin. "Sure is a darned shame, Mr. Dillon. It surely is..."

Kitty handed Ma Smalley the dress. "This should just about fit her, Ma."

Ma smiled. "Yes Miss Russell, I think it should."

"How's she doing?"

"Doc says she's gonna be just fine, after a few days of rest here."

Kitty looked into Smalley's eyes. "Has Mary said what happened?"

"Just that they had some kind of accident with a wagon."

"What did Doc say?"

The older woman shrugged. "He didn't, really. Frankly, Miss Russell, Doc seemed kinda upset, or maybe just distracted when I went over there to get Mary. I think he's pretty worried about Cassie."

"She still hasn't come around?"

The woman shook her head. "I'm afraid not, poor little thing. He didn't want to leave her, which is why he sent for me to get Mary." Ma leaned in confidentially, her voice lowering, "Just between you and me, he was as vinegary as a pickled radish set too long on a shelf. I don't think he's eaten a thing all day."

Kitty nodded. "I'll check in on him, Ma, don't you worry."

"Did the marshal fetch Mr. Stevenson?"

Kitty shrugged. "I don't know, Ma, he and Chester went out there this morning, I imagine they'll be back soon."

Smalley pat Kitty's arm. "Will you see to ol' Doc, Miss Russell? A good meal would do wonders for his disposition."

Kitty couldn't resist smiling. "I will, Mrs. Smalley. I will."

Kitty opened the door to Doc's office, a tray of food in her left hand. Seeing that he wasn't in the main room, she gently closed the door, and walked in, setting the food on his desk. She softly knocked on the door to the back room, and opened it slightly, peering in. Cassie was still unconscious in the bed, and Doc was sitting in a chair right beside her. He turned to look at the open door.

"Hi Kitty, come on in."

She walked in, turning to observe him from a few feet away; and she had to agree with Ma Smalley that the exhaustion was beginning to show from the lines in his face to his slumping shoulders. She crossed her arms in front of herself, and pitched her voice in a passive tone.

"You're tired."

He looked up at her, his own timbre a gentle reflection of his fatigue. "A little, I guess."

"I brought some food for you from Delmonico's, it's on your desk."

"That was sweet of you."

His tone was sincere enough, but Kitty noticed he made no move to get the tray.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry really. I'll eat something when I am." The doctor looked back at his patient, his voice taking on a sad empathy. "This poor little thing's had a tough time of it, Kitty."

"Think she'll be all right?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's almost as if she doesn't want to wake up." He looked at the bruises on the young woman's face, and the thought of the violation he had found below upon examination, made him shudder.

Adams felt the comforting hand rest on his shoulder and he looked up into the caring blue eyes as she spoke to him. "If her doctor doesn't take care of himself, she's not going to have a chance."

He pat Kitty's hand. "Now you leave all the doctorin' to me." The disappointment in Kitty's eyes sent a stab of guilt into his heart. He turned in his chair to face her, taking her hand in his. "I could use a cup of coffee, if you have a little time to make some fer me..."

Recognizing the apology for brushing off her concern, Kitty couldn't help smiling at him. She ran gentle fingers through the thick curls on the back of his head.

"Only if you promise to actually eat something when you do get hungry, Curly."

His eyes twinkled as an impish grin tugged at his lips. "You just can't resist twisting me around your little finger, can you?"

Identifying the smile and tone that were reserved only for her, Kitty playfully ruffled the hair on top of his head. "As long as I'm the only one who can, handsome..."

"Women! No man has ever stood a chance against any of you... "

"Uh-huh. And I'll just bet that twenty years ago you had a flock of young ladies sparkin' over you, with you stringin' 'em all along!"

"I most certainly did not!" His eyebrows narrowed in playful reproach. "Are you implyin' that I ain't a gentleman?"

She smiled and tapped the end of his nose gently with her fingertip. "You've never been anything but a gentleman that I've ever seen, handsome..."

He chuckled as Kitty went out in the office to make some coffee. She hoped that he'd give into her gentle prodding soon, eat a little something, and then get some sleep. But as she turned back to observe him through the open door, the concern cloaking his tired figure testified to a different outcome; until Cassie Stevenson showed some sign of improvement, Kitty wagered that Doc Adams wouldn't leave her side.