Dillon was standing at the bar of the Longbranch, sipping a whiskey, when Chester walked in. He spotted the marshal, and walked over to stand next to him.

Goode looked up at the bartender. "I'll have me a beer, Clem, thanks..."

Clem set a beer in front of Goode, who took a long sip from it. "It's funny, Mr. Dillon, but I like cold beer, even when it's cold outside." He turned slightly to look at the marshal. "Did you have a chance to speak to the Stevensons before they left town?"

"Yeah."

"Think it'll do any good?"

Dillon shrugged, worn out. "I honestly don't know, Chester. Stevenson was so mad when he left my office after what his wife said, I could picture him doing almost anything, but I can't arrest a man on what I think he might do."

Chester's brow furrowed. "Maybe we oughta ride out there tonight, Mr. Dillon..."

"It's gonna snow tonight, Chester, but maybe we can go tomorrow morning."

The silence hung heavily between them for a moment, until Chester said, "Probably just as well, we should check in on Doc tonight. I sure am worried about him."

The familiar voice from behind broke in, "Doc's pretty good at taking care of himself, Chester, I wouldn't worry so if I were you."

Chester smiled at the redhead. "Well howdy, Miss Kitty..."

Dillon turned toward her. "Hi Kitty."

"Did I see Dell and Mary Stevenson in town earlier?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid you did," Matt answered.

She looked Dillon in the eye. "They come for Cassie?"

He frowned at her cavalier tone. "Something like that."

"Doc must've been pretty upset..."

The blatant fishing expedition put a bite in his timbre. "You could say that, yeah..." He drained the rest of his whiskey, and set the glass down on the bar. "I have work to do. I'll see you both later."

Chester watched Dillon leave quickly, and turned to Kitty. "Now what do you 'spose brought that on?"

Kitty shrugged innocently. "It's probably too hot in here for him, Chester." She smiled at him then, baiting the hook. "Sounds like it's been a busy day..."

Goode drained the last of beer, setting the mug down on the bar. "Yeah, it sure was...and I think that I'll just--"

"--Chester," she purred, "how 'bout another beer on the house?"

He smiled. "Well sure, Miss Kitty. Guess I don't have ta go just yet, it's still on the early side."

"Why sure it is..." She turned to the bartender. "Clem, lemme have another beer here for Chester." She pat Goode's arm, knowing all she had to do now was cast the line. "You just settle in and tell me all about your day..."

Goode took the beer mug that Clem handed him, and smiled. "It started out good enough, with a pot o' coffee that'd just put hair on yer chest--" He looked at her, and embarrassment colored his face. "Oh, sorry Miss Kitty, I don't mean you, I just mean in general, well, I mean us menfolk." He nervously took another sip of his beer. "Dell and Mary Stevenson came inta town just after that, and all hell broke loose. Miss Kitty, you wouldn't believe half of what happened."

She smiled, reeling him in. "I wouldn't, huh? You just drink that beer and try me..."

Still hitched to the buckboard, the horse shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to keep his muscles from growing stiff. The cold air began to descend as the temperature dropped and the wind picked up a bit on the prairie. Another storm was moving in; yet no smoke was coming from the chimney of the house. The horse's ears began to twitch as the shouting from within grew louder.

"Don't you try n' defend that talk ta me, woman. You want that marshal to come out here and take me away, don't you?" His voice raised even more, "Well don't you?"

Mary Stevenson's voice shook in fright, "No Dell, no, please don't..."

The horse's head nodded back and forth quickly, throwing his mane around as the woman's cries became more primal. The slapping of flesh against flesh carried through the wooden front door, and mixed unnaturally with the howling of the wind pressing into it. The horse kept blowing air out of his nostrils trying to keep the dirt particles out, but the terror-stricken scream from behind the planked walls that issued a moment later, caused him to whiney loudly, his head once again tossing up and down in agitation.

The shadow of the man with the firewood clutched in his hand, striking blow after blow upon an unseen target, cast itself out of the lantern-lit window and onto the land stretching beyond the man's reach. And her screams for help had fallen upon the deafness that is an open, undeveloped country, with only the horse laying witness to a death so foul.

The restless cries from the back room stirred his uneasy sleep, and frowning, Doc arose from his desk chair, and opened the door to the bedroom. Cassie was tossing in her bed, the sheets pulled tightly into her fists, her arms struggling against an intangible opponent. Feeling the weight of his guilt, Adams wiped his hand brusquely across his upper lip and chin. He sighed deeply, and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge. Gently he gripped the girl's upper arms, and shook her slightly.

"Cassie? Cassie, honey, it's Doc."

"Get away from me! Please don't hurt me!"

Adams shook her harder. "Cassie, wake up, sweetheart."

She jolted awake, her eyes popping wide in fear. She gripped the strong arms holding onto hers, digging her nails into the flesh under the shirt, her breath emitting in short gasps, as if she'd been running away from someone. Doc didn't move until he saw recognition in her eyes, which then filled with huge tears. She reached for him to hold her, and he lifted her into his arms, cradling her like a child.

"It's all right now, it was just a dream."

She buried her face into his neck, silent sobs of unbridled fear convulsing through her. He swallowed hard, and let out an unsteady breath of air, trying to maintain his façade of calm. Softly, the doctor rubbed his hand on her back, and after a few minutes, his soothing touch began to relax her. Cassie leaned into him, hard, and he responded by tightening his arms around her, gently rocking her back and forth. He was no longer confident that she could ever trust him again, nor did he know if there was any love left in her heart for him, or only the hate of betrayal.

Doc did the one thing left to him, as tenderly as his basso voice would allow. "Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, go to sleep you little baby. When you wake, you'll have cake, and all the pretty little horses. Blacks and bays, dapples and grays, coach and six-a-little horses. When you wake, you'll have cake, and all the pretty little horses..."

In answer, Cassie kissed his cheek, and whispered, "I love you, Doc."

Doc Adams slammed his eyes shut against the emotion that welled up in them. He held her close as he silently allowed the tears of relief to run down his cheeks. The old doctor's heart surged with affection for a child who helped to fill a void left by a little girl he'd never get over; and still the words "I love you" were caught in his throat. It had been so long since he'd said them aloud, maybe he no longer could. A small smile lit his lips; there would be time for that, he was certain.

Cassie sighed deeply, leaning into him, and Doc realized she had fallen asleep. His smile widened and he brushed her hair with his hand, placing a tender kiss on her head. As he gently began to lower her back down onto her pillows, he didn't hear the drunken footsteps coming up the outside stairs.