Doc fought against the forceps, his grip slipping for the second time. "Damnit..." He tightened his thick fingers on the cool steel and tried again, this time yanking free the offending object.

"Ow!"

One of Doc's eyebrows lifted in annoyance. "You jest hush-up, yer lucky I'm even pullin' that splinter out before I go to the Marzden place. Ol' Jeb's been in a bad way lately and I need to check on him."

"Oh Doc," whined Chester, "you know you wouldn't leave me with a splinter the size of a hitchin' post in my fanger...it didn't take ya no time ta get it out..."

The old doctor's eyes narrowed as a slow smile spread across his lips. "And it's a lucky thing fer you that I don't charge by the minute when I need to get out on a call." The old man pulled the glasses from his face, putting them into the case in his vest pocket. "It's only gonna be two dollars..."

"Two dollars?" Chester's voice was indignant, "For gettin' out a little ol' splinter? Two dollars? Wull Doc, that's...that's..."

"That's the price I charge fer splinters the size of a hitching post, and yer gonna pay it!" He toddled over to the coat rack, shrugged into his jacket and put his hat on his head, picking up his bag with his right hand. "Do me a favor while I'm gone, Chester? Finish puttin' the rest of those supplies on the table in my spare bag fer me while I'm gone?"

"Aw Doc..."

"Don't whine about it, Chester, we both know ya ain't got nothin' better to do tonight!"

Chester's mouth twisted into an angry sneer. "Wull I was gonna go over ta the Longbranch and have a beer with Miss Kitty..." He sighed. "But if you want me to finish packin' yer old bag with supplies while you go out ta the Marden's and overcharge folks fer doctorin' I guess I can do it," Chester drawled.

Doc opened the door and grinned. "Put that stuff away fer me, Chester, and we'll call it even."

Goode's face brightened. "Ya mean I don't owe ya the two dollars?"

"Nope. Just do a clean job of it fer me, will ya?"

"Sure, Doc." He looked at the table. "It's jest these here things, ain't it?"

"Yeah, just the items on the table." He glared darkly at Goode. "And Chester, you keep outta my medicine cabinet while I'm gone!"

"Wull forevermore--" But Doc had slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Goode to huff in his own steam. "I hope yer buggy hits a rut in the dark, ya ol' horse doctor..."

Kitty smiled at the big marshal when he walked through the swinging doors of the Longbranch. "Hiya cowboy..."

He nodded at her, but didn't smile. "Hi Kitty."

"You look like you could use a drink."

"Yeah."

"Whiskey for the marshal, Clem."

"Yes, Miss Kitty."

Clem placed a shotglass in front of Dillon and watched as he uncharacteristically shot it back in one swallow. Kitty's brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded her head at Clem, who refilled the glass; this time, Dillon sipped at it. She moved closer to him, placing her hand on his arm.

"What's wrong, Matt?"

He looked into her crystal blue eyes and felt the anguish rise in his belly once again. "Bank was robbed in Meade this morning by the Russo gang. They killed Sheriff Crocker and his deputy." He stared hard into her eyes and said, "Crocker had a wife and three kids."

Kitty could feel the turmoil inside of him, and she understood what was propelling it. "You knew him pretty well, didn't you?" He nodded as he downed the rest of his whiskey. "I'm sorry, Matt," she said.

"What are his wife and kids supposed to do now?"

Kitty sighed: to Dillon, it was just more evidence that a lawman shouldn't settle down. But all she said was, "The town will help them, Matt."

"Yeah. A sheriff's pension is three dollars a month. How is she supposed to put food on the table for three kids with that?" He looked up at the bartender. "Hit me again, Clem."

The barkeep poured another and walked away after exchanging a glance with Kitty. She smiled at Matt, and wrapped her arm inside of his. "Come on, let's sit down at a table."

But he didn't budge. "No thanks. I have to send a telegram to Meade and see if they can wire me any more information."

"You're not going after these men..."

"I'm the nearest law, Kitty, I have no choice but to go after them." Her concern would have been evident to him if he hadn't been so self-absorbed. "Before the deputy went down, he shot one of them; according to the bank manager, it was Mike Russo's kid brother and he was wounded bad. My guess is it's gonna slow 'em down quite a bit."

"Then you don't need to leave tonight..."

He tossed back the last of his whiskey. "No. Morning's soon enough. Russo'll most likely hole up somewhere to try and let his kid brother heal up a little."

He turned for the door, but her hand on his arm stopped him.

"See you later, Matt?" She asked, the invitation clear.

He looked away. "I've got rounds; I'll stop by in the morning and say good-bye."

Dillon turned abruptly and headed out of the saloon. She watched the receding figure of the large lawman, and couldn't help but feel that her place in his life had just suffered an unwanted shift.