"Chester, Russo doesn't know you're out here, and that's the only advantage we have." He put a hand on Goode's shoulder. "I'm gonna try and get him to take me instead of Doc. If he goes for it, then you just stay covered here in the bushes until we're long out of sight, then see to Doc."

"And if he don't go for it?"

"Then we wait until they come out and we try and take 'em; they'll be expecting only one gun."

"What about Doc?"

"We have to hope he gets clear."

"Mr. Dillon, Doc can't move hardly at all with that leg of his."

"Chester, it's our only option. If they ride outta here with Doc, they're gonna kill him anyway. At least this way, he has a chance..."

Dillon stood, walked toward the shack and called out, "Russo...I'll make a deal with ya."

"I told you no deals, Dillon."

"Let Doc go, and take me as your hostage."

Russo laughed. "That's like tradin' in a lamb for a rattlesnake. No deal, Dillon."

"I can get you to the border unchallenged. Doc can't."

"I said no deal. Now drop your gun, Dillon, and we'll come out, get on them horses and ride away."

"I'm not disarming until I see that Doc's all right."

After a few minutes, a man Matt didn't recognize emerged from the shack holding a shotgun. He was followed by Russo, who had Doc by the neck, holding him tightly against his chest, using him like a shield.

"You jes' stay real still, Dillon, or I'll put a hole in his head."

Shimmering blue locked onto pale blue, and Dillon read the pain, but also the determination. Matt clenched his jaw.

"Doc's not gonna be able to travel far or fast with that leg, Russo. And I promise you, I'll be trailing at a distance. At the first sign of trouble, I'll descend on you faster than an eagle on a prairie dog. I'll ask you one more time to take me instead."

"No," Doc interjected, "I'm goin' with 'em, Matt, not you."

"Doc, you stay outta this."

"I will not," the old man growled.

Russo tightened his hold on Adams' neck, causing Doc to wince in pain. "You shet-up old man."

But knowing that he had a better survival chance than Matt, Doc stood his stubborn ground. "You take the marshal with you, Russo, and you'll never get to the border."

"Doc!" Dillon roared in anger, "Stop it!"

"No, Matt. You're stayin' here, and ya ain't followin' neither."

"Doc you just be--"

"--Shet-up, both of you. We're takin' the doc. Get on your horse Stan, I'll get the old man up on his."

Doc held Dillon's eyes with his own, silently warning him that something was coming. Matt swallowed hard, afraid of whatever it was the old man had in mind. Stan mounted his horse, and Russo roughly moved Adams toward his, Doc crying out in pain.

"Shet-up ol' man, or I'll kill you right here."

"Russo, so help me--" Dillon started to say.

"--Stay out of it, Dillon; stay out of it unless you want to see him cut in half."

Dillon stood helplessly by as Russo manhandled the small physician trying to hoist him up into a saddle. Doc cried out in agony several times as the outlaw banged his damaged limb against the horse. And suddenly Doc let his body go slack, allowing his full weight to slam down onto Mike like a sack of potatoes. Both men fell to the ground, Adams screaming in pain as his leg connected with the hard dirt. Mike pulled his gun, aiming at Doc's head. Matt tried to get a clear shot, but Doc's horse was in his line of fire. Chester stood then, but his shot was blocked by Stan's horse. Mike cocked his gun, Dillon and Chester both screaming against the inevitable.

And the shot echoed through the clearing. But it wasn't the ping of a pistol; it was the boom of a double-barrel shotgun. Dillon watched as Russo crumpled to the ground and Matt stared unbelievingly at the gunsmoke wafting from Stan's shotgun. The outlaw looked into the eyes of soft pale blue that were swimming in pain, but he could see the lack of surprise in them.

Stan threw his shotgun in Dillon's direction, dismounted and started walking toward Adams.

"Hold it, mister," Matt said. Stan stopped and Dillon glanced at Adams, scolding, "You took an awful chance, Doc."

Adams looked up at Stan. "Not really, Matt. Not really." He reached a hand out toward the outlaw. "Help me up, Stan."

Gently Stan lifted the old doctor up, allowing him to lean heavily on his shoulder for support. Dillon collected the guns lying on the ground as Stan helped Adams into the shack. Chester walked over to Dillon after tying up the horses.

"How did he know that feller would save him, Mr. Dillon?"

Matt shook his head. "I don't know, Chester, but Doc's a pretty wise ol' rooster when it comes right down to it." Dillon clapped Goode on the back. "We've got some buryin' to do."

"Yes sir."

Dillon held the door of Delmonico's open, and Kitty walked through it carrying a covered tray of food.

"You're gonna spoil him you know."

They walked toward Adams' office. "I don't think it's really possible to spoil Doc."

"Uh-huh. Just wait until you stop bringing his meals to him and he's no longer being showered with your undivided attention."

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned toward Matt. "Oh you're just jealous!"

He took the tray from her and they walked up the stairs. She opened the door, took the tray back, and the two of them went to the back bedroom. Kitty set the tray on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. Matt took his hat off, tossing it on the dresser, plopping into the chair by the bed.

Kitty gently shook the sleeping doctor's shoulder. "Wake up, Doc, I've got some supper for you."

He stirred, opened his eyes and smiled sleepily at her. "Hi honey," he said yawning.

Matt rolled his eyes as Kitty placed a napkin on the doctor's chest, and lifted his shoulders to put pillows under him, preparing to spoon feed him. Feeling the annoyed stare of the marshal, Adams flashed his soft blue eyes at Kitty.

"What are you doin' this Saturday, honey?" Doc asked.

"Saturday..." she shrugged, "nothin' I guess."

"Well then, let's get married." He winked at her and then he looked over at Dillon. "Oh, Matt... didn't see you sittin' there..."

"Uh-huh." Dillon arched an eyebrow at the old man. "You just figure you like all this fussin' and you're gonna make it permanent, huh?"

"Something like that, yeah..."

"Uh-huh. What are you gonna do about the city ordinance?"

"What ordinance?"

"The one that says any man over the age of 70 can't rob the cradle within city limits."

"Over 70?" Doc roared at the younger man. "Why you young whelp! I'm not a day over... well, over 54!"

Matt laughed. "Well for a man in such a prime, you sure are awful helpless."

"I can take care of myself just fine, you young jackanapes, but I sorta like havin' the two of you fussin' over me a little."

Kitty laughed. "Come on, Doc, your supper's gettin' cold."

"I know that!" He growled, allowing some of his normal strength show. Then he looked at Dillon, the lightness falling from his face. "What's going to happen to Stan, Matt?"

"He killed a sheriff," Dillon replied coldly.

"But killing wasn't his intention, and if it hadn't been for him, I'd sure be dead."

"Judge Brooker'll take that into consideration since you said you'd testify on his behalf."

"But yer not gonna speak up fer him are you..."

"I can't, Doc," Matt said, allowing some of the anger he was feeling to seep into his tone. "Crocker was a friend of mine; a good friend. And now his wife and kids are without a husband and father. What are they supposed to do?"

"Takin' Stan's life ain't gonna bring him back, Matt. With a life sentence, he could serve the prison population as a doctor. He'd make a fine one, and in that way he could give back a little to the people of Kansas."

Dillon shook his head. "I'm sorry, Doc. I just can't do that to Thelma and the kids."

Doc sat up then, glaring at Dillon, his voice resonating with annoyance, "You're not bein' honest with me or yourself, son."

"Doc," Kitty interjected, sensing the direction the doctor was headed, "that's not fair."

"You of all people know he's not tellin' the truth, Kitty!"

Dillon stood, placing his hands on his hips, anger filling his eyes. "What're you gettin' at, Doc?"

"You're hurtin' over the loss of Crocker, yes, but I think what's really gnawin' at you is the fact that his death scared the hell out of you; and that's what's made ya so angry. You've been distant and moody off and on fer the past week with the people closest to ya, and I'm not gonna let you get away with it, no sir!"

"Doc!" Kitty scolded, "you just stop this right now! You know I think the world of you, but you're stickin' your nose where it doesn't belong."

Dillon placed a soft hand on her shoulder, bringing a halt to her building tirade. "He's right, Kitty," Matt said softly. "Doc's right. Crocker bein' gunned down like that reminded me how easy it is to kill a lawman, and how unfair it is for any lawman to expect the people around him to shoulder the burden of carin' about him. And I guess it has made me a little moody lately..."

Kitty looked up at the big marshal with tears in her eyes. "Oh Matt, for such a smart man, you sure can be stupid. It's too late for you to put distance between you and me; or you and Chester; or you and Doc. If something were to happen to you tomorrow or the next day, or three years from now, it won't hurt us any less - only more."

"More?"

"Yes. For not being allowed to love you while we can."

Dillon smiled at her then, his eyes misting slightly with emotion, and Adams had seen enough.

"Oh, get outta here!" Doc bellowed. "Both of ya! I'm hungry and my food's gettin' cold!" Matt laughed then, picked up his hat and stood by the door. Kitty stood up, adjusted Doc's covers causing him to swat her hand away. "Oh, I'm...I'm not a baby, quit yer fussin'!"

She smiled down at the old doctor. "I take it the weddin's off this Saturday..."

"I'm not rich enough to marry the likes of you!"

"Ha! I bet that mattress of yours is stuffed with cash!"

"You just wanted to marry me because ya thought I had money!"

Kitty laughed at him. "That, and because you're so darned handsome!" He grinned at her then, and she bent down to kiss him softly on the lips. "Eat your supper, curly. Chester'll be along soon to look in on ya."

"Chester? Oh fine, ever since he was mistaken for a doctor, he's been trying to practice medicine on me, and I've about had it. Dag-blamed fool thinks he knows something about doctorin' now and ya know I'm just not gonna tolerate it..."

Matt and Kitty slipped from the room during his diatribe, and headed for the front door, which opened as they reached it. Chester bounded in, smiling as he removed his hat. "Evenin' Miss Kitty, Mr. Dillon..."

"Hiya Chester," Kitty said.

"You're uh, gonna take good care of Doc while we're gone, aren'tcha, Chester?" Dillon asked smiling.

"Well forevermore Mr. Dillon, of course I'll take good care of him, although he ain't too grateful or cooperative when I do."

"You know Chester, he was complainin' awhile ago that he wasn't feelin' too good. His belly's upset or something..." Kitty stared at Dillon and he winked. "I think you'd better try and help him figure out what's ailin' him..."

Chester's serious eyes almost made Dillon chuckle. "Of course I'll do everything I can, Mr. Dillon, you can count on it; if'n that ol' grump'll listen to me..." He stared with utmost sincerity into Dillon's eyes. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think Doc just didn't trust my judgment, Mr. Dillon..."

Matt's eyebrows arched upward as he said, "Yeah, well, good luck with him, Chester, we'll see you later."

"Sure thing, Mr. Dillon, Miss Kitty..."

Chester walked back into the bedroom, and Matt and Kitty left quickly. As they cleared the bottom of the staircase, they heard the doctor's deep bellow from an open second-story window.

"Out! Just get outta here, Chester! Yer not gonna practice medicine on me now, or ever! So help me, the next time you need a splinter taken outta yer hand, I'm gonna use a spoon to dig it out!"

Matt and Kitty laughed as arm in arm, they walked across the street toward the Longbranch. A quiet evening together was just what the doctor had ordered.

The End