"Matt, it's not quite twenty-four hours yet! Maybe those few drops we got was a real storm out that way, and they're holed up somewhere safe. You need to rest after searching all night." Doc's attempt at reassuring the Marshal was for his own benefit, too, It wasn't only that Chester was late bringing Kitty back, but they had both vanished. Their horse had clattered back into town late yesterday afternoon, trailing its broken harness and reins.

"Doc, the first place I went was the relay station. Old Farley there told me he saw a monsoon sweep in off to the east and hoped Chesterand Kitty would turn around in time. He said he didn't know of any other shelter between there and Dodge, heading east. I'm going back out again as soon as I get a fresh horse," the weary man said. His handsome face was unshaven and his sharp blue eyes were now bloodshot from lack of sleep and peering into the darkness of the prairie all through the night. He grabbed a fresh canteen as he passed by his old friend and strode towards the stable. Following him to the door, Doc glanced over at the now empty, chipped blue enamel coffee pot on the small pot-bellied stove. Sighing, he rubbed his stubbly chin and wished he were even ten years younger, so he too could be out searching all day and all night for those two special people. Looking at his large, old pocket watch, he put it back in his vest pocket and slowly shuffled towards his own office, avoiding going by the Long Branch which felt empty without its vivacious half-owner.

Matt had only ridden a few miles out of town when he saw a rider rapidly galloping towards him, waving his broad-brimmed hat and yelling, 'MARSHAL DILLON! MARSHAL DILLON!"

The rider was a stocky man in his early thirties, with a curly red beard, and wearing a full set of fringed and beaded buckskins. As he got closer, Matt recognized him as Slim Jenkins, an honest trapper who sold his pelts in Dodge periodically. Urging his roan gelding forward, he headed for the approaching man.

"Slim. Good to see you. What's going on?" Then he saw the small, battered valise hooked over the pommel of the man's saddle.

"Marshal! I heard from a cowboy last night that Miss Kitty and Chester are missin'. 'Bout three hours ago, I come across this bag in Cutter's Wash, and this," he said as he pulled a tattered sun hat from inside his shirt. He handed the items to the big lawman, watching the light blue eyes narrow.

Matt immediately recognized both items, and although his face remained unreadable, his heart clenched in his chest. Opening the mud-caked bag, he looked inside at her extra dress, blouses, skirt, shoes, and silky undergarments. He reached in and gently touched the few red strands on the silver hairbrush. "Kitty…" he whispered. Slim was patiently sitting on his black and white horse, and his sharp hunter hearing had caught the soft word that the average person would not have. Everyone in Ford County knew that the beautiful red-haired saloon woman and the tall lawman were a deeply committed couple. Only Matt Dillon didn't seem to know that it was common knowledge. Slim cleared his throat.

"Marshal, I'll show ya where I found those things, and then help ya search. Chester and Miss Kitty always been nice ta me."

"Thanks Slim. Let's get going." Looking around, he saw a nearby distinctive rock formation and rode over to stash the valise and hat for now. Then he and the hunter headed towards the wash.

After Slim showed Matt where the bag and hat had been found, he told him about the deluge that had filled the wash late in the afternoon the day before. The heat of the morning had rapidly dried the earth, but both men still searched for wagon tracks or footprints as they slowly backtracked towards Dodge from the wash.

"Matt! Over here! Got me a wagon track!" Slim hollered from down on his knee in the rocky dirt. He had been patiently searching for an hour until his sharp eyes found the trail. Now he leaped back on his horse and started following the tracks as Matt galloped over and joined him. Their excitement increased when both sharp-eyed men spotted the tilted, three-wheeled wagon up ahead. This time, Matt found the faint pair of footprints in a stretch of dried mud about two hundred feet further east. The two men slowly followed the prints for a half hour. One set was obviously a woman's, but his relief vanished when the side-by-side prints suddenly changed to only the man's.

"He was carrying her, Matt. See how much deeper his prints are now?"

"Yeah, I know. And now even those prints are gone in the grass." The tall man stood up and stared east, towards Dodge, as if willing Kitty and Chester to appear in the distance.

Slim stood up and quietly waited for the lawman he respected and thought so highly of to make a decision. The hunter had learned to let a man alone in times like this that demanded clear and rational thinking.

"Should we keep heading towards town? That would be logical," Matt thought to himself. But somehow he did not feel his usual sureness in his decision. In the peacefulness of the prairie, with the sounds of birds, the two nickering horses conversing, and the soft, warm wind, his mind filled with a recent night with Kitty.

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"Matt, that is so awful about Ed Sommer's wife disappearing! To think that Molly went outside to hang the wash and never returned is so frightening! And heartbreaking. Now poor Ed just sits on his porch and rocks, staring out into the prairie. I heard he hunted for her for two weeks, came home, and hasn't spoken since." Her voice had trailed off with the last words as her tears rolled off Matt's broad, warm chest where her head lay.

"Yeah, Kitty, it's bad. I keep her in my mind whenever I ride anywhere near that area. Every man in town helped him on that search, you know, including Chester and me." His big right index finger twisted a curl of her soft red hair around and around. "If it had been you lost, I would have turned the world upside down until I found you!" he fiercely whispered as he wrapped his strong arms around her so tightly that she gasped. "Sorry, Honey," he said as he loosened his grip and kissed the top of her head.

"You would, wouldn't you? That is something I never fear…being lost…for you will always come for me." After a moment, she added in a soft voice, "Matt, if you ever can't find me, just stay very still and quiet, close your eyes and listen." She turned and lay on top of him, her full breasts pressed against his chest, heart to heart, her arms around his neck. Then she put the palms of her hands on his shoulders, pushed her chest up off of him and stared down into his eyes that looked like coins of silver in the moonlight. "Matt, would you really miss me if I disappeared?" Her lovely face was smiling, but he knew that the question was more than teasing.

"No more than I would miss my eyes, Darlin', no more than my eyes." He pulled her down into a kiss that quickly went from soft and tender to deep and passionate. Sometimes words are not enough.

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Matt's eyes were closed as he stood motionlessly and listened. He heard not the sounds of his surroundings, but only one word, "South. SOUTH."

Opening his eyes, he turned his head away from Dodge and towards the south, where only more open, empty prairie was visible. He mounted his horse and looked at Slim, who stood quietly by his horse waiting for instructions. "Slim. You head east, towards town. I'm going south."

"Right," was all the trapper said as he got on his horse and started on his way, searching for any more signs. The Marshal was not a man whose actions should be questioned. As he rode away, he heard, "Thank you, Slim!"