Festus sat on the small bunk behind the bars in the jail house. He searched his mind about where he was earlier in the night. It was all fuzzy. He hadn't realized that the amount alcohol he had consumed combined with his recent head injury would have caused so many blank spots in his memory.

Even asking Louie to help would be useless. He had passed out long before Festus attempted to go to bed when Matt came to get him.

He was certain that he tried to make a run for it and that he shoved Doc and Newly out of the way, for which he felt badly about. Now he hoped that they would help him clear his name. He slowly shook his head in disgusts at himself. He wondered if he hurt Doc by shoving him the way he did. Then he wondered if Matt was angry with him for attempting to run. All sobering thoughts were filling his mind.

The jail house was eerily quiet and so were the streets of Dodge. His thoughts then settled on the dead men. Who were they and why were they murdered? And by whom? Dodge had never had anything like this happen before as far as he could remember.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Doc sat thinking at his desk while Matt sat in the chair near the wood stove. Both men were deep in their own thoughts and every now and again one would take a sip from their coffee cup. Doc took out his pocket watch and popped open the case. He held the watch out far enough that he didn't have to put on his eyeglasses. It read 3:25 am. Matt watched him as he put the watch back in his vest pocket and stand. "Be daylight soon." Doc's velvety baritone voice cut the silence as stretched his back.

Matt nodded. "Do you suppose Festus is awake?"

Doc looked at the marshal and then scratched the back of his head. "My guess would be yes. I'm sure he's not taking to being in that cell too well also."

Matt stood and looked down onto Front Street. "I wished hadn't tried to run..."

Doc ran his hand across his moustache. "I suppose we could have handled that situation better."

"Yes. But it was my fault. I should have asked the question differently." Matt's tone was oddly critical of himself and he turned back to face Doc.

"There's just one other thing that's bothering me." Doc turned back to his desk and sat in the wooden swivel chair facing Matt.

Matt returned to his chair by the stove. "What's that?" He sat leaning on his elbows with his hands clasped between his knees.

"If Festus isn't responsible for the stabbings and killings. Who is?" Doc's question was as cold as the dead men themselves.