With darkness surrounding him and a wearying horse beneath him, Matt knew he had to stop for the night, even though his pounding heart demanded otherwise. He'd been in the saddle since leaving Doc's office, and his old friend's words had become an unwelcome echo in his head: Accident. Kitty's dead. Nothing you can do. Kitty's dead. Kitty's dead.

After tending his horse, he dug into the bottom of his saddle bag, and pulled out some biscuits and jerky. Calling it supper, he washed it down with water from his canteen. What he really wanted was a shot of strong whiskey to make him sleep. He stretched his tension filled body out on his bedroll and stared up at the sky. Words from Peggy's letter flashed before him - It breaks my heart. Kitty hit her head. She died. It was quick and painless. It seemed that sleep would never come, but when he woke at dawn, he realized that exhaustion must have pulled him under at some point. He quickly rose and set out again. Something inside told him that Meade and Peggy Kramer held answers that he needed. There was no arguing with Doc's reasoning. Peggy had been Kitty's friend since childhood, and would not invent a story about an accident and death. Sam and Festus, and everyone else agreed with Doc, and they all made sense. Yet, his gut told him that something was wrong with the whole thing. It was a feeling he couldn't and wouldn't deny.

After three long days of heavy riding and restless nights, Matt reached the tiny town of Meade. The so called Main Street was one block long, with a stable, 2 saloons and a general store that served as the stop for the infrequent stage coaches that went through. Matt got off his horse front of the stable. The old man sitting outside was intently whittling, chips of wood flew from his knife. After a few seconds, Matt interrupted. "Hello old timer, I was hoping you could direct me to the Kramer farm. I hear it's close by."

The old man worked his knife for a few more seconds before looking up. He squinted his pale brown eyes, "I see you're a US Marshal. I hope the Kramers ain't in any kinda trouble. They're good and decent folk with 3 fine boys. They've had more than their share of hard times for the past years with the drought and all. They don't need trouble on trouble."

"They're not in trouble." Matt shook his head. "I'm just here to ask a few questions."

The old man raised his bushy white eyebrows and looked Matt up and down." Ya got the look of an honest type. I can give ya them directions, but I just saw Owen Kramer and his twin boys go inta the General Store. So, you can go on in and talk ta Owen, or ya can head 2 miles south and a mile south east, and git yourself ta his farm. Your choice. You can't miss the Kramer place. It's a beat up old farm, and the only thing for miles around."

"Much obliged." Matt tipped his hat, and decided to head straight to the farm. Peggy was likely there, and seeing her alone might not be a bad idea.

3 miles later, Matt found the Kramer farm as easily as the old stable man predicted. Even from a distance he could see the place was in bad shape. The two horses in the corral were bone skinny. Peggy's letter said one of their horses reared and tossed Kitty off. There there was no saying what a spooked animal could find the strength to do, but it was hard to picture either of these beasts rearing up. Moving passed the corral, he saw nothing but dry, barren farmland, until he came to a dilapidated shed next to weather-worn house. A single chicken pecking outside was surely more feathers than meat. Matt shook his head. His heart ached for the family. He'd seen farms like this before. Sometimes no matter how hard a farmer works, if things go against him for too long, he can end up in a hole he can't get out of.

Matt tied his horse to a post outside the house, and carefully walked up the cracked steps to the front door. With a last glance around he knocked lightly.

Peggy and Petey were straightening up the kitchen when she heard the knock. "Come Petey, let's see who it is." Always pleased to have company to talk to, a smile lit her care worn face. She opened the door and found herself staring directly at a US Marshal's badge, pinned to very broad chest. She slowly looked up and knew exactly who'd come calling. Kitty had made mention of Matt Dillon and yes, he was impressive. "Hello, you must be Marshal Dillon. Kitty mentioned you now and again."

"WOW – a United States Marshal right here at our house, and Aunt Kitty knew him."

Matt looked down at Peggy's skirt and saw a thin boy of 7 or 8 squinting up at him through thick glasses. He bent down so the boy could see him better. "I'm Matt Dillon. I am a US Marshal and some folks say that's pretty special, but from what your Aunt Kitty told me, you and your brothers are going to grow up to be very special people." Kitty had indeed mentioned the Kramer boys with great affection. She'd never mentioned that one had trouble seeing, but she hadn't seen them for a few years, so maybe she didn't know.

Petey beamed up at the marshal. He couldn't see the big man's face too well, but his presence and voice made the little boy feel good inside. "Since you knew Aunt Kitty, you must be real sad that she died. We are too, but ma say's she's an angel now, and she's helping us. Aunt Kitty left us a lot of money, and my pa is taking me to a place called Boston to have an eye operation."

Matt squeezed the boy's shoulder. "I think I've heard of Boston, and I'm glad you're getting your eyes fixed." He straightened up and looked at Peggy. "Sounds like Kitty left your family quite a bit of money in her will. I think that's wonderful. I'd like to see it – the will that is."

Peggy smiled stiffly and rested her hand on her son's head. "Petey, go finish straightening up the kitchen." She watched the boy go into the house and turned to Matt. Words rapidly, almost desperately, poured forth. "Kitty didn't leave a will, at least as far as I know. If she did it would be in Dodge. Marshal, Petey is an 8 year old boy who can barely see. Things get jumbled in his head. Kitty didn't leave us any money. It's true that my husband is taking Petey to Boston for eye surgery, but we're using money we've been saving for a long time." She wrapped her arms around her tiny waist and looked at Matt with big grey eyes, that seemed too large for her face. "I know you're here to visit Kitty's grave, but I think it would be best if you came back when my husband, Owen, is here. He'll take you up there."

"I'm not here to visit a grave." Matt held Peggy's eyes with his clear, blue ones. "I'm here to ask questions about Kitty, and what happened."

Peggy let out a tired sigh, "Come back tomorrow, when Owen is here. Please, I have to get back to Petey." Without waiting for an answer, she went into the house and closed the door. Seeing no point in pressing the frail looking woman, Matt got on his horse and rode off. As he neared town, he turned onto the narrow road that lead to Main Street, and saw a wagon coming towards him. He moved off the road so the wagon could pass. The wiry, blond driver was so busy talking to the twin boys beside him, he took no note of a rider off to the side of the road. Matt watched the wagon as it went by. It had to be Owen Kramer and his twins, but what he saw didn't fit iwith the farm he'd just left. The back of the wagon was packed top to bottom with supplies, the twin boys held packages on their laps, and a fat milking cow was tied to the back, calmly waling along. Matt got back on the road to continue to town. His mind was racing. Little Petey thought Kitty had left them money for his eye operation, but his mother said they were using their savings. Now Owen Kramer was going home with a huge stock of supplies, not to mention a fat milking cow. All that money was coming from somewhere, but he had to believe any family savings that existed, had been used up long ago. Kitty couldn't have given them money like this, even if she wanted to. She had no secret bank account or stash of cash, she would have told him if she did.

Matt headed to the stable to drop off his horse, and ask about a place to spend the night. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Dodge

Stan Wells, the cigar smoking, leather skinned owner of the Lady Gay saloon set an empty box on the bar of the Long Branch. He puffed on his cigar and examined the bottles Sam had lined up in a row. Stan placed one bottle in the box, and then another. "I'll take the cheap stuff off your hands, Sam. The upscale booze is too high class for my clientele, even with the upswing in business." Stan pulled the cigar from his mouth. "Sam, I didn't mean anything by that. You gotta know I never wanted the Lady Gay's business to improve because of something like this – Kitty Russell dying and the Long Branch closing. All us saloon owners feel awful about it."

Sam reached across the bar and put a hand on Stan's shoulder, "Thanks, and I hope you all come to the memorial service on Saturday."

Stan gave a short nod, and blinked back unexpected moisture burning in his eyes. He quickly set three more bottles into his box. "Well, I got all the cheap stuff. You got a buyer for the high price booze?"

"Likely," Sam moved the bottles Stan didn't want. "A man is coming from Topeka tomorrow to take a look. He's also interested in glasses and pitchers. I don't have buyers for the other stuff yet – tables, chairs, piano, lamps – I guess I'll put another ad in the paper."

Stan glanced around the room. "Kitty Russell had good taste. She bought everything a grade above the rest of us. That's why her business was growing like it was. She was a smart lady."

Sam ran a finger across the bar. "Miss Kitty paid herself a salary, but everything else went right back into the business. She said it would pay off in – in the long run."

The men fell silent. They knew that, from moment she became sole owner of the place, 5 years ago, Kitty Russell looked to the future. A future that was never to be.

"Sam, now that I think of it, I could use a couple of chairs. Maybe that will help you a mite." Stan picked up his box. "I'll take this now and be back for the chairs. We can settle up then. I already paid for the beer kegs." He reached the batwing doors, and looked over his shoulder."Tell me something, Sam. Did Marshal Dillon really ride out because he can't face the fact Kitty Russell is dead? I heard a rumor, but don't know if it's true."

"Unfortunately it is true."

"He'll come around Sam. The marshal ain't one to hide from the truth, and I can imagine how he feels. The rumors about him and Kitty Russell have been around a while, and I figure some of it's got to be true. Anyways, I'll be back."

Meade

The Kramers sat around their kitchen table enjoying seconds of fried chicken and roasted potatoes. Owen grinned at his wife and 3 kids."Eat up, we've been skimping on meals for a while, time to make up for it." He wiped a sleeve across his mouth, leaving a trail of greasy stains. "Right, Peggy?"

Peggy smiled. Seeing Owen like this made her happy and she felt a playfulness that had gone missing from their marriage. "Right Owen." She stared pointedly at the greasy sleeve he'd used to wipe his mouth. "And now that we have money, I'll be getting fabric and sewing up napkins to use instead of sleeves." Owen laughed. His wife looked weary and thin, she but was still the prettiest and most fun woman he'd ever known. "Lady Peggy, when that happens, I will be sure to use a napkin all proper like." Peggy giggled and piled more potatoes on her plate.. She'd have to tell Owen about Marshal Dillon's visit, and what Petey said about Kitty's money, but it would wait. Right now there was too much to savor and enjoy. She briefly closed her eyes. Kitty this is all because of you, and you are in a better place than you've ever been before.

TBC