Matt and Chester followed the wagon tracks as best as they could through the grassy rough trail. Five miles after they left the Crooked Spur station, Chester spotted a small, pale purple bundle ahead, and just off to the right of the trail. At the same time, Matt saw a dark grey item off to the left. Stopping their horses, they both dismounted and each picked up one of the coats, one belonging to Doc, and the other to Kitty. Looking at each other, Matt and Chester each grimly tucked one of the coats in his bedroll, and got back on his horse.
Approaching the Black Canyon relay station, Matt and Chester carefully scanned the surroundings. The fresh wagon tracks ran right up to the main building, which was sagging in disrepair.
Once again, Matt had Chester hang back and cover him as he carefully approached, rifle at the ready. One hundred feet away, he came to a sudden stop. A bundle lay on the porch. He could tell that it was a body on its side with its back towards him. Slowly walking closer, he saw that it was a small woman wearing a pink blouse. His breath caught as he saw red hair. His feet automatically took him closer and closer. His grip on his rifle tightened until his knuckles whitened.
"Kitty" formed in his mind and throat, but no sound left his mouth.
Stepping up on the porch, he fell to his knees and gently turned the body over towards him.
Chester had hurried forward as he saw the Marshal fall down on his knees. Standing behind him on the porch, he saw the big man's shoulders heaving and could hear ragged breathing. Unsure of what to do, Chester tentatively put his right hand on Matt's shoulder.
Matt turned his head towards his friend, his pale blue eyes moist as he softly said, "It's NOT Kitty! It's an old woman."
Chester looked at the body and could now see that the "red hair" was blood-soaked grey hair. The pink blouse looked like Miss Kitty's favorite. He was confused, then angry as he realized it was all a sick "joke."
Once more, a small folded note was found, this time in the poor old woman's skirt pocket:
"Five left. Did I scare you? Saving her for dessert."
They silently buried the battered body of the old woman. Chester knew that the Marshal was furiously thinking of how to get ahead of this killing madman rather than just follow his trail of bodies.
"Chester. We have to find someone, anyone, familiar with the caves around here."
"Wal, I used to know an old trapper around these parts who was friendly with my brother Magnus. I might be able to find his cabin."
"Let's get going! We'll need to stop and rest the horses soon."
Chester knew that he and Mr. Dillon also needed resting, and hopefully some food and coffee, but also felt the urgency to keep searching.
Matt was disturbed when Chester's search for the old hunter took them away from the fresh wagon tracks, into the wooded area, but knew it had to be done.
After a few false leads, Chester and Matt emerged from the underbrush into a small clearing where a grizzled old man was sitting in front of a small cabin, smoking a corncob pipe. A lanky hunting dog snoozing in the sun beside him raised his head and began loudly baying at the strangers approaching.
"There he is, Mr. Dillon! That's old Clem Hopper!"
The old hunter smiled as he recognized Chester, and waved his pipe at him.
"Howdy, Chester! Been quite a spell! How's that brother of yern?"
Chester and Matt dismounted and walked over, looping their reins around the porch railing.
"Ain't seen him in a while, myself, but last letter he said he was jest fine. Clem, I want ya to meet U.S. Marshal Matthew Dillon. I work for him, and we sure could use yer help."
Clem stood up and stuck his hand out towards Matt, who walked over and shook it.
"Proud to meet ya, Marshal. What can I do fer ya?"
"We've got a desperate situation here, Sir. Chester and I need to save a group of kidnapped people who are being systematically murdered. The only clue we have is they're heading for a cave somewhere around here."
The old man scratched his scraggly chin in thought, then squatted down, picked up a small stick, and started drawing in the dirt.
"There be too many caves 'round here to count, but only around four big enough fer more than a couple of folks, and that also have water. Here, I'll show you where they are, Marshal."
Matt and Chester squatted down and watched as Clem drew a clear map in the dirt, showing all four caves and the routes from his cabin.
"I'd be glad to lead ya to 'em. Make it a might quicker fer ya two to find 'em and save them folks."
"We'd sure appreciate that, Mr. Hopper. I hate to delay, but our horses need some rest and feed."
Clem could see how tormented the Marshal was to have to stop, and figured one or more of those kidnapped people must be very special to the big man.
"Don't ya worry none. I got two extree fresh horses over there behind my cabin in the meadow. We'll put your tired ones in there and swap 'em out."
Both Chester and the Marshal looked worn and strained, but the old man knew they wanted to push on without resting themselves.
"Reckon we got time for a quick cup of coffee and a piece of bacon and bread. Got it on the stove and I'll bring it out while you two swap out horses."
Chester perked up at the word "coffee," and eagerly led both tired horses to the back as Matt studied the map in the dirt.
Quickly eating and drinking while planning a route, Matt tried not to think of whether Kitty or Doc had received any water or food today at all. Not even tasting the bacon, bread and coffee, he took it in as necessary fuel for the inevitable battle ahead.
Within thirty minutes of their arrival at Clem's, the three men were setting off towards the first cave, Clem in the lead with his hunting dog running ahead.