"Lee, you got no cause to be feared of Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "He ain't never laid a rough hand on you. Helpin' you is all he done."

"I won't hurt you, Lee," said Matt. "You didn't take to stable work, huh?" Jensen shook his head. "That's alright. We'll find a job that fits you better. Can't expect a man to do work he's not cut out for."

"Someplace I can wear a suit," said Jensen.

When Matt sought a job for Lee an hour or so later at Jonas's store, Jonas had already heard from Moss what went on with Jensen at the livery. "He wouldn't work for Moss. What makes you think he'll work for me?" said Jonas.

"Storekeeping's cleaner work," said Matt.

"It's no easy pay. There's a lot of dusting and polishing, washing windows on occasion. And lifting heavy boxes. It's not a lazy man's work, and I'll tell you something, Marshal. A man who turns his nose up at a good stable job cause he don't want to dirty his hands is a lazy man," said Jonas. "Moss said there's somewhat off in this fella Jensen's head, beside."

"You hear what happened to Jensen after he escaped prison?" said Matt.

"Word around town is he was whipped by that guard you killed," said Jonas.

"Uh-huh. And it wasn't the first time," said Matt.

"He's had it real bad, hasn't he. It's a horrible thing for a man to suffer like that even if he is a bandit. I'd like to help him, Marshal. So long as he doesn't steal me blind," said Jonas. Matt said he'd reimburse Jonas for anything Jensen stole, assuring the storekeeper as he had Moss that Jensen had likely gone straight. Jensen's indolence worried Matt more, though he kept his concern from Jonas, who after hearing Moss's account had misgivings as it was.

Jensen needed a storekeeper's outfit, but Matt had depleted his pay on garb for Lee. Jonas had men's clothing to loan for different occupations as well as new garments for sale. The clothing to loan was rather worn, but as Jonas offered to outfit Jensen at no charge, it would have to do. Jonas picked out a white collarless shirt and slate-colored linsey-woolsey pants and vest. "He won't need a suit jacket," said Jonas. He folded the clothes, wrapped them in brown paper and handed the package to Matt.

"These things is old and cheap," said Jensen when he unwrapped the package at the marshal's office. "I don't want 'em."

"Lee, put that suit on and go to work at Jonas's store or I'll lock you up," said Matt.

Jensen slowly donned the worn shirt, pants and vest, put on his new winter jacket, hat and gloves and hesitated, looking at Chester. "No need for Chester to walk you there this time. The store's just a short ways down the street," said Matt.

Jonas set Jensen to work unpacking boxes and stocking the shelves and racks. "Just look round the store to see where I display the merchandise so you'll know where to put the new shipments. Ask me if you can't find where something goes."

Jensen went in the storage room and rummaged around, and after fifteen minutes or so Jonas came and checked on him. "You been in here a little while, Lee. Unpacked any boxes yet?"

"I'm looking for a claw hammer to pry the lids off."

Jonas took the hammer from a drawer and gave it to him. "If you can't find anything, ask me directly. Recollect what I told you?"

"About the merchandise. Tools of the trade's a different thing from your stock," said Jensen.

"Well I mean ask me whenever you have a question. You can ask me much as you need to; it don't trouble me none," said Jonas.

Jensen pried the lid off a box and looked at the contents. Women's shoes. Not an interesting item whatsoever and a bother to sort. He opened another box. Baby clothes. Nothing to draw him in there. He'd leave that box for now.

Carefully wrapped music boxes filled the third container. Jensen knelt on the storage room floor and unwrapped one, an ornate steepled house. He lifted the roof and the box tinkled out Home Sweet Home. Inside was a tiny decorative parlor with no people, which was fine with Lee. Even good folks spelled trouble betimes.

Jonas heard the bell-like strains filtering through the storage room's closed door as he packed Ma Smalley's provisions at the counter. He paused to frown at the door, then turned his attention back to Ma. "Such a nice little tune for a music box," said Ma. "But I have two already plays that song. Twouldn't be thrifty buying another. You hire a new assistant, Wilbur?"

"You heard about that fugitive bandit the marshal rescued?" said Jonas.

"You hired him?"

"Lee Jensen. As a favor to the marshal. He took Jensen under his wing."

"Marshal Dillon does take in one pitiful soul or another. Poor Mr. Jensen. So savage what that guard did to him. Makes me shudder just thinking on it. I tell you, Wilbur, I don't blame the marshal one bit for killing that guard. Maybe it's not a Christian thing to say, but I'm almost pleased by it," said Ma.

"Well it surely was the right thing to do. Any fella who'd horsewhip a man bloody don't deserve to live," said Jonas. He frowned at the storage room door again as Listen to the Mockingbird drifted to their ears in a chorus of chirps. "I'm sorrow for what Lee went through but I'm not paying him to listen to music."

"Music does soothe whatever ails a body. And that's a delightful arrangement. My music box that plays Mockingbird doesn't have birds singing it. I'd like to see that box. I just might decide to buy it," Ma said.

"Alright. I'll fetch it for you, since Lee's too busy enjoying his concert to set out my goods."

"Why don't you call him out here? I've never seen him. I want to get a look at him and say hello," said Ma.

"Well, Ma, he's just a pale, skinny black-haired fella, fine features, a year or so older than the marshal, a bit under average height with a slight build. Not a forceful man. He's a muddled sort, not all there. And his eyes are an odd color, very light. Gray I think," said Jonas.

"Now, Wilbur, you're giving me all this description and Mr. Jensen's right there behind that door. I'm going to meet him." Ma picked up her parcels and moved to the storage room.

"No need to go back there, Ma. It's dusty and junky. Wouldn't want you to trip over something. I'll bring him out here," Jonas said as the bird chirps commenced a second round of Mockingbird. "He won't work out as my assistant here, so I see no need to have him meet folks."

"He'll meet folks anyway if he stays in town any length of time," said Ma.

"Heaven only knows what the town council does with these broken souls," Jonas muttered as he opened the storage room door. He saw them many a time, dirty, ragged and reeking of stale whiskey, their only roof whatever shed they found until the owner discovered and chased them back into the street. A shame if Lee Jensen ended that way, but it was none of Jonas's affair. He wouldn't pay a wage to a man who refused to work.

Jensen sat cross-legged on the floor with unwrapped music boxes strewn around him, absorbed in inspecting each one. He stood up when he saw Jonas. "I know you want me to leave. You don't have to hit me."

"I wasn't thinking of hitting you but I do want you to leave. A lady at the counter wants to meet you," said Jonas.

"Why. I don't wanna meet no one. I gotta brace myself to face Marshal Dillon. This is the second job I lost and he'll be riled," said Jensen.

"You lost two jobs on account of you won't work," said Jonas.

"Leastways I can take off this eyesore suit," Jensen said.

Jonas picked up the Mockingbird music box from the floor. "Is the lady wants to meet me buying that? It's real nice," said Jensen.

Jonas had left the storage room door open, and Ma stood near it so she could hear what the men said. She blocked the doorway when Jensen said "I don't wanna meet no one." She had an idea that might help him and a friend of hers, too, and resolved not to let him run from the store without talking to her.

"Here he is, Ma," said Jonas, setting the music box on the counter. "Lee, this is Mrs. Smalley. She owns the nicest boarding house in town."

"How do you do, Mr. Jensen," said Ma, her inquisitive gaze searching his face.

By chance her friend, the rich widow and philanthropist Alice Winthrop, would take to Lee Jensen. At forty-one years of age, Alice was six years older than Mr. Jensen, and she'd been five years older than her husband, a landscape painter provided for by his wife's family wealth. At the very least, Ma figured, Alice shouldn't take offense at meeting Mr. Jensen. She spoke of little save the deceased Mr. Winthrop, a small, frail, dapper eccentric whom she loved to nurse through his many illnesses and buy for him whatever his heart desired. When Mr. Winthrop died last winter of infection from the quinsy, Alice missed him so, she left her fine big home to the maintenance of caretakers and took a room at Ma's place. Alice wanted to marry again, but despaired of finding another husband remotely like Austin Winthrop.

Lee Jensen was some three inches taller than Winthrop had been and the same age that Winthrop was when he died. Jensen looked frail like Winthrop, and the word around town was the whipping Lee suffered weakened his constitution, so Alice could nurse him when he fell sick as she'd nursed her husband Austin. And with his finely chiseled features, Jensen had better looks than Austin Winthrop. Alice might have to accustom herself to Jensen's large pale-grey eyes, which likely would be easy. They were attractive enough eyes despite their odd color, or lack thereof.

Standing next to Jonas in the store, Lee looked out of sorts, fidgeting under Ma Smalley's scrutiny. "I done nothing wrong, except not working when he hired me to. The music box ain't broke, you wanna buy it," said Jensen.

"Oh, I don't think I'll buy it after all," said Ma. "I already have one plays that tune. Mr. Jensen, how'd you like to have supper at my place tonight. I'm having roast pork and yams, and green apple pie. You must be hungry for home cooking after that restaurant food Marshal Dillon feeds you."

"I have to change outa these cheap worn-out duds first. I got no visiting suit, but my pants and shirt at the marshal's office are better than these I got on."

"Whatever you wear will do. Have the marshal or Chester point you to Ma Smalley's place," said Ma, as Jonas stood by with brows furrowed in puzzlement. Ma wasn't in the habit of inviting former bandits to dinner, and Jonas wondered what she was about.

The marshal concealed his annoyance with an effort when Lee said Jonas dismissed him. He cringed at any sign of displeasure from Matt, which along with the scabbed wales Matt saw on Jensen's skin when he washed or changed clothes, compelled the marshal to hold his temper and persist in helping Lee.

"I'll give you one more chance, Lee. Kitty and Bill Pence need a cleanup man at the Long Branch and they'll hire you if I ask them," Matt said. Jensen grimaced and a shudder rippled through him. "It's not so dirty as stable work," said Matt. "You've been to the Long Branch with Chester and me and met Kitty, so it'll be easy for you to settle in the job. You laze around again and make them sack ya, I'll lock you up sure this time and let you think on it a spell. Or you can leave Dodge penniless on foot. It's either jail or move on if you refuse to work. You don't help yourself, Lee, I can't help you."

"If I leave town with no horse or money it being winter, I will starve or freeze to death, whichever happens first."

"You might. You're likely not strong enough to survive on the plains in this weather," said Matt.

"And I hate being locked up," said Jensen. "Even before that vicious Hackett got hold on me at Leavenworth, I escaped jail and prison other places where they treated me alright. Just feel I'm dying unless I am a free man. So I will take the Long Branch job, Marshal. I hate cleaning up, too, but maybe I can do it."

At Ma Smalley's request, the widow Alice Winthrop eagerly agreed to pay for Jensen to board at Ma's place. Unaware of Ma's matchmaking plans, Alice would not meet Jensen until he arrived for supper. Like most of the townspeople, Alice heard of the dreadful punishment inflicted on poor Lee Jensen, and as a philanthropist her interest was stirred to help him. Ma felt sure Jensen would accept Alice's charity, since Jonas said Marshal Dillon used his own money to feed and clothe Lee.

Alice Winthrop was a tall woman, just an inch under six feet. She was taller by five inches than her now deceased husband, and some two inches taller than Lee. She had a womanly figure, soft yet firm and shapely, with generous curves and an ample bosom, unremarkable brown hair fashionably styled with silver tints, and a round face more attractive than plain yet not quite pretty. Her clothing was modest and tastefully in vogue, complimenting her face and form, and her expression was at once warm and direct, friendly and decided.

Alice knew she wanted Jensen at her first sight of him. He looked lost and vague, not sad exactly but somewhat depressed. She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him close to her bosom, but of course she didn't, fearing he'd tear out of her embrace and flee, never to return.

When Ma introduced them, Alice reached for Jensen's hand and gave it a hearty shake. "How do you do. Since you'll be rooming here, why don't we start right out calling each other by our first names?"

"I bunk at the marshal's office. I got no money to stay here," said Jensen.

"Oh, you needn't worry about that; it's all arranged. I am paying for your room. That includes meals," said Alice.

"Alright. Then I'll stay here. This is a nice place."

They ate supper at Ma's long dining table with the other boarders. Alice sat next to Jensen and he quietly attended to his pork roast and buttered yams. As she expected, he gave her no admiring looks. Given the horror that befell him, she suspected he'd show no interest in even a beautiful woman, though his bearing was clearly masculine and he cast no interested glances at men, either. Alice saw that Jensen's unfortunate circumstances stunted his maturity in every way. She'd heard from Ma Smalley who heard from Jonas who heard from Chester that Jensen had a scanty education, was the son of a panderer and prostitute, and lived in a house of ill repute until age twelve when he went out on his own to start a life of thievery. He'd spent as much time in jails and prisons and running from the law as he'd lived a free man.

All of which strengthened Alice's desire for Lee Jensen. She was a woman who knew her own mind and acted swiftly on her wishes. She wanted to marry him, whether they ever consummated the union or not. She didn't need romantic love from a man; she needed him to need her, and with her wealth and Jensen's tendency to idleness, she could ensure his dependence. To Alice, taking care of and caring for a man who attracted her stirred in her body all the hot excitement of lovemaking. Nursing her husband Mr. Winthrop had fulfilled her womanly desires in a way that lying with him never could.

Lee had little to say about himself when Alice asked him questions at dinner. "I like wearing fine suits and whittling carvings," he said when she asked what he enjoyed doing. "I'm good at carving."

"Then you do like some sort of industry. You are not altogether idle," said Alice.

Lee saw this knowledge pleased her considerable, and figured he'd best tell the whole truth of it so she wouldn't get mad at him later and quit paying for the fine room and Mrs. Smalley's good food that Alice bestowed on him. Lee could tell by the way Alice's lively bright eyes sparked at him that she liked him in the way of love, which he didn't mind. She had strength and vigor, and he lacked both. Her presence lifted his spirits, like she poured vitality into him from a never-ending supply.

"I am slothful about any other work," said Lee. "It gets me in trouble. I best go to the marshal's office and let him know I'm staying at Mrs. Smalley's starting tonight or he'll think I'm up to no good. He got me a job cleaning up at the Long Branch and I don't want it. I hate the thought of it."

"Then why do it?" said Alice. "Marshal Dillon oughtn't force you to do anything you don't want to."

"He thinks I'll go back to robbery if I'm not working a job. He killed to save my life, so he has a stake in me," Jensen explained. "I lost two jobs he got me already, and he says he'll jail me if I laze around at the Long Branch and Miss Kitty discharges me."

Alice could solve Lee's problems by marrying him. She'd move with him to her home, where he'd have his own workroom and whittle all day if he wished. He likely wouldn't propose, though, and she feared scaring him away if she asked him to be her husband when she'd only just met him. Alice decided to befriend Lee through the winter and ask him to marry her come spring. By then he'd be so weary of the common labor he loathed, he would welcome the prospect of deliverance from it, wearing the costliest most fashionable suits money could buy and having everything he wanted.

Matt said Jensen would report to work at nine o'clock in the morning, so Kitty rose earlier than usual and came downstairs from her Long Branch room to wait for him. She sat at a table sipping coffee, and when Jensen pushed through the batwings ten minutes early, she was impressed. Matt had warned her about Jensen's indolence, and contrary to her nature, Kitty tried her best to ready herself to be a tough boss. Matt was determined to help Jensen, and as Kitty generally was eager to help Matt when he asked a favor, she wanted to help Jensen, too.

Jensen hung his jacket and hat on the stand and moved to her table. His light-gray eyes were ringed by dark circles in his thin white face. "Good morning, Lee," said Kitty. "You look tired. Didn't you sleep well?"

"I slept sound. My bed at Ma Smalley's is mighty comfortable. It has two feather pillows. But I couldn't sleep long enough on account of I had to wake early to come here. I need ten hours sleep to rest my head and body."

"Why not go to bed earlier?" said Kitty.

"Can't never hardly sleep 'til after midnight. Chester give me a stack of frontier stories and I read them in bed. Had a cup of coffee with breakfast at Mrs. Smalley's but I'm still tuckered."

"Maybe another cup will perk you up. Sit down, Lee," Kitty said.

She asked Clem to bring coffee for Jensen and refill her cup, and told him his job duties. "Marshal Dillon wants you to work 'til at least six o'clock, five days a week," she said. "You can take an hour for lunch and work as long as you want every day of the week. Winter's our slowest time. The trail herds come through at planting and harvest seasons, and we do good business summers, too. We close earlier in winter, by one in the morning."

Kitty looked intently at Jensen, expecting a reply which would size him up as an employee. "I got trouble knowing how to work a job on account of what I been through," he said. "The prison guard what whipped me, he broke me so I can't think straight nor do work the right way. Never cottoned to holding a job my life long nohow. That's why I took to robbery."

"I'm sorry for what happened to you, Lee. Marshal Dillon told me what that guard did to you and it's awful. But if you don't try to work, I'll have to dismiss you and he'll jail you. I won't pay you to sit in here and do nothing. Now first thing to do is take the chairs off the tables, then you can polish the mugs and glasses. We wash them nights and rub the water stains off in the morning so the glass shines. When you finish a task, ask Clem what to do next. You don't have to figure it out yourself."

Lee rather liked arranging the chairs around the tables just so and standing back to see the effect, polishing the mugs and glasses until they sparkled and lining them up carefully behind the bar. "Kitty said ask you what to do next, Clem," said Jensen.

"Storage room upstairs needs cleaning and straightening," said Clem. "There's hostess costumes, shoes and whatnot strewn all over, it needs dusting and the floor scrubbed. Closet up there has the cleaning things."

Jensen shrank from the chore, it made him shrivel under his skin. He'd never get it done, couldn't bring himself to open the door and peek at the dirty mess behind it. He'd stay downstairs, wouldn't go near that room.

He found Miss Kitty in a room filled with whiskey bottles and barrels. She had a pencil and notebook in which she wrote figures. "Hello, Lee. Clem's not working you too hard, is he? There's always cleaning to do here and it can feel like too much 'til you get used to it. Take a break and have yourself a beer. Tell Clem it's my treat."

"That's what I come to ask you, if I can have a break. Wanted a beer too but I got no dime."

"Well you enjoy it." Kitty smiled at him and turned her attention back to figuring, and Lee went to the bar.

"Miss Kitty says I can take a break and gimme a beer on the house."

Clem frowned at him, filled a mug and thumped it on the bar. Jensen startled. "She said I could rest and have a beer before I asked, so don't hit me."

"I'm not gonna fight you. What're you trying to start anyway?" Clem snapped.

"You're riled," said Lee.

"So I'm riled."

Lee picked up his beer and quickly moved to a table across from the bar. He was tiring of the Long Branch and wanted to get shet of it. Not one customer had come in. Jobs weren't bad as being locked in a cell, but they were somewhat like jail.

He drank his beer and studied the tabletop, wishing he was carving wood instead of sitting in a saloon no livelier than Boot Hill. He took the knife Chester gave him from his pocket. The tabletop was drab ash and needed decorating. LB for Long Branch—curly slanting letters in the center. Jensen leaned on the table and started carving the letters in its middle.