Though the shed was too dark to see the man's face, Kitty recognized the tall lean silhouette as that of Ohm Latimer, the man who threatened her. Men had attacked her before. Frightened yet not terrified, her heart pounded more from not knowing how badly Latimer would hurt her than the thought of the violation itself. He might even kill her if he got mad enough. She saw no outline of a gun at his hip. He'd taken off his gun belt so she couldn't get her hands on his six-shooter while he took her.

Latimer had knocked the wind out of Kitty when he threw her on the dirt floor, and while she struggled to breathe, he pulled a bandanna from his back pocket, leaned over her and tied it tightly round her mouth. "Now. You'll like this, Miss Kitty. A harlot like you." His sonorous voice filled the shed and pulsed in her ears. "I won't hurt you if you don't fight me."

Kitty knew that if she lay submissively still, the attack would alter her long as she lived. Better fight and endure a beating than let this beast rob her of her boldness. She valued beyond anything ruling her life beholden to no man, and if she failed to resist Latimer, the assault would make her weak and afraid.

Anger flared in Kitty's chest, mixing with the fear and strengthening her. Latimer unbuttoned his pants and let them drop. To make things easier, he wore no underwear.

The sight of him goaded Kitty's wrath. She tried to jump up and he backhanded her, knocking her back to the dirt. He pulled up her skirt and ripped at her pantalets, his breath coming in loud rasps. He hadn't bothered to tie her hands, the fool. Maybe he thought it wouldn't be sporting.

Kitty pulled at the gag in her mouth and Latimer slapped her hand away and punched her face. Her head swirled from the jolt and she almost fainted. He lowered his head over hers and sucked at her lips over the bandanna, then lay heavily on top of her and violated her, grunting like the pig he was.

He got off her, and as he rose Kitty reared up, screeching in fury through the gag. She reached between Latimer's legs, grabbed him with both hands, squeezed and yanked as she recovered from the blow to her face and her strength came flooding back. He howled, and Kitty let go of him as he fell, clutching himself and writhing on the dirt floor.

Kitty scrambled to her feet, swiftly found her slippers, put them on and kicked Latimer in his head and face. He groaned loudly as she untied the gag from around her mouth and laced the torn ends of her pantalets around her waist with shaking hands. He'd torn loose the shoulder strap of her dress in the attack, and she covered her breast with the loose flap of silk.

Kitty considered strangling Latimer with the bandanna and decided against it. She wanted him dead. Though she knew the marshal would not so much as jail her, and no one would blame her, she shrank from killing him with her own hands.

"You filthy strumpet," Latimer choked out. "I will kill you."

"I'll be ready for ya next time, and I won't need a gun. I'll fight you without one, you think you're man enough," said Kitty.

In too much pain to pull up his pants, Latimer lay curled on the floor, slavering into the dirt like a wounded dog. "You are lunatic," he said breathlessly. "You're only a puny woman."

"A puny woman that just felled a rotten cur," said Kitty.

Still lying prone, Latimer winced as he gingerly tugged his pants up. "Have it your way, then." His normally resonant voice had faded to a mewl. "No weapon. I will beat you to death with my fists."

"Yeah, we'll see about that. Why don't you wet yourself. You dirty pig." Kitty kicked his head again, moved to the shed door and unlatched it, and walked out into the night.

She entered the barroom through the side door, planning to go quietly upstairs to her room and clean up before anyone noticed her. Chester was standing near the end of the bar. Kitty felt his eyes on her, and started up the steps without meeting his gaze. "Miss Kitty."

Kitty looked into his round brown eyes and put a finger to her lips. "Shh. I don't want anyone to know," she said in a loud whisper.

Chester regarded her with increasing dismay. Her dress was torn, wrinkled and dirty, and dirt stiffened her tangled red hair hanging loose from its pins and combs. The right side of her face was swollen and dotted with knuckle marks, and there was a puffy red mark on her other cheek near her mouth.

"Can I help you to your room?" said Chester.

"No. I don't need any help."

"Let me go for Doc, then," Chester said.

"No. I'm alright, Chester."

"You ain't alright, Miss Kitty; you been hit. Who done this to you."

"Chester, don't tell Matt."

"Miss Kitty, I got to," said Chester.

Kitty sighed. The exhilaration of felling Latimer had disappeared, leaving her trembling weary. She wanted a hot bath and hair wash, a clean nightdress, a cup of hot tea and bed. "I am going to my room," she said, "and I'm locking the door. If you tell Matt the state I'm in, tell him not to come knocking on my door with his questions. Not tonight, and not in the morning."

"Well, alright. Ah'll tell Mr. Dillon like you said. You jest try to rest easy an' not think 'bout what happened," said Chester.

Matt waited until noon the next day to head for the Long Branch. Kitty sat eating a hardboiled egg and buttered toast. There was another egg on the plate and two pieces of toast, and she ate with her usual relish. She'd lessened the swelling on her face with ice and covered the bruises with paint and powder.

Matt moved to her table and took off his hat. "Kitty."

"Hello, Matt. No need to act somber. I'm fine. Sit down." He put his hat back on and pulled out a chair.

"Want a beer?" said Kitty.

"No thanks."

"Coffee?"

"Sure," said Matt.

"Clem, coffee for Matt, please? I'll have some more, too," Kitty called to the barkeep.

"Chester told me about last night," said Matt.

"Yeah? So I figured," said Kitty.

"Whoever hit you, is that all he did?" Matt said.

"No. He attacked me."

"I'm sorry, Kitty. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You can't protect every woman in Dodge, Matt. Happens most every night in this town, particularly to women in my job. It happened to me before."

"Who did it?" said the marshal.

"I'm not telling you."

"He'll brutalize more women if you don't. I can't jail him since it'd be your word against his, but I can give him a sound beating and run him out of town. Might make him think on it before he puts his hands on another woman," said Matt.

"Matt, if I tell you who he is, all of Dodge will find out you beat a man and made him leave town on account of a Long Branch girl. It'll be bad for business."

"Alright, Kitty." The marshal stood and tipped his hat, not looking at her. Though not yet familiar with her ways, he'd known early on that he couldn't cow her into saying or doing anything.

"Matt." The concerned blue eyes looking into hers showed no trace of distance or coldness, and Kitty felt a little twist in her heart. He had shared her bed several times now and dined with her often, and hardly looked at the other girls. She wanted so much not to drive him away.

The marshal's eyes softened and he reached for her hand. Kitty's fingers closed around his. "I punished that brute," she said. "I grabbed him, and he sprawled drooling on the ground when I finished with 'im. Kicked him in the head and face, too. I wanted to kill him, but I had no stomach for it."

"If I ever find out who he is, I'll recollect you gave him his thrashing and go easy on him before I run 'im out. I could use a deputy if you're interested," said Matt.

"No thanks. How's Chester working out?" said Kitty.

"Well, he's company for passin' the time."

"You're not gonna let him go, Matt."

"No, I'm not gonna let him go. I gave him the job and we're friends now. The job is Chester's long as he wants to stay on," said Matt.

Chester was at that moment in Doc's office, sitting on the table while Doc listened to his heart through the stethoscope. "Your heartbeat's strong. Nothing wrong there," said Doc.

" 'Tain't in my heart, Doc. It's ma belly," said Chester, as Doc peered at the whites of his eyes. "It rolls an' it's heavy, like as a rock in it. Cain't eat scarce nothin', an' I eat like a horse, usual."

"You might need a purge," said Doc.

"Ain't that neither. I go mornin' an' early sundown most ever' day," said Chester. "Feel kinda weak all over, too, Doc. Cain't do much."

"Been taking your tonic?" said Doc.

"Yeah. Dun do any much good, though."

"Open your mouth." Doc inserted a tongue depressor. "Tongue, throat, gums . . . . All healthy pink. You got no fever, either."

"Wahl, there's somethin' wrong with me, Doc. I ain't no use to Mr. Dillon at all."

"Matt didn't tell you that, did he?" said Doc.

"No, he's too kindly to say it out. I jest know," said Chester.

"You trying hard as you can to be a help to him?" said Doc.

"Reckon I could try harder, maybe. Sure wisht I could find that feller what hit Miss Kitty last night."

"What feller hit Kitty," said Doc. "It was that Ohm Latimer, wasn't it. I knew he was a danger to her."

"Who's Ohm Latimer," said Chester.

"You must've seen 'im at the Long Branch. He's a tall, lean, big-eyed fella. Hard-faced. Has kinda sharp features that stand out. Handsome devil, but you can tell his disposition sure is ugly," said Doc. "Was Kitty bad hurt?"

"She warn't bleedin'. He hit two places on her face, Doc. An' her dress was tore an' mussed with dirt. Hair all loosed 'n mussed like as this feller had her down in the dirt—" Chester abruptly stopped talking. "Oh, my goodness, Doc," he whispered.

"I know, Chester. It pains me to think of it. Fine pretty woman like Kitty. Well, Matt will find that Latimer," said Doc.

"Mr. Dillon will find the man iffen you tell 'im how Latimer looks, Doc. Happen I did see a feller like that at the Long Branch, but cain't recollect to say it to Mr. Dillon clear like you do. On account of Miss Kitty might not tell his name or 'is looks. She said last night she don't want anyone to know," said Chester.

"Now why in thunder wouldn't she tell. The man's like a rabid wolf running loose in town." Doc quickly packed his bag. "I am going right now and tell Matt about Latimer. First I'll stop by the Long Branch and check Kitty out."

"She said no last night. 'Bout seein' you when I said I'd fetch you," said Chester.

"She will see me cuz I'm goin' to see her, and I won't take any nonsense about it," said Doc. "Kitty Russell may be strong-willed, but no one is more obstinate than me when it comes to doctoring."

Doc handed Chester a pasteboard box of stomach powders. "Take one of those in water when your belly gets to feeling off, and be the best assistant you can to Matt."

Chester kept Doc's words to mind, and set his wits sharp to carry out the next orders Mr. Dillon trusted him with. "Keep your eye out for Latimer, Chester," the marshal said. "He may have left town, but I don't think so. Kitty fought and left him flat in the dirt. I calculate he's biding his time to come after her again. Ask around and listen to the talk. Whatever you see or hear of him, let me know. And if you do see him, don't say anything to him."

"Yes, sir." The wrinkle between Chester's brows told Matt how hard his assistant thought on his directions. Chester was a bit dim in ways, and rather a sleepy sort until anything caught his interest, when he perked up and recollected every word he heard. Fortunately for the job, he was curious and gossipy. Folks interested him.

His eyes meeting Matt's were soulful, guileless and mildly awe-struck by his boss, and, Matt suspected, mirrored an already strong devotion to him. Chester sang, played guitar and harmonica, whittled carvings, was chatty once he trusted a body, loved pretty young women and tasty food. He was all feelings. Matt wondered if such a state affected Chester's reason. Well, at least Matt trusted him. The marshal had met no other man in Dodge he trusted, except Doc Adams.

"I'm pleased Miss Kitty felled that Ohm Latimer after the turrible thang he done to her, Mr. Dillon. Hope it give 'im powerful misery. Wisht she'd kilt that vile swine," said Chester.

"I know, Chester. Kitty said she wanted to choke Latimer to death with the bandanna he used to gag her, but she hadn't the stomach for it," said Matt.

"Well, she wouldn't, would she. Miss Kitty's a fine woman with a lady's heart, what she does fer her livin' no matter. Course she couldn't finish a man off when he's down and helpless," said Chester. "Um feared for her now, though."

"That's why it's so important for us to catch this Latimer. No saloon gal is safe so long as he's in town," said Matt.

Chester reported sightings of Latimer around Dodge. Moss Grimmick said the man's horse, a black stallion, was still at the livery, though Latimer hadn't showed to ride him in a spell. Ma Smalley had prepared a supper basket for Latimer for twenty cents, though he didn't board at her place, and the storekeeper Mr. Jonas said Latimer purchased a sack of provisions. No one knew where he stayed or if he even had a roof.

Then one night Latimer appeared at the Long Branch. Kitty stood at the bar between Matt and Chester, their backs to the batwings, when Clem startled. "What is it, Clem," said Kitty.

"Isn't that the man you been asking about, Chester?" said Clem.

Ohm Latimer stood just inside the batwings, staring at Matt. "That's the one," said Kitty. She sounded almost bored. She had inflicted a sight more pain on Latimer than he had on her and walked away, leaving him in the dirt unable to sit up.

As to the rest of it, Kitty kept no track of the number of strangers who'd bedded her since she started soliciting eight years ago, many of them rough. Latimer was little more than an afterthought to her, a nuisance. His threat to kill her barely troubled her, particularly as unbeknownst to him, she'd convinced him to use his fists instead of a weapon when next he came after her. Like most of his breed, Latimer was an idiot who thought he was smart. Kitty was Matt Dillon's girl now, and she felt safe with him in the very face of death.

Matt approached Latimer, who stood unmoving. "Ohm Latimer?" said the marshal. Latimer looked from the marshal in front of him to Kitty at the bar, and in that instant Matt snaked the man's gun from the holster. Latimer's eyes widened but he said nothing, waiting for Matt to play his hand.

"Get out of Dodge," said Matt.

"Everyone knows what she is, Marshal," said Latimer. "Most lawmen don't bother, so I didn't leave town."

"I'm not most lawmen. Now get out."

"I calculated you were sweet on her. Well, I'm not leaving yet. Gotta take care of something first," said Latimer.

"I have a good idea what that something is. You're a bigger fool than you look if you think I'll let you get anywhere near her," said Matt.

Latimer grinned. Despite his handsome face and even white teeth, he looked like a wolf baring its fangs. "If you weren't such a coward, hiding behind your gun and the one you stole from me, you could save your Miss Kitty easy. Whether you believe me or not, the thought of beating a woman more than a blow or two to knock some sense into her makes me sick. I say things I don't mean when I'm mad. A lot of men do; women can rile a man past bearing. Killing you on the other hand would cheer me plenty. Always wanted to beat the pulp out of a lawman. If you fight me, I'll never trouble Kitty again, Marshal. I swear," said Latimer.

"Chester," said Matt, not turning from Latimer. Chester left the bar and hurried to the marshal. Matt handed him Latimer's gun, unbuckled his own gun belt and gave it Chester.

Matt sized Latimer up. About three inches shorter than the marshal, Latimer's lean build was similar in size. Matt's shoulders were a little broader and his bones somewhat heavier, and his chest had more breadth. Latimer had big hands and a strong look to his sinewy frame.

The marshal knew he could take Latimer, though it might not be easy. Anger would lend greater force to Matt's fists. And in Matt's eyes, Latimer looked at once crafty and doltish, like most men who preyed on women. He was unlikely to prove a smart fighter.

"Alright, Latimer," said Matt. "Get out in the street."