Festus was still shaken the next morning as he headed over to the jail and he paused before going inside. As much as he had endured in Rock Creek, he honestly believed Matt had suffered more. After Festus was arrested for murder, the marshal accepted Judge Brooker's decision it was better for the deputy to be cleared of the charges than to live under a cloud. Matt had devoted his life to the law, and when his faith in the system resulted in Festus' death sentence, his reason collapsed under the blow and he staged a jailbreak that could have cost him his own life. For a long time after they got back to Dodge, the deputy had been aware of a forlorn apology in Matt's eyes every time he looked at him. Festus dreaded the thought of Matt finding out he was still troubled by what had happened and he took a deep breath, letting it out in a blithe whistle as he opened the door. "Mornin', Matthew." Festus went over to the coffeepot and checked it, then got a cup. "Anythin' interestin' in the mail, is there?"

"Matter of fact, there is," said the marshal, leafing through a stack of envelopes. "There's a letter here from Agent Doyle." The deputy's hand jerked and he gasped as hot coffee splashed on his wrist. Matt looked up in concern. "Festus, you all right?"

Festus set the cup down with a trembling hand, avoiding Matt's eyes. "Oh, 'course I am, Matthew. Just spilled a little dab of coffee is all."

Matt frowned. "Festus..."

The deputy forced a smile. "Matthew, you know I cain't read. Now if'n you don't tell me what's in that there letter, how do you s'pose I'm ever gonna find out?"

"Well..." The marshal hesitated, then turned back to the letter. "It's about Suzie Johnson. Seems she died last week in prison and Doyle thought we should know about it."

Festus bit his lip and poured another cup of coffee. He passed it to Matt, got a fresh cup for himself, and sat at the little table in front of the marshal's desk. They drank in silence for a moment, then the deputy said in a low voice, "Matthew, I don't want to speak ill of the dead...'specially not no woman...but why would that there Agent Doyle think we'd be havin' any soft feelin's 'bout Frank Eaton's wife dyin'?"

"It's not that." The marshal crumpled the paper nervously in his hands. "She made a deathbed confession."

"She did?" Festus was puzzled. "What in tarnation could she have to confess to? As I recollect, all her sins came out at her trial."

"According to Doyle she held something back. When you were arrested..." Matt took a deep breath, then went on as if delivering a report he had no personal knowledge of to a man he had never met. "Suzie Johnson contacted Frank Eaton in Mexico. He was still operating with some of his old gang down there and he double-crossed them, taking all the money they had and heading back to the states. It was his plan to wait until you were executed in his name, then disappear with his wife and start over."

Festus shook his head. "I know meaness don't just happen overnight but that Frank Eaton surely wuz in a class all to hisself." He frowned. "Matthew, I still don't understand what any of this has to do with us."

"Suzie Johnson didn't just die...she was shot when Eaton's gang tried to break her out of prison. They tracked Eaton and the money to a bank in Wichita...him and his wife used to live there and the bank manager knows them both by sight. He'll only release the money to one of them."

"So they tried bustin' her out so's they could get their money?" The deputy drank some more coffee. "Well, they sure did outsmart theirselves, 'cause with her and her husband both in their graves them fellers ain't never goin' to see so much as a nickel now."

Matt got up and came over to the table to sit next to Festus. "Doyle thinks they might come after you."

"Me!" Their eyes met and the deputy's shoulders slumped. "He could be right, Matthew. I ain't Frank Eaton but I could prob'ly get that money, couldn't I?"

"That's what Doyle's afraid of. The prison sent a posse after Eaton's men but they lost it two days out. They haven't been seen since and he's hoping they left the country, but if they know about you..."

The marshal's face was a study in misery and Festus leaned forward to put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Matthew, ain't you startin' to itch 'fore you been bit? Them fellers is prob'ly back acrosst the Mexican border by now."

"I hope so," said Matt glumly. "Doyle's trying to find some old wanted posters on them so we'll know what they look like in case they show up in town." He consulted the letter again. "No real descriptions, but their names are Hank Norton, Toby O'Hara, and Mike Watson."

"So all's we got to do is watch for three ornery strangers?" Festus grinned and after a moment the marshal smiled back at him. "Matthew, if'n we cain't handle some polecats that wuz foolish enough to ride with Frank Eaton I'm thinkin' it's time we turned in our badges."