Harvey Miller road back to his cabin. It was nearing 1:30 in the morning. His hand throbbed and he was tired. Miller slid down off the mule and stammered to the door. Miller grabbed the latch and shoved the door open. The sound woke his wife, "So you finally decided to come home," Penelope grumbled as she pulled the quilt back over her shoulder.

The one-room cabin offered little in the way of privacy, but neither Harvey nor Penelope cared. Their existence it the world was next to dirt farming. They once had a decent farm, but with Harvey's age and health, he just could not do the things a younger man could. Out of frustration, Harvey began to drink and gamble hoping to make it rich the "easy way" as he put it.

At times food on the table was scarce and Penelope would argue with Harvey about hunting. That is what he was doing when he cut his hand.

"Did Doc fix your hand?" Penelope asked with a grunt.

"Sorta," Miller replied curtly as he sank into the chair next to the large stone fireplace.

"What does that mean?" his wife said as she proved herself up on her elbow and looked at her husband.

"See?" he held up his bandaged hand. Satisfied?" he growled.

"Serves you right if it falls off. You took too long," Penelope said as she layed down and rolled away from Harvey. "Did you get the rest of the supplies?"

Harvey said nothing. His silence spoke volumes. Penelope sighed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Clarence Cox stood and kicked snow onto the fire. He'd rested long enough and wanted to get back to Dodge before the marshal and his deputy and the doctor did. He needed to gather his belongings and his mule. He'd resume his search for Isaac elsewhere.

Cox looked up into the night sky and got his bearings. He figured that it would take him an hour or so on foot. The snow was deep, which made the trek a little slower than the trapper had hoped. Nonetheless he was on his way. He was still puzzled why he was so certain that the deputy was his long lost former friend. He decided that he was just so set on solving the matter, that his senses were clouded - for that he felt bad.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wilbur Jonas placed himself halfway between the door and the body. He sat with this back to the mine wall and the lantern at his side. It was the only source of heat, other than his winter coat, which wasn't meant to such cold temperatures - he only wore it to go from his house to the store and maybe a few other places in Dodge, but certainly wasn't one he'd wear out in the wilderness. His whole body shook from the cold. He had almost gotten use of the smell in the mine as his mind was preoccupied with how he was going to either stay warm or escape. Jonas briskly rubbed his hands together and then stuffed them into his coat pockets.

Every now and again a cold wind crept through the cracks in the wooden door that sealed the mine off from the rest of the world. The moonlight was no longer visible so the only light was that cast from the lantern. Jonas hoped that someone would soon be looking for him, then he quickly realized that even his wife wouldn't know that he was missing as she was likely already in bed. Bed. A warm bed. Jonas shook himself as he tried to remain alert and focussed.

Jonas' eyes slowly drifted over to the dead man. Again he looked at his face. He studied the corpse for quite some time and it finally dawned on the store owner, "He looked like Festus! It's that fellow the trapper was looking for!" he said standing. Jonas picked up the lantern and walked over to the dead man. "I wonder what really happened to him," he asked himself as he held the lantern over the man on the ground in front of him.

Regardless, Jonas felt nauseated at the sight of the dead man. Slowly Jonas backed away and returned to where he was sitting. He had no sense of time. Jonas tilted his head back to the rocky wall and sighed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The early morning sun streaked through the forming clouds. Mercifully the temperature was also on the rise, which meant that snow was likely not far away. Clarence moved through the back alleys of Dodge as he tried to find his way to the boarding house.

Cox stepped out onto the boardwalk and right into Festus Haggen. "Well, there's the rat," Festus said grabbing Cox tightly by the wrist. "Matthew and I wondered if you'd show up here again," the deputy said.

"Look, I don't want any more trouble," Cox stated. "Just let me get on my way."

"First you have a meeting with the marshal and there's a matter of Mr. Jonas' display case and a few other thangs that Matthew would like to talk to you about," Festus said pulling his gun on the trapper. "Now move along to the jail," he nudged the trapper. Cox made a face and slowly walked along the boardwalk toward the marshal's office.

"Can't we just forget this?" Cox asked over his shoulder. Festus shook his head no.

Festus motioned for the trapper to open the door into the jail. Matt was near the little wood stove pouring a coffee. Doc sat at the little table at the centre of the room. Both men looked up at Festus with Clarence. Doc looked over to matt as he laid the newspaper down on the table. "Looks like your hunch paid off, Matt," the doctor said over his glasses.

Matt didn't say anything, however, the look on his face said lots. Cox swallowed as he looked around at the other men. "Look, I'm really sorry about all of this," Cox said as he lowered himself onto the chair next to the doctor. Cox looked tired and bedraggled, "I can't tell yo how sorry I am about all of this," he tried to explain.

"Wall, my achin' skull ain't buying yer story!" Festus growled as he poured himself a cup of hot coffee.

Cox looked up and was about to say something when Ellen Jonas entered the jail house. Doc stood as did Cox.

"Marshal. Have you seen Wilbur?" Ellen asked with panic in her voice.

"No. I haven't seen him since yesterday," Matt sat his cup down on his desk.

Newly entered the office as he'd seen Ellen, "How's Mr. Jonas' arm today," the gunsmith asked as Doc looked at him. Doc frowned, "What happened to you?"

"Harvey Miller," Newly answered and looked back to Mrs. Jonas.

"I don't know how his arm is. He never came home last night!" Ellen gasped.