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Very Early Morning

The moon was still high in the sky when Peter Brooks splashed cold water on his face and opened his closet door. He looked down at Felix's limp body. As inconvenient as it was, it had to be dealt with. He'd already rented a carriage and would drive a safe distance from town to dump the wretched thing. Dumping would be sufficient, he certainly didn't see himself doing the physical labor of digging a grave.

He threw a blanket over the body and quietly stepped out of his room to peek over the railing. The night clerk was asleep at his desk, snoring loudly. Brooks quickly and noiselessly carried his bundle past the desk and out the door. The streets were empty except for his carriage. He set his bundle in the back, climbed up and flicked the reins. After hours of driving he figured he'd gone far enough, and looked around. The landscape was bare except for an area thick with strawberry bushes. He didn't want to leave the body out in the open, so the strawberry patch would have to do. It seemed unlikely that anyone would be picking strawberries out here in the middle of nowhere. He lifted the blanketed body and tossed it into the bushes. It was hidden from view. Now he'd go back to town, send two telegrams and introduce himself to the young marshal.

Later That Morning

Matt Dillon opened his eyes. Kitty was asleep with her head on his chest, and she looked so beautiful and sweet that he couldn't resist gently kissing her forehead. He looked at the clock and let out a big sigh - 9:00 - Dillon you are doing great, just great. First you get into bed with this gorgeous woman and do nothing but fall asleep, then you oversleep when you should be working.

With another sigh he started to gingerly move out from under Kitty. She opened her eyes, "Just where do you think you're going Cowboy?"

"Kitty, I'm sorry about last night. I was a lot more tired than I thought I'd be and…"

She smiled sympathetically. "Matt, I understand really I do, but now's your chance to make it up to me. I'll bet I'm the only one who knows you're back."

When she saw that he'd stopped to think about it, she pushed her advantage, "Do you hear gun shots?"

He looked confused, "Well no, why would…"

She ran her fingers up and down his spine, "See, no gun shots, no emergencies, and no one knows you're back."

He met her eyes, relaxed and settled back into bed. He put his hand on the inside of her thigh, and moved it slowly up and down, "You, Kitty Russell, are a very wise woman. I'm sure getting to the office in an hour or so will do fine."

More than an hour later, 11:00 AM in fact, Matt walked into his office. Chester was sweeping the floor, "Mr. Dillon, I was just wondering when you'd be back. You must have decided to spend the night out by Mrs. Johnson's and start back real early this morning. How is Mrs. Johnson?"

Matt sat at his desk and started sorting through mail. He ignored Chester's statement and answered his question. "Mrs. Johnson is all right Chester, but I want us to start looking in on her more. Maybe in a couple of days, you could go out there and see if she needs any chores done." Matt paused, "She's an awfully good cook Chester."

Chester reddened a bit, "Oh Mr. Dillon, I'd be happy to give Mrs. Johnson a hand. I don't expect meals or nothing. Of course if she asked me to stay to supper, I wouldn't insult her by turning it down."

Matt was about to comment when Chester abruptly set the broom aside, "Mister Dillon, I almost forgot. This telegram came for you last night."

Matt read it aloud, "For your information. Escaped Leavenworth Prison. Alistair Beckinworth."

Matt frowned. He'd read about Beckingworth in the newspapers. His trial had been quite a sensation. When one of the richest men in the country is tried for illegal smuggling, people are interested. Matt looked disgusted, "That Beckinworth fellow was sentenced to 25 years, and escaped after a week."

"Do you think he had help Mr. Dillon?"

Matt folded the telegram, "Yep, but it's not our problem. This wire is just for my information. A man like Beckingworth would have no reason to stick around Kansas territory."

They were interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps and a distraught female voice calling for the marshal. Rita Clark, a careworn woman of 30 burst in carrying her 1-year-old daughter on her hip. She was frantic. "Marshal, my boy Felix didn't come home last night. That's not like him. I've been looking everywhere. I'm sure something terrible has happened." Tears filled her red-rimmed eyes.

Matt put a reassuring arm around her shoulders, "Now, now let's not go jumping to conclusions. When did you see him last?"

Rita took a deep breath and pulled herself together but her voice was trembling, "Yesterday afternoon. He said he was going to the stage depot to try and earn some money carrying bags. He's such a good boy, marshal. Since his dad died, he's tried so hard to help me and his little sister.

Matt patted her shoulder, "I know Rita, he is a good boy. Don't worry, I'll look into it right away. Chester here will take you and little Molly home to get some rest."

Chester led Rita Clark out the door. Matt was about to follow when a man in a business suit strode in exuding confidence from every pore, "Marshal Dillon?"

Eager to start his search for Felix, Matt spoke briskly, "That's right. What can I do for you?"

"Marshal, my name is Peter Brooks. I'm planning to open a store in Dodge, and would like to ask you some questions."

"I'll be glad to answer your questions Mr. Brooks, but not now. I have to find a missing little boy."

Brooks watched the marshal rush out the door and hurry down the street. He realized Dillon was looking for that ragamuffin Felix, but knew the search would be futile. He returned to his hotel thinking it strange for a US marshal to brush off a businessman to search for a scraggly little kid. The boy's family was probably lucky to have one less mouth to feed.

Mabel Johnson

Mabel looked in the mirror as she put on her straw hat. She tied the ribbon beneath her chin and spoke to her deceased husband, Hank. "Marshal Dillon was here yesterday to deliver some papers. It seems a distant cousin of yours left me a fair amount of money. That marshal sure is something. Strong, handsome and such a good man. Now Hank don't get jealous. You know that no one measures up to you. I just wish the marshal happiness. He's in love you know. I've always been able to tell when a man is carrying a special lady in his heart."

Hat secure and stray, grey hairs tucked in, Mabel left for her daily walk. As usual, she slowly walked the mile to the strawberry bushes at the far end of her property. She and Hank had picked berries there year after year, but the spot was special for another reason. In the middle of the thick bushes was a circular clearing that was hidden from view. Mabel smiled to herself. On many a hot summer night, she and Hank had made love right in that spot. Now with Hank gone she liked to stand there in the clear, fresh air to feel and remember their love for each other.

As Mabel neared the bushes she noted that the strawberries had started to ripen. She picked the reddest one and popped it in her mouth, savoring the taste as she kept walking through the bushes to the clearing. She froze. There was something on the ground wrapped in a blanket. She started to turn and hurry away but stopped herself, Come on Mabel, you can't unsee what you've seen. Her heart was pounding. She walked over and cautiously unwrapped the blanket. Her hands flew to her mouth in shock. It was the dead body of Rita Clark's little boy, Felix.

TBC