Matt ran down the stairs from Rita's apartment knowing that only an emergency would bring Mabel Johnson into town. Whatever the problem was, he hoped it could be solved quickly or set aside for the moment, so he could resume his search for Felix.

Mabel's poor donkey was breathing hard by the time it was pulled to a halt outside the marshal's office. Mabel gripped the side of the wagon and cautiously but purposefully started to climb down. Matt rushed over to offer a hand. When she saw him words gushed out, "Marshal, thank goodness. I'm not sure I could have carried him. Lord knows he's not heavy, but I'm not much good at lifting even light things these days."

"Mrs. Johnson, who? Who's not heavy?"

"Felix Clark, I found him wrapped in a blanket in my strawberry patch. It seems someone tried to strangle him, he's barely breathing."

Matt stood in stunned silence for half a second, digesting Mabel's words. Coming to his senses he quickly lifted the slight body out of the wagon and strode off towards Doc's. Mrs. Johnson followed behind, keeping up with his long strides as best she could.

Kitty saw him rushing by and called out, "Matt?"

He kept walking briskly, and she ran along side, "Matt?"

"It's Felix. I think he's in bad shape but alive. Mrs. Johnson found him. Kitty, will you go tell Mrs. Clark? She should come to Doc's right away."

Kitty nodded and immediately raced off. As she climbed the stairs to the apartment above the barbershop, she knew she wasn't the best person for the job. She wondered if Rita would even open the door to her. The woman had always looked at her with contempt, that is when she even deigned to acknowledge her existence.

Kitty took a deep breath and knocked at the door. It opened just a crack.

"Mrs. Clark please open the door. I have a message from Marshal Dillon."

Rita slowly pushed the door open, puzzled as to why the marshal would send such a person with a message. This woman worked in a saloon, painted her face and was never seen at Sunday services.

Kitty ignored the iciness of Rita's glare and spoke warmly, "Mrs. Clark, Marshal Dillon asked me to let you know that your son has been found."

All color left Rita's face, "He's dead isn't he?"

Kitty shook her head, "No, but hurt bad, I don't know the details. The marshal's taking him to Doc's and thought you'd want to go there."

Rita grabbed her shawl and started out the door, but suddenly remembered her daughter. Little Molly was asleep on their bed. Rita whispered to herself, "Poor thing, she's worn out. We were up all night looking for Felix. She just fell asleep, but I'll have to wake her to take her with me."

Kitty took a small step into the sparsely furnished apartment. Her heart went out to the beautiful little girl sleeping peacefully on the bed, "Mrs. Clark, if you don't want to wake her, I can stay here and bring her to you at Doc's when she wakes up."

Shock and disdain crossed Rita's face. Kitty saw the look and spoke gently, "I understand. You don't have to say it. I'm not the kind of person, you'd leave your child with."

Something in Kitty's voice touched Rita. Maybe it was the sad acceptance. Maybe it was the lack of anger or recrimination. Whatever it was, it made Rita look into Kitty's eyes for the first time ever. She'd grown up learning that saloon women were immoral and that all decent people went to church. Yet she'd also grown up being told that eyes were the windows to the soul. She looked into Kitty's eyes and kindness looked back; kindness and a deep understanding about living through hard times. Rita realized she'd never seen those things in the eyes of the fine ladies who threw sewing jobs at her, demanding they be done immediately while quibbling about the price. She'd never seen those things in the eyes of the fancily dressed ladies who proudly marched to the front pews of the church every Sunday. Something suddenly shifted in Rita's heart and mind, something she knew was right and true. "Miss Russell, I'd appreciate if you'd watch my Molly until she woke up." Rita's eyes briefly rested on the basket that was on the table. "And if it's not too much trouble, would you give her something to eat before bringing her to me? A kind and understanding person sent me a food basket."

Kitty smiled broadly, surprised and delighted by Rita's response, "It would be a pleasure."

The women looked at each other, and a bond formed. They knew they'd be friends and allies for life. Rita Clark put a hand on Kitty's shoulder and then rushed over to Doc's.

Alistair Beckenworth

Wearing the fake beard, eye patch, plaid shirt and jeans provided by Peter Brooks, Beckenworth was riding to Dodge. It would take several days to get there, but fortunately his horse, also paid for by Brooks, was a fine one.

As he rode across the endless grassland, Alistair recalled how Brooks had magically appeared and saved him. He'd been convicted of illegally smuggling gold and was sentenced to 25 years in jail. The government confiscated all of his wealth, so if he survived his prison term he'd have nothing when he was released. He was in total despair as he sat in a small, drafty jail awaiting transfer to Leavenworth prison, when the door opened. Peter Brooks strode in, the picture of confidence, wearing a sunny smile.

"My name's Peter Brooks. I'm paying the guard by the minute, so I'll get right to it. Beckenworth, you are in a terrible mess, but one I can fix."

"Why would you?"

"You are the perfect person to join me in a business venture because of your connections in Mexico."

"Brooks, I've heard you have many types of businesses, some quite lucrative. Those are rumored to be, shall I say, unusual."

Brooks laughed, "I can't imagine that would bother you. Listen, I will get you out of jail, I will get you to a mansion in Mexico, and I will bribe the appropriate Mexican officials to ignore extradition.

"Go on."

"The mansion and property will be yours, but you'll need income. Which brings me to my new venture. I am starting a business that needs a man with your contacts and experience. There is a particular type of merchandise that I need brought out of Mexico 3 or 4 times a year. You'll be handsomely paid for providing it."

Brooks quickly whispered the details, they shook hand and became partners. It was that simple.

After that things went according to plan. He was out of jail and on his way to meet Brooks and the gunslinger who would lead him to his new life.

Everything was going smoothly, yet one disturbing thing kept rising up from the back of his mind, the name Matt Dillon. During the week he'd been in prison, he'd heard the name spoken with hatred and a hint of fear by the worst of the worst. Dillon was a US Marshal working out of Dodge City, the place he was headed. Beckenworth pushed the name from his mind. Brooks would have everything under control.

Doc's

Doc finished examining Felix and was tucking away his glasses when Rita rushed in, "Doc, how is he?"

Doc glanced at Matt before responding, "Rita someone tried to strangle your son to death, and came awful close to succeeding." Doc paused to gather his words, "Whoever did this probably thought your son was dead, so stopped. That's a good thing, but - - well, we'll have to wait and see."

Rita saw Doc's face and her heart froze, "Wait and see what?"

Doc paused. There was no way to sugar coat the truth, "Wait and see if he wakes up, and if he does, see if he's the same Felix that we know. Rita, there could be brain damage. He could be very a different child. There's a chance he could be more like a baby than a 7 year old boy, and he could stay that way."

Rita spoke firmly, "Any Felix that is returned to me, will be cherished."

TBA