It was well after midnight when Matt reached Hays; both he and his horse were dragging after such a long cold ride. The marshal felt, based on the information, he had no choice but to push through to try and find the truth. There weren't many lights on along the main street, just those of saloons that looked to be like they were closing as loud boisterous and drunken men rolled out into the street.
Matt rode along a little further until he reached the livery stable where he dismounted. He thought he heard Buck sigh, and it wouldn't surprise him as he too was thankful to be out of the saddle.
The marshal led the large buckskin horse into the building; there were a few lanterns lit casting a warm glow inside the stable. There were a few empty stalls, so Matt walked the animal to one and tied the reins around the post and unsaddled the horse. Matt plopped the saddle in the corner and decided that he too was going to spend the night there rather than looking for somewhere that was open and had lodging. Either way, the stable master would be paid for the rent of the stall and feed for the horse. He hoped to see the buffalo hunter, Emmitt Drake, at first light. Matt sat down and leaned back onto the saddle, pulled his coat collar tighter and slid his hat down over his eyes; he was soon sound asleep.
Matt was in a deep sleep and dreaming of fishing with Doc and Festus, of all things. The fish were enormous, so big that they could only manage to land one, and it looked like one of the mangy buffalo hunters. Doc was beating it with a broom that Jonas had just given him. The marshal stood back and laughed, that was until the fish and Festus got into a flight causing the hill man to step on the marshal's foot. Matt shook his foot and frowned. Then it happened again, "Stop that," he ordered, and it happened again, this time, the marshal woke up.
Slowly Matt lifted his hat and looked up into the face of the stable master. "I don't let folks sleep with their horses," the cragged faced man stated firmly.
Matt blinked, "That time is it?" he asked as he slowly pulled himself up to his feet; he brushed off some hay.
"Nearly seven in the morning," the stable master replied.
"My name's Matt Dillion. I'm the marshal from Dodge. I got in late last night and this was the only place I could find," the marshal stated.
"Huh. Cecil's my name," the man still didn't look impressed or convinced of Matt's story.
Matt fished into his vest pocket and pulled out some money, "This should cover the stall and some feed. I hope to be back a little later," he said handing the money to the stable master. Cecil looked down at the money,"That will do," he smiled slightly and quickly stuffed the money into his trouser pocket.
"If you need me, I'll be over at the sheriff's office about a matter," Matt stated as he thumbed toward the door.
Cecil bit at his lip, "Sure," he grumbled as he gathered a sack for oats to feed the marshal's horse.
Matt strolled along the street to the sheriff's office. He looked briefly at the wanted posters to see if any of the men in Dodge were there, but no poster matched them. The marshal opened the door and stepped into the room. Sheriff Frank Stanley was at his desk, reading the morning newspaper. He didn't look up, "Just put the wood in the bin, Billy," he said from behind the paper.
Matt cleared his throat, which got the sheriff's attention. Slowly Stanley lowered the page, "Matt? What beings you all the way to Hays? There's no planned hanging today," he said as he dropped the newspaper in this desk and stood up.
"You have a prisoner I need to talk to," Matt stated as he walked further into the office.
"Which one? I have a few gems you can choose from," Stanley laughed.
"A buffalo hunter names Emmitt," Matt answered.
"Oh. Him," the sheriff shook his head, "He's either crazy or wild," he stated. "He isn't anyone's favourite in town right at the moment," he added.
"I know all about it," Matt mused, "I have three of them in Dodge right now," he said as he hooked his thumbs over his gun belt and rocked slightly on his heels.
"So that's where they got to," the sheriff said as he walked to the wood stove and pour a coffee for the marshal, and then one for himself.
"In fine fashion, I might add," Matt said as the welcomed the cup of hot coffee. "They stole a buggy wheel off a friend's rig, winged my deputy while doing it, then stranding two of my friends in that blizzard, came into Dodge roughed up a store, and shot Festus again," Matt reeling off what the buffalo hunters had been up to.
"And I bet you haven't been able to charge them with one single thing," the sheriff lamented.
Matt shook his head no, "The store owner could have them charged, but Jonas has been through enough over the last year and refused to lay charges so I can't blame him for wanting to rock the boat," the marshal stated. "I'm hoping they just move on," he then said.
"But that's not why your here," Stanley noted.
"No," Matt sipped on his coffee, "it's because of the telegraph you sent," he said pulling the paper from his shirt pocket.
"Well, that came from Emmitt, for sure," the sheriff said as he re-read the message. "The four of them went wild here that night. Threatened practically everyone in sight," Stanley said as he walked back hi desk and sat down.
"That sounds familiar," Matt said as he followed and took the seat opposite the sheriff's desk. "What happen that Emmitt ended up in there," Matt thumbed over his shoulder to the closed door to the holding cells.
"The four of them got pretty drunk, and started bulling people around," Stanley said and Matt nodded in agreement. "But the other night, ol Emmitt had way too much to drink and came staggering out of the Bucket of Blood saloon, he was shouting about a bank robbery that he and his friends were planning. The four of them were all laughing at the time, until the biggest one wised up," the sheriff stated.
"Then what happened?" Matt asked.
"The big one tried to shut him up, but Emmitt pulled his gun with intentions of shooting him, but took out three windows and killed a horse instead," Stanley stated. "We're waiting for Judge Brooker to hold the trial," he concluded. "The other three abandoned him here like he never existed. They just packed up and left."
"I need to see him," Matt said as he set his coffee cup down on the sheriff's desk and then stood.
"Sure, but leave your gun here. He's a nasty piece of work," Stanley said as he got to his feet and grabbed the ring of key off the hoof behind his desk. "I sure would like to know who all this is going to pan out," he said as he walked to the door that led to the cells.
Matt drew a deep breath, "So would I," he said as he remove his gun belt and left it on the desk.