Newly and the search party continued to slowly push forward. Every now and again, the young deputy's eyes could catch sight of the marshal's horse's shoe marks along the road. He paused and looked around, encouraging the others to do the same. O'Brien took his hat of hand brushed his right forearm across his sweat-beaded forehead, "He's got to be here somewhere," he exclaimed to himself.

Ed O'Connor pushed the break of the wagon on and stepped down from the rig. Slowly he walked over to Newly, "We've been looking for over two hours now," he stated while arching his back.

"And we're going to continue to look until we find the marshal," the young deputy snapped. O'Connor made a face, "I wasn't implying that we should give up," he stated with a huff.

Newly grew red from embarrassment, "Sorry," he said.

"I know. You're tired and hot just like the rest of us," O'Connor mumbled and walked back to the wagon.

Matt strained his hearing having thought he heard voices. She carefully pushed himself up the tree and looked around. He was too weak and dehydrated to yell out, so he pulled his gun from his holster firing a shot into the air.

The report caught everyone in the search party by surprise, "Where'd that come from?" Newly rhetorically asked as he stood up in his saddle craning his neck to see who fired the shot, "Marshal?" he yelled out.

"I think it came from over there," O'Connor pointed toward the grove.

Newly spurred his horse hard, turning toward the grove and as he got closer, he could see a figure under one of the trees, "Marshal?' he shouted.

The sight of Newly was a welcome one for Matt, who took three steps before his legs buckled under him, collapsing to his knees and rolling to his side with an audible groan. O'Brien had barely brought his horse to a halt before he leaped down from the animal and charged toward Matt.

Matt was sprawled out, flat on his back by the time Newly reached him, quickly knelling next to the fallen marshal, "Marshal?" he asked trying to get Matt to say anything, but Matt was unconscious again. Newly quickly assessed the wound to Matt's shoulder before he stood up, yelling for the search party to bring the wagon.

Newly shook his head as he looked down at the marshal, "It's awfully bad," he said upon re-examination of the bullet wound," he looked up at the group of men, "He's in rough shape and we need to get him back to Doc quickly," he urged. Carefully the lifted Matt's limp body and placed him gently onto the wagon bed. Newly cover the marshal with a blanket.

One of the other men quickly retrieved Matt's hat and gun that had dropped from his hand when he collapsed. No one spoke; they just did what they needed to do for the marshal. Newly tied his horse to the back of the buckboard and climbed into the back to be with Matt, "Let's get moving," he said to Ed O'Connor. With a sharp flick of the reins, O'Connor turned the wagon around they were on their way back to Dodge. The sound of Newly's voice registered with Matt's subconscious and he slowly opened his eyes; looking around and with a satisfied sigh he closed his eyes knowing he was going to be soon back in Dodge.

Matt's shoulder began to bleed again so Newly quickly placed his bandana over the wound and pressed gently to control the bleeding. The pressure caused Matt to moan and move slightly, "Easy, marshal," Newly said in a soothing tone, which seemed to calm Matt down.

Matt looked up at Newly, his eyes barely open, "Where am I?" he asked, his lips parched.

"You're on your way back to Dodge. Who shot you?" the young deputy asked.

Matt rolled his head slightly back and forth, "I don't know. It was dark," he whispered.

Newly pulled the water canteen off the buggy seat and pulled the cork. Gently he lifted Matt's head and poured a small trickle of water into the marshal's mouth, for which he was thankful. After a few swallows, Matt indicated that he was alright for the time being, "Thank you," he said softly. Newly lowered the marshal's head and wanted to desperately tell him about the men back in Dodge, but he felt that would have to wait – perhaps they have since moved on, at least he hoped they had.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jared Baker bit at his bottom lip. He was anxious to clean out Dodge and leave a dust cloud in his wake. "You all have your assignments' and I want you to be quick about them," he stated as he tossed his stubby cigarette to the ground.

"Pickin' should be good," Len Wilson smiled. Looks like half the men are gone and the ones that are left behind don't look like they have any guts," he laughed.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Baker cautioned. "Remember what happened to Bolt," he said glaring at his men. There was an awkward silence before John Calder broke it, "When do we get moving?" he grunted.

Jared looked down the street toward Front Street, "Let's give it an hour. Just be ready to go and have everything in place," Baker said sternly as he walked away leaving his men to finalize their plans.

"He's got something on his mind," Wilson sneered.

"So let him," Mathias added. "I just want to get this over with," he huffed as he hooked his thumbs over his gun belt.

Calder shrugged, "It'll be over before you know it," he sneered.

Charles Downie nodded, "Yeah, it always works out. We just have to make sure that there are no witnesses," he said reinforcing Calder's comment.

"That's Calder's job," Bret Ashley quipped.

"I don't have a problem with that," Calder smiled as he pulled a match from his vest pocket and using William Mathias' vest as a strike. He slowly pulled the lit match to the cigarette he held in his teeth. "Nothing is gonna happen now that Dillon is dead," he stated with surety.

"I hope you're right," Ashley mumbled. "Clive Bolt didn't need to die because of you," he squeaked out.

Calder's eyes narrowed and he glared down at the younger man, "Bolt was old and didn't know what the hell he was doing when he rigged up that dynamite," he snapped. Ashley swallowed hard as he stared at Calder. "I liked him," he whispered.

Calder was about to address Bret Ashley's comment when they heard a ruckus on Front Street, "What's that?" Len Wilson asked as he began to run toward the noise. The others quickly followed.

As it happened it was the search party brining in the marshal. Jared Baker watched from the boardwalk and grabbed Len Wilson as he almost darted past him. "We'll start sooner," he smiled wickedly.