Matt and the small posse approached the east road leading into old Dodge Town. He could clearly see the hoof marks left by Jared's gang causing his blood to boil. Just up the road, the marshal could see four men mounted on horses and as the posse approached, Matt could tell they were the men sent from Fort Dodge – a slight feeling of relief eased his ill temper, however he hoped there would have been more than four soldiers.

As the posse approached one of the soldiers lifted his hand to stop them, "Marshal Dillon?" he asked; his eyes scanning the three men.

Matt nodded yes before answering, "That's me," he grunted, pulling his horse to a stop just short of the small group of soldiers.

The young soldier took time to introduce himself and the others in his riding party, "I'm Private Batten. This is Harper, Little and Sheppard," each man saluted slightly, acknowledging their names.

"I'm glad your captain could spare you," Matt said as he shifted his weight in his saddle.

"We understand there was a robbery in Dodge," Batten said.

"Two robberies," Matt corrected the young soldier. "And another matter," he stated. "The men were after are rapists," Matt growled. Newly and Sam exchanged looks before casting their eyes to the ground.

"Captain Donnelly briefed us," Batten swallowed. "He thinks he might have heard about Jared Baker from other parts of Kansas," he informed Matt.

"I've never heard of him, unless he is going on aliases," Matt stated.

"From what the Captain said, he doesn't leave many witnesses behind, so the woman he raped must have been lucky in that way," Batten said, not knowing Matt's relationship with "the woman". Matt's jaw clenched tight and he flexed his jowl muscles trying to maintain a level head – his nostrils flared with each breath he exhaled. Batten saw the look on the marshal's face, but chose not to pursue any further questions.

"Let's ride," Matt finally said and the group turned their mounts toward old Dodge Town. The ride there was only twenty minutes or so, and the trail left by Jared Baker and his men was still quite clear and mostly undisturbed making it easy to follow.

Matt was the first to arrive at the old saloon and he quickly dismounted. He needed to be the first one in the building to see what had happened to Kitty. He took a moment at the door and waited a few seconds to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Matt slowly moved into to the old building and his stomach flipped as he could see through the dust marks on the floor where Kitty's fingers clawed at the floorboards, trying to escape. More hate for Jared Baker welt up inside him. Matt's large hands balled into tight fists of rage; hanging from his arms and his breathing became more seething – he swallowed back the angry cry that sat in his throat. If there was any pain in his shoulder, he wasn't feeling it.

Newly and Sam were the next two men through the door, and neither man said a word. It was Private Batten who then spoke up from the doorway, "We can't catch them if we stay here." He felt that his comment might have stung, but he knew he was right.

Matt drew a deep breath, turning toward Newly and Sam, "He's right," he growled and walked with long determined strides out to his horse. Newly, Sam and Batten followed and were quick to mount their horses.

Not a word was spoken for some time and the men continued to follow the trail, until it turned toward the prairie, "Looks like they are heading for Cimarron. A least it looks that way," Matt stated as he pulled his big buckskin horse to a halt – the others quickly complied.

"Why would they cut off this way?" Batten asked.

"They know they're going to be followed," Matt grunted. "We'll have to be watchful that they don't double back," the marshal said as he studied the paths through the tall grass. Matt nudged Buck into the grass, "Keep your eyes open and watch for any changes in directions," he ordered.

The sun was high in the sky and the temperature continued rise as the day went on. Tracking Jared's gang was now slow, with the grass being matted by winds and other animals, however, every now and again one of the men would point out evidence that the group of marauders had passed through the area, and still pushing toward Cimarron.

Another house had passed when Sam spotted what looked to be dried blood on a lower branch, "Marshal!" he called out.

Matt was quick to respond to the barkeep's shout, "What is it, Sam?" he asked as he rode toward the area that Sam was now standing, having dismounted to examine his find a little closer.

"This trail that I've been following has what looks like dried blood," he pointed the branch out to the marshal.

Matt quickly stepped down from his horse, while the others gathered around. Matt knelt down and examined the drying gooey substance with his fingers, "Festus said he thought he hit one of them," he said as he stood looking around. "Doesn't look like a lot, but it might be enough to make riding hard uncomfortable," he said which reminded him of his own shoulder injury.

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Miles ahead of the posse, Bret Ashley pulled his horse to a stop, "Come on, guys! I need help!" he yelped ash he held his left thigh. Despite the bandana he tied around the wound, it still trickled with blood and now infection was setting in.

Jared pull his horse to a halt, "What do you want to do? Go back to Dodge?" he snapped at his youngest partner.

"Not really," Ashley stated as he leaned forward on his saddle, hoping for the nausea to wear off.

Jared snorted, "See that he doesn't fall out if his saddle. We'll have to go to Cimarron after all," he grunted. "And once we're there, that's where we'll split up. I don't what to be tied to any whiners," he growled and jabbed his horse hard with his spurs. Most of the men followed directly, but Charles Downie stayed with Ashley, "Come on Bret. I'm sure Cimarron has a doctor or two," he patted his friend on the shoulder.

"How will I explain a bullet wound?" Bret looked up at his friend.

"We'll think of something," Downie smiled. "We can't exactly say you were shot robbing a bank, can we?" he laughed. Slowly Bret smiled, "I guess not," he said as he nudged his horse forward.