It was very early in the morning when Jared and his men quietly rode into Cimarron – only a few lamps were remained lit along the main street, and fewer within stores and shops. Jared brought his gang to a halt with a wave of his right hand, "Let's split up. When the law comes chasing after us, it'll be harder for them to find us and let alone anyone that may have heard the news by now, will be looking for six of us," he said as a snake-like smile curled his parched lips.

"What about my leg?" Bret Ashley asked from the slumped position he was in, holding his swollen leg with one hand and the saddle horn and reins with the other.

"Find a quack," Baker snapped. "And be sure to come up with some clever reason why you're injured," he warned. "I'll shoot you myself if you mention Dodge City," he growled unsympathetically.

"The pain is killing me! Where will I find a doctor at this time of night?" Ashley wheezed through a wave of pain causing him to break out into a sweat.

Baker huffed and looked over to Charles Downie, "Find him someone, will you? Or just get him off the street," he motioned with a quick back hand down the street.

Downie frowned, "Yeah, sure," he snorted. "Don't know why he can't do it on his own. After all he's the one that got him self shot," he stated.

"Shut up," Ashley growled, looking up at Downie. "I told you when we were all planning this that we should have gone the other way."

"Keep it down," Barker ordered through his clenched teeth. "Do you want everyone in Cimarron to know we're here?" he sneered.

"Maybe its best if it was each man for him self," John Calder suggested. "I don't want to be slowed down by the likes of him," he pointed over to Ashley who was clearly in pain. Ashley looked at Calder, "I thought we were friends," he said in a hushed voice, minding the warning from Baker they got moments ago about being noisy.

"Kid, you've got a lot to learn," Calder laughed and turned his horse up the street. Len Wilson and William Mathias followed, disappearing into the night with one the sound of their horses' hooves echoing off the buildings.

"Find him help now," Jared again ordered Downie before he too rode out of sight.

"I don't even know Cimarron," Downie growled as he roughly grabbed a hold of the reins of Ashley's horse, pulling it along beside him as they slowly moved up the street. "We'd better come up with a good excuse for your wound," he said looking over his shoulder at the slumped figure of Bret Ashley who moaned in response.

In the distance, a dog barked, likely caused by one of the other men as the sought shelter for the remainder of the night. Downie wondered when he and Ashley would be able to retire for the night, and by the looks of his companion, it wasn't going to be any time soon for him, however, Ashley was on the verge of passing out, "Lucky buggers," Downie yawned – his eyes searching the darkness for a doctor's office.

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Between the anxiousness to capture Jared Baker' gang of marauders and shoulder, Matt didn't find any comfort by the small camp fire. His shifted from one sleeping man to another in the posse. The marshal knew he was going to be a bear in the morning if he didn't get any sleep. With a heavy sigh, Matt shifted himself into a slightly more comfortable position as he pulled his bedroll blanket over his shoulder, closing his eyes. All he could picture in his mind was the first look he had of Kitty laying in her bed after she was battered and beaten. Matt's jaw clenched tighter together, trying to control his emotions. With a heavy sigh, Matt reluctantly fell asleep with his head resting on his over turned saddle.

The raspy call of crows in the distance that woke Newly O'Brien; the young deputy's eye blinked open and he stared dawn blue sky that was streaked with bright orange and red clouds, indicating rain later. Newly rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of his hand and sat up, and looked around the camp – several of the troopers were also stirring.

Sam, the oldest man in the posse was the next to wake up, but his body ached from lying on the cold ground, however he didn't say a word about it. Newly could see the aches in the barkeep's facial expressions as Noonan struggled to his feet and arched his back with a barely audible groan. Newly hid his smile, but admired Sam greatly – he was one of Dodge's model citizens.

With the others slowly waking up, it wasn't long before Matt's eyes flashed open. For a split second he thought he was still lying under the apple tree waiting for help, but all that suddenly went away when he remembered what happened to Kitty and why he was now lying out in a field with several soldiers from Fort Dodge. Matt hastily sat up, causing a ripple of pain to surge through his shoulder – he realized that he had somehow slept on it wrong. Gritting his teeth, the marshal pushed himself up to his knees before he stood up, also arching his back.

Newly walked over to his boss, "Looks like we might get rain later," he said looking up to the clouds.

Matt quickly glanced, "Hopefully not before we catch Jared," he growled as he stooped to pick up his saddle, "Eat quickly," he then said to the small party of men. Some chose to chew on jerky, while the others quickly drank the last of the cold coffee, left over from the night before.

Within fifteen minutes, all the men in the posse were ready to ride, and once mounted, the continued onward to Cimarron.

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Bret Ashley put in a terrible night, having not found a doctor. Charles Downie made him bed down in a shed at the back of someone's property near the edge of town. Downie set out early in the morning in search of aid for his friend.

Ashley's leg was swollen and he was wet with sweat. His eyes opened to the sound of voices. The young man grit his teeth together as he scrambled to the wall, looking out through a crack in the siding. He couldn't make out where the voices were coming from, but he knew they were getting closer – and both male.

Frantically Ashley looked around and spotted a ladder leading to a loft. Again he grit his teeth and he hobbled over to the ladder and began to climb, just as the shed door opened.

"Hey! Who are you!" Lewis Tucker shouted as he pointed directly at Ashley.

The young man froze as he clung to the ladder part way up. He was too weak to jump and run, so he chose to just stay where he was hoping that Downie would return to rescue him.

"This man asked you a question," the taller man stated. "And as sheriff in this town, I demand you to answer him," sheriff Wells said as he slowly pulled his gun from his holster levelling at Bret. "And it better be good," he said in a clam voice.

Bret felt his hands growing weak as fever was over taking him. With a deep swallow, he let go of the ladder and fell about ten feet to the floor with a solid thud.

Tucker and Wells quickly approached the man, although cautiously. Tucker knelt down and look at the flushed face of the man, "He's burning up with fever," he said quickly stepping back for fear of disease.

"Go get Doctor Bancroft," the sheriff said as he holstered his gun. "He's not going anywhere right now," he stated.

Wells nodded and darted out of his shed in search of the doctor. The man raced past Charles Downie, who was on his way back to the shed with some food. He paused and peered around the corner of the house, spotting the sheriff, "Damn!" he muttered to himself. "Jared's gonna have my head."

With his heart now pounding Downie looked for a way to tell Jared, but nothing was coming to mind. He then decided that the best thing was to do what John Calder suggested and be in his own. Downie wet his lips and began to walk back to where he had tied up his horse. His eyes scanned the street looking for any of his friends and once satisfied that they weren't in sight, he mounted his horse and began to leave Cimarron.

"Where do you suppose he's going?" William Mathias asked Len Wilson.

"I don't know, but Jared will like to know about this," Wilson said as he lit a cigar. "That boy could be in a heap of trouble," he half chuckled before swatting Mathias across the shoulder and walking away.