CHAPTER ONE

Mexico Territory

In a darkened corner of a run-down cantina, draped in shadows cast by the dimmed lantern lights, a boy, no older then fifteen, watched and listened, hardly daring to breathe in case the smallest sound might alert the patrons in the room to his presence. The boy had slipped inside the cantina not long before sunset, settling himself in the corner, the brim of his sombrero pulled down low to hide his face.

Across the room from where he sat, the thin American man with the scarred face, leaned casually with his back against the bar, his long fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle of whiskey, sipping slowly, his eyes fixed on the door. He favored his left leg, as if some old injury had caught up with him and was causing him trouble.

Though the room was nearly full, it was quiet as a grave except for the chilling, somber notes of the cantina player's guitar, playing a tune that the boy knew well. He shivered in spite of the hot night air.

The tune being played was a death song.

It was the American that had requested it to the cantina player as soon as he had walked in some time around dusk, glancing around the room a few times, as if looking for someone before going to the bar and ordering a drink from the pot-bellied bartender. Then, leaning his back against the bar, he watched the cantina entrance with his bottle in his hand. He hadn't moved from the spot since the sun had gone down.

The boy glanced nervously at the entrance again.

Tension hung in the air like cigar smoke, as if every person in the room could feel that something was about to happen.

"Matthew, we haven't seen hide nor hair of that young'un since ya sent him in thar."

"Shh. Keep your voice down, Festus." United States Marshal Matt Dillon shot his deputy a warning glance. "He'll come, just give him a few more minutes." He turned back to the cantina, keeping his rifle aimed at the doorway. "If I'm right, that was John Cutler that walked inside not long after dusk. I got to know how many men he's got in there to back him up."

"Hmph. If we wait here any longer, we'll grow ourselves some roots and become a part o'the landscape." Festus Haggen replied in a softer tone and readjusted himself, his legs and back aching from being in a crouched position for so long. "I ain't hankerin' t'stick around y'know."

Matt chuckled dryly, his blue eyes still fixed on the cantina entrance. "Don't worry, Festus. We'll just haul ya back to Dodge in a pot so once we get home, we can replant you somewhere."

"Very funny, Matthew." Festus glanced over at the grinning Marshal, unamused by his witty remark. The two men had settled themselves behind a row of large rocks facing the cantina, which had been built just outside the small town nearby, their rifles loaded and ready in case their fugitive figured out they had caught up with him and came out shooting.

Matt knew exactly how Festus felt though. His entire body was sore from being in the saddle since dawn and he was exhausted, but now that they had caught up with their man, he wasn't about to let him slip away again. He had sent the young Mexican boy into the cantina to watch for Cutler and then report back if he came into the cantina. It was risky, as he didn't want to lose the element of surprise in order to apprehend him, but Matt vowed he wouldn't return to Kansas until he had the murdering bastard in custody.

Figuring it was time to report to the big lawman waiting outside, the boy slowly rose to his feet. He edged towards the door, keeping his back to the wall. One of the cantina girls looked up from where she sat at a nearby table, her black eyes glinting with suspicion. She looked over her shoulder at the man standing at the bar and then back to the boy, frowning.

The boy froze when Cutler's eyes met his.

"Where you goin', boy?" The man's voice was cold. The cantina player stopped strumming his guitar.

The boy swallowed and hurried for the door but the men at the table closest to the entrance grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. He fought against them in a futile attempt to free himself but he was no match for their combined strength.

Taking a smoldering cigar from a man at a nearby table, Cutler stalked towards them and stopped in front of their young captive, his green eyes glinting maliciously in the lantern light. "You're a little young to be in a place like this, aren't you son?"

The boy was silent, staring nervously at the smoking cigar.

Cutler frowned and bent his face closer to the boy's. "What you nervous about?"

When the boy didn't answer, he viciously grabbed ahold of the boy's face and forced his head back, holding the burning end of the cigar near his right eye. "What are you doin' in here?" He demanded through gritted teeth as the boy struggled against his painful grasp. "Who are you tryin' to sneak back to?"

The boy whimpered and sobbed.

Matt was getting anxious. His spy should have been on his way out by now. He'd had enough time since Cutler had arrived to come back and report. The Marshal tightened his grip on his rifle. "Something's wrong."

"I was jus' thinkin' the same thing, Matthew." Festus added, squinting in the darkness towards the cantina.

Matt was about to suggest going to investigate when the cantina door busted open and Cutler walked out, dragging the young boy with him, the barrel of his pistol aimed at his head.

Matt and Festus lowered their rifles and shared a nervous glance.

Cutler scanned the dark landscape on all sides, absolutely livid. "I know yer out there, Dillon! Skulkin' around in the dark like a coward!"

Matt clenched his jaw in frustration, his original plan to apprehend John Cutler had failed. The element of surprise was gone.

The boy groaned painfully but Cutler shook him savagely. "Didja think I wouldn't notice this kid you sent in here t'watch me? Too afraid to walk in an' face me yerself, Dillon?!"

"I was letting you enjoy your last drink, Cutler, before I decided to come in after ya." Matt shouted back, his voice filled with contempt. "I was generous enough to allow you that much. The boy's done ya no harm. Let him go!"

Cutler snorted disdainfully and took a few more steps towards the place where Matt's voice had come from, forcing the boy forward. He was now within the Marshal's shooting range. "You just don't give up, do ya, Dillon?" Behind him, the patrons of the cantina slowly filed outside to watch the confrontation.

"Let go of the boy and then drop your gunbelt, Cutler." Matt ordered. "There's not just me sittin' out here with a gun pointed at ya!"

Cutler let out a sarcastic laugh. "I know for a fact that its jus' you and that whisker-faced deputy of yers! Do you think I'm stupid?" To Matt's surprise, he shoved the boy away from him, letting him fall to the dirt, sending him crawling after aiming a savage kick to his backside.

Matt raised his rifle, ready to shoot now that the boy was out of danger. "I'm not gonna tell you again, Cutler! Drop the gun or I'll shoot!"

"The day that hell freezes over is the day I'll listen to you!" Cutler screamed and aimed his pistol, shooting blindly into the darkness.

BANG!

The bullet ricocheted off the rocks above Matt and Festus's heads, raining chunks of loose gravel on them. They hunkered down lower, knowing that another blind shot like that could easily hit one of them.

"This is your last chance to surrender, Cutler!" Matt hollered. "Drop the gun and raise your hands above your head where I can see 'em!"

Matt and Festus ducked their heads as Cutler fired off a series of angry shots in reply to Matt's demand, the bullets hitting and bouncing off the rocks with ear-splitting thuds. "I'll kill ya, Dillon!"

Festus shook his head. "That no good brushpopper jus' won't give up, will 'e?" He whispered to Matt.

Matt raised himself up a little. "Well we won't either." Hoping he wouldn't hit the people standing in front of the cantina, he jerked up onto his knees and aimed his rifle over the rocks at Cutler, whose outline was just barely visible against the cantina's light, and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

Matt watched Cutler duck down and roll across the ground before crawling on his hands and knees and darting behind a watering trough for cover. The thundering, cracking shot of the rifle had caused the cantina patrons to scatter or run back inside the adobe building.

Matt dropped down behind the rocks and leaned his back against them. "I'm a patient man, Cutler." He shouted. "We can stay here all night exchanging bullets until its light enough to see each other or you can give yourself up now."

"You son of a bitch! You coulda killed me!" Came Cutler's outraged reply.

"That thar's the idea, you knucklehead!" Festus hollered bad-temperedly. "Consider yerself lucky that Matthew missed!"

"Festus."

"Wut?"

"I wouldn't bother sleeping tonight if I was you, Dillon!" Cutler yelled threateningly. "Me an' the boys'll find ya out there! You'll be dead before first light!" He let off another series of shots that passed harmlessly above Matt and Festus's heads before it went quiet again.

Festus raised himself up, chancing a look over the rocks. "Well that ornery old beanpole jus' ran back inside the cantina, Matthew." Festus dropped back down next to the Marshal.

Matt wasn't surprised. "Gathering up men to help him, no doubt." He jumped to his feet. "Come on, here's our chance to get away before they come out shootin'. We won't have a chance against a whole gang."

"Where we goin'?"

Matt shoved Festus in front of him. "Somewhere that's not here, now get movin'!"

The two men left the rocks and vanished into the night.