TWELVE

Caleb took his time rearranging the tins of food on the shelves of Jonas' store to better accommodate the new shipment. Only two people, Kitty Russell and her bartender, had entered the store that day, so there was no rush, which suited him just fine. The slow business of the past two days – and the nearly empty streets of Dodge – gave him time to sneak out of the store and around town from time to time. His plan to spook Dodge as he headed toward the final phase of revenge on the Marshal was working perfectly, just as he'd expected. He'd be able to get his brothers within the next day or two at this rate.

Caleb reviewed the steps of his plan in his head, almost finished stocking the shelves. One of the most important parts had been to gain the trust of the people in Dodge. He knew he had most of the town fooled – polite manners and a willingness to work went a long way. And no one could place him at any of the times and locations where he'd shattered storefronts or set the fires or when he wrecked Kitty's room – unfortunately, the news about her room had not spread around town.

If he was being honest with himself, it had been harder for him to pull that off than he'd anticipated. And her resemblance to his ma coupled with her kindness toward him…. She had begun to slip past his defenses. But as he stood painting "whore" on her bedroom wall in blood red paint, the anger bubbled up. He resented how easy her life was. It burned him inside that she had it so good – someone who loved Matt Dillon – while his mother had been treated like a pariah for almost ten years while she worked herself to death.

Caleb felt a sharp pain in his hand and suddenly realized he'd been gripping the crate of tins too tightly. He slowly loosened his white-knuckled grasp and sucked on his palm where a nail had pierced the skin. He wrapped his bandana around his hand before emptying the crate of the last few tins and heading to the storage room to bring out the bags of feed. Jonas was at dinner, so he had the store to himself. Another example of the trust he had found in Dodge.

Caleb suspected the doctor, deputy, and Kitty didn't trust him completely, though. He'd seen it in their eyes at the Long Branch his first night in town. Although, saving the woman's life from the drunk and rescuing the horses from the burning livery had certainly helped. Even if they suspected him, they'd been thrown off balance, and they had no evidence to implicate him. It was enough for him to work with, and he wouldn't give them any solid proof until he was ready, until it was too late for them to do anything about it.

Caleb returned from the storage room with the first of the fifty-pound bags of chicken feed in time to see Marshal Matthew Dillon crossing the street, heading for the store. It was the first time he'd seen the man in nearly a decade, and it took him by surprise, but he quickly reined in his gut reaction and slipped into his friendly persona before the Marshal could see him. He'd have to watch himself – he didn't mind putting the Marshal on edge, but if he went too far he could spoil everything.

Even ten years later, the Marshal still looked the way Caleb remembered, except perhaps a little older and a little more ragged. The man was just as large and carried just as much authority as he had on that horrible day on their farm in Hays when he'd killed their pa.

Caleb lowered the bag from his shoulder to the ground as Dillon entered the store and stood up straight and tall to face the man head-on.

Dillon came right up to him and stuck out his hand, which Caleb forced himself to shake.

"I'm guessing you're the Caleb I've been hearin' about."

"Yessir, I am."

"I'm Marshal Dillon. Thought I'd come introduce myself since you're new in town."

Dillon looked slightly uneasy when Caleb didn't say anything further, but Caleb wasn't going to go out of his way to make this easier on the man.

"I heard you're on your way to New Orleans?"

"Yessir, my uncle owns a shipping company down there. I'm going to help him run it."

"Got any family you're leavin' behind?"

The marshal was fishing for information, and Caleb knew it. He crossed his arms and widened his stance.

"Both my parents are dead, I've got no wife to speak of, and I reckon I'll be sendin' for my brothers when the time is right." He could throw in some honest answers, they wouldn't help Dillon in any way.

A beat passed while the marshal appeared to be weighing the information in his mind, appraising Caleb's answers for truths.

"Well I hear I have you to thank for helping out with the fire and for saving Miss Russell's life."

Was Dillon baiting him? He did look genuinely grateful, especially when he said Kitty's name, which fit with the information Caleb had worked out from poking around town. He thought over his next words carefully. Whatever the marshal's intent, Caleb could still drive home a point. It was worth the risk.

"What can I say? I'm good at cleaning up other people's messes." He let some steel creep into his tone. "I'm just glad there weren't any innocent victims."

The skin around Dillon's eyes tightened slightly, and he drew himself up even taller, if that were possible.

"Yeah, we can both agree on that." They stared each other down, any last pretense of friendliness all but gone. "And you can bet I'm going to make sure it stays that way."

Then the marshal turned on his heel and left without another word.

Caleb watched until Dillon was out of sight and then hurried back into the store room to finish moving the chicken feed, impatient for Jonas to return. As soon as he did, Caleb would leave a false trail, find a way to take care of one last piece of business, and head back to where Harley and Ben were hopefully still camped out.

He'd done enough damage in Dodge. It was time to finish Dillon once and for all.


Matt turned on his heel and left Caleb standing in Jonas' store without another word. His mind raced with possibilities and blood roared in his ears as he strode down the boardwalk. Nothing Caleb had said could point specifically to his guilt, and he hadn't been openly hostile, but there was something in his eyes and tone of voice that Matt would bet his life on. And the reoccurring theme of collateral damage had presented itself, too. But without any actual proof….

Matt hated how damn helpless he felt. There were times his commitment to his badge limited him, held him back.

He decided to go check in with the men at the bank and then head to the Long Branch. At the very least, he could warn Doc and Kitty – and Festus, if he was around – and stay with them as much as he possibly could.

Matt only hoped it would be enough.