The setting sun cast long shadows over Dodge City as Marshal Matt Dillon rode into town, his broad shoulders slumped slightly from the weight of the day's journey. Dust coated his clothes and hat, evidence of the miles he had traveled to settle a dispute between ranchers.
Kitty Russell leaned casually on the balcony rail of the Long Branch Saloon, her vivid red dress catching the golden light. She spotted Matt almost immediately, her heart giving its usual flutter. Relief softened her features, but she kept her expression neutral. He was safe—for now.
Below, Chester Goode waved enthusiastically from the boardwalk.
"Mr. Dillon! You're back! Doc's been fussin' about how long you've been gone, and Miss Kitty—well, she's been watchin' that road more than usual!"
Matt swung down from his horse, offering Chester a small smile. "I'm back in one piece, Chester. Did you save me any peace and quiet?"
Chester grinned. "Not a chance! Dodge has been its usual self, and Doc's been in rare form. He's got a patient now, though—some fella just about keeled over outside his clinic."
Matt glanced toward the clinic, his expression darkening. "I'll check in with him after I drop my stuff off at the jail."
Kitty stepped inside the saloon, keeping her thoughts to herself. Watching Matt return was always bittersweet. He came back, but she couldn't help wondering when the day would come that he didn't.
At the clinic, Doc Adams was bent over a disheveled man sprawled on his examination table. The man's shirt was soaked with sweat and blood, and a crude bandage wrapped his side. Doc muttered to himself as he worked, cutting away the soiled cloth.
The door opened, and Chester entered, followed closely by Matt.
"Got yourself another one, Doc?" Chester asked, peering over his shoulder.
Doc glanced up, his face grim. "This one's in rough shape. Bullet wound. Probably been traveling for days." He gestured toward the man's chest, where a strange leather token hung around his neck. "You ever seen anything like that, Matt?"
Matt leaned in, studying the emblem: a coiled snake wrapped around two crossed pistols. He frowned. "I've seen it before. It's a marker for a gang out of Texas. Nasty bunch."
The man stirred, his eyes fluttering open for a moment. His voice was weak, barely a whisper.
"They're… coming… Dodge… Long Branch…" His head fell back, and he slipped into unconsciousness again.
Matt straightened, his jaw tightening. "Chester, stay here with Doc. If he wakes up again, I need to know what else he can tell us."
"What about you, Mr. Dillon?" Chester asked, concern creeping into his voice.
"I'm heading to the Long Branch. If that gang's after the saloon, we need to be ready."