The condemned prisoner was a flight risk too savage to ride the stage. Even so, with the jail cells otherwise empty since the winter freeze set in, Matt saw no need for a deputy to man the marshal's office while he and Chester escorted the murderer on the three-day trip to Hays. The man's ferocity tested Matt's considerable assurance in his strength as a lawman and he needed his partner to help guard the prisoner on the ride to the gallows. Although Chester feared the killer, a random violator of women and men alike.

When the urge consumed Matt to rip off his gloves and beat the madman to a bloody pulp with his bare fists, he reminded himself that so far as anyone knew, the murderer's youngest victim was a man twenty years of age. The killer had never attacked a child, and that speck of humanness might have saved Matt from beating him to death. Tending him wore on Chester, as did the journey through icy gusts and snowstorms.

The jailhouse felt nearly frigid as the open plains when Matt and Chester returned to Dodge. They stabled their horses at Grimmick's livery, shouldered their saddlebags and walked to the jailhouse through the gray afternoon. Chester let his saddlebags fall and flopped on his bed.

"The lamp and stove need lighting, Chester. And we could use some hot coffee. After I warm my bones and drink a cup, I'll go to the post and telegraph office. And Jonas's for provisions."

"Tired to death," Chester mumbled.

"I'll do it," Matt said.

"Naww . . . . Ah'll do ma part. 'Tain't fair you doin' the whole. Reckon yer tuckered, too." Chester was sick, but he wouldn't tell the marshal 'til the lamp and stove were lit and coffee fixed, or Mr. Dillon would order him to stay abed, do all the work himself and go for Doc.

Chester wrapped in a blanket and hunkered over the stove, shivering and sipping coffee, and Mr. Dillon told him go to bed before he said a word about being sick. "Ain't grumped none 'bout feelin' poorly."

"Your face is shining red and your eyes bloodshot with puffed dark rings. And you sound clogged," said Matt.

"Oh. Guess um sick, then. You go 'head on yer errands, Mr. Dillon. Ah'll go to Doc's maself so's I won't be sech a bother."

"Alright." Matt shrugged off a slight unease about letting his friend walk in the cold to Doc's. The condemned man, now three days dead with his neck broken by the noose, and six days on the trail in freezing weather had taken their toll on Chester. The short walk to Doc's wouldn't make much difference.

Doc wasn't in, so Chester headed for the Long Branch to see Miss Kitty and numb with a double whiskey his swimmy headache and the stuffed soreness that pained his gullet worse when he swallowed. Miss Kitty sat by the stove, drinking hot tea and playing solitaire.

Chester limped to her table and tipped his hat. "Miss Kitty." He smiled, no matter he felt like a dead mouse the cat drug in. Miss Kitty looked so bright and pretty and fresh in a green dress trimmed with red lace, and a soapy, flowery scent wafted round her.

She returned his smile, her eyes like blue gem stones warmly sparkling. "Chester. You just get back? Sit down, you look tired. Where's Matt?"

"To the post an' telegraph 'n Jonas's." Chester kneaded his neck. His muscles hurt dully, scarce enough to trouble him but they needed stretching continual or they stiffened.

"I bet you could use a beer."

"Thank you kindly, Miss Kitty. Think maybe I'd like a two-shot whiskey iffen it's a'right."

"Sure it's alright." Kitty called the order to Clem.

"I went to Doc's but he ain't thar," said Chester.

"Doc's at the Fernsby farm delivering their fourteenth baby. Eight of her children died, poor thing. Five of them before they were a year old. I hope this one survives. And birthing it doesn't kill Sadie," Kitty said.

"Wahl, if anyone kin save her 'n the baby, it's Doc. I wouldn't be a woman fer no sum a money. Near passin' out jest thinkin' on it. Thanks, Clem," Chester said as Clem set a brimming whiskey glass on the table.

"You don't look so good, Chester," said Clem.

"Dun feel none too good neither. Ah'll take yer medicine whilst I wait on Doc ta git back."

"Plenty more where that came from." Clem went back to the bar.

"Ever see a baby birthed, Chester?" said Kitty.

"Oncet. I was in Doc's office for somewhat a short spell after I first come to Dodge, 'fore Mr. Dillon first got to town even. A lady come in too sick fer Doc ta do the birthin' hisself, an' he made me stay 'n help bring it," Chester said faintly. He gulped whiskey and grimaced as it burned his sore throat. " 'Twarn't at all proper for me to witness, poor lady, but Doc said she'd be in too much pain to care, an' she was. Please, Miss Kitty. I dun wanna think on it no more. Makin' me sick to die."

"Oh Chester. You're just tired. What d'you want to see Doc for, saddle sores?"

"My gracious, Miss Kitty, I cain't talk 'bout them thangs with you. Birthin' 'n saddle sores an' like a that."

"Why not?" Kitty's eyes twinkled.

Chester didn't like being joshed unless it struck him funny. It bothered him more when Doc did it, but he was wore down and out of sorts so even Miss Kitty's lighthearted teasing chafed.

He drained his whiskey glass. "Don't feel up to waitin' for Doc to git back from Fernsbys. I'm goin' back to the office."

Kitty looked at him intently as he stood up. "You really are sick, aren't you. I hear it in your voice, too."

"Nothin' to worry 'bout."

"Well I am worried. When Matt finishes his errands, you tell him to get Doc."

"Forevermore, Miss Kitty. I cain't."

Kitty rose from her chair. "Chester, you'd just better."

"I cain't order Mr. Dillon thataway."

"Well then . . . . See that big cowboy talking to Minnie?"

"Bull Sutter."

"If you know who he is, you know he'll do anything for me. Promise me you'll tell Matt to get Doc, or I'll have Bull drag you upstairs, put you to bed in my room, lock you in and go wait for Doc in his office. I mean it, Chester."

"Doc might not be back from Fernsbys when Mr. Dillon gits to the jail," Chester weakly objected.

"Matt will come here and wait with me if Doc's not back."

"Yessum ah'll tell 'im," Chester muttered, touching a finger to his hat brim. The stove heat was stifling. He was of a sudden hot to his bones and needed to breathe the frosty air outside.

Kitty watched him push through the batwings. She hadn't planned to cow him. Unless riled, impassioned or protecting someone, Chester could be too passive. Maybe she and Doc teased him overmuch, but they all bantered one another. Matt's and Chester's joshing wasn't barbed like Doc's and softer even than Kitty's, as Matt was softhearted and Chester gentle. Kitty was in love with Matt and dearly loved Chester, but thought him too sensitive for a lawman's assistant. Sinewy strong, normally healthy and resilient, there was yet a tenderness about him that worried his friends.

Matt had returned to the office and was on his way out again when Chester came in. "Chester. Did you see Doc?"

"Miss Kitty said Doc's bringin' Mrs. Fernsby's baby. He might be back ta town by now, though." Chester lay on his bunk with his boots on. "Mr. Dillon?"

"Uh-huh." Chester drew in a tremulous breath and stared from his pillow at Matt. "What is it, Chester."

"You mind maybe seein' if Doc's back yet?" Chester said sheepishly.

"Got an urgent wire from Fort Dodge."

"Oh. You haveta leave straightaway . . . ."

"Be back in about three hours," said Matt.

"Alright Mr. Dillon." Chester closed his eyes and burrowed under his blanket. "See you when you git back if ah'm alive at that time."

Matt looked at him with a mix of concern and amusement. "Get some sleep."

Chester drifted into a hot slumberous haze. The office was moist and warm from the stove. Heat filled his head and burned through his body, and the room whirled above his closed eyes. He felt strangely comfortable under his blanket, not bothering to throw it off, then cold chattered his teeth so he almost welcomed the scorching wave when it returned and swept through him once more. Chester didn't worry, or care if Doc came or not. He wanted only to rest, maybe sleep like a bear in its den 'til spring.

A cool palm touched his head and he opened his eyes. "Miss Kitty?"

"You're awful hot, Chester."

"Doc come?"

"He's not back from Fernsbys. Where's Matt?" Kitty recalled asking Chester the same question earlier at the Long Branch, and having to ask again made her irritated at Matt, though she knew that wasn't fair to him. He wouldn't leave Chester fevered and alone with no sound reason. With Doc away, Chester sick and only herself to tend him, Kitty felt she needed Matt near as much as Chester did. Matt didn't do it purposefully, but he was just gone too often at the wrong times.

"Mr. Dillon had to ride to Fort Dodge. Be back tonight," said Chester.

Kitty stayed with him, waiting for Matt to return. She pulled Chester's boots off, ignoring his plea not to trouble herself, bathed his face, head and throat with a cold wet rag and gave him water.

She was sipping coffee at the table when Matt arrived. "Kitty. How's Chester?"

"Not good, Matt. He's in a stupor, I think."

"Doc not back from the Fernsbys?"

"I don't know. I didn't want to leave Chester, so I waited for you to see if Doc's back. Oh, Matt. When I think what might've happened if I hadn't checked on him. He hadn't drunk any water when I got here, he was too tired, I guess. His fever's high, the water's all I could do to cool him."

Matt patted her shoulder. "I shouldn't have left him. I didn't know he was that bad off. I'll see if Doc's back." He returned with Doc in under ten minutes.

"Doc. Thank goodness," Kitty sighed.

Doc patted her shoulder as Matt had moments before, moved to Chester and felt his forehead, peeled back his eyelids and palpated his neck. His lean face slack and mouth slightly open, Chester didn't stir. Doc listened to his heart, peered down his throat and slipped a thermometer under his tongue.

"Will he be alright, Doc?" said Matt.

"He'll live. I'll see to it. Looks like a bad case of grippe. My guess is towing that murderous lunatic across the prairie in this weather was too much for him, not to mention three days ride back to Dodge."

"I should've known it would wear hard on him," said Matt. "I could have deputized a man to help guard Kraken on the ride to Hays so Chester could stay here in town."

Doc heated whiskey with honey on the stove, mixed in a dose of sweet spirit of nitre and took a vial of smelling salts out of his bag. "Have to wake him to drink this." He swiped the vial under Chester's nose.

Chester snorted, grimaced and opened his eyes. Matt and Kitty stood by his bed on either side of Doc. With a slight blissful smile, Chester looked at each of them and sighed, his lids drooping. "No, don't go back to sleep yet. Drink this, it'll make you feel better," said Doc. He held Chester's head and put the cup to his mouth.

"That's kinda good. But I feel jest fine, Doc," Chester mumbled.

"Except a sore throat?" said Doc.

"Hurts when I swallow. Ma head dun hurt so bad when I'm layin' down. Don't mind bein' hot 'n dizzy at all. It about soothes me."

"That's the fever," Doc said. "Sometimes fever affects the head like an opiate. Hungry?"

"No. Jest wanna sleep."

"Alright, Chester." Doc patted his side. "You sleep now."

Matt and Kitty sat at the table. Doc said, "Well, I think we all need dinner but we don't want to leave him. One of us needs to stay with him round the clock awhile."

"I'll help take care of him, Doc," said Kitty.

"I'm bunking here 'til he's better," said Matt.

"Why don't you fix a fresh pot of coffee, Kitty, and I'll bring us supper from Delmonico's. After that call to the Fernsby farm, I need a little walk to clear my head. Poor Sadie had a terrible time. Gave birth to a fine-looking boy, sound as a new dollar. Jim couldn't be more jubilant." Doc shook his head and scrubbed his hand through his hair so it stood on end.

"Will Sadie be alright?" said Kitty.

"With a month's bedrest at the least. Each pregnancy wears her more, and a little part of her is buried with those eight children who died. With this new babe, Jim has four sons and two daughters living. All hardy and like to reach adulthood except that sickly middle boy. When he dies in a year or so, another bit of Sadie will die. She'll go to an early grave if Jim don't ease up, and I let him know it." Doc shook his head again and left for Delmonico's.

"I can't imagine suffering like Sadie Fernsby does," said Kitty.

"Jim loves her and she loves him," said Matt.

"That doesn't help her much. Doc said so and he knows."

Matt gave a distracted nod, picked up his coffee cup and put it to his mouth. It was empty.

"More will be ready in a minute," said Kitty.

Matt gazed at Chester. He looked more unconscious than asleep, yet Matt and Kitty spoke in hushed tones so as not to disturb him.

"I teased him when he came by the Long Branch," Kitty confessed. "About birthing babies. It made Chester queasy and I talked about it anyway to tease him. I didn't see how sick he is."

Matt grinned a little. "Most men feel queasy hearing about birthing babies, Kitty. Except men like Doc, and it tires him more than near anything."

"And I know Chester's wary of Bull Sutter," said Kitty.

Matt frowned. "Bull Sutter. If he bullied Chester again, I'll bust his hide. I don't care how drunk he was, I warned him."

"No, he didn't bother Chester. Bull was sparkin' Minnie. Oh Matt. Chester felt too poorly to wait at the Long Branch 'til Doc returned from the Fernsbys. Chester said he was coming back here, so I told him to send you to wait on Doc to get back. Chester said he couldn't order you, and I threatened to have Bull lock him in my room and wait for Doc in his office."

Kitty's confession made little sense to Matt, and would have amused him if he wasn't so worried about Chester. "Kitty, it might've been easier to just ask Bull to go wait for Doc without threatening to have Chester locked up."

"I know. I'm the one bullied him this time. Matt, Chester shouldn't be afraid to ask for your help when he needs you. I don't mean giving him a dime for a beer or fifteen cents for lunch."

"I don't want him to be afraid to ask for my help," said Matt. "I don't think it has anything to do with how I treat him, Kitty. That's just Chester."

"I know," Kitty said again. "No one is kinder to Chester than you. Doc and I josh him and it wears on him."

"You and Doc aren't to blame for Chester getting sick. That was my doing. Times I expect too much of him, maybe because he doesn't give himself any breaks. He doesn't act like a cripple."

Kitty took Matt's hand in both of hers. "The coffee's boiling. I'll pour us some."

As Doc walked through the icy night to Delmonico's, he thought of the many times he walked chatting, bickering and joking with Kitty, Matt and Chester. Then Doc thought of all the times just he and Chester ambled to the restaurant, poolroom or Long Branch. Chester should be his hale inquisitive self now, jabbering at Doc's side like a pack of prairie chickens. Thinking on walking with his friends, Doc gloomily wondered why he saw Chester as a misty figure slightly apart from himself and Kitty and Matt.