She collected her things and headed for the door when the alarm bell began to sound from the gate. She opened the door and heard shouts from outside.“Open the Gate! Open the Gate!”As she ran across the courtyard, the gates slowly parted. Two riders crossed through, drawing to a stop in front of Marguerite. One was bundled in blankets and slumped heavily in the saddle. The other, a muscular, bearded man, jumped down and closed the distance to Marguerite. “Get help! He is ill!”She suddenly recognized the voice.“Robert? Is that you?”He was no longer a skinny, little boy. He was a man, a soldier. He was trying to help the bundled man down from the horse. “Help me with him!” shouted Robert as the stableman came forward to help. The man pulled the thick hood back and shook himself free of the blankets. His hair was long and unruly. His face covered with a thick beard, but when she saw his eyes, she knew him instantly. “Jean!” she shouted and ran forward, throwing herself at her husband.. He almost made it, too.The next to the bottom step on the stairs was loose. It groaned when he placed his weight on the step. The gunman whirled. Their two guns exploded simultaneously. They just stood there looking at each other. Bob stared at him. He stared at Bob. They both took one step forward.The man folded up, and keeled over, dead. The town marshal, Jason McCord, came rushing in moments later. He wore a silver star on his vest, and he carried a Winchester '73. At his side was what looked like a broken sabre. Bob wondered about that, but didn't ask.Dewey, the desk clerk, told Marshal McCord what had happened and cleared Bob of any wrongdoing. If fact, after word got out, the Mayor of North Platte presented Bob with a key to the city. Not long after his investigation, the marshal had the undertaker remove the body. Bob was presented with the man's possessions, meager as they were. The gun and holster were fair, but the man had less than ten dollars. Bob gave that to the.
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