 Around Dodge City and in the territory on West, there's just one way to handle the killers and the spoilers, and that's with the U.S. Marshal and the smell of gun smoke. Gun smoke. The story of the violence that moved West with young America. The story of a man who moved with it. Matt Dillon, United States Marshal. Need any more cartridges, Mr. Dillon? No. I got the greener loaded. Unloaded. I don't want a shotgun. Yes, sir. Do you want me to come with you? You want to come? No, sir. I guess not, but I will. Better stay here then, Chester. This make me a coward, Mr. Dillon. How do you feel? Like a coward. Lasseter scares me, sir. But you were willing to come anyway. Figure it out for yourself. Good luck, Mr. Dillon. Yeah. If, uh, I'm not back, don't forget those reports have to be mailed tomorrow. I won't forget. Mr. Dillon? Yeah. You ever get scared? Sure. Better keep yourself busy. Hey, man, did I walk along? Not at all, Doc. Yeah, kind of anxious to get a look at this new corpse of mine. Lasseter's sure done us a favor picking Dodge to die in. This will put us in the history books for sure. You're a little premature, aren't you, Doc? Not a bit. Oh, maybe a little foresight it had. You know, they say Lasseter's packing 18 slugs in. 18 slugs, my goodness. He sure has been a lot of gunfights. Yeah, so they say. Mm-hmm. Guess he's got the biggest gun rep in this whole section. Outside of maybe Ben Thompson or Wes Harden. And you, of course. He's waiting at the Alifraganza, Doc. You better not walk in with me. Oh, don't you worry. I'm not sticking my snoot into no shooting. No sirree. Hey, Marshal. Yeah, what is it? You are going to win, aren't you? I sure hate to work on the bodies of my friends. Makes it too non-personal. I'll do what I can, Doc. You watch him close, Marshal. You're learning to pull a hideout. Hello, Lasseter. Hi, Matt. Been a long time. Yeah. Drink with me? Why not? Harry, two whiskeys. Harry, get up from behind the bar. Sure, Mr. Lasseter. Sure. Oh, don't spill it. Leave it on the bar, Harry. We'll pour our own. Yes, Marshal. Yes, sir. Here, sir. How's your shoulder, Lasseter? It aches a little, bad weather. Still carrying your lead, Matt. There you are. You should have killed me, Matt. Maybe. It was a long time ago. Matt, I want you to know I bear no grudge. But it has to be. I know. We're gunfighters, you and me, both the same. Yet not the same. But it's in our blood. That's why, Matt. That's why I have to brace you. I got to know for sure. There's no grudge, Lasseter. Hey, your health. And yours. Straight up. Straight up. You call it. Now. Ah! It was beautiful, Matt. Simply beautiful. Was it? Why, yes, and it was close to. For a moment, I wasn't sure who it was. Oh, Marshal. Your neck. You're hit. Just a scratch, it'll be all right. But here. Let it go. Go and get Lasseter. He's all yours. Hmm? Oh, well, of course. And you'll be happy to know he's got 20 slugs in him now. I couldn't tell anyone, but the bitterness ice in my stomach made me sick as I remembered Lasseter as a friend, not dead by my gun. Then I got over it. I always got over it. The frontier code was a harsh one. I knew my job was one that had to be done if the rest was to ever see peace. As long as killers like Lasseter lived, I'd carry a gun and use it. That was the way it had to be. Sometimes a man's dying was the end of it, and sometimes the beginning is something worse. Marshal Matt Dillon? Yeah? What can I do for you, Miss? Die. Miss, I don't know. It's Mrs. Mrs. Lasseter. You see? You've done quite a bit for me already, Mr. Dillon. You've made me a widow. Sit down, Mrs. Lasseter. Here, let me get you some water. No, thank you. I, uh, I didn't know Lasseter was married. Would it have mattered? No, I guess not. You're just like all the rest of them. A killer. Lusting for blood like a wild animal. Mrs. Lasseter. Only your words. You hide it behind a badge. My husband was in town less than two hours, but you couldn't wait, could you? You saw your chance to get a little bigger reputation. Matt Dillon, famous gunfighter. Matt Dillon, murderer. It was your husband that sent to challenge Mrs. Lasseter. I'm sorry for what happened. And if I can help you in any way... No, thank you, Mr. Dillon. I only came to tell you that you haven't heard the end of the Lasseter name. I'm going to see that you're stripped of that big reputation. And you're going to die. Mrs. Lasseter, is there anything I could say that you would listen to? Nothing. And good day, madam. Till we meet again. Marshall.