From Dodge City Kansas little U.S. Marshal Shorty Thompson had taken the Santa Fe Trail Cimarron cut off headed back home to New Mexico. This would save a couple hundred miles instead of going all the way to La Junta, Colorado then southwest to Trinidad and going over Raton Pass. Camping for the night on a little slow running stream right close to the Oklahoma border, Dunnie gave out with a muffled sound, ears pointed south. Shorty moved away from the light of his fire into the darkness. A few minutes later, four men slowly rode up. “They said he’d be ridin’ ah dun, there’s his horse, but I shor don’t see him.” “I’m right behind y’all. Ease them hands up on yore saddle horns.” Three of the men stared into the fire, one turned his head. “Yer that U.S Marshal ain’t ya?” “I am.” “Then yer who we’re lookin’ for.” “You found me.”