Never Pester Chester

In Dodge City and in the territory on West, there's just one way to handle the killers and the spoilers, and that's where the U.S. Marshal and the smell of gun smoke are in William Conrad, the story of the violence that moved West with young America, and the story of a man who moved with it.

I'm that man, Matt Dillon, the United States Marshal, the first man they looked for and the last they want to meet. It's a chancey job, and it makes a man watchful, and a little lonely.

Especially when your tents slow down. You'll get to your destination only a short time later, and in one piece. Hey, Mr. Jones. You used to get harder than treat water though. Sweet Wolf, Texas.

Mr. Jim Allen, Terry Allen. What'd you do there, Tricia? Well, I was a salesman. What do you sell? White Ninrons. Oh, they're my good things. They're around. I remember a woman. Don't blame it to me, Chester.

Please, it's much too hot. Alright, so. I'll go get her some beer. I don't think I want any beer. Why don't you just go take a siesta, Miss Jones? I'll stay here in the office.

Well, why don't you just leave me alone for a little while? I thought I ought to tell you. A couple of cowboys have been feeding their liquor over at the long branch. That's what saloons are for, isn't it?

Well, they were giving Kitty a bad time. Oh? She got rid of them of it. They're down at the end of Front Street now, and they're making remarks impestering the town ladies. It just might lead to trouble.