Haunted Heart
A Gunsmoke Story
By Amanda
(MAHC)
Chapter Eleven: It’s Your Funeral
POV: Doc
Spoilers:
“Disciple”
Rating: PG
(Teen)
Disclaimer:
Of course, the regular Dodge citizens are not my creation, but I’ve thrown in a
few guest stars, including Sam Dillon and Coy Brennan.
XXXX
Doc
“He’s a
fine, healthy baby, Kitty,” Doc said, just as pleased as Kitty that he could
give her that news. “Gonna be almost as
big as his daddy, I think.”
His daddy
had reluctantly deposited his family at Doc’s office earlier, claiming he would
return in just a few minutes after taking their bags to the room Mr. Dobie
still held for him at the Dodge House.
Doc had to smile at the hesitancy in the usually decisive man’s actions
over the brief separation from his wife and son, still not quite able to
believe everything that had happened since Matt had first begun his tenacious
search for Kitty eight months before.
“I coulda told ya’ that,” she
smiled, taking Sam and easing him into the bassinette Doc had dragged out from
the back of his office. The child had
been fed and checked out, and now he was more than
ready for a nap.
And it was
Kitty’s turn for Doc to inspect.
Separating
business issues from personal issues, he handed her a sheet and turned away so
that she could undress. “Hop up on the
table and let me know when you’re ready,” he said, then
busied himself with getting his instruments prepared. “Matt won’t want to wait too long, I’ll
bet. It’s none of my business, of
course, Kitty, but what happened between you and Matt, in
He heard
the hint of amazement in her voice. “He
came after me, Doc. He asked me to come
back.”
She
breathed out, almost a laugh, but not quite.
“He passed out.”
The doctor
spun around, forgetting about Kitty’s state of undress. Fortunately, she had already slid under the
sheet. Matt Dillon passed out? “What?”
She smiled
ruefully. “Well, actually he fainted
because he’d lost so much blood and because he was so exhausted, but I don’t
figure finding out about Sam helped him stay conscious.”
“Exhausted?”
Doc asked, his physician’s ears perking up.
Abruptly
her face darkened as she admitted, “The doctor in
Torn
between honesty and putting more guilt on her, he shrugged. “It wasn’t – it wasn’t easy for him, Kitty,”
he said. “When he came back from Hays
and you were gone – “
“He told me
he got drunk,” she said, eyes sad.
Doc’s brow
rose in surprise that Matt would have admitted to that rare bout of
weakness. “He did. My fault. I offered it to him.”
“Tell me
what else,” she urged.
“Kitty – “
“I need to
know, Doc. Even if – even if it’s bad.”
He nodded
and braced a hand on the edge of the table.
“He was like – well, like a shell of who he used to be. He went about his business, did his job, but
Matt Dillon was missing. His heart was
gone, Kitty. It was out there looking
for you, even when his body was in town.”
She nodded,
accepting what he said, tears welling in her eyes.
“He’d go
out weeks at a time on some assignment, but we all knew he was looking for you
at the same time. Sometimes he’d come
back hurt, but it didn’t seem to faze him.
That last time – that last time he was in bad
shape.”
“Shot?” she
guessed.
“No, not
that time,” he said, indicating it had happened on other occasions.
“His leg,
then,” she surmised.
“And his back. Plus, he’d gotten into it with
an outlaw. A few cuts and scrapes.”
“I saw
them,” she whispered, looking past Doc as if she were envisioning the new marks
on the lawman’s generously scarred body.
“And the others.”
“But it was
his spirit that was injured the most. I
was afraid – “ He broke off, voice cracking.
She placed
her hand on his arm. “Afraid
of what?”
“Afraid it
was too far gone to heal.”
She
absorbed this observation with poignant silence, her eyes shimmering. After a narrowly-won struggle to maintain
control, she asked hoarsely, “What changed?”
“Don’t
know. He just appeared at my office
later that day, shaved and in his Sunday clothes, saying he was going to
“He
had. I was actually kinda
surprised it took him so long to figure out that I’d used his name.”
“Well,” Doc
allowed, “he wasn’t thinking too clearly there for a while. Used his name, huh?”
“I guess I
wanted to hang onto him somehow still.
And I wanted Sam to be a Dillon.”
He chuckled
and leaned over the bassinette, thrusting a finger into the strong grip of
Matt’s son. “He is that,” he
agreed. Doc studied her for a minute, then said, “Kitty, you know I can’t help but ask how that
ring finally ended up on your finger.”
She smiled
in memory, and he was warmed by the pleasure that softened her face. “When Matt could get up and about, Ira
arranged for the wedding. He and
Charlotte are Catholic, but he knew an Episcopal
priest who could make it short and sweet.”
Doc raised
an eyebrow. “Is that what you wanted?”
“I didn’t
want to leave too much time between the askin’ and
the gettin’!” she joked.
“Matt
wasn’t going to change his mind,” he told her, his serious tone breaking
through her lightness.
She
smiled. “I know. He came to
“New coat?”
Doc asked.
“The old
one – wasn’t salvageable.”
Of course,
he realized. The
knife. After Matt had left them,
Kitty had related a brief version of the events on The New Orleans Lady. “I
wouldn’t think going through a fitting would be too comfortable for him with
that shoulder.”
She
grimaced. “You’d be right.”
Not wanting
to lose the joy of the reunion, he prompted, “So, you found an obliging priest
– “
“An
obliging Episcopal priest,” she
reminded, stressing the difference. “He
was a little hesitant to marry us at first.
I think he wanted to make sure we were really in love or something.” She smirked.
“Couldn’t be ‘cause we were too young. Anyway, that was until Sam decided to pipe
up.
Doc
chuckled, imaging the scene and wishing, for more than one reason,
that he had been there.
“Good thing
he wasn’t Catholic,” she decided.
“Why’s
that?”
“We
probably wouldn’t have gotten out of there without saying at least twenty Hail Marys and a dozen Our Fathers,” she laughed.
Doc had to
admit that was probably pretty close to the truth.
“And it
wasn’t because of Sam,” she breathed, “although I thought it was at first. I was afraid – I didn’t want him to – to feel
obligated. I didn’t want him to ask just
because – “
“He
didn’t,” Doc assured her.
“I
know.” She held up her hand and gazed at
the shining band. It looked much more at
home on her finger than it had in his hand those months ago.
“It’s a
beautiful ring, Kitty,” he told her sincerely.
“Isn’t
it? He won’t tell me where he got it,
but it’s too fine for Jonas’ store.”
Doc watched
her for a moment. “He got it in
She glanced
toward him. “He told you about the
ring?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do
you mean?”
He
hesitated, wondering how much he should tell her. “Kitty, Matt got that ring in Hays – eight
months ago.”
Her
eyebrows drew together. “Eight months –
“
“He came
back with it on that last trip before you – before – “ He
dropped off, seeing pleasure retreat with the advance of horror across her fine
features.
“Doc, what
are you saying?”
Sighing, he
just shook his head. It was already
clear.
“You mean
Matt – if I hadn’t left, he was going to – “
He saw the
realization of eight lost months smash through her, the thoughts of those
irretrievable moments. Chances forever gone.
The chance to see his face when she told him she was
pregnant. The
chance to share their wedding with their friends. The chance to have him
there for the birth of his child.
The chance to watch him hold his newborn son in his
hands.
“After he
found out you were gone,” he continued, “he came to my office to see if I knew
where.”
“That’s why
I didn’t tell you,” she murmured ruefully.
“He was –
I’ve never seen Matt like that. I
figured if any man ever needed a drink, he did.
I told him how long you’d been gone and added what you’d told me before
you left.”
A groan
slipped past her lips. “Oh, Doc.”
“You know
Matt only drinks a couple of beers at most.
Maybe a shot or two of whiskey. But that flask was about empty by the time he
passed out on my bed.”
She closed
her eyes, and he saw she couldn’t even manage a response. Despite the pain he knew it was causing her,
he continued, realizing she needed – and wanted – to know.
“I saw that
he had taken a bullet across the ribs a few days back, so I did my best to
clean that up.”
Automatically,
her eyes opened, the ubiquitous worry clear in
them. “Was it – “
“Not bad,”
he said, already knowing the questions from years of experience with both of
them.
“That’s
where that came from,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
“His
clothes were pretty rough from the trail, so I figured I could at least have
them cleaned for him. When I picked up
his pants, the jewelry bag fell out and I found the ring and realized what he
had planned. He doesn’t know I knew
about it, so don’t say anything to him.”
“Oh, Doc,”
she groaned. “He was going to – and I
was gone – “ She dropped her head, burying her face in
her hands, oblivious to the sheet that fell.
“Oh my God.
What did I do?”
Clearing
his throat, he eased the corner of the sheet back up so she could cover herself
again. “Now, Kitty, it’s all
right. It turned out all right, didn’t
it?”
“But, he
was going to – and I – oh, Doc, what did I do?”
“You did
what you thought was best for you and for him – and for Sam.”
“But – “
“No
buts. Is he happy now?”
“Yes.”
“Then
that’s enough.”
“Maybe.”
“Kitty,” he
asked carefully, not wanting to bring up any more worries for her, but not able
to shake the nagging and disturbing reminder of Coy Brennan. “How’s his arm?”
She
sighed. “The right
one?”
He nodded.
Her question was just conversation. She
knew which arm.
“Okay, I
guess. It worked well enough to shoot
and kill the guy that threw the knife at him.”
Doc
frowned, unsure of how to phrase his question without making her
suspicious. “Kitty, did he seem – was he
as fast – “
She shook
her head. “I don’t know. It was hard to tell. The knife was already thrown before Matt even
knew to draw.”
“If the man
had had a gun, could Matt have outdrawn him?”
“I don’t
know.” She frowned, eyes narrowing. He had pushed a little too much. “Is there a reason you’re asking this now?”
He dropped
his gaze, unwilling to tell her that what they had all feared might be
happening – that a fresh, cocky, talented, young,
gunslinger had come for Matt, to test the veteran lawman, to see if he could
beat the legend – a challenge that would end only in death. And after Doc had seen Coy Brennan in action,
he was all too afraid it could be Matt’s
death.
“Doc?” she
asked, a little more forcefully this time.
Shaking his
head, he hoped he appeared casual. “No,”
he said, accepting his own cowardice for the moment. “No reason.
I was just wondering.”
Her
expression told him she didn’t buy it, but he pressed on quickly before she
could prod him more. “Since you’re
back, does that mean you’re okay with him being marshal?”
It was her
turn to surprise him. “He took care of
that, too.”
“What do
you mean?”
A tender
smile curved her lips. “The ring wasn’t
the only thing he gave me, Doc.”
“No?” he
asked, curiously.
“He gave me
his badge, too.”
“He’s
retiring, Doc. The War Department asked
him to stay on until the end of the year, but after that – “
Retiring? Son of a gun. After all those years of nagging Matt about
putting himself in the line of fire, the physician thought he’d be completely
relieved by that news. Instead, Doc felt
a strange regret with the realization that Matt Dillon would no longer be the
driving force of sanity and order in
Suppressing
that selfish notion, he pushed a genuine smile to his face. “Well, my goodness! Congratulations, Kitty,” he offered. “It’s about time that big knucklehead came to
his senses.”
“Yeah,” she
agreed, but to his surprise, the tone was only half-hearted.
“Isn’t that
what you’ve wanted?”
“Sure. Of course it is,” she confirmed,
the smile returning. Taking a deep
breath and lying down, she said, “Now, get on with this check up. This table’s not the most comfortable, you
know.”
Suddenly
uncertain, he nodded and began the exam.
XXXX
A few
minutes later, Doc carefully slid the sheet back up over her breasts, satisfied
with the results of his inspection.
“Well?”
He turned
away to give her privacy, a little ironic, considering the thoroughness of the
exam he had just conducted. “You can get
dressed now, Kitty.”
He heard
the rustle of clothes behind him for a second before she asked again, “Well?”
“Well
what?”
An
exasperated sigh preceded her clarification.
“Well, how am I?”
“Oh!” he
answered obtusely. “Oh, well, you’re
fine. Just fine.”
“So I can –
I mean, Matt and I can – “
It dawned
on him abruptly why she was so anxious for the exam. Suddenly understanding, he turned back to
her. “You mean your doctor in
Kitty stood
in her underclothes. Even though she
didn’t seem to mind, he turned away again.
“A couple of weeks ago,” she said, “but not recently. He spent most of his time checking on Matt,
and by the time I felt like – well – Ira and Charlotte were there, and – and we
were in a hurry to get back here, and – the train didn’t have sleeper cars –
” She stopped suddenly and glared at
him. “Well, it’s been almost two months,
so I figure that – that should be long enough, right?”
She shook
her head, the misery apparently too deep to worry about embarrassment.
Doc dropped
his head, turning again so she wouldn’t see the smile he couldn’t hold
back. “Well, I don’t know, Kitty,” he
said, taking his time putting away the instruments. “I think maybe you’d better wait just a
little while longer.”
“What?”
Frustration edged her voice. “How much longer?”
Somehow, he
managed the answer, but only by not looking at her. “Oh, no more’n two
or three weeks – “
“Two or
three weeks!” she exclaimed in sheer disbelief.
With
effort, he said, “Well, you want to be sure.
I mean, a woman’s body goes through a lot having a baby – “
“I know what a woman’s body goes through,”
she snapped.
“So you’ll
agree that you want to be sure that – “ He looked at
her, clothed again, and found himself joking only a little now. Considering who her
lover – her husband – was, he
realized his teasing held more than a little validity. “Kitty, Matt’s – well, he’s – “
“He’s what,
Doc?” she asked, frowning in confusion.
He sighed,
not sure exactly how to phrase his concern.
“Well, Matt’s a big fellow, and – “
Aghast, he
exclaimed, “Doc!”
“This is
strictly medical advice, Kitty,” he insisted, coloring.
Agony
marred her beautiful features. “Doc,”
she groaned, then leaned a little closer, as if she were speaking in strict
confidence, even though Sam was the only other occupant of the room. “Doc, you don’t understand.”
“I don’t?”
“I can’t wait. Do you know how long it’s been since Matt and
I – well, do you have any idea how hard it’s been this past week on the trip
from
He felt
true sympathy for her – and maybe even more for Matt. “Kitty – “
“I mean, you
have no idea.”
He was a
man, so he figured he had at least some idea.
“It’s only for a few more weeks, Kitty,” he pushed, falling back into
the ruse.
“A few more
weeks is about a few weeks and a minute too long.”
“It’s been
hard, has it?” he asked, chuckling.
“Let me
assure you, Doc, it’s been hard.” Then
her eyes twinkled, and she leaned closer.
“I mean real hard.”
The
innuendo he had missed the first time slapped him right in the face. Realization of what she was saying burned in
his cheeks, and he fumbled with a jar on his desk, knocking it onto the floor
where its content scattered in white puffs.
Coughing roughly, then clearing his throat, he
said, “Well, for Pete’s sake, Kitty. You
don’t have to – I mean I didn’t need to know – “
That marvelous
laugh erupted from her, the sound he loved and had missed for so many
months. “Serves you
right, Curly. Don’t tell me you
weren’t having a little fun yourself. Two or three weeks?”
He eyed
her, then he relaxed and allowed a smirk to flatten
his lips. “Well, I was mostly
kidding. Still, as your doctor, I want
you to be careful at first. Nice and easy, okay.”
“Doc – “
“I’m
serious.” He thought about the look in
Matt’s eyes when the marshal had left her earlier. “You tell Matt, nice and easy.”
“Doc!”
But this
time he was really serious, and let his expression show it.
“All
right,” she conceded. “But Matt’s not
the only one who’ll have to be reminded.”
“I don’t
doubt that at all,” he said, knowing Kitty was just as anxious to – well, to – From the look in Kitty’s eyes, maybe she
wasn’t the one he should be worried about.
Grunting, he swiped his mustache and made a mental note to take a long
look at Matt in the morning – assuming she actually let him out of bed while it
was still considered morning. “Just – “
“I
know. Nice and easy,” she agreed
amiably, even though he knew she was probably just patronizing him.
“You tell
Matt I want to see that shoulder tomorrow, and don’t make it worse tonight.”
“You,” she
declared, carrying Sam out the door, “are a dirty old man.”
“I resent
that!” he bristled, calling after her.
“I’m not that old.”
XXXX
Chuckling,
he had barely turned back to clear up the office, when her terrified cry
propelled him as fast as his aging legs could carry him to the door. When he reached the landing, he saw Kitty
standing on the third step from the bottom, Sam clutched protectively to her
breast.
“Kitty?” he
asked, confused.
But she
didn’t answer, couldn’t pull her attention away from whatever was happening on
A scene he
had hoped never to see again.
Slowly, he
climbed down the steps, passing Kitty and standing so that he had a better view
of the situation. Matt Dillon stood,
still in his dress clothes, the right tail of his new wedding coat brushed back
over the butt of his pistol for easier access.
The stance was one they had seen hundreds of times before: long legs
braced wide, right arm hanging at his side, eyes forward and set. He had slipped his left arm out of the sling
so that it hung straight as well.
Twenty-five yards away, another man stood, a slender man whose cold eyes
stared out from a young face, whose gun belt rode his hips low.
Heart
pounding,
“Oh, Matt,” he thought, trying to force
the words across the distance from his mind to the marshal’s. “Don’t
do it. Let the kid go. This time, let him go. Dive behind a wagon or a horse trough, or
something. It’s not worth it.” He
heard Sam whimper in Kitty’s arms. “Dear God, it’s not worth it.”
“Dillon!”
Brennan called. “They say you’re
fast. That true?”
The eyes of
Dodge shifted to the marshal.
“You don’t
want to find out, son,” Matt said, his body still unmoving, his eyes still
fixed on the target. He’d given the
warning many times before, but Doc wondered if it was still backed by the same
skill.
“Heard you
fell into some misfortune a while back,” the young man taunted. “Maybe you ain’t as
fast no more. Maybe you’re just too old
and shot up.”
Matt didn’t
respond, merely continued to hold his position.
Doc’s heart felt as if it were coming right through his chest. Stepping back, he stood next to Kitty, slipping
an arm around her waist to brace her, not sure what would happen if she saw
Matt gunned down right in front of her and their son.
“Why don’t
you just back away and head on out of town while you still have the chance,”
Matt suggested calmly.
That just
drew a harsh laugh from Brennan. “Why
don’t you, old man? Admit you’re beat, and I’ll let you walk outta here. Saw ya come into town with that pretty wife of yours and that
baby. Be a shame fer
her ta watch ya die
screaming in the dirt there with yer guts spillin’ out.”
Kitty
groaned softly, and Doc tightened his grip on her. Matt remained silent, a
defending champion standing ready for the challenger to make his move.
“Whadda ya say, Dillon?” Brennan
pushed.
Again, Matt
didn’t move or speak, apparently understanding that the moment was inevitable.
Brennan
smiled in approval, a calculated, confident, thinning of his lips over white
teeth. “All right, lawman. It’s your funeral.” The gunslinger grew serious then, his hungry
eyes narrowing in focus on the man he faced.
His hand hovered menacingly over his holster, his body hunched slightly
forward.
If time
could freeze, Doc knew in that moment that no clock hand moved, no breeze blew,
no spectator took a breath. Dodge stopped. The world stopped. He wondered briefly if it would ever start
again.
Then, both
Dodge and the world erupted with the shocking double-retort of gunfire, and the
physician’s heart leaped into his throat with nauseating terror as he watched
Matt Dillon’s big body jerk violently and hurl backward to crash onto the dusty
street.
“Please,
God, no,” he prayed as he stumbled out into the street, ignoring the fact that
Brennan might be trigger-happy and gun him down before he could even reach
Matt. Over and over, he beseeched the
Almighty. For Matt,
for Kitty, for Sam. For all of them.
“Please,
God!”
But the
lawman lay unmoving, the dirt under his body already damp and clotting with his
blood, the once-sure and unerring pistol lying useless by his limp hand.
After all
those years, after everything he had survived, after finding Kitty and
discovering Sam, it couldn’t end like this.
It just couldn’t!
“Please,
God!” he pleaded, falling down beside the son he wished he had. “Please!”
Chapter Twelve: All Over Again
POV: Matt
Spoilers:
“There Was Never a Horse;” “Kimbro;” “Disciple”
Rating:
Teen (PG)
Disclaimer:
The original GS characters aren’t mine, of course, but I created Sam. (Well, Matt and Kitty created him in my
story.)
XXXX
The kid was
going to draw, there was no doubt about that. For the twenty-plus years Matt Dillon had
been facing down gunslingers and outlaws, he had become an expert at reading
the eyes of his opponents. It had kept
him alive – at least so far. And he knew
without a doubt that this boy, no more than twenty at the most, more peach fuzz
than whiskers, was going to draw.
The marshal
was on his way back to Doc’s office after depositing his and Kitty’s bags at
the Dodge House, anxious to be near his family again, the ache in his chest
with even a brief separation a new, but not totally unpleasant, sensation for
him. He had just stepped back onto the
street when the call of his name stopped him abruptly. Just the tone alerted him to the intent of
its owner, even before he turned to see the slender young man standing in the
middle of
As he
always did, the lawman squared himself, remembering
with irritation to ease his left arm from the sling for balance, wincing at the
pull on the tender shoulder. Carefully,
he pushed his coattail back over the handle of his gun, hoping it didn’t look
like he was drawing, yet. But his
opponent just waited patiently.
A crowd had
formed almost immediately, made up of the curious, the anxious, the horrified,
and the amused. Mostly, though, it was
made up of tense citizens who had just greeted him a couple of hours before at
the train station, their friendship and support overwhelming. It was not his intention to die in the street
in front of those people.
“Who are ya?” he called to the kid.
“Brennan,” came the reply. “Coy Brennan.”
He’d never
heard of him, and wondered which one of the many possible reasons this boy had
chosen for coming after Matt Dillon.
Opening his mouth, he started to ask what Brennan wanted, but a startled
cry stopped him just as a flash of color and movement to his left caught his
eye. Not taking his focus off the
gunman, he still was able to discern that Kitty now stood at the bottom of the
stairs going up to Doc’s office. Sam was
in her arms.
Damn.
In all the
years he had faced down enemies, he had never worried about the distractions
around him, had never really had distractions.
His death meant only his death
– even though deep down he always knew how it would have affected Kitty. Now, though – now he had made the commitment
to her and to his child. His death meant
more – much more.
Damn.
Another
figure moved just within his line of sight.
Doc stepped past Kitty, and even though he didn’t dare turn to look at
the physician, Matt could feel the older man’s eyes on him, could almost hear
the plea for him to back off, to let the kid take the day. But Matt knew he couldn’t do that – and it
had nothing to do with pride. He was
still a U.S. Marshal, still the law, still committed to duty.
Painfully,
he blocked the thoughts of Doc, and even Kitty and Sam, from his mind and
concentrated on the man whose sole purpose at the moment was to kill him.
“Dillon!”
Brennan called. “They say you’re
fast. That true?”
He felt the
town watching him, waiting for him to respond.
“You don’t
want to find out, son,” he promised, believing it. He had
to believe it, or he was doomed already.
“Heard you
fell into some misfortune a while back,” Brennan taunted. “Maybe you ain’t as
fast no more. Maybe you’re just too old
and shot up.”
The veteran
lawman almost laughed at the kid’s voicing of the very suggestion he had been
mulling over recently himself. Too old and shot up.
He most probably was, not that it mattered. “Why don’t you just back away and head on out
of town while you still have the chance,” he advised, knowing the advice
wouldn’t be heeded.
The boy
laughed, not a pleasant sound. “Why
don’t you, old man? Admit you’re beat, and I’ll let you walk outta here. Saw ya come into town with that pretty wife of yours and that
baby. Be a shame fer
her ta watch ya die
screaming in the dirt there with yer guts spillin’ out.”
The thought
of Kitty and Sam as witnesses to his death tore at him, but he fought to keep
himself calm. Brennan wanted him
distracted, needed for him to be worried, to lose his edge. Well, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction –
couldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Whadda ya say, Dillon?”
Matt was
through talking. The time for action had
arrived, and he just waited.
Brennan
smiled, and Matt saw reluctant approval in the young man’s cold eyes. “All right, lawman,” he conceded. “It’s your funeral.”
Matt stared
into those eyes, ignoring every other part of the boy’s body. He never watched the hands twitch, never
checked for the feet to move. A man’s
eyes told the whole story and gave away his draw a hundredth of a second before
it happened.
He knew,
maybe even before Brennan, when the kid was going to go for the gun. But the blur of the young hand surprised even
Matt, and his gun was up and firing quicker than the marshal had
anticipated. His own hand had drawn automatically,
his finger squeezing the trigger as soon as the iron cleared the leather. His ears heard the double-retort, and he knew
that Brennan’s bullet had beaten his.
The burst of pain at his temple was mercifully short before the survivor
of twenty years of gunfights was jerked into a world of total darkness.
XXXX
The first
sensations Matt Dillon knew were a throbbing stab in his head and a warm
trickle down the side of his face. Those
were hardly ever good omens. He was
pretty sure he wasn’t dead; although, having never been in that state before,
he couldn’t rely completely on the assumption.
In fact, the next thing he noticed might actually support the
possibility that he had gone on to meet his maker. Somewhere close by someone was praying, not
the soothing, calm tone he would have expected from angels, however. This prayer sounded desperate and persistent.
“Please
God. Please God.”
Pain, blood, and prayer. The three combined
to indicate that something unpleasant had happened, something extremely unpleasant – and it had
happened to him.
After a
moment, he became aware of the rough ground beneath his back. Having found himself lying on a Dodge street
more than once over the years, he conceded that being there once more wasn’t a
comforting sensation. Concentrating past
the pain, he managed to squint open his eyes in an effort to increase his
information about the situation and found himself looking up into the agonized
face of Doc Adams. As soon as blue eyes
met gray, though, the expression changed, and a broad, relieved smile broke
across the doctor’s weathered features.
“Thank
God!” he exclaimed. “Thank God!”
At least
Doc’s enthusiasm lent support to the theory that he was still alive.
“Doc?” he
asked, irritated that his voice sounded so weak. He attempted to push up on his elbows for a
better view, but the burn deep in his shoulder forced him back down.
“Matt?”
He turned
his head, grimacing at the new bout of torture that movement caused. It was worth it, though, to see Kitty
kneeling beside him, fear and tears streaked across her cheeks. She smiled suddenly, bending to kiss him and
run her fingers through his hair. But
behind the relief, he saw the old haunted look, and it twisted deep inside him
to know he put that look there.
“Kitty?”
“You’re all
right, Matt,” she told him, the tears still falling.
He thought
so, but it was nice to have confirmation.
“Sam?” he asked.
She leaned
a little to the side and he saw Hannah standing behind her, his son in the
saloon owner’s arms.
“Your boy’s
fine, Marshal,” Hannah assured him, smiling.
“Just fine.”
A hand
touched his chin and turned his head straight.
“That bullet grazed you pretty good across the temple, Matt,” Doc said,
voice more than a little shaky, “but you’ll be okay.”
The marshal
crossed his right hand over and up to probe at the aching side of his head,
drawing back fingers sticky with blood.
“What hap – “ he began, but with sudden
clarity, he knew, he remembered. Almost
desperately, he struggled to rise, frantic to know where Brennan was and what
danger they all might still be in. “Help
me – up,” he ground out, extending his right arm to whoever might take it.
Doc laid a
hand on his chest. “You just stay right
there,” he cautioned quietly, leaning in to explain. “Festus and Newly
can take care of that kid. You just stay
down.”
But Dillon
wouldn’t let someone else take a bullet meant for him. If Coy Brennan was going to give him the
chance to stand again and draw, he’d wipe the blood out of his eyes and do
it. He shook his head, regretting that
choice immediately as the world spun dizzily.
When his vision cleared, he gritted his teeth and dragged his aching
body to a half-sitting position without any assistance.
“Matt,”
Kitty urged, “please stay down and let Festus and Newly
handle it.”
This time,
he grunted out a “no,” hoping the kid would at least let him get to his feet
before he fired again. “Move – Kitty,”
he managed past the sudden nausea. “Out of – the way.”
“Matt,
don’t,” she begged, trying to hold him down.
“Please,”
he said, not looking at her, shoving all of his energy into trying to
stand. He had managed only to crawl to
his knees when a firm hand pushed down on his shoulder.
From behind
him, Festus’ twang cut in, voice strangely unconcerned. “Ain’t no need fer thet.”
Doc looked
up over Matt’s head. “What are you
talking about?”
“Ain’t no need fer Newly an’ me ta tek care of nothin’. Thet boy’s arreddy bin took care of.”
The
physician stepped back so that the marshal could see. At least a dozen men stood like breastworks
in the middle of the street. Matt’s jaw
dropped with the comprehension that these Dodge citizens had purposefully
positioned themselves between Brennan and him to draw any subsequent fire that
might come from the outlaw. When they
saw him staring at them, they parted to reveal the scene beyond. A figure lay crumpled in the dirt, unmoving,
a crowd of onlookers hovering over him.
A tall, gaunt man bent with the nonchalance of an undertaker, a
measuring tape stretching between his hands.
Matt realized it was Percy Crump, almost always the first one on hand
after a shoot-out.
Doc pushed
himself to his feet. “What happened,
Festus?”
Haggen
shrugged. “As soon as Matthew went down,
Floyd an’ Burke here an’ some of the rest of us weren’t gonna let thet boy git away with what he
done.”
“So you
killed him?” Doc surmised, his tone a conflict of
accusation and approval.
But the
deputy shook his head. “Weren’t no need to, Doc.”
Newly
O’Brien stepped up beside Festus and explained, “The marshal’s bullet drilled
him right through the heart.” He lifted
a brow and nodded toward the downed gunman.
“Brennan might have been faster,
but he wasn’t better.”
Matt became
aware of dozens of eyes on him, staring at him with relief and pride and awe,
even those who knew him best. Quickly,
he let his gaze drop. As it always had,
hero-worship made him uncomfortable.
Nathan
Burke stepped toward them. “I saw that fella earlier. He
was fast. Real fast. But I knew he couldn’t take you, Marshal.”
Doc
grunted.
“Congratulations,
Marshal,” Floyd offered.
The strange
satisfaction couldn’t quite overcome the regret that filled Matt’s chest. “There’s nothing to congratulate, Floyd,” he
said, voice heavy.
“’Cept bein’ alive,” Burke
noted. Others in the crowd nodded their
agreement.
Except being alive. And he was. Somehow he’d managed yet again to escape the
fate he had anticipated since he was seventeen and had lied about his age to be
Adam Kimbro’s deputy.
He wondered how long it would be before fate got tired of giving him
chances.
Accepting
Festus’ and Newly’s help, Matt climbed to his feet,
despite Doc’s protests, swaying slightly with the pounding of his head and the
continuing throb of his shoulder.
Vaguely aware that half the town followed close behind, he stumbled the
twenty-five yards to the prone figure.
Brennan lay, slim legs twisted beneath him,
crimson blood soaking his shirt through the single bullet hole. Standing over the body of the boy, who was
barely old enough to be shooting at rabbits, much less men, Matt pressed his
lips together and lamented the waste, even as he gave thanks that he was still
around.
Remembering
the casual comment the kid had thrown at him just before he drew,
Matt sighed deeply and muttered, “No, son, I’m sorry. It’s your
funeral.”
XXXX
“All right,
this is gonna sting some,” Doc warned a second too late.
Matt sucked
in a quick breath at the touch of the alcohol swab against the raw gash
Brennan’s bullet had cut across his temple.
“Told ya.”
“Yeah,” the
marshal agreed, voice tight. “You did.”
“That’s gonna
need a few stitches, Matt. I can deaden
it some, but – “
“That’s all
right,” he grunted, as anxious as always to escape the physician’s
clutches.
But the
first prick of the needle into his skin drove him to re-evaluate that
decision. “Ow!”
“Well, you
said – “
“I
know. Just do it.”
The doctor
clucked his tongue against his teeth, but continued the torture. Matt decided that the process of tugging the
ragged ends of the wound together was worse than the needle going through.
“I don’t
mind tellin’ you, I thought that boy might be the
one, Matt,”
Matt
shrugged. “Any of them could be the one,
Doc.”
“Hold
still. Yeah, I guess you’re right, but
he was ‘bout as fast as I’ve ever seen. Killed Ben McClagg just this morning.”
The name
startled the marshal enough to jerk him away from Doc’s hands. “Ben McClagg was in
town?”
“I said
hold still,” the physician scolded. “Yep. I figure he was
here for the same reason as Brennan. To kill you.”
“Now
they’re both dead.”
“And you’re
not.”
“No one’s
happier about that than me, Doc,” Dillon joked.
But the
physician didn’t find it funny. “I think
I know at least one person who is.”
Guiltily,
Matt cut his eyes toward Kitty, who stood silently in front of Doc’s desk. Now that his thoughts came more clearly, he
realized she hadn’t spoken since they left the street and climbed the steep
stairs to the physician’s office. He
also noticed that Sam wasn’t with her, and he vaguely remembered hearing Hannah
offer to take the baby until they were finished.
“He’s going
to be all right, Doc?” Kitty asked quietly, not meeting her husband’s gaze.
Without
further comment, she turned abruptly and was out the door before either man
could say anything to her. As he and Doc
stared after her, Matt felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. He had seen that look too many times before
not to know what it meant, not to realize the world that he had just managed to
claw back together was on the verge of bursting apart again.
There it
was. He figured it was coming sometime
or another. “You’ve told me that before,
Doc,” he reminded stiffly, swallowing the nausea her departure had churned up.
“I’m serious,
Matt. You go through hell for eight
months without her, almost get yourself killed after you find her. Discover you have a son. You go to all the trouble of marrying her and
bringing her back here – just to let it start all over again?”
The passion
on the older man’s face startled the marshal into momentary silence.
“Do you
have any idea what Kitty goes through when you’re standing out there just
inviting the world to take shots at you?”
“Doc – “
“Can’t you
see how it tears her up? You can say that’s
why you told her all those years you’d never marry, but it didn’t matter to
her. She was in just as much agony
before you put that ring on her finger.”
“Doc – “
Anger
finally drew down Dillon’s brow, creasing the injury and making him flinch, but
he ignored it. In an uncharacteristic
moment of ire, he snapped, “Yes! I know
what Kitty goes through. Yes, I know it
tears her up – it always tore her up.
And yes, I know what I’d lose!”
He caught his breath, the next words slipping out before he realized
what he had said. “Why the hell do you
think I resigned?”
Doc stared
at him, and the marshal grimaced. He
hadn’t meant for his friend to find out about it that way.
“Doc, I’m
sorry – “
But the
physician didn’t seem surprised. Quiet
again, he admitted, “No need. Kitty told
me about it. I guess I should say
congratulations.”
“Yeah.”
The rage vanished just as quickly as it had arrived.
“Look, I’m
– I’m sorry about – well, not much you coulda done
about Brennan, I guess.”
“Not much,”
Matt sighed. “The War Department wants
me to work through the end of the year.
I’ll turn in my badge then.” Turn in my badge. He twisted those words over in his head, not
quite able to grasp the finality of them.
“Then what?”
Then what,
indeed? “Don’t know. Ranching, maybe.” His eyes stared ahead past the man who knew
him better than anyone else – except Kitty.
“Ranching’s not a bad choice,”
“The
Pinkerton Agency has been after me the past few years to come
work for them,” he revealed, wincing when Doc was the one who jerked this
time. “Ow!”
“Pinkerton?”
Matt pursed
his lips. “Not the same. Detective work. Protecting important
people.”
“Hmph.”
“You don’t
agree?”
“Matt,
you’ve put yourself in danger for over twenty years protecting the people of
The marshal
looked at his old friend in surprise.
Surely, Doc knew that wasn’t possible.
Resigned to something he’d have to deal with for the rest of his life,
Matt said gently, “There are going to be folks after me forever, Doc. Don’t you know that? Men I sent to prison five, ten, maybe twenty
years ago. Men who haven’t thought of
anything else but paying me back first chance they get. My retiring might make Kitty feel better, but
it won’t change anything. I’m still a
target. I always will be, and there’s no
changing that.” His eyes closed against
the old fear, the fear he had fought so long, the fear that had kept that ring
off Kitty’s finger for so long, the fear that was now reality. His voice broke on the next words. “And now Kitty and Sam will be targets, too.”
Gritting
his teeth, he saw the revelation hit Doc with the force of a gut punch, watched
as
Lips
pressed as tight as he could get them, Matt managed to make it through the rest
of the process without a groan – at least outwardly.
“There,”
Doc announced, leaning back and surveying his work. “Not bad.
Not bad. I don’t expect any fancy
Matt
appreciated the gesture. “I don’t expect
he could,” he agreed graciously, fully believing it.
The final
move was to place a protective bandage over the stitches. That done, Doc turned his
attention to other injuries.
“Let’s get a look at that shoulder, now.
Kitty told me that knife went pretty deep.”
Not
admitting to the ache that persisted, the marshal shook his head and slid off
the table. “It’s fine.” But the move jarred him and brought a new
grimace to his face.
“Yeah, I
can see that,” Doc said sarcastically.
“You got somewhere to be?”
He glanced
toward the door that Kitty had swung through, wondering if she would be at the
hotel waiting for him, or if she had just realized what a terrible mistake she
had made and was already waiting at the station for the next New Orleans-bound
train.
Doc’s eyes
followed the marshal’s gaze. “Oh, well,
sure. I understand. Okay, I want to see you first thing in the
morning about that shoulder.”
“Yeah,”
Matt agreed, entirely too quickly. Not
bothering to put his coat back on, he simply draped it over his right arm and
headed for the door.
“Matt,” Doc
called before he walked out.
He turned,
more than a little anxious to leave.
“Put that
arm back in the sling.”
Dillon
pressed his lips tight but complied.
“Matt?” he
heard again.
“What?” He winced.
He hadn’t meant to be quite so sharp.
“What?” he repeated, more politely.
The doctor
stepped toward him, eyes cutting up in clear warning. “You just barely missed a serious injury to
your head, and you’re still recovering from one to your shoulder. Take it easy.”
“Sure,” he
agreed, turning.
But the
voice stopped him once more. “I don’t
guess I need to ask you about that arm.”
Matt
frowned. “I told you, it’s – “
“I meant
your right arm, Matt.”
He stopped,
not having even though much about the gun arm.
It had worked. That’s all he
asked of it. “Oh.”
“Coy
Brennan’s proof you’re still just as fast.”
“He was
faster, Doc,” Matt pointed out.
“Not by
much. Plus, faster doesn’t mean so much
when you can’t hit the target.”
The marshal
winced against the pain in his head. “He
hit the target,” he said ruefully.
XXXX
Normally,
the Dodge House was a quick walk from Doc’s office, but it took Matt nearly ten
minutes to make it. Scores of townsfolk
stopped him to welcome him back, to congratulate him on his marriage and his
son, to express their relief that he was okay, to convey their confidence in
his abilities. By the time he finally
escaped through the hotel doors, he was almost frantic to get to Kitty. He tried to assure himself that she still
waited for him, but the few moments in Doc’s office and the haunted look in her
eyes as she knelt beside him on the street stole most of his forced confidence.
“Marshal!” Mister Dobie welcomed as he entered. “Are you all right?”
The marshal
nodded his head gingerly, still aware of the throbbing temple. He hadn’t let Doc give him any laudanum. “I’m fine,” he assured the hotel owner, even
though he figured he probably didn’t look fine at all. A long-buried memory nudged at him, though,
and he smiled genuinely. “Mister Dobie,
I don’t believe I ever thanked you for your kindness in providing me with a
room here.”
The older
man shrugged away the appreciation casually, but Matt read the pleasure in his
eyes. “It was no problem, Marshal. I’m glad I could help.”
“Well, I know
you were generous in the one you chose.
Thank you. And I know Kitty will
be comfortable here until we can get a place of our own.” He turned to stride up the stairs.
Dobie’s
smile faded slightly. “Oh, Marshal, Miss
Kitty’s not up there.”
Matt almost
stumbled on the step, the blood draining from his face, a sudden sickness
churning in his stomach. With effort, he
forced his body around to face Dobie. “W
– what?”
The hotel
owner offered a perplexed smile and handed Matt a folded piece of paper. “She left a message for you.”
A message?
Oh,
God. A message.
He held the
paper in trembling fingers for a long moment, heart in his throat, dreading
what he would see. She’d had
enough. She’d realized things weren’t
going to change. She’d made a mistake
and was taking Sam and going back to
Almost
choking on the possibilities that his mind cruelly conjured, he steeled himself
and slid his fingers into the folds of the note, opening it. Kitty’s firm, no-nonsense script greeted him
as he read the few words she had written.
Their impact weakened his knees and took his breath. He fought to remain upright.
“Oh,
Kitty,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
“Marshal?”
Dobie’s voice asked, concern sharpening the tone. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Dillon’s
eyes opened and met the hotel manager’s, but he couldn’t answer.
Chapter Thirteen: None of My
Business, But –
POV: Hannah
Spoilers:
“Hostage!;” The Disciple”
Rating: PG
(Teen)
Disclaimer:
The original GS characters aren’t mine, of course, but I created Sam. (Well, Matt and Kitty created him in my
story.)
XXXX
The
celebration at the
Stepping
from the back room, she contemplated the possibility of shushing the rowdy
cowboys and townsfolk, but one look at the gleeful chaos told her that wasn’t
going to happen. Besides, it was her
celebration, too – at least she had thought it would be. Easing the office door closed, she stepped up
next to Floyd, who had barely taken a breath since the rush began.
“Good night
tonight,” he noted, shoving a glass under the tap to dispense another few gulps
of beer for a boisterous patron.
Hannah
nodded, letting her tentative smile meet the barkeeper’s. “That it is.”
And it was, but her thoughts refused to stay on the profitable evening,
as pleasant as that might be. Instead,
her mind kept driving back to that marvelous and terrible scene on
Ironically,
in all the months she had been in
For months
the townspeople had spun almost unbelievable stories for her about the legend
of Matt Dillon, but none of those tales could hold a candle to the real thing
right before her eyes.
Those few
horrifying moments made it easier to understand the agony that had forced Kitty
from Dodge, from the fear that gnawed at her continually, from the burden of
knowing that any moment might bring death and devastation. Still, this time, as before, Dillon had
survived. This time, as before, his
challenger lay dead. This time, as
before, all was right again in Dodge.
But all
wasn’t right, and Hannah knew it. She
had learned too much about Matt Dillon and Kitty Russell, had seen too much,
had witnessed too many deep emotions from both of them not to understand and
fear the significance of that scene on the street. It was why Kitty had left in the first place. Her words still haunted Hannah’s memory.
“For twenty years I’ve watched him
go after men – and a few women – and I’ve watched them come after him. Not one of them came who didn’t intend to
kill him.”
And now,
she had been faced with it again almost as soon as they stepped off the
train. Hannah had seen the same old fear
in the younger woman’s eyes as Dillon squared off against the gunman, had seen
the consequences in the marshal’s eyes as he looked up at his wife from the
dust of Front Street. Their moment of
idyllic welcome had shattered all too quickly.
And Hannah was afraid for what that meant – for all of them.
Tuning out
the chaos of the room, she reflected on those months after Kitty had gone the
first time, on the marshal’s silent but visible anguish. They had all watched him retreat behind that
badge, emotions disappearing beneath a stoic, hardened mask. She had seen his true feelings only
twice: first, when he entered the
How could
she forget the weary despair that ravaged his body as he had lain on that jail
bunk, teetering on the edge of physical and emotional surrender? How could she forget the rage that exploded
from him with the memory of what Jude Bonner had cost him and Kitty? How could she forget the tragic sparkle of
that lonely ring as she emptied it onto the table? How could she forget the strength it took for
him to drag himself back to his feet and risk his heart one more time?
And how on
earth could he survive being left twice?
But that’s
what was about to happen. Even now, the
former
XXXX
As Festus
and Newly had helped the marshal up to Doc’s office, Hannah assured Kitty she
would take care of their child until she came back for him, figuring that would
be a good, long time, since the new bride would certainly want to remain with
her husband until Doc released him. But,
to her surprise – and considerable concern – Kitty had entered the saloon only
a little while later, eyes troubled, brow down, the weight of decision bowing
her head.
“How’s the
marshal?” Hannah had asked, hoping Doc’s initial prognosis remained true.
Kitty’s eyes
shifted, looking away. “He’ll be all
right,” she said, voice low. “A little
dizzy for a while, maybe.”
“Well, good
to hear. Good to hear.” Hannah studied the other woman carefully,
weighing whether or not to push. “Matt
Dillon’s quite a man, wouldn’t you say?”
Blue eyes
snapped for a moment, then lowered. “He is,” she agreed, almost in a
whisper. It didn’t reassure the saloon
keeper.
She wanted
to tell Kitty just how much of a man he was, but she figured the redhead knew
better than anyone else – and certainly in more ways than anyone else.
Still, she wished Kitty could realize just what the town had seen those
months, the pain that he fought both in his bones and in his heart.
Instead,
she observed simply, “You came back.”
“He brought
me back,” Kitty clarified.
“I don’t
figure you would have come if you didn’t want to.”
Kitty
didn’t reply.
Figuring
she really had nothing to lose, Hannah drew in a breath and said, “Look, this
is none of my business, but I can tell you right now that man loves you deeper than any man I’ve ever seen. I know what happened this afternoon scared ya’. I know it was
just what you’ve lived with for twenty years.
I know you don’t know if you can keep on livin’
that way.”
“Hannah – “
But she
plowed on, digging as deep as she could before the bedrock broke her
shovel. “I ain’t
never seen a man so torn up inside as Matt Dillon was all the time you were
gone. And I ain’t never seen a man so
proud as when he stood with you and your boy there at the train station. And what about your boy? What kind of man will he become if he doesn’t
have the chance to know his pa? My
goodness, who in the world could better teach him how to be a man than Matt Dillon?”
Kitty had
straightened her shoulders, her eyes glaring at the older woman. “You were right.”
“Right?”
“It is none
of your business, just like before.”
If that was
the worst she could do, Hannah would risk it.
“All the same – “
“All the
same,” Kitty repeated, then let her voice soften. “All the same, I know you mean well. You’re not telling me anything I haven’t
already thought about.”
“Then – “
“I’d like
to ask for another favor,” she said, smile forced. “I know you’ve done quite a few of them for
me since – “
Despite
their disagreement, Hannah didn’t hesitate.
“What do ya’ need, honey?”
Gratitude
softened the younger woman’s features to match her voice. “Can you keep Sam a little while longer? I have – I have some things to take care of.”
Hannah felt
her heart sink. Even though she could
understand Kitty’s decision, she couldn’t agree with it. In fact, if she had been fifteen years
younger herself, Hannah would never have let him
go. She would have latched onto Matt
Dillon with all her might, bullets, bad guys, and badge be
damned.
“Sure.”
Nodding,
Kitty added tentatively, “Would it be all right – that is, do you have a room
here at the
The
Sighing,
Hannah nodded sadly. “I have my room – your old room.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that. I’ll just – it’s
okay.”
But Hannah
realized she wanted to do it, wanted to help the woman some way, to ease at
least a little of the turmoil she had stepped right back into. “No. I
insist that you take it. After
everything you’ve been through, the least I can do is help you be comfortable. It’s your furniture, after all. Maybe it’ll help.”
“Really,
you don’t have to – “
“Didn’t ya hear me insist?” Hannah smiled. “Insistin’ means
you don’t have a choice. “ Then she
lowered her voice a bit. “Look, it’s
none of my business, like you said, but are you really sure you want to do
this?”
Kitty
nodded once, a curt, determined motion.
“I’ll need to get my bags – “
“I’ll send
Floyd.”
“No, I’ll
go. I need to – I have to do something
else there, too.”
And she had
disappeared through the doors, only to return in ten minutes, the gangly
bellhop from the Dodge House in tow with three formidable pieces of
luggage. Hannah had used the brief time
to transfer a few necessities to a smaller room, her mind still working through
ways to change Kitty’s mind. Maybe
staying in her old room, surrounded by memories of what certainly must have
been very good times would make her think twice about leaving, would help her
decide that she was making a horrible decision.
Maybe Hannah would go after the marshal, bring him back and somehow lock
them in the room together until they worked it out.
She
chuckled at the ridiculous sight of her trying to make Matt Dillon do anything.
Still, she’d had some success before, hadn’t she?
When Kitty
returned, she took Sam back into her arms, placed a tender kiss on his cheek,
and started to climb the same stairs she had no doubt climbed hundreds of times
before.
“Kitty,”
she said on impulse, not completely sure what she would say next.
The other
woman turned halfway up the steps, face expectant.
“Kitty, I –
why don’t you let me keep Sam a little longer? Take yourself a nice, hot bath, and relax. I’ll bring him up in an hour or so.”
“You don’t
have to – “
“Don’t have to, want to. Figure you could
use it.”
A strange
look cross Kitty’s features, suspicion, perhaps, followed by acceptance. “Well, maybe that is a good idea,” she
decided finally, stepping back down far enough to hand the baby back to
Hannah. “Thank you.”
“Glad
to.” And she was.
The redhead
started to turn back up the stairs, then paused. “Hannah, if – if – “
“What?”
“If Matt
comes in – “
The saloon
keeper nodded reluctantly. She knew what
Kitty wanted, but she wasn’t sure she could flat-out lie to the marshal, not
after everything she’d seen him go through, not after the deep feelings he had
admitted in her presence.
If Kitty
left, she wondered what would happen to her, to the marshal. She wondered what would become of their child, the one she had suspected all along was what had
really driven Kitty from Dodge. Without
his father, what kind of man would Samuel Dillon become? Of course, maybe that’s what Kitty feared all
along. Maybe she would rather have Sam
never know the man who helped create him than have him ripped away in violence
when the boy would be most vulnerable to such a loss.
Instead of
voicing any of those fears, however, she had taken the child and watched Kitty
continue up the stairs, wondering if this would be the last time she did.
XXXX
A rowdy
laugh rammed into her thoughts, jerking them back to the present. Hannah sighed and watched the gleeful crowd
for a few minutes. She had taken hot water
upstairs only a few minutes earlier, and hoped Kitty was soaking peacefully by
now – soaking and thinking. Clucking her tongue, she shifted her gaze
back toward the office, wondering how on earth the baby slept so soundly with
that racket going on.
“He’s still
sleepin’?” Floyd asked, startling her, even amid the
din.
“Still sleepin’,” Hannah confirmed, managing something close to a
smile.
“I guess
that’s what they mean by ‘sleepin’ like a baby’.”
“Yep.”
“Miss Kitty
say how the marshal’s doin’?”
“All right,
I think. At least he will be in
time.” Physically,
anyway.
Wiping out
a glass, the barkeep narrowed his eyes and asked, “You think he will – “
But he had
barely started his question when the swinging doors practically exploded
open. Even over the noise, the customers
heard the bang and turned as one to stare at the arresting presence that had
suddenly appeared. Matt Dillon stood,
shoulders filling the doorway, apparently oblivious to the fact that every eye
in the place was focused on him. Even
when the group erupted in cheers to greet him like the conquering hero, he
didn’t seem to notice the accolades.
With only a second’s hesitation, he pushed his way in and scanned the
room, his gaze sweeping across it in one thorough motion perfected by years of
practice.
“I reckon
he will,” Hannah muttered, affected just like everyone else by the energy that
surrounded the imposing lawman. Taking a
breath, she raised her voice over the crowd and greeted, “Evenin’,
Marshal,” as if she knew nothing, as if all was well and normal.
She
wondered briefly if he saw through her mask, then realized he wasn’t even
looking at her. Instead he threw a
perfunctory nod in her general direction, but didn’t remove his penetrating
gaze from the milling crowd. As
commanding as he was, he nevertheless looked a bit the worse for wear. A mop of wavy hair blossomed up over the
bandage that wrapped around his head. He
was coatless and hatless, his shirt still bearing the bloody stains that soaked
his collar and splattered down the chest and sleeve. If they hadn’t known Coy Brennan was laid out
stiffening in Percy Crump’s window, the townsfolk might have figured Dillon had
come up short on that draw.
“Can I help
you, Marshal?” she tried again, hoping he would ask, begging him to ask.
Finally,
his gaze leveled on her, and she caught her breath at the intensity that
snapped from those eyes, their normal sky blue darkened with purpose. “Where is she?”
There it
was, almost exactly the same question he had asked her at this same bar months
before. She had waited too long then,
had sat on her suspicions until it was almost too late. Despite her nod to Kitty earlier, Hannah felt
no guilt over her next actions, didn’t even need to mull them over.
Jerking her
chin up sharply, the saloon keeper said, “Upstairs. My room. It’s the last door on – “
“I know
which door,” he interrupted, and she realized that, of course, he knew which
door. She easily forgave him the
uncharacteristic rudeness, and silently wished him luck.
Their eyes
met again, and Hannah almost smiled at the hard determination that sharpened
his gaze. It was the same determination
she had seen that day weeks before when he strode out of his office on a
mission to the Delta to retrieve his lover.
Maybe this was the conclusion of that mission.
Breaking
away, he crossed to the stairs, his long legs chewing up the distance in only a
few strides. His eyes lit on the upper
level and didn’t deviate. Despite the
arm he still rested in a sling, despite the bandaged head, despite the
ubiquitous limp, he took the stairs two at a time, his heavy footfalls pounding
out even over the noise of the crowd. A
few onlookers watched him sprint up the steps, their smiles indicating they
knew what propelled him with such haste.
Hannah
fervently prayed they were right.
He gained
the landing quickly, freeing his left arm so that he could shove through the
curtain that separated the back apartments from the front hallway. Then, he was gone.
After they
watched Dillon disappear, Floyd raised a brow in question. Hannah could only shrug, having no idea what
was about to happen up there behind that curtain. Slipping back through the office door, she
stood next to the make-shift crib she had created with a whiskey crate and
blankets. The infant still slept
peacefully, oblivious to his parents’ trials.
She had
told the marshal the child was a fine looking boy, and she hadn’t just said
that out of courtesy like some folks did no matter what the babies looked
like. At two months old, Samuel Dillon
was already a sturdy, handsome fellow with soft swirls of rust-colored hair and
clear blue eyes. Hannah had heard that
all babies were born with blue eyes, which changed in the first few months of
life. She had no doubt, however, that
Sam’s eyes would remain blue, their depths a mirror of both mother’s and
father’s.
She hoped
he would have the chance to grow up with both parents, would develop his own
character from the steel and compassion of both parents. If ever a child had the potential to be
something very special, it was a child of Matt Dillon and Kitty Russell. Hannah hoped he had the chance.
“You just
keep sleepin’, now, Mister,” she cooed to the
baby. “Everything’s gonna be all
right.”
It was none
of her business, of course, but she hoped.
Oh, how she hoped.
Chapter Fourteen: Nice and Easy
POV: Kitty
Episodes
Referenced: “Tap Day for Kitty;” “Hostage!;” “Kitty’s
Love Affair;”
Rating:
Teen++
Disclaimer:
The original GS characters aren’t mine, of course, but I created Sam. (Well, Matt and Kitty created him in my
story.)
XXXX
Kitty
Russell Dillon laid her head back against the enameled tub and closed her eyes
as the warm water swirled gently around her, scented with bath salts she had
brought back from New Orleans. She was
making the right decision – she knew it.
Regardless of the pain it caused, she knew she was doing the right
thing. For herself,
for her son – for Matt. It had
been only a few hours since those horrible moments on the street – and yet it
seemed like decades.
She had
stood there, clutching Matt’s son to her breast, desperately echoing Doc’s
uplifted prayer, wondering how many times she had seen him face off against
some low-life outlaw in the past twenty years, wondering how many more times
she could survive such sights. As dusk
settled over the town she had watched his blood spill out onto the dust, felt
the terror that after all those years, after everything she had endured, had
lost, then found again, this was the end.
But it
hadn’t been the end. Somehow, once
again, Matt Dillon had survived – survived to face another day, and to face
another gunman. It was inevitable. It was his lot. And for any woman who risked a relationship
with him, it was her lot, too.
She glanced
around at the familiar walls of the dressing room and considered with a
humorless grunt that, once again, she was waiting – as she had waited for 19
years before. Raising her hand to brush
away wisps of hair that tickled her face, she saw the dim glow of the lamp
flash mutely from the ring that circled her finger. His
ring – the one he had finally placed there, the one that signified his eternal
love.
Sighing,
she prayed for the strength to do what she had to do.
Hannah’s
nosing into the situation had irritated her, had hit closer to home than she
cared to admit. She certainly didn’t
need anyone telling her what kind of man Matt Dillon was; she knew very well
herself exactly what kind of man he
was. He was stubborn, and driven, and
duty-bound, and frustratingly
responsible – and noble, and good, and kind, and tender. It was those things that she loved most – and
hated most – about him. She shook her
head. No, not hated. She could never hate Matt. Be furious with him, irritated, disappointed,
but never hate him. The older woman
meant well, Kitty knew that, but this was something she had to do on her
own. She would set her own path, make
her own decisions, and square up and take the consequences. Hadn’t she always? Guilt pricked at her conscience, reprimanding
her for her impatience with the new
Breaking
into her soft reverie, familiar footsteps sounded hard on the stairs, too few,
too fast, and she realized he was practically running up them. That, alone, startled her. She wasn’t sure when she had actually seen
him run lately, especially with the almost-constant pain from his leg. Nevertheless, he was running; she was sure of
it.
She had
been expecting him, of course, and drew in a measured breath in the vain
attempt to keep her heart from pounding right through her chest.
The
footsteps stopped outside the door, but no knock came right away, as if he was
contemplating whether or not to ask for entry.
She counted the seconds in her head, tried to imagine what he was
thinking, what he was doing. Finally,
just when she feared he might leave, she heard his knuckles rap firmly on the
wood.
“Kitty?” His tone was low, measured.
She opened
her mouth to answer, but found she couldn’t make a sound.
He knocked
again, a little harder this time.
“Kitty, it’s me.”
“Yeah,” she
managed, finally, loud enough to reach beyond the bedroom. “Door’s unlocked.”
She heard
him enter. “Kitty?”
“In here.”
The
footsteps paused again, then moved toward the dressing
room. With a squeak, the door cracked
open, spilling light from the bedroom, silhouetting those broad shoulders in
the door frame. Kitty didn’t bother to
rise from the tub, didn’t move to cover herself. That would be silly after all the years they
had been together.
After only
a moment’s further hesitation, he stepped inside, breath
coming faster than usual. He had lost
his coat somewhere, she noted, and was hatless, although that was probably
because of the bandage. She winced at
the sight of the bloody splotches that spread from the once-white collar across
his shoulder and chest and down one sleeve.
Darkness had settled over the town by now, and only one dim lamp glowed
in the room, but its light was enough to reflect the intensity of those blue
eyes that almost burned right through her.
“I can wait
outside,” he offered, but made no move to leave.
“You don’t
need to.”
He
nodded. “Fine.”
The curt
response took her by surprise. For the
past twenty years, Kitty Russell had come to know Matt Dillon well, better than
anyone else knew him – or would ever know him, she figured. In that time, he had never treated her with
anything but tenderness and deference.
Even when they fought, he remained the gentleman. Not that they hadn’t had their spats, but
Matt was nothing if not irritatingly even keeled, even then. Tonight, though, as he stood before her,
there was something different about his stance, the set of his jaw, the flash
of his eyes. Almost as
if he were about to issue a command.
But surely she read him wrong.
Matt Dillon had never commanded her, had never chosen to command her. Of
course, she had never commanded him, either.
Theirs was a mutual relationship, bonded by trust and true respect –
and, of course, love.
But on
second look, she was almost positive that’s what it was. This man, her gentle lover, towered over her,
left arm ignoring the sling so that both hands could brace on his hips, legs
planted wide and solid, lips pressed hard together.
“Matt?” she
asked tentatively, suddenly unsure.
He thrust
out a hand, the note she had left with Dobie crumpled in it. “You said we need to talk. All right. Let’s talk,” he began, his tone refusing any
defiance.
“Okay,” she
answered, trying not to frown. It was her message, after all.
He sucked
in a breath that caught in his throat, then ground
out, “You’re not leaving.”
Mouth
dropping and eyes narrowing, she felt a clash of astonishment and anger. That definitely sounded like a command, all
right. She frowned at the tone, so
uncharacteristic from his usual gentleness with her. Even after Will Stambridge,
he had bowed to her desires, left the decision to her, had been willing to
accept what she wanted. “What?” she
snapped.
His jaw
hardened, as if he were physically bracing himself for battle. “I said you’re not leaving. Look, you’ve always been your own woman,
right? Made your own
decisions.”
“Yes,” she
acknowledged warily, eyes still glaring.
“And you
knew how it had to be with us.”
She damn
well did.
“I was always
very clear with you about that. Even
though you didn’t like it, I figured you knew that was just the way it was.”
The way it
was. God, she hated that phrase.
Emotion
thickened his voice. “I had to be
careful in public not to show how much you meant to me, not to show how much –
how much I loved you.” He reached up to
run a hand through his hair, pulling it back with a wince when the touch
reminded him of the raw bullet graze.
“You don’t know how many times I walked into the
Swallowing
to push down the sudden lump in her throat, she whispered, “Matt – “
His gaze
unfocused, looked past her, as if he was replaying those moments in his
head. “And I wanted to go to you and
kiss you and hold you right there in front of everyone and let them know you
were mine. Let them know that for some
reason you had chosen a big, gangly, clumsy public servant over all the rich
gentlemen you could have had.”
She wanted
to stop him, to tell him that he was more gentleman than all of the shallow,
moneyed Eastern dudes put together.
Instead, she let him continue, seeing from his eyes that he needed to
say it.
“But I
couldn’t,” he continued, letting his gaze return to her face, “in case someone
was watching or listening who wanted to get revenge, who wanted to hurt
me. Because even if they put a bullet
right through my heart, they couldn’t hurt me more than they would if something
happened to you.”
Heart
aching, she grabbed the side of the tub, wanting to face him, to stand with
him.
“After
Bonner – “ His voice broke on the name, and his head
dropped.
That drew
her up and out instantly, reaching for the robe she
had folded next to the tub, not bothering to tie the sash. Placing a hand on his arm, she urged, “No,
Matt, don’t. Bonner’s over, in the past. He doesn’t matter. He’s nothing.”
But he
shook his head, struggling for control.
“After – him – I started
thinking that maybe my bright idea hadn’t worked so well. Maybe everybody knew about us anyway.”
She almost
smiled, knowing both of them had realized that years ago. They stood in silence for a long, long
moment.
Finally,
taking a deep breath and managing a crooked smile, he said, “So, it might have
taken me twenty years to ask, but I did it without the buckshot. You gotta give me a
little credit for that.
She couldn’t
suppress the grin at his reference, marveling that he remembered.
Not giving
her any chance to respond, he continued, “But the fact is I asked, and you
accepted, and we’re married, and we have Sam – “
“Matt – “
“So,” he
repeated, his eyes not nearly as secure as his words, “you’re not leaving.”
She looked
up at him, lips pursed. After a few
beats, she raised a brow and asked, “Are you finished?”
He nodded,
warily, as if suddenly he wished he weren’t finished, as if suddenly he
couldn’t stand to hear her response.
Turning her
back to him, she stared across the small room, bracing again for the pain she
knew her decision would cause. “When you
came to
“Kitty – “
“Hear me
out?” she asked, turning back to him.
Teeth
gritted, he nodded, shoving his hands into his front pockets.
“And I knew
I had been fooling myself, thinking I could get you out of my system. I knew then I’d tell you about Sam, and I
guess I knew deep down that if you asked, I’d come back with you. Then, you surprised me with the ring, and
even more with the badge. I couldn’t
believe that after all these years it was finally happening. I guess I figured it could really be like you
said. I guess I thought you could give
up the badge and we could live a normal life.”
The
intensity of his expression faded into earnestness. “We can – “
She shook
her head. “No. You’re Matt Dillon. I’ve accepted now that we’ll never have a
normal life.” He attempted to mask it,
but the heartbreak that bled through tore at her, hurrying her to
continue. “There will always be someone
after you, Matt. You already knew that,
but I guess I just wanted to pretend we could get away from it.”
“Kitty, I
can’t change the past. I can’t undo
what’s been done. But I made a promise
to you – a vow. If you want, I won’t
wait until the end of the year. I’ll
quit tomorrow. Newly and Festus can do
the job until a new marshal is appointed.
I’ll quit, and we’ll move away from here.
Oh, how she
wanted to do it, wanted to take his offer and escape into the fantasy she had
always imagined. But she knew
better. It was only a fantasy, after
all. It would always be only a fantasy.
“Matt,” she
reasoned, unable to look at him in her attempt not to lose her hard-fought calm
in the face of his rare emotion. “You
know it won’t matter. You know that
wherever we go, Matt Dillon will always draw a crowd. You’ll always be a target. And I understand what you were trying to tell
me all those years. A wife and child
only make things worse.”
Any
pretense at stoicism collapsed. “No – “
She
swallowed hard, willed herself to continue.
“I’ve been thinking about things.
It’s why I left Doc’s before – well, before I should have. After – after that boy shot you, I had to do
some thinking about what was best for me and for Sam.” She lifted her eyes. “And for you. That’s why I – ”
“I don’t
want you to leave,” he announced abruptly, the hard line dropping from his
tone, falling into a raw, open plea.
“What?”
His face
darkened with regret, guilt. “I know
what you’re afraid of, and I know it could have happened easily this afternoon,
but I don’t want you to leave. I should
have told you that two years ago – with Stambridge. Didn’t
figure I had the right, but I should have told you, anyway.”
“Matt – “
“Maybe now
I have the right. So I’m telling you, I
don’t want you to leave.” Jaw clenched,
he looked straight at her, his heart and soul plain in the depths of his
eyes. “Please don’t leave Kitty.”
“Oh, Matt,”
she whispered, reaching up and letting her fingers skim across his cheek. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m not
leaving.”
Slowly, his
brow furrowed, and he cocked his head.
“What?”
“I said I’m
not leaving.”
“You’re not
– “
She shook
her head.
Instantly,
the breath left him, his shoulders slumping, hands falling, solid stance
faltering. He drew a shuddering breath,
the mask of command gone, replaced by raw relief.
“Matt,” she
murmured, unable to give him the rest of her decision, wanting to hold off that
pain a little longer, to pretend this was all there was – this moment.
Ignoring
the water that plastered her robe to her body, she reached around his neck and
pressed against him. Instantly, almost
desperately, he wrapped his long arms around her, lifting her so that her feet
dangled off the floor, clutching her hard to him as if he never planned to
release her. Maybe he didn’t. That would be all right with her.
“Matt,” she
breathed against his shoulder, “I never intended to leave you. That wasn’t – ” That wasn’t what she’d had to tell him.
“I was
afraid.”
She cocked
a dubious eyebrow. “Afraid? You’ve never been afraid of anything in your
life,” she challenged. Except maybe a preacher.
“I was
afraid of losing you,” he admitted.
Sliding to
the floor, she placed her hands on her hips and peered up at him. “Listen to me, Matthew Dillon,
I can’t say it wasn’t just horrible seeing you out on that street again. And I sure as hell thought I was going to be
torn apart when that bullet hit you and I didn’t know if you were dead or
alive.”
The groan
echoed deep in his chest, and she hung on to him tighter.
“But I’m
not leaving. I’m not Matt Dillon’s woman now. I’m Matt Dillon’s wife and mother of his son.
And that’s who I will be from now on.
I don’t have the option to leave anymore,” she said softly, her fingers
threading through the curls at the back of his neck. “I will never
leave again.”
He caught
his breath, and she watched him fight for control, struggle to keep the emotion
from tearing away his layer of dignity.
Finally, voice still tenuous, he whispered, “I love you, Kitty.”
She reached
up, arching onto her toes to let her lips meet his, putting all the love, all
the desire, all the assurance she could into the kiss. Even though she hadn’t intended for the touch
to be anything more than loving and reassuring, it had been too long for them,
and she found her dripping body pressed against him provocatively.
“Matt?” she
murmured.
“Mmm?”
“I got you
all wet.”
“Yep.”
“Maybe we
need to get you out of those clothes.”
Yes, that was definitely what they needed to do.
“Kitty,” he
groaned into her hair. “I want to – oh,
I really want to – but can we – are
you – “
Reluctantly
extricating herself from his embrace, she stepped back enough she that he could
see her from head to toe, robe hanging open, skin glistening from the remaining
water, glowing from the heat of her bath and the closeness of her man.
The deep
emotions of the past minutes gave way to overwhelming desire. She had been without his touch for months –
suddenly, one more minute seemed too long to wait.
“Kitty,” he
groaned, his eyes snapping as he looked at her, and the months apart exploded
into a conflagration of desire, and she could think of nothing she wanted more
than for him to take her right there, to fill her emptiness, to quench her
thirst.
Nice and easy.
Doc’s warning nudged into her thoughts, and she swallowed. Nice and easy wasn’t going to be so easy.
Her hands
ran all over his body, trying to be careful at the shoulder, but not really
able to slow down. The few buttons he
had secured slipped easily through the holes, and she quickly shoved the bloody
shirt down his arms, tugging the sling over his head along with it. When she had his beautiful, broad chest bared
completely, she ran her hands over it and down his abdomen, swirling through
the light hair. Her lips followed,
trailing over his skin until he trembled.
She loved
making this giant of a man tremble. She
loved knowing she was the only one who could.
“I think
you need a bath, yourself, mister.”
“You
already got me half wet,” he noted wryly.
“I want you
all wet,” she purred.
Grunting,
he teased, “I’ll need help. My shoulder,
you know.”
She pouted
like a little girl. “I know. Poor baby.”
Her slender
fingers tickled their way across his stomach, then
eased down between them, pushing against the hard ridge that throbbed
insistently against his trousers. “Oh my. Ya’ miss me, Cowboy?”
He gasped,
throwing his head back, and she couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement that
shook her body at the sight of her man so overwhelmed by her touch.
“God,
Kitty,” he croaked, “don’t you know how much I missed you? Can’t you feel how much I missed you? I ache for you. I’ve ached for you since – “
“Me, too,
Matt,” she whispered. “I don’t want to
wait. Don’t make me wait, Matt.”
“Not a
problem,” he ground out, teeth clenched hard.
Hastily,
she helped him pull off his boots and discard the remaining clothing before he
climbed into the tub, the water almost tepid now. He didn’t seem to notice. They would heat it back up soon, anyway. Leaning over the side, she rubbed the dried
blood from his jaw and neck, down his chest and shoulder, circling gently,
leaning in to place soft kisses over the clean skin. With the bandage around his head, he looked
like a wounded soldier waiting for the ministrations of his nurse. Now that
could be a fun little scenario one day.
Tonight, unfortunately, they didn’t have the patience for
role-playing. As her hands moved lower,
cleaning other parts of his body, she realized things were close to being out
of control.
“Kitty,
come in here with me,” he urged hoarsely, tugging at her arm.
She didn’t
need to be told twice. Lowering herself
into the water, she straddled his waist, taking his face in her hands. Trembling, he raised his mouth to hers, and
she moaned in relief and pleasure as their lips met, softly at first, then
harder, hotter. She had waited so long
for this moment and now she almost couldn’t grasp that it was here. Her arms clung to his neck, her breasts
pressed against his chest. His tongue
pushed into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her again.
When he
slid his hands up her body to let her full breasts rest in his palms, she
groaned again, the familiar sensation of stimulation triggering her natural
responses. Before she realized it, she
felt the warm trails of milk trickle down her body to splash gently on his
chest and dissolve in the water. Eyes
widening, he stared in awe and jerked his hands away.
“Kitty, I –
I didn’t realize – I’m sorry – “
But she
guided his long fingers back. “It’s
okay, “she assured him.
“Do you
need – should I get Sam – “ His head turned to the
side, looking for the child. “Where is Sam?”
“Hannah has
him. Don’t worry. And I don’t need to get him.”
“But – “
“It’s
okay. A natural
reaction.” Then she stopped,
realizing suddenly that he might be uneasy with it, might find it unpleasant –
or even disgusting. “Unless you mind – “
But his
eyes were filled not with revulsion or disgust, only with love and warmth. “Kitty, how could I mind anything about your
body, especially something that’s for our child?”
Our child.
The lump in her throat grew, the tears in her eyes burned.
“Oh, Matt,”
she whispered.
“Kitty,” he
asked, a little timidly, looking at her in mild amazement,
“may I – “
Understanding,
she nodded, then gasped as he leaned forward and took
a nipple into his mouth, suckling her for a brief moment before he drew her
down onto him.
“Sweet,” he
murmured.
Sliding her
hands across his wide, hard chest, she arched her back as his lips found her
other breast and caressed it in the same way.
His groan told her that neither of them would last very long. Too many lonely nights lay between them. A surge of desire deep inside told her that
she wouldn’t be able to stop her body from taking what it yearned for.
And it
yearned for Matt.
“Matt,” she
breathed. “I can’t wait. Please – “
“Are you –
sure?” he managed, voice so strained it was almost
cracking. “We can stop, if – “
But she
knew they couldn’t stop. Not any
more. “No, I can’t stop.”
“Thank
God,” he groaned, lifting her up slightly so that their hips were aligned.
“Wait – “
“Wait?
Kitty, I don’t think I can – “
“The bed. I want to be in our old bed.”
“Uh,” he
groaned, his voice straining, and she would have laughed if she hadn’t been in
almost as much discomfort. “Uh – yeah –
okay.”
With more
than a little difficulty, they extricated themselves from the tub, the cool air
rushing chill bumps across their skin.
Not bothering to dry off, Matt swept her into his arms and strode into
the bedroom.
“You
shouldn’t be lifting me. Your shoulder –
“ And back, and leg –
“Doesn’t ache nearly as much as other parts of me,” he told her.
Still,
knowing his knife wound continued to bother him, she coaxed him onto the bed so
that she could straddle him. He was
ready for her – more than ready. Too aroused
to wait herself, she lowered her hips, slowly and tentatively at first, unable
to suppress the grimace at the slight pain his generous thickness caused.
“I’m
sorry,” he began, and tried to pull back, but she shook her head.
“No. It’s wonderful. Just give me – a minute.”
“I’ll give
you more than a minute,” he breathed, pulling out anyway and turning her so
that his broad shoulders pressed open her thighs. His touch was light, gentle, and his tongue
caressed her with care until she writhed beneath him, soaring on the pleasure
he brought, her body opening and inviting.
As
incredible as it felt, she wanted them to reach their peaks together, so she
somehow gathered enough strength to push him off, then straddled his hips again
and sank back onto his pulsing erection, moving with confidence when there was
no longer any sign of pain or discomfort.
As he stretched her again, she was overcome with an urgency that neither
of them could quell.
“Kitty!” he
gasped through gritted teeth as she pushed down, pulled back, then sank in a little deeper the next time.
Oh, he felt
so good. No man had ever felt as good as
Matt Dillon felt to her. He was shaking
with the effort to let her set the pace, not to thrust up hard and bury
himself. He started to pull back, and
she groaned and locked her legs around him, desperate not to lose the
extraordinary feel of him inside her again.
But he
shook his head and smiled tightly.
“Kitty, I can’t – I’m not going to last if – you feel so good, too good – ”
Understanding,
she let him turn them so that she lay beneath him and he could set the pace of
his entry. Bracing his arms on either
side of her, he lowered his hips until he probed her center again. With infuriating care, he eased in, just the
tip, then a few more inches. As soon as
she tried to squeeze around him, he would withdraw almost all the way until she
was shaking with need.
“Matt,” she
groaned, grabbing vainly at the flexing muscles of his back and hips.
“Something
wrong?” he asked, eyes full of innocence.
Managing to
steady her breathing, she ground out, “You – are – bad, Matthew – Dillon.”
“You always
told me I was good.”
But she
couldn’t play any longer. “Matt, I need
– I need – “
Now the
voice was softer, coaxing, urging. “What
do you need, Kitty? Tell me. Tell me what you need.”
Her head
fell back and her chest arched. “You. I need all of
you. Please.”
He breathed
her name and pushed forward with his hips, his heat burning to her core,
filling her again, completing her again.
She squeezed around him hard, smiling in satisfaction at his agonized
groan. She opened to him, and he pushed
in a little farther, his jaw hard, his eyes closed. She could tell he was working hard not to let
the sensations overwhelm him. He wasn’t
the only one.
Finally,
when she realized her body couldn’t take any more, she grabbed at his hips and
pulled. “Now,” she gasped. “Now!”
At her
demand, he allowed himself to sink deep inside her, grunting in relief and
agony. His attempt to go slow vanished
as soon as her heels dug into his back, and her hands pulled his head down so
that her tongue thrust into his mouth in the same rhythm as he thrust into
her.
Nice and easy, she reminded herself, even as she
found her body arching into his faster and faster. He felt so good that she couldn’t hang on to
even the semblance of control. Their
hips met, hard and furious, pushing against each other, burning and
demanding. His strokes were deep and
powerful, and she moaned at the almost unbearable pain and pleasure. She tore her mouth from his, her breath
coming in pants now, and cried out.
Nice and easy, Doc had said. Right.
Matt
faltered, pulled back, and she looked up.
Sweat trailed down his jaw, his wavy hair, wild and damp, fell into his
eyes, clouded now with desire and worry.
He was absolutely beautiful.
“Kitty?” he
asked, voice rough.
She shook
her head, gasping. “No! I’m – fine. Please don’t stop. Please – I can’t stop.”
“Are you
sure – “
Desperately,
she bowed up to pull him back inside, clutching at him, her fingernails raking
wildly down his strong back and over his hips, drawing blood, her pelvis
arching up over and over. He must have
been too far gone to feel any pain, because he gave in and thrust into her, his
body surging and throbbing.
She almost
couldn’t believe it. This was Matt, her
Matt, here with her again – inside her again.
Love and passion and ecstasy throbbed between them. Deep inside, she felt the exquisite sensation
take hold, building and building until she could no longer hang on. It took only a few more thrusts for her body
to convulse in violent spasms that sucked him in and squeezed around him like a
vise.
Nice and
easy flew right out the window.
“Matt!” she
cried out, bucking against him, clawing at his shoulders. “Oh, yes!”
He grunted
as she writhed beneath him, driving as deep inside her as she could take him,
swelling and pulsing until she felt the climax rip through his body and join
hers, flooding her with heat and bliss and love. Over and over, he emptied inside her, and
with each powerful surge the months of despair and fear and loneliness poured
out, cleansing their souls, making them whole again. She moaned as her own body continued to seize
around him while he thrust in and out even after they had both spent themselves
completely. Gradually, his movement
slowed to a gentle rock, the easy motion soothing after the furious
pounding. Almost like a chant, he
murmured tender words of endearment in her ear, of her beauty, of his love.
With a
gasp, he collapsed, pinning her to the bed, but she didn’t protest. It was heaven to lie beneath him again, to
feel the pounding of his heart, to feel the heat of his skin. There was a time she had thought she had only
the memories of such pleasure. Now, the
tears burned her eyes with the feeling.
After a few minutes though, needing to breathe, she reluctantly pushed
against him. Groaning, he managed to
brace on his elbows and ease his hips away from hers. She felt a sharp loss, a sense of emptiness
as he withdrew, allowing the warmth of their releases to spread over her, but
she snuggled into his broad chest almost immediately, the smells of perfume,
leather, soap, sweat, and passion swirling around them.
It was at
least another ten minutes before either of them could conjure the energy to
speak. Matt managed first, placing his
lips against her hair and breathing, “My God, Kitty, I missed you so much.”
“You’re not
the only one, Cowboy,” she told him, letting her fingers play in the dusting of
hair on his chest. Her body still
shuddered with after-shocks as she drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep.
XXXX
Kitty
opened her eyes slowly to the dim light of her room – her old room, anyway – at
the
Placing a
soft kiss on his shoulder, she slid carefully from the warmth of Matt’s
embrace, slipped on her robe and tip-toed to the door. “Who is it?” she whispered.
“Hannah.”
Hannah? Yes, of course. It was her room, after all. With a start, Kitty remembered the most
probable reason Hannah would be knocking.
Sam. Oh, dear.
The poor child must be starving.
Taking a
breath, she did her best to maintain some miniscule appearance of calm before
opening the door. Beyond the crack of
hall light, Hannah’s smile faltered a bit as she held a whimpering baby out
toward his mother.
“Kitty, I’m
– I’m awful sorry to disturb you.” The
saloon owner’s face reflected true regret.
“He was frettin’ and downright disappointed
that I didn’t have anything to offer him.”
Kitty
reached to hold her child, smiling when he grunted and rooted for the
nourishment he desired the instant he was in her arms.
“I rocked
him, jiggled him,” Hannah explained. “I
even tried to sing to him, but I’m not too sure that didn’t hurt more’n it helped.”
“Thank you,
Hannah,” Kitty told her, anxious for a little privacy so she could nurse.
But Hannah
didn’t take the hint right off. Instead,
the older woman’s gaze took in Kitty’s appearance, and frowned. “I hope everything’s all right – “
“It’s fine,” Kitty assured her.
“Because if
– “ But she broke off as her gaze shifted to look
deeper into the room. The frown burst
into a wide smile. “Well, I’d say
everything is fine. I’d say it’s mighty fine. Mighty fine, all right.”
Kitty
glanced back, suddenly worried that her very masculine husband was not
sufficiently covered by the quilt. It
was close. His upper body lay completely
bare, giving both women a generous view of his wide chest and long-muscled
arms. One leg thrust out from under the
covers, the strong thigh still well defined even relaxed.
“Yes’m,” Hannah repeated, gleefully. “Mighty fine.”
Not
particularly liking the close perusal the other woman was giving her husband,
Kitty stepped into her line of sight.
Knowing there could not have been any misunderstanding about what she
and Matt had done, she issued her own repentance. “I’m so sorry about – well, I sort of –
forgot – this was your room. We
shouldn’t have – “
“Honey,”
Hannah assured her, “that’s the most fun this place has had since you
left. I’m just – well, I can’t tell ya’ how good it is to see – well, you know.”
Kitty
smiled, truly grateful. “I know. We’ll get back to the Dodge House later – ”
“You’ll do
no such thing,” Hannah scolded. “You’ll
feed that baby and put him down and get right back in that bed with that fine
looking husband of yours.” Leaning in,
she whispered, “If ya’ need me ta’
take the baby again in the morning, while ya – well –
just holler. I figure you two ain’t gonna get completely reacquainted in just one night.”
Cheeks
flaming now, Kitty couldn’t help smiling.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely.
“Don’t
mention it. Does my heart good to –
well, it does my heart good.” With a
wink, she backed out of the room, floating a “Goodnight, Marshal,” over her
shoulder as she went.
Easing the
door closed, Kitty turned back to the bed, surprised to see Matt stirring, one
eye peaking out at her. “Kitty?”
“Hey,
Cowboy,” she whispered. “Go back to
sleep.”
“Was that –
“
“Hannah. She brought Sam back.” She laughed.
“She didn’t have what I have to offer him.”
“Well, I’ll
sure agree with you on that,” he smirked.
She threw a
mock glare his way and eased onto the mattress next to him, exposing one breast
for the eager infant, who latched instantly.
Briefly, she considered telling him the rest – what she had intended to
tell him when she left the note with Mr. Dobie.
But now wasn’t the time, either.
Now, she just wanted to bask in the moment of warmth with her husband
and child, not bring up the pain.
She
shrugged. “I had to get her out of here
before she tried to seduce you.”
Horror
spread across his face and he sat suddenly, wincing slightly and touching his
head. “What?”
“She sure
was eyeing you with more than just good will,” she noted as casually as
possible.
“Kitty!” he
declared, looking rather sick. “By
golly, you can’t mean that Hannah – I mean she’s as good as gold, but – “
“But I’m
the only woman for you, is that what you meant to say, Cowboy?”
He smiled
then, more than a little relief in his eyes.
“Absolutely.”
The baby
sucked greedily – grunting in satisfaction with every swallow.
“He needs a
little work on his manners,” Matt observed wryly, turning onto his side and
propping his head in his right hand.
“Reminds me
a little of
Her husband
laughed at the mention of their old friend.
“Yeah, he sure could put away some grub.”
“Is Samuel
hungry?” Kitty cooed to the baby. “Is
mama’s big boy hungry?”
Matt
grunted. “Say, uh, I think mama’s other
big boy is hungry, too.”
“It’s the
middle of the night, Matt. Delmonico’s
isn’t open – “
But one
look at his eyes told her he wasn’t interested in any kind of nourishment
Delmonico’s could give. “Oh,” she
breathed, heart pumping with the unspoken invitation.
“But I’ll
wait my turn,” he assured her, his face softening as he watched his wife and
son in the closest mother child bonding nature created, staring, mesmerized as
the baby latched on hungrily, the little fists clenching and unclenching in
satisfaction. Losing all teasing, he
breathed, “My God, Kitty. He’s
beautiful.”
Her eyes
lifted to his, filling with tears at the sheer joy of having the two men she
loved the most with her. “He is, isn’t
he?”
Matt
watched them in silence, his expression awed.
Even as her
body reveled in the unique sensation of giving life to a child, it also yearned
to feel again the touch of the father of that child. Doc’s advice had been forgotten in the throes
of passion earlier, but this time, maybe, she could heed his caution.
Nice and easy.
When she
put Sam down, she’d show Matt how nice and easy she could be.
Yep. They’d be sure to go nice and easy.
She let her
gaze linger appreciatively on her husband’s brilliant blue eyes and wild, thick
hair. She lowered it to follow the hard
planes of his chest and stomach. She
drifted lower over the loosely covered hips and groin.
Nice and easy, she reminded herself.
He shifted,
unaware that the move left him completely bare to her view,
every impressive inch of his body open to her – and only her.
Nice and easy, she tried to think.
Nice and easy.
Then, he
looked up at her and smiled, that beautiful, toothy, genuine, crooked Matt
Dillon smile, and her heart leaped beneath her ribs, and her loins burned in
anticipation.
Nice and easy?
Nope.
Doc would
just have to get over it.
Chapter Fifteen: Something That Should Be Said
POV: Matt
Spoilers: “Kimbro;” “Disciple”
Rating:
PG-13 (Teen)
Disclaimer:
The original GS characters aren’t mine, of course, but I created Sam. (Well, Matt and Kitty created him in my
story.)
XXXX
“Well, that
gash across your head doesn’t look quite as bad today,” Doc said, replacing the
cumbersome wrap with a smaller bandage.
“Keep it dry and covered for another few days, at least. Now, let’s get a look at that shoulder.”
When he
glanced up, he caught Doc studying him critically.
Sighing, he
asked, “What is it?”
But the
answer surprised him.
“Matt, for
a man who’s been shot up more times than any of us can count,
you’re in pretty good shape.”
“Well,
thanks, Doc,” he answered carefully, wary of a following comment that
contradicted the first one.
“No, I mean
it. You’re fit. Muscles are lean and hard. If I were to be checking you out for the
first time, I wouldn’t guess you’re coming up on fifty right fast.”
“Forty-eight,”
Matt corrected gamely, even though the age didn’t really bother him. He figured it was a miracle he had gotten
that far.
“Well, you
look ten years younger than the last time I saw you,” he said, voice suddenly
serious.
Matt
lowered his gaze, not sure how to react.
He knew what Doc was talking about, knew what toll losing Kitty had
taken on his body. There were no words
at all to express how he felt about finding her again – and about Sam. So he just swallowed and nodded, clenching
his jaw to keep his emotions tight.
After a
moment, Doc tugged on his ear and cleared his throat. “All right, let’s check out this
“Thanks.”
Doc clicked
his teeth once, then lifted Matt’s arm, gently manipulating the socket. The marshal couldn’t quite avoid the quick
grunt that escaped him with the flash of discomfort from the injury. It had still been sore yesterday, and after
his and Kitty’s rather energetic encounters last night –
“Hurts?”
Matt tried
to shrug it off. “Not too bad.”
“Well, it’s
not completely healed yet, ya’ know. You going over to the jail after this?” he
asked, his tone making it plain he didn’t approve.
“For a little
while,” Matt admitted, his own voice firm. “Things pile up over a month, ya’ know.” He didn’t
mention that Newly had done a better than fair job keeping the paperwork up,
and he really didn’t plan to stay very long – especially with a certain
beautiful redhead waiting impatiently for him back at the Long Branch.
“Hmph. Well, you
keep takin’ it easy.
Maybe see if you can stay away from people tryin’
to shoot ya’ for a while.”
“I’ll do my
best,” Matt answered wryly.
“I’m not holdin’ my – “ The physician was
just about to tug off his spectacles, when something else apparently caught his
eye. Frowning, he leaned over Matt’s
shoulder and let his gaze move down the broad back.
“What’s
wrong?” the marshal asked, confused.
“What on
earth did you get into, Matt?”
He still
didn’t understand. “What?”
“Looks like
you had a fight with a wildcat – or maybe you wallowed around in a briar
patch.”
Matt
started to protest that he had no idea what the doctor was talking about –
until he suddenly realized. Oh boy. A deep flush raced over his face and down his
chest, as he understood what Doc was seeing.
Matt coughed and cleared his throat, reaching for his shirt. “Don’t worry about that, Doc. It’s fine.”
The doctor
pushed his arm back. “No, looks like ya’ need a little salve, maybe. Could get infected.”
Dillon
leaned away from his touch, almost frantic to escape before Doc figured out
what he was looking at. “Really, Doc,
I’m fine. You finished?”
“Matt, what
on earth’s wrong with you?”
“Absolutely nothing. Can I go now?”
“Listen,
some of those are kinda deep. I’m tryin’ to
figure out how – “
The big man
slid off the table over the physician’s protests. “I didn’t wallow in a briar patch. And I didn’t tangle with a wildcat – well,
not exactly.”
“Well, for
Pete’s sake, I figured that much. I just
wondered what on earth you’d done to get those scratches all the way from your
shoulders to your – well, some of ‘em go kinda low.”
“Just give
me the salve and I’ll put it on myself.”
“I’ll give
it to ya’, but it’d probably be easier if you let
Kitty – “
Matt felt
his face burn and started to turn away, but Doc had seen his reaction already.
The doctor
paused, eyebrows soaring almost to his hairline. He looked up at Matt, a terrible smile
playing at his lips. “Wouldn’t be that
Kitty – “ He ran a hand over his mouth and mumbled,
“Maybe you did tangle with a wildcat,
after all.”
Hastily,
Matt shoved his arms into his shirt and slapped his hat on his head. “That’s none of your business, Doc.”
The physician’s
brow drew down. “By golly, I told her to
take it nice and easy.”
“What?”
“Yesterday,
she was – well, she came in to make sure she was healed enough to – “
The flush
that had begun to fade now rushed back even deeper. Kitty had been talking with Doc about – about
that? He fumbled with the buttons on
his shirt, missing more than one hole as he went. “I’ll see ya’
later.”
“Nice and
easy,”
Matt felt
logic and pride battle within him. If he
hung onto his pride and refused the salve, it might mean that he and Kitty
couldn’t –
Doggone
it. Logic won out – logic and the memory
of their previous evening’s activities.
Sighing, he extended his hand, open palmed, toward the doctor.
“What?” Doc
asked, and Matt pressed his lips together at the physician’s obtuseness.
“The salve?” he answered, his tone
long-suffering.
“Oh – sure.”
He tried to
ignore
Just before
the marshal stepped outside, not even bothering to finish buttoning his shirt,
Doc ran a hand over his mustache, unable to suppress the grin that popped to
his mouth. “Guess this explains why it
was almost lunchtime before you got over here to me. Did Kitty mention anything at all about takin’
things nice and easy?”
Dillon
winced, dropping his head, but figured Doc saw his smile. “It – uh – it never came up, Doc,” he
admitted, then gave in to the little mischievous urge
that prodded him and let the smile turn into an outright grin. “Not after other things did, anyway.”
He couldn’t
help but laugh at the astonishment on his old friend’s face. It was rare that Matt Dillon uttered anything
even the least bit suggestive – at least to anyone other than Kitty. That made this moment all the more effective.
Still
chuckling, he dropped down the stairs, not even noticing the twinge in his knee
or the ache in his back.
XXXX
The razor
scraped down his jaw with steady, confident motions, its path the same as it
had been for thirty years’ worth of shaving.
Bending, as usual, so he could see into the mirror, Matt lifted his chin
to reach the stubble that scratched his neck, then
swished the sharp instrument in the waiting basin. As he looked back up, he caught her image in
the glass, and his heart pumped a little harder just from her beauty.
“You just
gonna just sit there?” he asked, knowing very well that was exactly what she
was going to do – and more than happy to let her do it. The very simple task of shaving while she
watched filled the emptiness that had gnawed at his gut for so many months, the
scene a symbol of Kitty’s presence and her love – and his deep need for her.
She smiled
lazily at him, her elbows resting on her knees as she perched on the end of the
bed behind him. “Um
hmm.”
“Okay.”
“What did
Doc say about your head?” she asked casually, but he heard the concern behind
the tone.
They hadn’t
taken the time to talk about his visit to Doc when he returned from the jail
earlier. They had been occupied with
other things – deeply occupied.
“The
usual,” he answered lightly. “That it’s
hard.”
“Funny.”
“That’s
what I said.”
“Matt – “
“He said it
looks good.” Catching her dubious glance
in the mirror, he added, “Really.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And my shoulder’s coming along fine, too,
since you’re going to ask that next.”
Her smile
revealed his accurate prediction. “I was
just going to tell you to hurry up. The party’s about to start.”
They
weren’t sure if it was Hannah’s doing, or just a mutual idea among the whole
town, but all of Dodge was headed to the
He lifted
the blade and started on the other side.
“You gonna go to like that?”
Eyebrows
rising, she glanced down at the rather skimpy undergarments she wore. “What’s wrong with this?”
Smirking,
he held the blade away from his jaw. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. In
fact, I, uh, I like it a lot.”
“I know you do,” she assured him, voice
husky.
Party, he reminded himself ruefully. But at that very moment it would have taken
very little encouragement from her for him to disregard any public celebration
– at least for another half hour or so.
“It’s just
that I figure every man in Dodge would like it a lot, too.”
“Yeah?”
The frown
pulled down his brow before he could stop it.
“Yeah.
And I’d hate ta’ have ta’
shoot ‘em all down for ogling my wife.” He was kidding, of course. Mostly.
“I guess
that’d be a shame,” Kitty agreed, cocking her head. “Sure would narrow down the selection pool
for all the other girls.” Her lips
pursed. “And they already look at you way too much for my likin’.”
That drew a
grin to his mouth. “That
so?”
A true
scowl darkened her face. “Hey, now. Don’t you
go gettin’ all swelled up.”
He chuckled
at her involuntary touch of jealousy and turned. “Honey, when I’m around you, I can’t help but
get all swelled up.”
The scowl
lightened. “Well, as long as it’s just
around me – “
“You’re the
only one, Kathleen Dillon,” he said, making sure enough seriousness colored his
voice for her to know how much he meant it.
Her eyes
smiled at him. “All right, then,
Cowboy.”
After a
beat, he turned back to finish shaving, knowing that if they were late, he’d
never hear the end of it from Doc.
“I got a
scolding from Doc, by the way,” he told her, still flushing slightly with the
memory.
“About the – the gunfight?”
He heard
the hesitancy and winced at the pain that lingered from the fear of the
previous evening. “No.”
Her
reflection frowned. “No? What about then?”
“I suppose
it was really you he was scolding.”
“Me? I didn’t do – “
“He got a
look at my back and wondered if I’d been wrestling a wildcat.”
Her
reflection flushed deep red. “Oh. Oh, Matt, I’m sorry.” She slid off the end of the bed and stepped
up behind him, her hands running gingerly over the red marks her passion had
left. “I didn’t realize I’d – well – “ Her voice dropped
from remorseful to sultry. “You made me
lose control, Cowboy. I can’t be held
responsible for my actions.”
Dropping
the razor onto the marble top, he turned so that her face was eye-level with
his bare chest. “That’s too bad,” he
told her.
“How come?”
she asked, letting her fingers run through the light hair that trailed down his
abdomen.
The
sensation shot straight to his groin, and he slid his arms around her, lifting
and depositing her back on the bed, then stepping in between her thighs. “Because I was hoping you were completely
responsible for your actions. Matter of
fact, I was hoping you’d repeat those actions later tonight.”
“Yeah?”
Bending, he
nuzzled her neck, letting his hands ease up to caress her breasts. Abruptly, he remembered the results the last
time he had done that, though, and pulled them back. The amazing experience of her milk letting
down was something he’d never forget, and something he certainly wouldn’t mind
doing again, but this wasn’t the time or the place. Smiling to balance any concerns she might
have had, he turned back to the dresser to finish shaving.
Besides,
they were expected downstairs any minute.
Plus, it had been a while since Hannah came to get Sam. Matt wasn’t quite an expert yet on babies and
their feeding schedules, but he knew enough by now to realize it had been a
couple of hours since Kitty last nursed – and Sam seemed to have just as big an
appetite as his father. Either way,
interruption seemed eminent.
She
smirked, wiping away the shaving lotion he had left on her neck. “I guess he figured out we didn’t take it
nice and easy.”
“Yeah. I think he did.”
“He scold you for that?”
“I think
it’s you he’s gonna give the talkin’ to.”
She sighed,
but didn’t look too remorseful.
“He gave me
some salve to put on my back.”
“It’s that
bad?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in guilty concern.
Toweling
his face dry, he turned to her. “He said
if the scratches get infected, I won’t be able to lie on my back and – “
“Oh dear.” She clucked her teeth. “That would certainly mess up my plans for
tonight – “
He felt
himself blushing, even though it was just Kitty. Grasping her upper arms, he tugged her up to
stand before him. “Kathleen Dillon, I
ought ta’ – “
“Ought ta’ what?” she challenged, eyes intense and eager.
His body
urged him on, prodded him to meet her challenge, to plunge them both right back
into that bed and spend the rest of the evening wrapped up in her passion and
heat and love.
The clock
chimed seven, its unwelcome interruption announcing that they were now late for
the party. He let his lips move on hers
gently and slowly, promising much more later. When he pulled back, she moaned.
“Matt,
please don’t stop,” she begged, her tone breathy. “Please, make love to me again.”
God, he
wanted to do just that. He ached to be
with her again. But he shook his
head. “You want Festus to clomp up those
stairs and walk in on us like this?” Half-clothed
and aroused.
He figured
it was the mention of his deputy that did it.
Exhaling hard, she stepped away.
“Damn.”
Chuckling,
he nodded. “Yeah.”
“Later?”
“Oh,
yes.” Definitely
later.
Letting her
hand slide down his chest and brush teasingly over his trousers, she twirled
away toward the wardrobe where she had hung her gown for the evening. “Well, I guess I should finish dressing,
then, to protect the men of Dodge from my charms.”
Swallowing
down the renewed craving her touch had brought, he threw in a bit of charm
himself. “Honey, you could be wrapped in
flour sacks, and the men of Dodge would still be in danger. Hell, there wouldn’t be a man in
Her
delighted smile lit up the room. Oh, how
he loved that woman. As he shrugged into
the crisp white dress shirt she had laid out for him, he found himself fighting
back an abrupt and disturbing swell of emotion.
Never really comfortable showing his feelings, his recent revelations to
her had loosened that lifetime hold on them, and he worried now that he
wouldn’t be able to suppress his impulses as well. That could be dangerous, he knew, in the
wrong situations.
Still, it
had liberated him, in a way, and brought him closer to the woman he had loved
for twenty years. He supposed it was a
small price to pay. Kitty was back. He had a son.
And the world that had almost collapsed on top of him only a few months
before seemed eager and ready to embrace him again.
“Matt?”
The ominous
tone crashed into his pleasant thoughts.
He had known her too long not to recognize the hint of sadness, of
fear. He looked up to see her emerge
from behind the curtain, gown draped over her arm. One look at her face twisted his heart. Pain tightened the beautiful features.
Oh
God. In his chest, his heart raced,
pushing at his throat. She was not leaving him, he reminded
himself. She had told him so. She was not
leaving. “Kitty?” he managed.
Head down,
as if she were gathering strength for her words, she said, “Yesterday, when I
left the note with Dobie, I said we needed to talk.”
He wondered
if it was possible for someone’s heart to pound right through his chest. “Yeah?”
Her fingers
grasped the fine material of the dress, kneading it, showing her
nervousness. “I put it off last night,
but before we go downstairs, there is something I – I need to tell you. Something that is – hard – for me to say, but
that should be said.”
She’s not leaving, his brain repeated, trying to
convince his heart. It wasn’t
successful.
He stood,
immobile, waiting for the dire news, waiting for her to tell him that it didn’t
matter that he was giving up the badge, that they would never be free of
enemies who wanted to kill Matt Dillon, that she couldn’t raise her son in such
an environment. He waited for her to
announce she was sending Sam back to
Suddenly,
weakness swept over him, and he forced his knees to lock so he could remain
upright. “I thought – “
His voice broke, and he took a breath to smooth it out. “I thought it was – to tell me you weren’t
leaving.” Please be that.
Her eyes
lifted to his, soft and guilty. “Oh, Matt. Like I
told you last night, I never intended to leave you. Not again.”
Somehow, he
kept standing, somehow, he didn’t just collapse there
on the bed in relief. With more strength
than he thought he had, he cleared his throat, drew in a deep breath, and
nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m not leaving,” she repeated.
Yes. He knew that.
He would always know that now.
Gaining more control, he let his fingers reach out and swirl over her
shoulder. “Okay. “
“And you’re not leaving,” she announced
abruptly, tears in her eyes despite her obvious effort to smile.
The caress
stopped. Matt pulled back, a confused
smile curving his lips. “What?”
“I said, ‘you’re not leaving.’”
He sighed,
understanding. She wanted to stay in
Dodge, then, or thought he wanted to
stay, anyway. “Kitty, I appreciate the
thought, but I meant it when I said we could move wherever you want. If we stay in Dodge – well, it wouldn’t be
wise to stay here after I turn in my badge.
Too many risks.
And too hard on whoever comes in to replace
me.”
“I know,”
she assured him surprisingly.
His hands
rested on her hips, as if holding her still so he could figure out what she was
saying. “I don’t understand – “
“You’re not
making this any easier, Cowboy,” she laughed, but the sound was tight.
He had
always prided himself on his quick perception and ability to comprehend, but
this time he couldn’t decipher all the clues.
Of course, that rarely worked with Kitty, anyway. “I’m sorry, Kitty. I just don’t know what – “
Drawing a
deep breath, she lifted her chin and said evenly, “You’re not turning in your
badge.”
He frowned
and shook his head, disappointed. Surely
she didn’t think he would go back on his promise. “I told
you I would, Kitty. Don’t you believe
me?”
“I believe
you,” she assured him, then took another breath and said quietly, “but I don’t want you to.”
His jaw
dropped and his eyes widened. The hands
that held her hips slipped away. After
several seconds of silence, he whispered, “What?”
“I don’t
want you to resign.” She couldn’t have
stunned him more if she had told him she was going to be the organist at the
“What?”
Patiently,
she said, “I don’t think you should resign as marshal.”
“Kitty – “ he began, stepping forward, still not truly comprehending
what she was saying.
But she
held him at arms length. “Let me
finish. It’s hard enough to say it as it
is.” She braved a smile. “Being a lawman is so deep in you. If you were to give that up, what would you
do?”
“I’ve thought
about that,” he assured her. “Ranching, maybe.”
But she
shook her head. “You would be lost. Mister Matt Dillon, not United States Marshal Matt Dillon?
You would be lost.”
“I wouldn’t, Kitty,” he promised. Oh, God.
Maybe she was still sending Sam away.
“I know
better. And if you were lost, I guess
I’d be lost, too. You have to be who you
are. And I wouldn’t want to be with
someone who wasn’t.”
The pain
beneath her brave front tore at him.
“Kitty, I don’t know what you’re saying.
You’ve wanted me to give up that badge for twenty years, and now you’re
telling me – “
“I
know. Don’t you think I’ve told myself
the same thing? Twenty years is a long
time, Matt. And you’ve been a lawman for
longer than that. Close to thirty years,
counting your time with Adam Kimbro, I would
guess. I’ve known all along how much it
means to you, how much it means to Dodge, even to Kansas and maybe the whole
country, now. It’s entwined in who and
what you are. I tried to imagine what
you would be after you turned in the badge.
Farming was out, of course. Too boring.
Banking? Ridiculous. Like you said, ranching, maybe, but I don’t
think so. I realized that being a lawman
is so deep in you, Matt, you’ll never get it out.”
“I can try, Kitty,” he assured her earnestly, still fighting to
understand just what she was telling him.
“Damn it!”
she cried, confusing him even more.
“Don’t you see what I’m saying?
I’m not leaving, and you’re
not leaving. We’re staying. Here. In Dodge. Where I’ll be Kitty Dillon, wife of United States Marshal Matt
Dillon.”
His eyes
glistened, his breath caught. Surely,
she wasn’t offering – she wasn’t telling him not to – Grasping her shoulders,
he drew her closer. “Kitty, do you know
what you’re saying? That means more gunfights
and more barroom brawls. The risk – “
“You’ve
risked more than that for a long time,” she said softly. “You’ve risked your heart twenty years ago,
after you’d been hurt before. That
wasn’t easy. I know from experience.”
“I didn’t
have a choice,” he admitted, leaning in and running the backs of his long
fingers against her cheek, the surge of love for this woman almost overwhelming
him. “I couldn’t not love you, Kitty.”
She didn’t
try to suppress her tears, and they rolled down her cheeks.
But he had
made a promise. He saw what she was
doing, and he wouldn’t allow it. Not
now. Not anymore. “You’re not going to do this. I made you a promise. I – I gave you my badge.”
“And I’m
giving it back to you.” Turning, she
shoved her hand into one of the carpetbags that rested on the floor, pulling it
back out with the shining metal resting in her palm.
He
swallowed hard at the poignant gesture.
“I’ve already sent in my resignation.”
“Get it
back.”
“What?” Surely she wasn’t serious. “Why?”
“Maybe I
figured it would be a mistake.”
“But – “
“And maybe
I figure you’d be a lousy rancher.”
“Kitty – “
“And just
maybe I figure we’d be safer with that badge still on your chest than with it
off.”
“What about
Sam?” he asked.
Her face
softened at the baby’s name. “Matthew
Samuel Dillon has a right to grow up knowing his father, and knowing just what
kind of man Matt Dillon is. He’ll be
proud of you, Matt. Just
like I’ve always been proud of you.
I hope he can be half the man his father is.”
Stunned, he
pulled her to him, and she let him, buried his face in her hair, unable to stop
the emotion from wetting his cheeks. “My
God, Kitty,” he breathed raggedly, overwhelmed by her gesture.
“I love
you, Matt,” she answered, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you so much.”
Her
closeness, her touch, her scent all attacked his sense of logic, and he found
himself responding with a pulse against her.
Grimacing at the inappropriateness of his lack of control, he tried to
withdraw, but she shook her head and held on tighter.
“No,
Matt. I want this now. I want you
now.”
“Kitty – “ But his resistance vanished as she tossed the badge back
into the bag and ran her hands between them.
They were
involved again almost immediately, the months of separation impossible to make
up for in only a few hours – no matter how incredible they were – clothes
ripping, bodies moving frantically against each other, lips and hands bringing
moans and cries. In fact, they were so
involved that neither of them heard the knock.
It took a second, then a third knock to break through to them.
Chest
heaving, Kitty tried to push away.
“Matt, stop, I think – someone’s – at the – door.”
But he
wasn’t interested in the door. His lips
continued their delicious caresses of her most delicate areas.
“Matt,” she
moaned as he held onto her, wanting her to do anything but answer the damned
door.
“Kitty?” a
voice called tentatively.
Something
pushed at his memories. Something relatively important. Something he was supposed to be doing. But he really didn’t want to be doing
anything else but making love to Kitty right then.
“Marshal?”
the voice called again, a little louder.
“Go away,”
he murmured, not sure at all that he could pull back from the edge he found
himself perched on.
But Kitty’s
voice broke through, the urgency different enough from her passion to drive
into his consciousness. “Matt,” she
whispered frantically, “get up. Get up.”
“I’m up,”
he assured her. Surely she could feel
that for herself.
“No. I mean move off me. I have to answer the door.”
The door? Oh, hell.
The party.
Even as he
fought through the haze of desire, it took another a hard shove for her to coax
him back enough to slide out from under him.
He watched as she shrugged into a robe and reached for the knob.
Glancing
back at him, she noted pointedly, “Uh, you might want to get out of sight, big
man. You’re giving Hannah quite a lot
more to see this time. And last time she
was more than interested – “
The threat
sent him scrambling off the bed in such haste that his legs tangled in the
covers and dumped him unceremoniously onto the floor.
“Are you
okay?” Kitty asked, eyes both amused and a little worried.
He grunted
in response, still aching from the discomfort of interruption, and stumbled
into the dressing room, knowing Hannah would have to be blind and deaf not to
realize what had been going on. Then he
realized it didn’t matter. It didn’t
matter at all that Hannah knew they had been intimate. It didn’t matter if the whole town knew
anymore.
The burden
of twenty years lifted from his shoulders in that one moment of realization,
and he fell back against the wall, his body slumping from the sheer
relief. As he listened to Hannah’s
muffled, but clearly amused, conversation with his wife, he reflected on what
Kitty had told him, on her unselfish sacrifice.
Maybe he
would let her do it. Maybe
not. They would talk about it,
anyway, but he had brought Kathleen Russell enough heartache the past twenty
years. It was time for him to bring her
some joy.
With a nod
to his own conviction, he tugged on the pants and shirt he had grabbed on his
way into the dressing room. The bustling
noises that rose from below told him the party was already going strong – even
with the guests of honor conspicuously absent.
He would take considerable ribbing from Doc about the cause of their
tardiness. Still, it would be in good
fun.
Their
private party would come later. The
people of Dodge awaited their arrival – not as the Marshal and Miss Kitty, but
as Matt and Kitty Dillon. A new beginning.
He just
hoped it was the beginning Kitty had wanted all those years.
TBC