Decisions Made
(Dialogue below taken from the final draft of "Kitty's Love Affair" by S.L. Kotar, J.E. Gessler and Paul Savage, March 28, 1973. It is somewhat different from the Matt-Kitty conversation in the aired episode.)
No ownership, no profit—just love and nostalgia for these wonderful characters.
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Got a few minutes, Cowboy?
Sure.
I need some answers. The scales are getting all out of whack…It's hard to throw eighteen years away.
Yeah.
If I knew…If I just knew there was hope; that there was a chance.
There's always hope for anything.
Matt, I know what that badge means to you…To this town…To everyone…But I'm thinking of me—of us…I was a kid when we met. I was going to live forever. I knew things between us would have to be what they were; but I hoped that someday…Some far off someday it would change, and that was all right. But Matt…my somedays are almost gone. I guess all I'm asking is for you to tell me to say no to Will.
I can't make your decisions for you, Kitty…Not now anyway.
I love you, Matt…Remember that.
xxx
Unshed tears of anger and hurt, frustration and doubt were stinging her eyes as she stepped out of the jail house and into the encroaching darkness. It was the response she had known he would give. She had expected no other. But that didn't ease the ache in her heart, and his words echoed in time with her footsteps as she hurried down the boardwalk toward the saloon at the end of the next block—the place that had been her home for the better part of eighteen years.
Can't make your decisions for you…not now anyway…always hope for anything…can't make your decisions…always hope…your decisions…hope…
His words continued to taunt her all the way to the batwing doors of the Long Branch. She stepped inside and looked around at the scattered tables of patrons. Determining she was too out of sorts to assume her customary role of charming hostess making small talk with ranchers and cowboys and drifters, she nodded to the few regulars who caught her eye and went quickly up the stairs and through the heavy dark green curtain that led to her rooms.
Once inside the privacy of her sitting room, her fingers closed around a china cherub that adorned the small table just inside the door, sending him to his demise as his chubby body crashed against the fireplace on the opposite side of the room. Damn it, Matt! I know you can't make my decisions for me, and I don't want you to. But is there hope? Is there a chance? A chance for us? And just what the hell does 'not now anyway' mean? She kicked the carved oak trunk at the foot of the bed, swore again, and threw herself face down on the counterpane, too confused and frustrated even to cry.
She lay there until full dark took over the room, remembering all of the good times, wondering if she really could throw away eighteen wonderful years. I wouldn't change a day of those years, not one single day. Oh, he doesn't make flowery speeches, and he doesn't tell me he loves me, but he shows me every day. The smile in his eyes and the tip of his hat, the touch of his hand on my back and the soft pressure of his lips on mine—they tell me all I need to know. And in bed, no woman could ask for a gentler or more generous and exciting lover. A thrill arced through her body, and she shivered in the darkness thinking of all the amazing nights she had spent in his arms. He's stubborn and moody and driven by forces the rest of us can't understand and demons the rest of us can't see. She hugged the pillow—his pillow—and inhaled his scent. And, damn it, he's the best man I've ever known. She fell into a fitful sleep, peppered with hideous dreams of the man she loved, injured and alone on the unforgiving trail. When she jolted awake, the saloon below was shuttered and closed, and the street outside was empty and dark.
Restless, she moved outside onto the balcony, hoping the evening breeze would cool her warm face and soothe her battered spirit. She sat down on the top step, and as she watched the stars sparkle in the night sky and listened to the faint cry of a coyote somewhere on the prairie, her thoughts turned to memories of other nights when she and Matt had shared a secluded rendezvous on this very spot. In her mind's eye she saw them once again—a quilt spread on the small wooden porch, his back braced against the clapboard wall of the building, long arms wrapped around her as she sat between his muscular thighs, leaning comfortably against his massive chest. She could feel his warm lips brush the back of her neck, his breath stirring the russet tendrils clustered there, and, as surely as if he were on the balcony with her, she felt strong, calloused fingers skimming over her breasts, massaging the tender flesh beneath her clothes.
Her breath hitched at the remembrance. Oh, Matt!
She bowed her head and shed a few melancholy tears as memories flashed before her—vivid images of those first years with her cowboy—the raw newness, the anticipation, the tentative dance of their burgeoning relationship, the exhilaration, and—finally—the amazing, all-consuming love.
Sweet, sweet memories.
x
Will Stambridge, on the other hand, was a man with whom she shared no history, no memories. But he was a man ready and willing to commit himself to her, to promise to cherish and love her forever, to give her the home and the family she longed to have. A man with whom she did not share a past—but with whom she could share a future.
…can't make your decisions for you…can't make your decisions for you…
She sat a moment longer. Every beat of her tormented heart pounded out the truth, and she knew what she had to do—what she wanted to do. She squeezed out a few more tears—tears for what might have been—and then, with a sigh, she brushed at her eyes and stood. Not even bothering to repair her face or to change from the skirt and shirtwaist she had worn all day, she descended the steps, and, with spine straight and sure, walked down the deserted street to the Dodge House. As she entered the empty lobby she felt calmer of mind and lighter of spirit than she had felt in days. She climbed the stairs with determination and knocked on the door of room number ten. When the door opened, she ventured a shaky smile. "Hello, Will. I'm sorry it's so late…or so early, but…may I come in?"
xxx
In the full light of a new day, Kitty once again peered through the barred window of the marshal's office before opening the door. "Do you have a minute, Matt—again?"
As he had done the day before, he glanced up from the paperwork strewn across his desk. "Sure."
"I just wanted to let you know that I've come to a decision."
"I figured as much. I saw you going into the Dodge House last night—or rather around two this morning."
Whether it was there or not, she heard accusation in his tone, and, unexpectedly, her temper flared. "You've been spying on me? For years you've been telling me that I'm my own woman and that what I do is my own business. Now you've suddenly decided to make it your business?"
"I wasn't spying, Kitty. I couldn't sl… I happened to look out the window, and I saw you." He shrugged. "That's all."
"Oh." The wind left her sails with his simple explanation and his near revelation that he, too, had been unable to sleep. "Like you said, you can't make my decisions for me. This was something I had to do for myself—and by myself. So I did."
The slight inclination of his head was almost imperceptible and was his only response.
She hadn't thought ahead to what he might say—or not say. In the face of his silence she plunged on. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I said no to Will."
He moved not a muscle, but his hooded eyes bore through to her very soul. "You're sure?"
She nodded. "I'm sure."
He rose and took a step toward her, taking in her drawn features, the dark circles beneath those magnificent sapphire eyes. "You look tired, Kitty. Are you all right?"
She shook her head. "No, Matt, I am not all right. I have inadvertently managed to hurt two men, one who I love with all my heart and one who has been nothing but a kind and generous friend. So I'm hardly all right just now." The corners of her lips lifted in the slightest hint of a smile. "But I think I will be."
"Stambridge?"
"He'll be leaving on the afternoon stage."
He took another step and reached out, his big hands gripping her upper arms. "Kitty, I…."
She freed one arm and reached her hand out to touch his chest. "Not now, Matt. Please. We can talk later if you want. Right now, I'm going home to get some sleep."
He dropped his hands. "Uh, right. I'll…I'll see you later, Kitty."
x
She watched the stagecoach carrying Will Stambridge pull out of town, his good-bye kiss still warm on her lips, his words from the night before still echoing in her ears. I love you, Kitty, but I know you don't feel the same way about me. I've watched you and Dillon together. You're mad at him right now, but it's still there. I'd give my gun arm to see your eyes sparkle and dance for me the way they do when you look at him. He drew on his pipe, and his eyes followed the upward spiral of the smoke. You're an amazing woman, Kitty Russell, and I'd do everything in my power to make you happy. In time, you might even learn to love me, too, but…he shook his head…I'm not going to push it. He shrugged. There's bound to be a stage going somewhere tomorrow. I'll be on it.
I'm sorry, Will, but I…I…
Don't, Kitty. His lips touched hers. Let's just say I'd rather be a pleasant memory than a sad mistake.
x
Drawing a bracing breath, she turned to her right and saw Matt standing there, calmly pushing the stained Stetson back from his rugged face. Slowly, she began what seemed like the longest walk of her life-the fifteen steps to the corner of the old jail house. She paused when she reached him. Not quite ready to meet his penetrating blue gaze, her own eyes stared into the distance as she spoke tentatively. "You know something?"
When there was no response from the giant of a man towering over her she continued, "I know a lady who could sure use a drink."
The old familiar smile creased his face. "Well, I know a man's ready to buy," he answered, touching his hand to her elbow and then wrapping an arm around her waist as they crossed the dusty street. Savoring the feel of his body against hers once again, she slipped an arm around his waist, too, and they headed toward the Long Branch—together.
Passing them on the street, Doc and Festus smirked knowingly at each other, and, inside the saloon, several of the regular afternoon patrons smiled and nodded as the marshal led his lady to a secluded table under the stairs.
"Mighty good to see you in here again, Marshal," Sam said with a broad grin as he came over to personally take their order.
"It's good to be here again, Sam. I think two shots of your best whiskey are in order."
With the barkeep's departure, silence became a third guest at the big round table until Sam returned with the drinks and then again left the couple to stare awkwardly into their shot glasses.
"Want to talk about it?" Matt finally began in a low voice as he moved his chair closer to hers.
"Everything's so...so mixed up, Matt. I don't even know where to start." She twirled her glass on the green felt.
"Perhaps you should start by telling me why Stambridge is on the eastbound stage alone and you're here with me." His smile took the bite from his words. "Not that I have any objection to this arrangement, you understand."
Suddenly aware that poker cards were no longer slapping against tables and that mid-day gossip had ceased, she said, "Let's go into the office."
Behind the door marked PRIVATE, Matt set their drinks on the desk and turned to see her still leaning against the door, her eyes closed. He moved toward her. "What's the matter, honey?" His voice was low and silky soft.
The tender tone, the seldom used term of endearment were nearly her undoing. Reaching her arms toward him like a lost child she whispered, "Hold me, Matt...please...just hold me."
"With pleasure." He smiled and drew her into his chest, one large hand cradling her head against his heart. Long moments passed as he continued to hold her close against his body, his lips pressing gentle kisses against her temple and into her sweet-smelling curls.
"Oh, Matt...I was so happy and excited to be going on a vacation with you...a real vacation, not a business trip courtesy of the War Department, but something you actually planned for just the two of us. I so wanted for us to be away from Dodge where you could relax and we could completely enjoy each other."
"That's what I wanted too, Kitty. I'm sorry it didn't work out."
She moved out of his embrace and began to pace the small office. "I don't even know how things got so out of hand. When the station master handed you that message, I just knew—knew it was happening again, and I was furious with you, Matt, probably madder than I've ever been, and I was determined to go to St. Louis come hell or high water. And I would have. I'd have shopped, visited distributors, contacted old friends, had my little pique, gotten over it, and come back home."
She moved to the desk, took a swallow of whiskey and sat down. "But then the stage was held up. You weren't there. Will was. He protected me and got himself shot in the process." She almost smiled. "Funny, the first thing I thought to do was to bring him to Dodge—to Doc. Oh, I knew he was a gunman, but I was grateful and…well, a little vulnerable. Will was charming. He had time to spend with me, time to take me places, time to do things with me. He offered me a home, security, a chance for a family. He offered me himself."
His voice tight, Matt said, "Okay...so Stambridge offered you a home, security, a chance for a family." She noticed he chose not to voice that other offer. "I thought that's what you wanted."
She shook her head. "Not without you, Matt. None of those things means anything to me if I'm not sharing them with you. You're the only man I want to touch me, the only man I want to hold me at night. You're the only man I want to…" Her voice trailed off as she remembered something very important she needed to tell him.
"And I very much want to be that man, Kitty." He drew her from the chair and into his embrace, kissing her lips once again. "But right now, and for as long as I wear this badge, I have no right to offer you those things."
"I know that's how you feel, Matt, and I can wait." With a deep breath and a tremulous smile, she locked her eyes with his and added, "I've invested eighteen years in us—in this relationship—and I'm not about to give up on it now. Eighteen years. I've been in love with you my entire adult life, Matt. And that's the way it's going to stay, for all the rest of my life."
He took a deep breath. "You scared me, you know."
Her brow furrowed. "I did?"
"Uh, hunh. Yesterday, when you said, 'I love you. Remember that.' That sounded…well, it sounded awfully final."
"Matt, I won't lie to you. Will's attention was flattering, and so was his offer. But I couldn't, I just couldn't. It's you I love, not Will." Never taking her eyes from his face, she added, "And just so you know—Will and I...we...I didn't sleep with him, Matt." She shook her head. "No way was I ready to do that." She reached up and touched his face. "Fact is, I'm not sure I could ever do that with someone who isn't you."
"I know you wouldn't do that, Kitty, and just so you know, if it had come down to it, I'd have tried awfully hard to talk you out of going off with Stambridge."
She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? And just when were you planning on doing that, Cowboy? When we were standing at the altar?"
He grinned, but his tone was serious. "If that's what it would take, yes." He held her slightly away from his body and looked into her face as he spoke. "Like I said, Kitty, right now I have no right to ask you to do, or not to do, anything. I think I have a couple good years left in me, but I know I'll be taking this badge off someday. When that time comes, I hope…"
He turned them around then, seating himself on the edge of the desk and pulling her between his thighs. His mouth moved over hers, kissing her tenderly at first and then with an intensity that left them both gasping for breath. With his face buried in the soft curve of her neck, he whispered, "Dear God, I love you, Kitty, so very much."
Her hands on his chest stopped in mid caress. She raised her head from his chest and looked up at him with startled eyes, "What did you just say?"
She watched his gentle blue eyes hold hers for a long moment, watched them speak the volumes he himself so seldom uttered. Then, once again he pressed her against his heart and answered her question in a voice husky and low with emotion and desire. "I said I love you, Kitty, I love you."
The End