What Chester Heard
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Disclaimer: This fanfic was written for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to violate or infringe on the copyrights as owned by PARAMOUNT/ VIACOM, nor to realize any profits.
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Summary: Chester accidentally becomes an ear witness to a conversation between Doc and Kitty and thinks that he's doing the Marshal a favor by telling him about it.
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Rating: PG-13
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Advice. All he needed was some good, solid and preferably free advice on how to get rid of that bothersome twitch in his side that had been plaguing him since last night, and Chester Goode knew just where to get it.
'G. Adams, MD, SURGEON and GENERAL PRACT' the shingle on the wall above the staircase read. The "PRACT." stood for "Practitioner". He knew because Doc had told him once. Doc Adams was the person to turn to in case of accident or ailment. Being the only doctor in Dodge-the only one in over a hundred mile radius, to be exact, he enjoyed somewhat of a monopoly; but whether that was a good thing, was a matter of opinion if one asked the physician himself.
Chester paused at the foot of the stairs, his eyes resentfully contemplating the crude, wooden structure. Why couldn't Doc's office be on ground level like everybody else's, he thought, not too fond of climbing stairs on account of his stiff right leg. How could the doctor expect people-especially sick ones, to scale this rickety staircase in their condition? Knowing from past experience, that pointing this out to the physician would most likely do no good, he heaved a resigned sigh and with a glance up towards the landing, squared himself and began his ascend.
"...an' remember, Kitty...proper nutrition, next to resting, is the most important thing when a woman's expectin'," he heard Doc Adams' voice carry through the cracked door.
The doctor's words caused Chester to freeze dead in his tracks halfway up the stairs. The reason why he had come to see the doctor was quickly forgotten after overhearing what the physician had just said to Miss Kitty.
Expecting? he feverishly began to wonder, Miss Kitty was expecting? How come nobody had told him? Chester was well aware of the fact that the Marshal and Miss Kitty had a close and intimate relationship, but this certainly came as quite a surprise.
"...need to be careful that Matt doesn't find out," he now couldn't help but overhear another shred of their conversation, this time coming from Miss Kitty.
Not supposed to find out? Did that mean that Mister Dillon didn't even know about it?
The gangly young man gulped nervously. His eyes quickly darted up to the doctor's door which had been left ajar and then back to the bottom of the stairs, gauging his chances for a quick retreat; there was no way that he could go up there right now and face either one of them, pretending not to have heard anything.
He ran a nervous hand across his foreheard.
"Oh, my goodness," he muttered exasperated in the face of his predicament. But before he could gather his wits to escape, the door was suddenly opened and Kitty, along with the doctor, appeared on the landing.
"Don't forget to come by later," said Doc to Kitty.
Neither one of them had noticed the Marshal's assistant yet who was hanging on to the handrail, trying hard to look inconspicuous. His gaze directed at the sky above, he softly whistled a little tune, pretending not to be aware of Doc's and Kitty's presence.
But the physician was neither blind nor deaf.
"What, in thunder, you think you're doin'?" he groused.
The last note of his tune died on Chester's lips as he stared at the doctor with a rather badly feigned look of surprise.
"M-me?" he stammered, pointing at himself as he desperately searched for something plausible to say.
Immediately, Doc's eyebrows knitted into a frown.
"Good Heavens, Chester," snapped he impatiently, "of course you. Or do you see anybody else standin' on my stairs, whistlin' at the sun?"
Kitty gave the doctor an amused smile.
"Well, I better go. I see you later, Doc."
"All right, Kitty, you remember what I told you now."
She turned and nodded.
"Sure."
The folded parasol in her left, she gracefully began to descend the stairs.
"Mornin', Chester," she said, giving him a bemused smile in passing.
"M-Miss Kitty," muttered Chester.
For a second, his eyes followed her as she continued to descend the staircase but then the doctor's voice demanded his attention again.
"Goodness gracious," he grumbled, "what're you so jumpy about this mornin'?"
"Oh," Chester chuckled nervously, thinking that he could hardly tell Doc what he had just now overheard, "nothin' really...I-I reckon, I best get goin'."
He vaguely pointed over his shoulder then turned and hastily began his retreat.
Immediately, Doc's face scrunched up.
"Well, what did you w-" he began to say but then he thought better of it and fell silent. His gaze followed the young man as he hobbled down the stairs, his stiff right leg sticking out sideways at a funny angle.
"Oh, never mind," he then muttered, "sometimes I don't know why I even bother."
Waving his hand disgustedly, he turned and shuffled back inside, loudly closing the door behind himself.
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Matt sighed as he looked up and put down his pen. The rather irritating fashion in which his assistant was raking the broom across a floor that really didn't need sweeping was a pretty good indicator that something was definitely bothering him.
"All right, what's the matter, Chester," he wondered.
The cleaning tool in Chester's hands came to an abrupt halt. Ever since he had returned from Doc's office an hour ago, he had been struggling with the decision whether to tell Mister Dillon what he had overheard Doc and Miss Kitty say earlier. Why was it that she didn't want him to find out that she was expecting? The Marshal definitely had a right to know, and if she didn't want to tell him for whatever reason, then someone else had to; after all, it was in her best interest, Chester figured. Maybe, if he didn't say it outright and just kind of nudged him into the right direction, maybe Mister Dillon would figure it out on his own.
"Chester!"
"Yes, Mister Dillon?"
Matt raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture.
"Well? Did you wanna talk to me about somethin'? Because if not," he tapped his index finger onto the piece of paper in front of him, "I got a report here to finish."
Chester swallowed, haplessly tugging at his neck. His mouth twitched as he sought for the proper words.
"Say, Mister Dillon," he began slowly, "Miss Kitty's doin' all right, ain't she?"
Matt regarded him rather puzzled, prompting Chester to talk faster.
"What I mean is," he quickly went on to elaborate, "she's eatin' all right, ain't she?"
Now the Marshal stared at him blankly. He knew Chester to say strange things at times but this was very strange-even for Chester.
"What're you talkin' about?"
Chester groaned in exasperation; this was going to be harder than he thought.
"Well," he attempted again, "I heard Doc say that it's important to eat right, 'specially for a woman."
For a second, Matt regarded him, his gaze intent then his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Say...you been drinkin'?"
"What're you talkin' about?"
Right away, Chester's face darkened with indignation over the offensive assumption.
"Drinking? Good, heavens Mister Dillon. You oughtta know that I don't drink much before noon!"
Matt shrugged.
"Well, you sure're actin' like it."
Chester's frown deepened. That did it. Here he was, trying to be a friend and all he got for it so far, were insults.
Matt sighed; the obvious look of hurt on his friend's face was impossible to miss. He had a feeling that he probably wouldn't be able to get much done anyway, unless his assistant got off his chest whatever it was that seemed to be bothering him.
"All right, Chester, what's on your mind?" he said wearily but in a slightly more conciliatory tone.
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, stretching his long legs out underneath the desk.
"Well?" he prompted patiently when his friend remained silent, "I'm listenin'."
Chester swallowed nervously; now that he had the Marshal's full attention, he somehow found it even harder to form the right thoughts. Then he had an idea.
"Well...let's say you had two friends, Mister Dillon," he began slowly, thoughtfully, "an' those two was your closest friends an' one of them's keepin' somethin' from the other, that the other really has a right to know an' you found out about it. Would you tell the other?"
"Now hold on a minute," said Matt, sounding slightly exasperated as he raised his hand to stop the flow of words, "you lost me there."
He scratched his forehead. It was apparent that his assistant was quite serious about whatever it was and he forced himself to remain patient.
Chester heaved a frustrated sigh.
"Would you tell the other if you knew?" he said again, now almost desperate.
"Would I tell..." repeated Matt slowly and suddenly, comprehension dawned on his face. "Chester,...you're not by any chance talkin' about Kitty, are you?"
A visible look of relief passed across the young man's face.
"Well,...'s a matter of fact...I was."
It took the lawman a few more seconds to sort the rest of it out.
"You mean, Kitty knows somethin' that she's not tellin' me?"
Chester nodded reluctantly.
Right away, Matt relaxed.
"All right. Look, Chester. Kitty's a grown woman. She doesn't have to tell me ev'rything."
Immediately, Chester's face fell.
"But Mister Dillon," he burst out with barely concealed frustration, "you don't seem to understand. This is diff'rent if you don't mind my sayin' so. I didn't wanna tell you this because it really ain't any of my business in the first place, but I just feel that it's important that you know about it."
By now, Matt just about had exhausted the last of his patience.
"All right," he sighed crossly, "say it out so we can get this over with."
Get it over with; that's exactly what Chester had wanted to do.
"Well, Mister Dillon, like I said, it really ain't any of my business...goodness, no. But I just feel that you oughtta know-I mean, you have a right to know-even though Miss Kitty doesn't want you to know...that she's...that she's..." He cleared his throat, embarrassed, "well, that she's...expectin'."
"Expect..." Matt started to repeat confused, then suddenly trailed off. He half-rose from his chair, his eyes now boring into Chester's; maybe he had misunderstood.
"Now you better explain that to me."
In few words, his assistant quickly related to him what he had, or at least thought he had become an ear witness to. His account was followed by a long moment of stunned silence as the Marshal plopped back down into his chair. He distractedly slid a hand through his dark hair and exhaled loudly. For the last four years, he had been secretly wondering what would happen if his love for Kitty ever turned out this way and apparently, now it had finally happened.
"I'll be darned," he whispered amazed, a tentative smile tugging at his lips as the meaning of Chester's words slowly began to take hold in his mind, "well, I'll be doggoned."
Unable to find the words for any more coherent a sentence, he raked his hand again through by now, rather rumpled curls and swallowed hard. Emotions were flashing through him so quickly that he couldn't name them all; astonishment, excitement, joy, a little uncertainty and confusion but above all, the desire to find Kitty and be with her.
The chair legs scraped loudly across the plank floor as he abruptly pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He came around his desk and crossed over to the door, grabbing his Stetson from its peg.
"Look," he said, pointing with the hat at his assistant, "keep an' eye on things here for me, will ya?"
Without even waiting for Chester to acknowledge his words, he slipped out the door.
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Expecting. His initial reaction at the thought of Kitty carrying his child had been one of somewhat reluctant, but nevertheless genuine excitement, but now as he thought on it some more, the rest of Chester's words came to him again, and Matt suddenly began to feel worried; why did she not want him to find out? Surely, it couldn't be that she was afraid to tell him; no, not Kitty. There had be another reason.
His thoughts now automatically turned to the previous night. Nothing had indicated that something was troubling her. He had come in after making his rounds, a little later than usual and had found her already asleep. He had quietly undressed and carefully slipped into bed beside her. The moon had been full, shining brilliantly through the window into the bedroom, bathing her lovely sleeping form in its silvery light. Unable to resist the temptation, he had snuggled closely to her, gently kissing the sweet-smelling softness of her throat.
"Go away, Matt," she had murmured sleepily, her hand feebly swatting at his head that was hovering above her shoulder, now busy trailing gentle kisses along her collarbone. With a disapproving noise, she had pulled the sheet back up that he had managed to sneak off one freckled shoulder.
"Can't," he had whispered softly, his breath hot against her neck, "it's a full moon tonight." He knew it was a pretty poor excuse, but even after four years, Kitty still stirred him like no other woman ever had and he wouldn't have been human if he wouldn't have felt the urge to respond. Slowly, he had inched the sheet off her shoulder again, kissing every exposed spot of soft skin along the way. She had sighed, this time with pleasure and turned towards him.
"What kinda excuse is that?" she had wondered amused and definitely more awake now.
"The best one I could think of," he had confessed, giving her a mischievous grin before pulling her into his arms. He had lowered his face to hers and before her mouth had been able to frame a protest, his lips had claimed hers. A tender touch at first, warm, moist, pleasant that had quickly deepened into a hungry, lingering kiss. Almost involuntarily, her hands had wound around his neck and then slid lower, smoothing down the muscular length of his back. Her caresses had elicited a soft groan of approval and he had gathered her closer against his large and powerful frame. The last of her reservations had quickly melted away, giving way to a far greater urgency. Her lips now eagerly seeking his, she had surrendered to his passionate embrace.
They had ended up making love. Afterwards, they had fallen asleep in each other's arms, this time, neither one of them feeling the need to engage in any kind of serious conversation as they so often did. Still, nothing had seemed amiss between them then. He liked to think that he knew Kitty well enough to sense when something was on her mind-especially something that significant.
Expecting. In the four years they had been together, the subject of children had come up a few times. They both had agreed from the beginning that due to the risky nature of his job, it was out of the question for him to become a husband, much less a father; he had seen too many of his friends die in the line of duty, had seen what it had done to the wives they'd left behind. In all good conscience, he couldn't put Kitty or any child of his into that position-it would be irresponsible. Of course, he knew that one day, when he was ready to hang up his badge for good, he'd love nothing more than have a family; but those were plans for the future and this was now.
A conversation they had about a year after Kitty had become his woman now came to his mind. He remembered it vividly; it was the night after he had put his badge back on and shot Joe Stranger for killing Linda Hawkins, one of the saloon girls at the Long Branch at the time. He had turned his badge in a week earlier after he had been forced to shoot three men in a stand-off. Overworked and exhausted at the time, the experience had left him deeply disturbed and he had decided, he had killed his last man in the name of the law. Of course, things hadn't exactly gone as planned.
"Matt?"
"Hmm?"
"What'd you do if I'd tell you I was pregnant?"
"Are you?" he had wondered, knowing good and well that she wasn't. He had shifted a little so that he could look down into her face.
She had turned in his embrace and propped herself up on his chest.
"No," she had said, probing blue eyes now searching his, "but it could happen, you know."
"Well, I guess, I'd have to marry you then," he had replied lightly, not too worried; after all, they'd been together for over a year now and nothing had happened so far. He had closed his eyes again, figuring the issue settled.
"I don't think so."
"Huh?"
" I don't think you'd marry me, Matt."
"What makes you so sure of that?"
"Your badge. As long as you're wearing it, it'll always come first, we both know that. Chester was right, Matt, it's too late for you to quit now. There aren't too many people around, good enough to do what you're doing."
The trace of sadness in her voice hadn't gone unnoticed; still, Matt hadn't answered her that night, and he didn't have to. Kitty had hit the nail on the head and they both knew it. As long as he was the Marshal in Dodge, upholding the law would always have to be his first priority. Few things had changed since and if anything, his love for her had only deepened but he wasn't sure if he was ready to give up his badge just yet. Now, for the first time, he was forced to seriously entertain the possibility of potentially having to choose between Kitty and his job; it was almost too much to dwell on.
He was walking down the plank sidewalk without paying much attention to where he was going. He just wanted to walk. It helped him think, and thinking was what he definitely needed to do right now. Almost on their own, his feet traced the familiar path towards the Long Branch, and he was surprised to suddenly find himself in front of the batwing doors.
Matt's step faltered and he hesitated. It was only ten in the morning and although the folding doors had already been opened, the saloon wasn't open for business yet. Quickly, he glanced inside; the chairs were still on top of the tables and the saloon was empty save for Bill Pence who was standing at the bar, discussing an order with a whiskey drummer.
He didn't see her.
"Hello, Marshal," Bill called out as he took notice of him.
Matt nodded.
"Mornin', Pence. Is Kitty around?"
The other thought on it for a moment. Then he shook his head.
"No, I haven't seen her today. If I see her though, I let her know that you're lookin' for her."
Matt couldn't help feel a little disappointed.
"All right, Bill...thanks," he said and turned, heading back out into the street. Maybe he should pay Doc a visit, the physician might know where she went.
Doc Adams came shuffling down the stairs just as the lawman reached the doctor's office.
The Marshal stopped at the bottom of the steps.
"Hello, Doc."
"Oh, mornin' there, Matt."
The older man gave him a friendly nod as he stepped down onto the plank boardwalk. He pulled out his watch and snapped it open, briefly studying its face.
"You wanna have breakfast?" he then wondered.
Matt shook his head; food was the last thing on his mind right now.
"No, thanks, Doc," he said, then adding, "Say, I'm lookin' around for Kitty. You got any idea where she might be?"
Doc pushed his hat back, exposing a shock of graying curls and scratched his forehead.
"Well, she stopped by earlier," he said and then paused, suddenly remembering something. "Say, Matt, speakin' of Kitty. There's somethin' I wanna talk to you about."
But the Marshal, convinced he knew what his friend was about to say, didn't give him a chance to finish.
"Look, Doc," he quickly broke in, placing his hands before him as emphasis, "you don't have to tell me. I don't wanna know."
He definitely didn't want to find out from the doctor that Kitty was expecting-and especially not in the middle of Front Street. Besides, he'd much rather hear it from Kitty herself.
A frown began to darken Doc's face.
"Don't have to tell you?" he sputtered surprised, "well, what in thunder's the matter with you today? First Chester and now you, too!"
He glared up at the tall Marshal and then poked a finger at his chest.
"By golly, if that's the way you wanna be. Fine. I won't ask you then!"
He sniffed and raked his hand across the bristles of his salt and pepper mustache. With a shake of his head he then shuffled off, muttering something under his breath that Matt didn't catch. Which, under the circumstances, was probably a good thing.
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Matt spent most of the remaining morning trying to locate Kitty, but much to his disappointment, wasn't able to find her anywhere. Reluctantly, he finally abandoned his search and decided it was best to just plant himself somewhere from where he had a good view of Front Street and wait.
By now it was early afternoon. For the last two hours, he had been patiently perched on a chair outside the jail, his gaze traveling over the busy street in hopes of catching any sign of the pretty redhead, but so far, he didn't have any luck.
Although it was only a weekday, the streets seemed to be bustling with activity today. Farmers were loading their wagons with supplies at the Mercantile while their wives were congregating on the boardwalks, discussing the week's events. There even seemed to be more children running through the streets than usual.
Then, suddenly, he saw her. To his surprise, she was just leaving Miss Murrey's dress shop across the street.
Immediately, Matt sprang to his feet and began threading his way around the wagons and horses going up and down Front Street. He side-stepped a group of happily chattering women in front of the Mercantile and caught up with her just as she was about to step down into the street. Quickly, he planted himself in front of her, more or less blocking her path. One thump clasped in the top of his gunbelt, he brought the other hand to the brim of his Stetson.
"Hello, Kitty."
"Well, hello, there, cowboy," she greeted him smiling, politely trying to disguise her surprise at his rather sudden approach.
Now that he was facing her, Matt's mouth suddenly went dry and he had absolutely no idea what to say next. He'd never been very good with words and right now, he would've felt more comfortable, taking on a whole gang of outlaws. At least, he knew how to handle them.
Self-consciously, he scratched his forehead, not sure how to begin and before he could stop himself, his gaze had wandered down to the small mound of her stomach.
Kitty noticed it and bore his scrutiny for a short moment before letting her brows rise in polite inquiry.
"Something wrong?"
He quickly tore his eyes away, privately cursing himself for his less than admirable lack of self-control.
"No-no, nothin' wrong," he said quickly, shrugging like a little boy, clearly embarrassed that she had noticed. Shoving his hands down into his pockets, he desperately tried thinking of something to say. All the sudden, his mind seemed to have gone completely blank.
"How are you?" was the first, albeit not exactly best thing that popped into his mind.
Kitty regarded him with amused confusion. He was acting as if they hadn't seen each other in days.
"Just fine, Matt," she replied puzzled.
He took a step backwards and leaned his shoulder against a post beam, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Good. That's real good," he said.
A long, awkward pause ensued.
"Matt?"
"Yeah?"
"If you don't mind, I need to go and see Doc now."
He straightened immediately, his eyes growing worried.
"Doc? What's the matter? You sick or somethin'?"
Kitty fixed the lawman with a by now definitely confused look.
"No, I'm not sick. I just need to talk to him, that's all."
For one long moment, she studied his face, noting the film of perspiration that was glistening on his brow. She found that he was acting rather peculiar, and he certainly looked a little flushed. Maybe he was coming down with something.
"Matt...you sure, you're all right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he dismissed her quickly, annoyed with himself that this wasn't at all going the way he had imagined. "I was just worried about you, that's all."
Kitty's gaze lingered on him suspiciously.
"That's real nice of you," she said slowly, still not quite sure what to make of his strange behavior. Then she remembered that the physician was expecting her.
"Matt, I'm real sorry but Doc's waitin' for me."
Her tone carried genuine regret as she nodded down the street to his office. Part of her wanted to linger and find out what was on his mind but that just had to wait as she had other, more pressing matters to tend to at the moment.
There was a strong finality in her voice and not left with much of a choice, the Marshal stepped aside for her.
"Well, I see you later then," he muttered, not even sure when that would be.
Kitty smiled, giving his arm a quick pat and then made her way past him, effectively ending their rather short-lived conversation.
Matt pulled off his Stetson and raked his fingers through his hair before slapping the hat back on. Placing his hands on his hips, he blew out a long breath.
"Well, so much for that," he muttered his frustration as he stared after her, watching her disappear around the corner.
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Matt hadn't thought it wise to follow her up to Doc's office-he didn't want to appear too pushy, and so he didn't see her for the rest of the day. The hours passed painfully slow but finally, evening came. The sun had just set beyond the horizon, the last of its weakening light giving way to the quickly gathering darkness.
Needing a release for the building frustration, he had spent the last several hours at the office, throwing all his energy into trying to catch up on some paper work. But the more he tried to push the issue out of his mind, the more it persisted in intruding, leaving his efforts less than productive and he finally gave up.
He rolled over on his narrow cot and stared at the white-washed ceiling, scrubbing the palm of a callused hand over the stubble that was beginning to blur the outline of his chin. A child. His and Kitty's child. The realization shook him. Being responsible for another being had never been part of Matt's immediate plans and the thought scared him. Once again, he couldn't help but wonder why she didn't want him to know about it. Was it maybe that she didn't want him to think that he had to choose between her and his badge? It made as much sense as anything he could think of but it also caused a feeling of hurt to wash over him. He had always thought that he and Kitty could talk about anything but apparently, it was not so.
He remembered Chester's words: You got a right to know, Mister Dillon.
His assistant was right; he had a right to know. Whether Kitty wanted it or not.
He turned his gaze towards the window. It was almost dark outside. He didn't feel much like company but he knew that Kitty, Chester and Doc would expect him to join them for a beer or two before he went on his nightly rounds. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe Kitty was just waiting for a chance to talk to him in private tonight. After all, most of their more serious conversations were usually reserved for the night and the privacy of Kitty's room. It made perfect sense to Matt, and his mind was made up quickly.
Resolved, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his cot. Then he tugged on his boots and pushed to his feet.
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The warm night air was infused with the scents of early summer and a light breeze was cooling his face as he made his way down to the Long Branch. When he came up to the saloon, he slowed his step. The music and noisy banter of the patrons drifted to his ear as he now stepped up to the batwing doors. He quickly swept the bar room with his customary caution; as had figured, there were Doc and Chester, sitting at their usual table in the corner. And so was she.
She looked pretty tonight, he thought. The black, sleeveless dress she wore, was one of his favorites. It molded itself tightly to her lovely figure and almost without realizing it, his gaze wandered down to the tiny mound of her stomach. He tried to imagine the child-his child that was growing inside her, and he suddenly felt emotions that he couldn't quite identify.
"Matt!"
The sound of her voice startled him and he realized that she was waving him over. He swallowed once and squared himself, then he pushed the swinging doors aside and entered.
"Hello, Kitty. Doc. Chester."
He nodded acknowledgments and settled himself into the chair next to her. For some reason, he found himself all too aware of her physical presence, of her proximity, and it took him a considerable amount of self-control to keep his eyes from wandering down to her stomach again.
Matt suddenly wished that there were far fewer people sitting at their table. In fact, the whole scenario would be far more complete if they weren't at the Long Branch at all.
Kitty, unaware of his plight, gave him a smile and then motioned the barkeep.
"Clem, bring us another beer for the Marshal."
Doc took a sip from his own beer. He eyed Matt suspiciously from across the table.
"You in a better mood tonight?"
Right away, the Marshal felt a little embarrassed as he remembered how he had snapped at the physician earlier.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Look, Doc, I'm sorry."
He leaned forward to reach for the beer that Clem had just placed in front of him.
Not one to hold a grudge, the doctor simply waved him off.
"Well, never mind, water under the bridge, Marshal."
Kitty's glance passed from Matt to Doc and back again, curious to find out what had transpired between the two earlier.
Matt noticed it and put down his glass after taking a long swallow.
"So," he said quickly, hoping to divert her attention, "what've you been up to all day?"
She pursed her lips smiled.
"Oh, not much, just a normal day, I guess."
"I see," he said slowly about to probe a little further, but before he could say anything else, one of the saloon girls had walked up to their table, demanding Kitty's attention.
From across the table, Chester threw him a meaningful look. Matt knew exactly what his friend was thinking; he frowned in response, but Chester proceeded to motion with his head towards Kitty.
A flicker of annoyance flashed across Matt's face.
It was not lost on Kitty.
"Matt, what's going on?" she asked curiously.
He wanted to ask her the same but ended up saying, "nothin', why?" instead.
His discomfort was obvious and his assurance didn't quite convince her; for another second, she continued to contemplate him suspiciously before deciding to rest the issue for the moment. She rose to her feet.
"Well, anybody for another beer?"
Immediately, Chester jumped up.
"Let me give you a hand there, Miss Kitty, you shouldn't be carryin' those."
Hastily, he scooped up the empty beer mugs into his hands, almost dropping half of them.
"Yeah," agreed Matt eagerly as he clambered to his feet as well, holding the chair for her. "Sit back down, Kitty."
Surprised, Doc's eyes wandered from the Marshal to Chester. He shook his head in astonishment.
"Say, you two sick or somethin'?" he wondered.
He had never seen the two of them act stranger. Maybe they were coming down with something; he made himself a mental note that a thorough check-up for Matt and Chester was in order-preferably as soon as possible.
Kitty arched an eyebrow in wry amusement.
"You know, if you two are thinkin' you're actin' like yourselves tonight...you're not."
Chester grinned embarrassed and Matt felt the blood rush to his face. He cleared his throat, suddenly extremely eager to leave.
"Well, time for me to do my rounds," he muttered, trying hard not to sound as put out as he felt. He pushed his chair back and clambered to his feet.
His words prompted Chester to quickly gulp down the last of his beer and then follow suit.
Matt snatched his hat from the table. He nodded at Doc and then Kitty, his eyes capturing hers.
"See you later, Kitty?"
She looked up at him, smiling.
"Not tonight, Matt. I think I'm goin' to turn myself in early. It's been a long day."
Matt regarded her for one, long moment.
"Oh," he then muttered, hoping she wouldn't notice how disappointed he was.
"Well, I suppose I see you tomorrow night then. I have to ride out to Emmett Bower's in the mornin'."
If Kitty had noticed it, she didn't give any indication.
"All right," she continued to smile at him, "good night, Matt."
He nodded and forced himself to return the smile, then he slapped his hat on and turned, leaving with quick strides.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have found anything wrong with her remark; it usually just meant that she needed a night to herself. This time, however, her words were like a cold shower, and he was slowly beginning to get the feeling that Kitty was trying to avoid him.
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Dodge was relatively peaceful tonight and it didn't take the two men long to finish the rounds of the town. It was now a little after midnight, the official closing time for most of the saloons and gambling houses and Matt and Chester were heading up Front Street, back towards the jail.
Matt motioned with his head towards the door when he realized that Chester was waiting for him to step inside."You go on ahead."
The young man knew immediately what was bothering his friend.
"You didn't get to talk to her, Mister Dillon, did you." It was more statement than question.
The Marshal hesitated for a moment, not accustomed to discuss his private affairs with anybody, except maybe Kitty or Doc, but then he shook his head slightly.
"Nope."
He leaned his shoulder against one of the post beams, crossing his arms over his chest and then added crossly, "an' I'm not gonna push her. If she wants to tell me about it, she will."
Chester scratched his neck.
"Well, maybe she just needs a few days to think it over. Ya know, I been thinkin'-maybe you oughtta not let on to her. Don't say anythin' about it at all. I'm sure she'll come to you, you'll see."
"Yeah. Maybe."
Matt's reply came without much conviction, feeling not so sure about it at all. So far, his attempts at talking to her had proved less than fruitful and short of arresting her so that they could talk undisturbed, he wasn't sure what else to do.
"Ya know, Mister Dillon, I heard Doc once say that women can act mighty strange when they're expectin'."
"Strange?"
Chester's head bobbed in confirmation.
"Yeah, well, you remember like the time when Hy Steven's wife was beatin' poor Mr. Jonas with a broom because he told her, she'd better make it five yards of callico instead of four."
Matt couldn't help the grin that flashed across his face as he recalled the incident. A very expecting Mrs. Steven's had wanted to buy material for a dress and had taken serious offense to Jonas' suggestion to add an extra yard.
Seeing the smile of recognition on the Marshal's face, Chester began to grin.
"Ya know, that sure was somethin'. You an' Hy tryin' to stop her from beatin' up ole Mr. Jonas."
Matt's own grin widened; he also remembered all too well that she had taken several good swats at him with the broom; her aim hadn't been too bad either.
"Anyways," Chester continued, "I heard Doc talkin' to Hy and he was a-tellin' him that women are more liable to say things they don't mean when they're expectin'. he says, you have to be more patient with them because you sure don't wanna make'em upset. They take to cryin' real easy."
For a moment, Matt contemplated his assistant, giving his words serious consideration. He had to admit that he didn't know the first thing about expecting womenfolk, but apparently, Chester did. He straightened and suddenly looked at his assistant with renewed interest.
"So, tell me. What else did you hear Doc say?"
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.
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The next morning came early for the Marshal. Used to getting up with the rising sun when he spent the night at Kitty's, he found himself unable to sleep any longer whenever he slept over at the jail-which lately, hadn't been too often. Quietly, so as not to wake Chester, he scrambled to his feet and began to dress. He gathered his gear and retrieved the papers from his desk that he needed to deliver to Emmett Bowers. He figured, the sooner he got out there, the sooner he would be back and be able to have his talk with Kitty. Chester had proved quite useful last night in providing him with some pointers on how to deal with Kitty's condition and the apparently fragile nature of her state of mind.
He grabbed his Stetson off its peg and silently slipped out the door.
.
.
.
Kitty replaced her half-empty coffee cup on the table and fixed the physician sitting across from her with concerned eyes.
"Say, Doc, did Matt seem a little troubled to you last night?" she wondered.
Doc pursed his lips. His eyes were twinkling with humor.
"Well, I don't know. Trouble's his business, Kitty."
He leaned back in his chair and stuck a toothpick between his teeth.
Kitty frowned.
"Oh, Doc, I'm serious," she scolded him.
Right away, his expression sobered.
"Well, I have to say, he did act a little strange yesterday," he admitted. "But, by golly, so did Chester."
Kitty had to agree.
"I know," she said, thoughtfully tapping her lower lip. "Doc, what do you think is going on?"
He shrugged and scratched his ear.
"Golly, I'm not sure. But I tell ya, I sure like to find out."
He proceeded to fish his watch from his pocket. With a flick, he snapped it open and briefly studied its face.
"Oh, for heaven's sakes, almost nine! I oughtta get goin'. Maggie's probably already waitin'."
The mentioning of the name caused Kitty to suddenly remember the reason why she had gotten up so early in the first place. She began to rummage through her purse for some change and placed the coins on the table while Doc came around to hold her chair.
Kitty rose to her feet. She turned to Doc.
"I'm going over to Jonas right now and see about getting some things together."
Doc nodded as he began to usher her ahead of him towards the door.
"All right, and I'll bring Maggie in this afternoon."
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.
"I'll take three of these, Mr. Jonas," Chester heard Kitty say decidedly when he stepped through the door of Jonas' Mercantile.
He had intended to get some coffee and coal oil, but that was suddenly forgotten. His eyes wandered around the store, and he found her standing over by the counter, looking through a stack of some of something he couldn't quite identify.
"Mornin' there, Miss Kitty," he greeted her smiling as he came limping up alongside her.
He casually leaned his forearm onto the counter, endeavoring to have a better glance at whatever it was that she was looking at without appearing too nosy.
Kitty turned.
"Hello, Chester," she returned the smile and then shifted her attention back to the storekeeper.
"How much are these?" she wondered, holding up what most definitely looked like an infant gown to Chester. Suddenly, the smile slid off his face.
"Those are a dollar seventy-five a piece," Jonas informed her.
Kitty pondered the price for a moment. Then she turned to Chester.
"That sounds reasonable. What do you think, Chester?"
The Marshal's assistant gulped and chuckled nervously.
"Yeah, well. I reckon that-that's all right."
Kitty raised a curious eyebrow, wondering why he was so nervous.
"All right, I'll take three," she then announced to Jonas as she handed the little gown back to him. Her eyes began to wander over the pile of various infant items that were stacked in a little pile on the counter.
"Now, is there anything I might have forgotten?" she mused out loud.
Mr. Jonas joined her effort as he, too began to look through the shelves behind him.
"No," he finally said with a pleased smile, "I think you're well prepared, Miss Russell."
Well prepared? Chester found himself thinking, how, in the world, can she be well prepared if the father-to-be didn't even know about it?
He decided that something needed to be done.
"Erm...Miss Kitty," he interjected carefully, "you-you sure you haven't maybe forgotten somethin'?"
Kitty regarded him puzzled for a moment and then turned back to Mr. Jonas who simply shrugged.
"What do you s'pose is missin'?" he wanted to know from Chester.
The young man began to squirm nervously when he realized that this wasn't exactly going the way he had planned.
"Wh-what's missin'?" he stammered embarrassed.
"Oh. Well, may-maybe you oughtta ask Mister Dillon," he suddenly blurted out before he could stop himself. He regretted it immediately and flinched.
Kitty was clearly perplexed.
"Ask Matt?" she asked. "What's he got to do with it?"
She had seen Chester act strange before, but never like that.
The young man was suddenly extremely eager to get out.
"I-I nothin'...just forget it...I-I didn't mean nothin' by it!"
He wagged his hand towards the door. "I best get goin'. Mister Dillon needs me."
Giving her a flustered smile, he hastily began his retreat.
"Wait, Chester," Kitty called after him, "I thought Matt's out of town?"
But the young man was already out of earshot and didn't hear her.
Shaking her head in astonishment, she turned back to Jonas.
"I don't know what it is, but I sure hope it's not catching."
.
.
.
Matt was a little surprised to find Chester cooped up inside the jail on such a lovely day; especially since there weren't any prisoners to look after. It was early afternoon and he had just returned from delivering the papers to Emmett Bowers.
Chester looked up from his cot where he was sprawled out on his back, hands tucked behind his head.
"Oh, Mister Dillon, I didn't expect you back so soon."
The gloomy expression on his face was impossible to ignore and Matt knew right away that something was up.
"What's the matter? Somethin' wrong?"
He dropped the empty water canteen onto the table and went to restore the rifle on its rack.
Chester's face darkened.
"Oh, it ain't nothin'. I just made a darn fool of myself that's all."
Matt raised a brow.
"All right, what'd you do now?" he wondered somewhat wearily, not so sure whether he really wanted to find out.
In few words, Chester related to him what had happened at Mr. Jonas' store while the Marshal was perched on the edge of his desk, listening with increasing discomfort. His account was followed by a long moment of silence.
Infant clothes. On the ride back from Bowers' ranch, he had briefly entertained the possibility that Chester might have made a mistake after all, misunderstood, but apparently, it was not so if she was already preparing herself for the baby.
Chester scratched his forehead.
"I tell ya, this story about Miss Kitty gets out, half of this town's gonna be talkin'."
Without replying, Matt walked over to the window and began to thoughtfully gaze out into the street. Apparently, he was the only one in town she was bothering to keep her condition a secret from. It hurt.
Chester was right; pretty soon, all of Dodge would know about Kitty expecting his child and then there would be a lot of talking. He could just imagine the things some of the so-called upright citizens would say, and his face turned dark at the thought of it.
"Mister Dillon?"
He didn't bother turning.
"Yeah, Chester."
"What're you gonna do now?"
Matt suddenly looked very unsure of himself.
"I don't know. I ain't got no idea."
"Maybe you just oughtta go an'...I mean, just tell her that you know."
"I already tried that."
"I know, but maybe you just oughtta try again. Maybe just try a little harder."
The Marshal turned.
"Look," he said, holding up a hand in protest, "I just don't wanna hear any more about it."
He turned back and braced a hand against the window frame, tiredly rubbing the back of his neck with the other.
But try as he might, he couldn't stop himself from thinking and though there were a lot of things he was unsure of, one thing was for certain; he loved Kitty Russell, loved her more than he ever thought possible. She made his smile a little brighter, made him look forward to his nightly rounds and most importantly, made him feel complete. In the four years, they had been together, they had developed a relationship that was special in more than one way. The bond they shared was deep and strong and no wedding band was needed to confirm it-though he knew that Kitty probably wouldn't object to that.
Matt was no stranger to women, but of the few that had truly touched his heart over the years, not one came even close to her. She had broken down all his defenses, affected him in a way no other woman ever had. He remembered when he had first laid eyes on her; he had been instantly smitten with her, but it had taken him several months to work up the courage and finally act on it. The admission had brought an instant end to the loneliness which had been such a relentless companion since he had come to Dodge.
One thing was for sure; he needed her.
Whenever he was with Kitty he didn't have to hide his closely guarded, personal feelings. He had never felt comfortable making himself vulnerable to anyone for as long as he could remember; but with her, it was different. He had allowed her glimpses into areas that he had confessed remained closed to everyone else. He trusted her, could admit to her anything and know she wouldn't judge him or think any less of him. It hadn't come easy to him at first, but now he couldn't imagine how it had ever been without her. Matt knew that it was the same with her; when she had opened up her heart to him, she had invited him to become part of her life-past, present and future.
Future. Their future. Matt turned abruptly, reached for his hat and slapped it on. He suddenly knew what he had to do.
"Where you goin', Mister Dillon?"
"I'm gonna find Kitty."
Without giving Chester even a chance to acknowledge him, he resolutely marched out the door.
.
.
He didn't have to go very far. As soon as he approached the Long Branch, he saw her. She had just stepped through the batwing doors and was now standing on the boardwalk, about to open her parasol.
"Hello, Kitty."
"Well, hello, there, cowboy," she exclaimed surprised, "I didn't think you'd be back already."
Matt shoved his hat back nervously.
"I just got in," he muttered.
Tell her, dammit, he thought to himself, feeling his courage fail. Lowering his eyes to hers, he swallowed and did his best to banish his insecurity before she had time to pick up on it.
"Kitty, can I have a word with you?"
Under other circumstances she might have asked him what was wrong, maybe even joked with him, but in this instance, she could feel that he was sincerely nervous and uncertain of himself. That wasn't like him at all; something was wrong.
"Why, sure, Matt," she said concerned.
Looking about furtively, as if to be certain that no one else was in ear shot and could overhear what he was about to say, Matt took off his Stetson and cleared his throat.
He coughed self-consciously as her blue eyes appraised him, waiting.
"Ah, Kitty,...look," he then began uncomfortably, his eyes glued to the hat in his hands, "there's somethin' I...we," he corrected himself quickly, "need to talk about."
There was something in his voice, an underlying urgency, that made her frown and look at him properly.
"Sure. What is it, Matt?"
He lifted his gaze and his eyes held hers interrogatively for an endless moment. How could she still pretend that there was nothing to talk about? His face scrunched up slightly.
"Kitty..." He cleared his throat again. "It really doesn't matter how, but I know about the..the...well, you know."
Embarrassed, his voice trailed off and he pointed meaningfully at her stomach instead.
Kitty stared at him blankly.
"You know?" she echoed baffled, looking down at her stomach.
The first thought that came to her mind was that whatever was wrong with Chester, had now finally caught up with Matt.
He nodded, oblivious to her puzzled expression.
"Yeah, I do, an' there's somethin' I wanna say," he quickly rattled on. "You don't have to give me an answer now, but I just want you to hear me out and think on it."
Her mouth was about to frame a reply, but before she could respond, her attention was drawn away to the other end of the boardwalk as someone called her name.
"Oh, Kitty, there you are!"
It was Doc, a young woman by his side. Following the two was Chester, looking extremely guilty about something.
Matt took a deep breath, silently cursing the unwelcome interruption.
Kitty turned her attention to the young woman beside the doctor.
"Maggie," she said, smiling warmly, "how do you feel?"
Her eyes wandered to the prominent swelling of the young woman's stomach and Maggie automatically placed her hand on it, patting it tenderly.
"I'm gettin' to be a little nervous, Kitty."
She cast the Marshal a quick, shy glance, embarrassed to discuss such delicate matters in his presence. But to her relief, the lawman seemed more interested in the Stetson he was twisting between his fingers than in her words.
"Doc Adams said, it could be any day now."
Kitty reached out and gave Maggie's hand an assuring squeeze.
"It's going to just fine. Doc's delivered his share of babies. Trust me, you're in the best of hands with him."
Doc nodded confidently and sniffed, quickly dragging a hand across his mustache.
"You betcha."
Babies? Matt suddenly wondered. His hands ceased toying with the brim of his hat and he looked up.
Kitty put her arm around Maggie.
"Is there anything else we can get you, Maggie?"
The young woman sighed, clearly touched.
"Oh, Kitty, you and Doc have been so good to me already."
She let her gaze wander between the two.
"I don't know how I'm ever gonna be able to repay you two. Those baby clothes are simply beautiful."
But Kitty wouldn't have any of it.
"Now don't you even think about it."
Baby clothes? Suddenly very interested in the conversation swirling around him, Matt now, for the first time, looked at the young woman properly. The all too obvious rounding of her abdomen was impossible to miss. Maggie was...expecting.
It didn't take him long to put two and two together and suddenly, his face widened with understanding. The baby clothes-they'd been for Maggie. Now that he thought about it some more, it all began to make sense; it wasn't Kitty who was expecting, it was Maggie.
It certainly did explain why Kitty had acted so-so...normal.
Curiously, instead of feeling relieved though, he all the sudden felt strangely deflated.
"Matt, you do remember Maggie Camden, do you?" Kitty now addressed him before he had a chance to think on it any further. He pulled himself from his stunned stupor and looked up.
Of course he remembered; the Camden's owned a little homestead out by Cross Creek. He especially remembered her husband. About six months ago, he had been forced to jail a drunken Matt Camden after beating another man senseless at the Texas Trail saloon. Maggie had come to pick him up the next morning and he had treated her terribly. The one thing he hadn't known back then though, was the fact that she was expecting a baby.
He gave her a perfunctory nod and couldn't help notice the barely faded bruises on the woman's face. His jaw tightened.
That bastard, Matt couldn't help but think; he should've laid a good beating on Camden that day he had roughly dragged his wife from the office.
Kitty noticed the hard expression on his face.
"Maggie's left her husband, Matt," she explained, "she's goin' to stay in town with Ma Smalley until after the baby's born and then we're goin' to see about sending her back east to her family. We were wondering if you could do us a favor?"
The Marshal forced his mind back to their conversation.
"Well, sure. What can I do for you?"
"As I was tryin' to tell you yesterday," Doc now spoke up, rather accusingly, "I wanted to see if you'd keep an eye out for her husband...I know that fella's liable to cause some trouble when he finds out that Maggie's gone."
Matt nodded.
"Sure. I let Chester know, too."
Chester. A frown suddenly flashed across his face; there was a little something, he still had to settle with his assistant.
Kitty gave his forearm a gentle squeeze, but he was only half-listening; he had just noticed Chester standing behind the two women.
As if he was sensing the Marshal's eyes burning on him, Chester lifted his head.
He gave a slight shudder when he saw the extremely annoyed expression on the lawman's face, and he had the grace to blush. He made an odd grimace, that might, by the severest stretch of imagination be interpreted as an apologetic smile.
Matt side-stepped the two women.
"If you'll excuse me," he said absently as pushed past the doctor.
"Chester..." he growled ominously.
A palpable sense of dread began to quickly build in Chester, and he watched with fascinated horror as the Marshal came stalking straight towards him. To his credit, Chester possessed enough self-preserving sense to know when it was time to leave. He chuckled nervously, pointing with his hand over his shoulder.
"Well, I-I reckon, I better go an' see about the mail..."
The Marshal's cheeks were reddened with annoyance and embarrassment.
"Yeah, you do that," he growled.
He planted himself in front of his assistant, arms crossed over his chest. "An' then I wanna see you at the office. I think you an' I have somethin' we need to talk about."
Chester gulped, ducking his head.
"We-we do?"
"Yup."
The women and the doctor stood and watched the whole scene in dumbfounded amazement.
"You'll have to excuse the Marshal and Chester," Kitty apologized to Maggie with an extremely disapproving sideglance at Matt. "They haven't been feeling well lately."
Doc just shook his head. He quickly swiped at the bristles of his mustache, silently deciding that a thorough exam for both of them was definitely in order.
"Well, that's puttin' it mildly."
.
.
"Now I s'pose you find it funny," Matt grumped, making a face.
He had just finished explaining the entire story, something that had been far from easy for him, and he was quite taken aback by the fact that she seemed quite amused.
The Long Branch had closed its doors almost an hour ago and Kitty was still busy with the nightly closing procedures. She glanced over at him from behind the bar where she was putting away glasses.
"Oh, Matt, why didn't you just come to me right away instead of believing Chester? You certainly could've saved yourself a lot of thinking."
She shook her head, trying desperately to stifle the laugh that she could feel building inside her and succeeded by only showing a smile.
He lifted his gaze to her, his expression one of slight exasperation.
"Come to you right away?" he echoed confused, "now Kitty, look, I tried but you just didn't give me a chance."
"I'm sorry, Matt, but how was I supposed to know what you were thinking."
She still couldn't help finding the whole situation rather humorous, but Kitty controlled herself when she saw that he looked less than amused.
Matt took a breath and held it for a moment before expelling it wearily.
"Well, it's all right. It's over now. Let's not talk about it anymore."
He was still feeling a strange ache deep within him and couldn't even explain why.
When he saw her pick up the hurricane lamp from the bar, he pushed his chair back and clambered to his feet.
Kitty gave him an encouraging smile when he continued to stand indecisively, the hat in his hand.
"Come on, cowboy, I think you deserve a night cap."
He smiled despite himself and slid a quick hand down the back of his thick, dark hair.
"I tell you...I sure could use one," he admitted and replacing his hat, he headed over to where she was waiting. If truth be told, a good glass of Kitty's brandy sounded mighty good right now.
They ascended the staircase in silence, the steps creaking under Matt's weighty tread as he followed after her. Pushing the curtain aside to reveal the entrance to her room, she stopped in front of her door and then turned to face him.
"Matt?"
The lamp light bathed her face in a warm, reddish-golden glow, accentuating her lovely features and he couldn't help but think how beautiful she was.
"Hmm?"
"I'm just curious...what were you gonna say to me before Doc and Maggie interrupted?"
He released a barely audible sigh, uncertain whether he should disclose to her his earlier intentions. Should he tell her that he had been prepared to turn his badge in, in exchange for a wife and his unborn child? It was strange; when he had realized that Kitty wasn't expecting, he had suddenly felt downright disappointed, had felt an intense, almost painful sense of loss. The experience had left him deeply confused; after all, he couldn't very well have lost something that he never had in the first place. Or?
He stepped up, closing the distance between them and took the lamp from her so that she could unlock the door.
"It's not important anymore," he said quietly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
Kitty raised her gaze to his, seeing his discomfort and the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. She instinctively sensed that there was far more to it than what he was willing to let on.
"To me it is," she insisted softly.
For a long, intense moment, he stood, chewing on the inside of his cheek, looking at her as if unsure what to say. When he finally spoke, his voice held a shy hesitancy.
"I was gonna ask you to marry me, Kitty."
There was a second of stunned silence.
"You would've given up your badge for me?"
Her whisper was filled with disbelief as she brought her eyes up to meet his. She saw that he had colored slightly at the admission.
He nodded, never surer of anything in his life.
"I would've given it up for you and our child; if that's what you wanted me to do."
His husky voice was full of warmth as his gaze now locked with hers.
If his words alone didn't convince her, the blue eyes, filled with complete sincerity did. Kitty was deeply moved.
"Oh, Matt."
She reached up to gently touch a slender hand to the side of his face, scruffy with day-old stubble.
He smiled down at her, now almost embarrassed, and then his expression grew serious.
"Kitty, I want you to promise me somethin'."
He reached out, broad hands tenderly taking hold of her upper arms.
A slight shiver raced through her as she felt the gentle strength in the callused fingers touching her.
"Yes, Matt?"
"If you ever think that you're-that you're...well, you know," he nodded shyly to her stomach. "I want you to tell me right away."
Kitty's expression was both affectionate and amused. She wrapped her hands around his waist.
"Don't you worry, cowboy. I wouldn't let you get away that easy."
Matt's face relaxed at her words; he wouldn't have expected anything else from her. One hand still holding the lamp, he used the other to gently gather her close against him, tucking her head beneath his chin; she seemed so small; she always seemed so small to him as though she'd been made to fit right under his chin.
For a moment, he held her tightly, relishing in the warmth and comfort she exuded.
When they broke apart a handful of seconds later, the mischievous twinkle was back in his eyes. He stepped back and cleared his throat.
"Good. Now that that's settled, let's see about that night cap an' then get you to bed. You look like you could use some sleep."
She looked up at him, arching her eyebrows meaningfully.
"Yes, and I intend to get some, too."
His smile widened into an impish grin, his expression one of pure innocence.
"Sure, sure."
He held the door for her to step through and then followed closely behind.
If it ever were to happen that Kitty became with child while he was Marshal, he knew what he had to do and there wouldn't be the slightest doubt about it.
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THE END
