Stubborn Hearts

I don't own these characters. I just like to spend time with them. No other profit to be had than that.

M&KM&KM&KM&KM&K

AN: Have you ever really wanted to write a really long Gunsmoke adventure? Well, I did and this is it. Oh and you can't say you haven't been warned about it's length. And for those of you that I have promised unshown moments, I have not forgotten. My little sister helped me out with getting some of those episodes to watch so that I can do my best on them and I am working on that as well.

Kitty Russell sat silently and rigidly on the train as it took her away from Dodge City, Kansas with little expression save a slight down turn of the mouth. She didn't cry. She didn't frown and she didn't look out of the window next to her as the train pulled out of the station.

She simply sat and stared at the floor, her mind far away from her physical presence.

"Dear, Miss Russell," the letter had started. Never a good way to start a letter, in her estimation.

"I regret to inform you that Marshal Matthew Dillon has been killed in the line of duty in Arizona territory. Due to the nature of his death, it was deemed necessary to bury Marshal Dillon there and quickly rather than transport him back to Kansas. Though you and he were not married, I do personally know that you were more than just friends and I do want to express to you my deepest sympathy. Sincerely, Governor Harvey."

Kitty had read the missive over and over again, praying for something, some tiny glimmer of hope that the letter had been lying, as Doc had lied years ago when Mace Gore had shot and supposedly killed Matt.

Festus, also refusing to believe in Matt's death, took off for Arizona along with money Kitty had given him for the trip. But he returned a month later, sore of heart and soul, with Matt's hat and wallet, a wallet that contained a picture of her. The Sherriff in the small town where Matt had been buried had given them to Festus to return to his family. Festus brought them to her.

Even after that, Kitty refused to believe. She continued to hold out hope. But no hope was forthcoming. Matt was gone along with the plans and dreams she'd held for their future. She tried to hold on for a time after she'd received the letter. Tried to do so for another life besides hers. But that life had been violently taken away from her as well.

Knowing she could no longer run the saloon physically or emotionally and with Sam no longer there to steer the ship in her absence, Kitty had sold the Long Branch. She wasn't even working when it happened. She had stopped in to pick up a small cameo inadvertently left behind when she'd moved over to Ma Smalley's. It hadn't been much, hardly worth the effort. But Matt had given it to her and that made it worth more.

After retrieving the broach from the new owner, Hannah, she was one her way out of the saloon just as a fight had started over cards. Kitty had been caught in the crossfire. The bullet hadn't taken her life, but it had taken something much more precious to her and she had wanted to die ever since.

But though she willed it, her stubborn heart refused to quit and day after weary day she grew stronger of body even though her soul grew weaker and wearier. Finally, she could no longer stay there in Dodge. She could no longer live in the town that had given her, her greatest joy and bore witness to her greatest sorrow.

Doc and Festus had protested her decision. Doc had even pleaded. But once her mind was set, she refused to change it. She was leaving. Packing had been no matter. She'd never unpacked from leaving the Long Branch and she didn't plan on taking much of it with her. Only some clothing and jewelry, including the broach, and her memories.

A year later and miles away in Denver, newly arrived citizen, Mark Dalton, stepped out of the Luna Hotel and looked around him. Someone was supposed to contact him this morning, but who and when he didn't know. A lot of time and a lot effort and expense had gone towards making this day possible. He just hoped it would all be worth it. Until then, he had nothing to do but roam around town lost in thoughts of another place and another time.

Pulling his hat down a little lower over his light blue eyes, he sighed and started off down the street to the stable. He wasn't leaving town, couldn't leave, but he could at least check on his horse and feed him an apple. A briefly sad smile touched his face as he remembered the woman who'd spoiled his horse that way. He wondered again how she was. Was she grieving him? Or was she finally living the life she'd dreamed of and deserved, with someone else.

Refusing to delve into those thoughts, knowing where they would lead, he trudged on down to the stable, doing his best to minimize the slight limp he'd acquired many years ago from a bullet in the leg. He could not afford to show any sign, no matter how slight, of weakness. Not now.

"Howdy." Max the stable man greeted him when he stepped inside and headed to his horse.

Mark nodded. "Hi."

"Ya figure on taking him out?" Max kinda liked the tall stranger who'd been boarding his horse here for the last few days, but not so much he was willing to let him ride out without paying.

Mark shook his head as he pulled an apple from his coat pocket and fed it to his horse. "Nope. Just checking on my horse."

Max rubbed his grizzled chin watching the gentle way the man handled the big buckskin. "You take awful good care of that animal."

Mark nodded. "He's taken good care of me many times."

Max knew the big man didn't want to talk; he usually didn't when he came in like this. So the old white haired man turned and left the stable, leaving his customer to feed his horse the apple and to daydream.

Mark was doing just that, when he sensed another presence in the stable. Quickly, he drew his gun and moved deeper into the corner of the stall. He knew there was a small possibility that it could be Max but he doubted it. He'd lived far too long on instincts and he knew whoever had entered was there for him.

"I know yer in here." A twangy voice called out suddenly. "I saw ya come in."

Mark stiffened. He recognized the voice and it was the last person he ever hoped to see. Taking a deep breath, Mark put his gun back in his holster and rose from the corner. "What are you doing here?" He hissed as he quickly crossed to the bearded man who was staring at him with an open grin. "How'd you know I was here?"

"Aw, foot." The man grinned. "I didn't know till I saw ya a coming down here. I know'd it couldn't be nobody else, don't ya see?"

"Yeah, I see." Mark said in exasperation. "I also see that you being here could get me and you both killed. You've got to get out of here and away from me. And you've got to promise never to tell anyone that you saw me."

"No, sir." The scruffy man shook his head. "I ain't gonna do it. Not lessin' you tell me what this is all about. You owe..."

"I don't owe you anything." Mark snapped at him.

"I didn't say ya did." The man with twang to his voice studied Mark with a glare. "But they's two I know that ya do owe something to. One more so than t'other."

Mark dropped his head, knowing he was right. After allowing himself a moment he finally raised his head to speak but stopped when he heard noises. Knowing Max was still outside; he quickly grabbed his companion by the arm. "Hide. Hurry."

One look at Mark's very serious face was plenty convincing and the man quickly stepped into an empty stall and concealed himself in the shadows, drawing his gun as he did so. He didn't figure on using it, but he was taking no chances.

"Figured I'd find you in here." A deep baritone voice spoke from the doorway. "You've been here three days and you spend more time in here with that horse, than anyone else. I expected you to at least visit one of the fine saloons and gambling houses we have here, but you've not been in a single one."

"I don't much like drinking and I like that horse better than most people." Mark replied easily. "What's it to you?"

"I like knowing the people I do business with. That's all. Now, I was told you were the man who could solve my problems." The voice answered. "Are you?"

"Maybe." Mark replied. "Who are you and what kind of problems do you have?"

Several seconds went by before the deep voiced stranger spoke again. "Join me in my hotel room and I'll give you the details."

Festus Haggen sat in his hidden corner for several long moments as he listened to the sounds of the two men leaving the stable and the door closing behind them. When he was certain they were gone, he rose and studied the closed door and then looked back over at Buck.

"Matthew's got hisself inta something, Buck." Festus told the equine listener. "I ain't sure what it is, but it's something bad, I can garontee ya that."

TBC