YR 3
Kitty had spent the morning in her study working on the ranch could tell by the writing that this must have been a task she had done on a regular basis. It seemed extraordinary to her that a job she had obviously done so many times before shouldn't bring somerecollection with it.
It was hard to concentrate when all thoughts seemed to pull her backto meeting with the cowboy on the banks of Yellow River. She had sofew real memories of her own and she reasoned that was the reasonthis held such significance. She closed her eyes picturing themoonshine and the feel of being in his arms. The thoughts addedvitality to the beat of her heart. Her lips parted and her headtilted back as she closed her eyes remembering.
She had run to the house. A part of her hoping he wouldn't attempt tostop her, yet feeling disappointed that he hadn't. On the frontporch, she stopped in the shadows looking back to the river. Shecouldn't see him, but she could feel him. She had known that he wasstill watching her, and the thought had brought a smile. The heat ofhis hands had remained imprinted on her body. She had wrapped herarms around herself, rubbing her fingers against her arms, wishing itwere his hands touching her again. For the first time she had beentotally aware of her body, of its wants and yearnings. She'd wantedhim. This cowboy who had walked into her life little more than aweek ago, this man who stirred in her longings of such primalmagnitude that she quickened at the thought. She wanted him.
Finally taking a deep breath she had entered the house. It was darkwith only moonlight peeking through the lace curtains to light theway. She had felt a melancholy descend upon her at leaving step up the stairs had seemed to bring a heavier burden. Shestopped at the first landing as the realization came to her that thiswas not the first time she had felt this emotion. Just as she hadknown she had been in his arms before, she was aware she had walkedaway from those arms as well.
Sleep hadn't come. She supposed it had something to do with the unease she always felt in the room dominated by the canopy bed. Shehad felt alone and sad, acknowledging it was more than memories missing from her life. Grabbing the pillow from the chaise she hadclutched it to her breast, rocking slowly back and forth. Eventuallyshe let go of the pillow and poured a glass of brandy, tellingherself its purpose was sedative in nature, nothing more. She downedit in a gulp, and then poured a little more for good measure.
It had been Molly's gentle knocking at her door that woke her fromthe alcohol-induced sleep. "Come in," she'd said with a thick voice.
"Miss Kitty, tis a bright sunny day, and I've brought you a wee bitof breakfast to give you the strength to enjoy it."
Kitty had forced a smile on her lips. "Thank you Molly, but I don'tthink I could eat anything this morning. Just leave the coffee please."
She had seen the pity in Molly's eyes, and the way her glance hadstrayed to the empty bottle. "Are you sure Miss Kitty?"
"I'm sure, but thank you kindly anyway." The bedroom door hadremained open while Molly set the coffee pot and cup on the smalltable near the lounge chair. Kitty had heard the baby crying for her mother. Something in the sound of the child's cries seemed to echo the loneliness in Kitty's heart.
"Molly, it sounds like your baby needs you." Kitty had said.
"Yes ma'am, I'd best be tending to her." Molly replied, grabbing thetray and leaving the room.
Kitty had taken the cup and walked to the window. Wrapping herfingers around the mug she had enjoyed the warmth. The cowboy'svoice penetrated her thoughts, "Maybe you should stop worrying about the past, and live for the present. It seems to me that sometimesthe past is better forgotten."
From the window's great height, she could view the landscape for miles. So often she had stood at this window, coming to rely on the strengthening powers of the river. As far as her eyes could see was Stambridge land. This was hers; whatever else she had lost in herlife was insignificant to what was stretched out before her. She realized her thoughts weren't so different from the cowboy's advice.
Looking down, she saw Mr. Smith and Seamus Mulgrew as they walked toward the corrals. The little Irishman had stopped walking and the big man had continued. It appeared he was lost in thought and she wondered if he like she had been affected by their meeting the nightbefore. Would he turn to look toward her window as he had before?Hope flickered in her eyes until he was out of sight.
Whatever she did that day, her mind seemed to return to the timeshe'd spent with the cowboy on the banks of Yellow River. "Sometimes the past is better forgotten." He'd told her, and that night when she denied herself the promise of sleep the brandy bottle offered, sheheld on to his words instead. The gentle rhythm of his voicepermeated her frazzled emotions. The rest that seemed so hard to comeby lately, claimed her as soon as she put her head to the dreams brought her again to the water's edge where he was waiting for her. He pulled her tightly to him and whispered deep andhusky, "I need you Kitty, I need you."
The pounding of the brass knocker on the front door brought her back to the present of paperwork and accounting books. She hastily putthe ledger in the desk drawer. A moment later Molly's head poked inthe doorway. "Would you be up to seeing Mr. Scharpf this morning Miss Kitty?"
Her instincts recoiled at the idea, but she knew that if she was to have any chance in making this man pay for the pain he had caused inher life, than she must play his game.
`Yes, Molly, please show him in, and please prepare a tea tray for our guest." Molly scowled at Kitty, pursing her lips and shaking herhead with disapproval.
The sneer on his face as he passed Molly was not missed by Kitty'seye. But he quickly turned his handsome face to her, as his smilebecame its most charming.
"Mr. Scharpf, it is kind of you to call, please come in and have a seat." Kitty greeted trying to sound cordial.
"Why thank you Ma'am." His manners and appearance were flawless, as he escorted her to the settee.
"What can I do for you today?" she asked, hoping the smile on her face was believable.
"Why Miss Kitty, I'm just being neighborly. As I've told you before, I am concerned about your health, and if truth be told, I feel more than a little responsible for your calamity."
"Responsible?" she asked unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
"Why yes my dear, the ambush took place near Scharpf land, I can't help but think that if I were paying more attention to what was going on, the hoodlums who masterminded this atrocity would have been apprehended before they had committed their evil deed." He took her hand in his patting it sympathetically for effect. She resisted the urge to pull it free.
"I appreciate your concern."
"I must admit it is more than neighborly concern on my part. Irealize this is far too soon after your husband's unfortunate demise to broach the subject, but you are too lovely a lady to be left to deal with all of this on your own. I am here to offer my friendship, and perhaps when you are ready, something more."
She fought the urge to slap him. Instead she rose to her feet and walked away from him, to stand in front of the fireplace. A picture of Will and Kitty was sitting on the mantel. It was a stiff portrait, which showed no joy on the faces of the subjects. She became aware that her headache had returned, and she ran a hand over her eyes, stopping to massage her temples.
Molly knocked on the door and entered with the tea tray. She set it down and poured the strong Irish brew that she favored. Scharpf picked up a cup and brought it to Kitty.
"Forgive me madam, I obviously spoke out of turn, and have grievously offended you in this time of mourning," He too had noticed the picture, "you must have loved him a great deal." She took the cup he offered and answered only with a nod, for she had no answer really.
Scharpf had raised his cup in toast and answered, "Then he was alucky man."
He stayed another hour; he had been schooled in the art ofconversation and knew amusing stories, that despite the fact she knew him for a scoundrel, brought a smile to her lips. When he finally took his leave of her, he asked permission to come calling again. Sh agreed, "I'll look forward to your next visit Mr. Scharpf." He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.
She remained seated, not walking him to the door. When she heard the front door close she stood up and walked back to the fireplace, drawnonce more to the picture on the mantel. The pressure in her head hadbuilt to a pounding pain. As she looked at the image, an angry voice seemed to be speaking to her saying, "tear up the picture!" The voice repeated the phrase becoming louder and louder keeping time with the throbbing in her head. She held the frame in her shaking hands. Finally she retaliated against the voice. "No!" she shouted and threw the picture against the wall shattering the glass.
It didn't take more than a moment before the door opened and Molly rushed in. "Holy Mary Mother of God! What is going on in here Miss Kitty?" she asked. Seeing the distress in Kitty's face, her eyes followed the direction of Kitty's stare. "Oh, my dear." She exclaimed. She walked over to Kitty and guided her out of the room by the hand she lead her to a wicker rocker on the front porch. There was a cool breeze and a pleasing early summer scent inthe air. "You just sit here Miss Kitty, lean your head back now,I'll return with a damp cloth for your forehead and some cool well water." She patted her employer's arm and left. Kitty did as she was instructed. Other than the pounding pain she was numb with neither the ability to think or act on her own. She gratefully accepted the water, which was laced with Doc Bill's headache powders, and the cloth for her forehead. Eventually the throbbing subsided and the quiet of the porch eased her tension. She thought about the voices in her head and wondered if she had lost her mind along withher memory.
Matt struggled all that morning with the nervous horse. It was close to noon before he and Johnny were ready to leave the pasture by theYellow River.
"Matt, I've been thinking . . . maybe you should ride my horse and I'll ride Billy back to the ranch. I'm guessing that Billy and I are more of the same mind - both of us bein' young `n all. This horse of mine is more set in his ways, like you. He knows what he's about."
Matt agreed, he was tired and didn't look forward to fighting with Billy all the way back to the ranch. When they had packed up their gear, he adjusted the stirrups, and mounted Johnny's paint. He hadn't had time to think about Kitty and Katie since the evening before, but now their images crowded his mind. He was eager to get back to the ranch.
Johnny seemed lost in his thoughts as well and the two men rode inamiable silence. They did not notice the lone gunmen on the bluff, with his sight set on one of the riders. The sound of the gunblast echoed through the valley. The bay reared in fright when the bullet struck his rider. Johnny fell to the ground as the spooked horse ran down the road in panic. Matt jumped from his mount with his gun drawn; he aimed the weapon in the direction of the gunshot, but saw only a blurred vision of horse and rider fleeing in the distance.
Quickly, Dillon moved to Johnny who lay on the ground moaning and holding his arm in pain. "Let me see it son." Matt demanded.
"Matt … tell Ruby that I loved her . . ." Johnny choked.
"Johnny it just looks like a flesh wound, you're going to be fine." Matt promised.
"I ain't never been shot, it hurts bad Matt." Johnny said as he blinked back tears.
"I know, let's get you home." Matt pulled out his bandana and wrapped it around the wound, then helped the younger man to his feet. Johnny swayed unsteadily as Matt left him for a moment to bring the horsecloser. He helped the boy to the saddle and the two started down the road back to the ranch - Johnny riding, Matt walking. He kept alert for Billy - the knucklehead horse and the gunman's return.
The sun was full in the sky as the heat of the day pounded down upon them. Matt silently cursed Billy who had escaped with his canteen. Johnny had forgotten to fill his at the river, and what had remained had been used to douse the boy's wound.
Seamus saw the pair as they came down the back lane, and he ran out to meet them. Matt's shirt was soaked with sweat and the grit from the trail, dusted his face and clothes.
"Matthew?" he questioned.
"We were ambushed Seamus, about five miles back, I couldn't identify who shot at us, but I don't doubt it was Hoppe or his men."
Between the two of them, they eased Johnny from his horse and walked him into the bunkhouse. "Would you be running up to the house and getting Molly. She's a gentle hand when it comes to tending a wound like this."
Matt had little energy left for running anywhere, but he put forth his best effort. "I don't take kindly to mud tracked in my kitchen Mr. Smith!" Molly exclaimed when he appeared at the screen door.
"Johnny's been shot! It's just a flesh wound. Seamus asked if you would come down to the bunkhouse to tend to him." Molly's hands flew to her mouth, "Saint's preserve us!" She declared, "Let me be gathering my things." She went to her pantry and returned shortly with a basket that she obviously kept prepared for just such emergencies. "Mr. Smith, could you be staying up here and listening for Katie, she's taking her nap, but it be near her waking up time."She glanced toward a basin of water and suggested. "You might be wanting to clean up a bit." Then she was gone.
Matt grimaced at her remark but moved to the basin. The water wascool as he let it wash over his face and arms. It seemed torevitalize him. After which, he poured himself a glass of milk andhelped himself to a half dozen of Molly's oatmeal raisin down at the table he finally relaxed.
He hadn't been sitting for more than two cookies before he heard asound coming from the back stairs. The baby was up and it brought asmile to his face. He'd never been up the stairs of the large home,but found he didn't have far to look for little girl's room. It was at the top of the stairs that he saw the small sunny niche that served as Katie's nursery. It was in the farthest corner of the house away from Kitty's room, and he thought it was no wonder that she was hardly aware of the baby's presence in the household.
Katie stood up in her crib, trying to raise her leg high enough to climb over the rail. Seeing him she smiled and raised her arms, "up ... up!" She demanded.
He lifted her from the crib. She grabbed his whiskered face in her hands and said in her most serious voice. "Poo-pEE." Her words were unnecessary for his sense of smell had already warned him of the condition of her diapers.
"Ah. . . Katie, I'm not much good when it comes to diapers." He apologized, hoping she would understand and forgive him for his inadequacies as a father.
She merely smiled her elfin grin and still holding his face in her hands repeated. "Poo-pEE."
He glanced anxiously around the room, his eyes finally resting on a small table under the window that held the supplies for diaper changing. Dillon swallowed hard. "Well, okay. But don't say I didn't warn you."
With much less difficulty than Matt had feared the task was accomplished. Her dress was soiled and after searching her bureau drawers he found another for her to wear. The most difficult job was getting her little feet into their shoes. He didn't think she seemed to putting much effort into helping him, and he suspected she would rather run around barefoot. "No, no, No." she told him after the third attempt. Matt had developed a healthy fear of Molly's ire, but Katie had him wrapped around her little finger. He finally said, "Alright Miss Katie, no shoes, but if Miss Molly scolds us,don't say I didn't warn you about that too."
He carried her down to the kitchen. "Coo-Kies." She exclaimed whenshe saw the remains of Matt's earlier snack.
He laughed. She certainly was a woman who knew how to get her way, he couldn't resist the impulse to hug her and drop a quick kiss onher forehead. "Coo-Kies." she squealed as she fought to free herselfof his grasp.
"Alright." He agreed. "Coo-Kies."
He sat back at the table with her on his lap. It came to him with a smile that she didn't even think of dropping the cookies to the floor as she had the toast. It was clear his little girl had a sweet tooth. She had finished up his cookies and two more before Mattdecided that he'd better cut her off. She was not happy when he toldher no more cookies. But he changed the subject quickly and askedher if she wanted to go outside. Not giving her a chance to agree ordisagree he carried her to the backyard.
"Down!" she ordered and struggled to free herself.
"No Katie. You don't have shoes on." He reminded her. He carriedher around the yard looking at the flowers. "Pret-tee." She reminded him. And Matt picturing the image of Kitty at work in the garden had to agree.
They made their way to the front of the house. It really was a huge structure and Dillon made note of the painting that needed doing, and he wondered how anyone would find the time to accomplish it. He hadn't looked to the porch, but Katie had.
"MaaMaa." She cried reaching out her arms. Kitty was sleeping in the wicker rocker her head resting to one side. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted slightly. Her beauty and the peace that this sleep had granted her caught him. "Maamaa." Katie cried again fighting frantically to free herself from his arms. Kitty stirred in her sleep. He thought for a moment she would wake up. He clampedhis hand over his daughter's mouth. "No Katie." He whispered in her ear. "Mama's sleeping." Taking one last glance at Kitty he turned to carry Katie to the back yard and Kitty's roses. The baby fought his hold, her cries for "Maamaa" turning into wails of hard as she struggled the tighter he held. He whispered words topacify. "It's all right Katie. I'm here. I love you. Katie, it'salright." Eventually his words calmed her and her spent bodysurrendered. He carried her to the back porch swing and sat down with her in his arms. A little sob escaped her lips as she uttered one last time, "Mama." The gentle motion of the swing lulled their frazzled nerves. Katie stuck her thumb in her mouth, while Matt rubbed his cheek against the soft red curls and inhaled the sweet baby scent of her. Father and daughter both thinking of the woman they had been denied.
Matt whispered so low, Katie may not have heard him, "Someday we'll be a family." As he made the vow, Kitty's words came back to haunt him. She had said "Someday, some far off someday..."
He pulled Katie tighter to him.
They kept their voices hushed as they talked across the wooden tablein the corner of the bunkhouse. Seamus leaned over and filled Matt's glass with a little more of his prized Irish whiskey.
"Tis little doubt it was Hoppe . . ." Seamus agreed. "What do we be doing now, I'd like to know, how do we fight that kind of devil?" He looked at Johnny who was asleep for now. His glass of whiskey half empty sat on the floor beside his bunk. Molly's bleached white bandages a sharp contrast to his trail dirtied body. From time to time the quiet of the room was disturbed by the young man's snores. "That lad hasn't an ounce of mean in him, what could he ever do to deserve a bullet hole in him?"
Matt shook his head, "I don't think he was aiming for Johnny. I think it was me he was after. Hoppe knew I had been riding the bay the day before; he made a point to comment on it. From a distance Johnny and I might be confused."
"That does make a might more sense. It's easy looking at you Matthew Smith, that you could be a bit more trouble to Scharpf's plans than the boy ever could." Seamus took another drink of the whiskey. He winced at the bite of it. He looked at the man sitting opposite him. "Matthew, I got me an idea there is more to your being here than you've let on. Now, do you want to tell me about it?"
Dillon looked at the glass he held in his hand. He swirled the liquid around, stalling, unsure of how much to tell Mulgrew.
"Not much gets by you does it Seamus?" Matt finally responded with ahint of a smile on his face. "My name is Matt Dillon, I've been a US Marshal for the past twenty years. I knew Mrs. Stambridge before she met her husband."
"I figured as much about you Matthew, I knew you were a man to bereckoned with. Then it must have been Doc Bill who called you here?"
Matt nodded. Seamus studied the man a bit more. "I'll not be asking more of you Matthew, but if you feel the need to talk, I be a man who can listen."
It took Matt Dillon a moment before he answered. "I know that Seamus and I thank you."
Whether it was the peace, which drew him to the river that night, or the hope she, like he might return to the water's edge, he never could say for sure, even when he thought of it years later. He just knew an inexplicable force called him to return to the place where he'd last held her in his arms. A warm summer breeze rustled the leaves as the water flowed downstream with a pulsating rhythm. He walked to the grassy bank leaning against an aspen. The reflection of a thousand stars bounced from the river's surface like random points of light. A spotted owl in a neighboring tree announced his arrival, "oot, oot, oot, oooo." He took a deep breath, inhaling the heady scent of blue spruce and white fir. A pair of young rabbits scampered near; when they saw he was there they darted for cover.
The light trod of footsteps against the trail caught his attention and he turned his head to look. His pulse quickened at the sight of her. She moved right past him to the river's edge.
"Hello." he said, his voice husky at the sight of her.
She jumped in surprise, and lost her footing. Had it not been for his quick actions she would have fallen into the river. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to safe ground. This time he didn't let go of her and she didn't struggle to be set free, but turned in his arms so that she was enfolded in his embrace. Unlike any moment in her memory this was akin to coming home. She rested her head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart, moving with the rise and fall of each breath he took until his breathing became like her own. She remained still, absorbing his essence, while her tremulous senses became alive with the knowledge of him. She inhaled his intoxicating scent, triggering once forgotten shadows, laced in erotic sweetness, clamoring for fulfillment. Warmth invaded the secret regions of her body.
With ragged breath, he held her away from him. His fingers trailed across her shoulders down her arms to capture her hands in his - brought them to his lips savoring each fingertip. A moan from deep within worked its way from her throat. And his lips forgetting her fingers sought out the origin of the sound. If it was she who released the sash of the robe or he, it mattered not, for it was both who desired the barrier to be gone. His hands came in contact with the fabric of the silky gown underneath, teasing his sanity and her own as they molded to the contours of her flesh. Finally, slipping the robe from her shoulders he spread it out on the grassy bank. With her hand in his he gently pulled her down to lie beside him. He became like a blind man in the moonless night. His hands exploring what his eyes could not see. His memory became hers and she found he knew her better than she did herself. She trembled in his arms when their bodies joined. A cadence as old as life itself took control of their movements, like a whirlpool, spinning, spiraling deeper, tighter, demanding its due. Urgency surged from him to her and backagain, infusing them from core to limb until the rapture was met and their only reality was the one of the other. Waves of pleasure rocked the entwined lovers as the waves of Yellow River beat against the shore. This was a union so perfect that tears of joy slipped from her eyes.
When passion had been spent, they lay bound by the memory of their coming together.
"We've been like this before haven't we?" She asked.
His hand reached to push a wayward lock of hair from herforehead. `Um hmm." He replied with a smile.
"Many times?" She questioned.
"Um hmm" he answered, bestowing upon her forehead a gentle kiss.
"Was it always like this?" She wondered.
"Always." He replied, "always."
