Elegy for a Marshal

A Gunsmoke Story

By Amanda Chapter Nine: I'll Always Be Here

POV: Kitty

As the wagon topped the small rise at the edge of Jeddo, Kitty arched her back stiffly and let her gaze sweep the single street that lay before them. Instantly, her breath froze, her heart faltered. Blinking to make sure she was really seeing what she thought she was seeing, she clutched at Doc's arm, fingers digging into the coarse material of his coat.

"Doc!" she gasped.

Her mind tried to caution her, in case it wasn't him, but the shouts from her heart drowned it out. Even with that handsome face half covered by a rough, dark beard, she knew without a doubt. There was no mistaking those wide shoulders, those long legs, that solid stance. Ironic that after they had chased wild geese all over Allen County looking for him, there he was, standing right in the middle of town.

Thank God! Thank God! "Oh, Doc!" she cried.

But her rush of joyful relief collapsed almost instantly into sickening fear as she comprehended the bitterly familiar scene before her. And the terrible realization that she was about to lose him just as she found him again almost knocked her down. Doc had not even gotten the wagon completely stopped before she was leaping from it, picking her skirts up and breaking into a sprint, heedless of her petticoats flying wildly, of the danger, ignoring her friend's hoarse warning. But she had only a moment to take in the stand off between Matt and the stranger before Festus' cry broke the tension.

"Matthew!"

Impotently, she watched the gunman jerk slightly toward the deputy's call, saw the quickness of the draw, heard the simultaneous shots. Horror tangled around her feet, tripping her and sending her sprawling to the ground, hands scraped raw by the sharp rocks.

Stomach twisting, she wrenched her head up, praying it would not be Matt, grateful at least to see both men still standing. They seemed frozen for one more beat; then, mercifully, the stranger's legs buckled, and he toppled backwards into the dirt, the impact of his body propelling a cloud of dust into the air around him.

Looking back up, she saw that Matt stood by the rail, his gun level and smoking, his body slightly bent at the waist in the follow-through of his shot, eyes still fixed on his opponent. He hadn't even noticed her.

A strangled voice rose from the prone body, uttering the last few words of life. "Matt – Dillon?" the man asked, sounding rather amazed.

"That's right." It was the first time she had heard his voice in two months, and the blessed sound ripped a sob from her throat.

"But – you're dead," the stranger protested.

"Not yet."

A death rattle shook the man, and he lay still. Kitty held her breath as Matt continued to stand unsteadily for another few moments, apparently making sure the stranger was dead, then she watched as his tenuous hold on control faltered and his shoulders slumped. It took three tries to re-holster his gun. Finally, he reached out a trembling hand to grasp at the rail again.

Then fear and shock released her, and she scrambled to her feet, crying out his name, joy overwhelming any previous practice of dignity. "Matt! Oh my God! Matt!"

His head snapped up, and she saw the weak smile and mouthed words. "Kitty."

Rushing the last few feet, she flung herself at him, arms around his waist, head against his chest, only vaguely aware of the grunt her impact made, even as he wrapped long arms around her and pulled her close, his lips in her hair.

Clinging to him, her heart so full of happiness and gratitude she thought they must be pouring out of her, Kitty cried, "I thought – I thought – Oh, Matt, I thought you were dead!"

"It's all right, Kitty," he soothed, stroking her back. "It's all right."

"It's really you," she sobbed happily. "It's really you."

Lifting her head, she raised her hand to caress his bruised cheek, to scrub at the unfamiliar beard, perching on tiptoe to kiss him desperately, her lips finding their home once more, her heart filled again. He returned the kiss, not in passion, but in love and security. Finally, she pulled back and stared at him, her happiness muted suddenly as she noticed the battered features and felt the trembling in his arms.

"Don't take this wrong, Cowboy, but you look mighty rough."

"You look – beautiful." He smiled down at her, but the endearment lasted only a moment before it slid from his lips, the color draining from his face. She felt him sway in her arms.

"Uh – Kitty – I need to – "

"Matt?" But before she could do anything else, his knees buckled, and he fell back heavily against the rail, gasping as he slid to the ground. She followed along, clutching at him, trying in vain to break his fall.

"Doc!" she cried out, terrified that she could still lose him.

Somehow, Doc was by Matt's side, and she couldn't imagine how he had gotten from the wagon so quickly. "Let me see," he ordered gently.

Horrified, she watched as fresh blood stained Matt's shoulder and chest and more blood seeped onto his pants from his right thigh. Doc pushed the tattered shirt out of the way and lifted the chest bandage, frowning at what he saw.

"Matt?" he said. "Can you hear me?"

Those beautiful blue eyes she loved so much were closed, but he struggled to answer. "Doc – "

"Just lie still, here. You hit anywhere else?"

" – fine – " came the strained response.

The doctor grunted. "Oh, yeah, you're just right as rain."

"Matthew?" Festus asked, a bit breathless as he ran up to them.

Several people gathered around them, faces stunned as they looked from Matt to the body of the stranger, sprawled in an undignified heap in the dirt, but Kitty had eyes only for her man.

She barely noticed the woman and young boy who emerged from the crowd.

"Marshal?" the boy called. "Marshal Dillon?"

But Matt couldn't answer. Kitty felt his body slide into unconsciousness, his head falling against her abdomen, his arm hanging limply across her thighs as she lovingly stroked the dark, sweaty curls that fell over his forehead. "Doc!"

Eyes wide, the boy stared down at them. "He ain't dead, is he? Please say he ain't dead!"

Doc looked up at the boy, his face tender, relieving both the boy and Kitty with his words. "He's not dead, son. He's just very weak, and he's lost a lot of blood."

After that, she only half listened to the conversation, concentrating her efforts on holding Matt, making him as comfortable as possible, even if he wasn't consciously aware of it now.

A woman's voice asked, "You're – Doc?"

Adams glanced up quickly. "I am."

"Is he – is he going to be all right?"

The doctor looked back down. "I'm trying to find out."

"I tried to talk him out of coming to town. He's been awfully sick."

"What happened to him?"

"Near as we can figure, he got himself bushwhacked. Whoever did it, shot him up then beat him for good measure. We were afraid he wouldn't make it, but he surprised us. He's a tough one."

Festus agreed, "He is 'at." Kitty heard the pride in the deputy's voice. She ached at the image of Matt lying bleeding and bruised – and alone – and brushed the back of her hand softly over his cheek, relishing the chance to touch him again, to ease his pain.

"I'm Alice Miller," the woman added.

Miller?

Kitty's head whipped up, eyes wide. Far from being the shriveled up old lady that they had all envisioned, the Widow Miller was a woman in her prime, not fancy, but quite pretty in her own way. And Matt had spent the better part of a month with her. Unconscious. With her tending to his every need. Every need.

Despite her efforts to suppress it, a thumb of jealousy poked at her. It wasn't that she didn't trust Matt. On the contrary, she trusted him implicitly. It was other women she didn't trust.

"Yer th' Widder Miller?" Festus asked, breaking into Kitty's thoughts.

"Well, yes. Something wrong?"

The deputy blushed. "It jest thet – wael, yer awful purdy – an' young – ta' be a widder."

Purdy an' young, all right, Kitty agreed.

Amusement lightened Alice Miller's voice. "Thank you. You must be Festus."

"How did – "

"Matt's been with you all this time?" Doc interrupted, voicing the question for Kitty.

"Petey found him out on the road about a month ago. Just came around for good a few days ago."

Pushing himself stiffly to his feet, Doc declared, "We need to get him off the street. Is there somewhere – "

"Onliest place 'roun' chere is thet Buckhorn's whar we bin'a stayin'," Festus said, shaking his head. "Bad ennuf Miz Kitty had ta' suffer it, but I ain't figgerin' Matthew needs ta' have ta' fight off bed bugs, too."

Kitty winced. Festus was right. She had already told Doc and Festus she would rather spend the night out on the ground than go back to the vermin-infested room they shared. And she had planned to do just that very thing that night – before they had found Matt.

"You folks come back to my place," Alice offered immediately, "and we can get Matt – the Marshal taken care of." Kitty pushed away the unnecessary twinge of jealousy and made sure her tone was even when she responded. "That's very generous of you, Mrs. Miller, but we wouldn't want to put you out."

The woman turned toward her with an expression that Kitty thought looked like a strange mixture of admiration, empathy, and envy. "You must be Kitty Russell."

Surprised, Kitty nodded.

"You're not putting us out at all," Alice assured her.

Doc sucked in a hard breath and blew it back out. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"Wael why on earth not?" Festus asked.

"I don't know if he could – " The physician's eyes tightened, and he looked up tentatively at Kitty. After a beat, he said softly, "Well, a rough ride wouldn't do him any good, that's for sure."

"It was mighty hard on him on the way in," Alice remembered.

Kitty swallowed, fighting back a new wave of despair. "We have to do something, Doc."

"Wait," Alice said suddenly, rushing over to the wagon she had left near the telegraph office. Kitty watched as the other woman reached into the back and lifted a wad of material that looked like dresses and shirts and petticoats. "These are things I was getting ready to take into Lawrence as soon as Matt – well, as soon as I could."

"What are you suggesting?" Doc wondered.

"We'll pad the bottom of the wagon with them, soften the ride. We can get more cloth from Mister Pranton's store. And if you take the main road, I can tell you where the ruts are worst, and we can ease around them."

Kitty looked up at Doc hopefully. "You think it will work?"

He pondered it for a moment, then nodded. "It might. If we take it slow."

"It will work," Alice declared. "Where else would you go? Besides, Petey would be awfully disappointed if you didn't come."

Eagerly, Petey added, "Yes'm, I sure would."

Kitty glanced down at Matt, feeling the subtle tremors run through his big body, seeing the flush that brought new color to his ashen face, a worrisome sign of fever. He was alive – thank God – but how long would he stay alive if they didn't get him settled down and tended to? Maybe if they took things slowly, like Doc said –

Resting a hand on his chest, she felt the rapid beating of his heart, heard the ragged draw of his breathing. Whatever Alice's intentions were – or had been – she had undoubtedly saved Matt's life, and for that Kitty could never adequately repay her. Smiling up gratefully at the young boy – and including his mother in her response – she said, "Thank you. I think that's an offer we can't turn down."

XXXX

Dawn was just beginning to nudge the night out of the way when Kitty's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the lightening gray that peeked through the windows of Alice Miller's tiny house. For just a second, she frowned, unsure about where she was and what was going on. But memory quickly washed the frown away as she straightened her aching body in the chair that had served as her bed the night before. A low groan propelled her to her feet, and she leaned over the bed where Matt lay.

He hadn't come to yet, and the fact that he had been out for almost 36 hours bothered Doc, which bothered Kitty all the more. She hadn't left his side except for necessities, but sat holding his hand, wiping his face and chest and arms, talking softly to him, encouraging him to fight the fever, to come back to them – to her. He didn't look much better this morning, his color still gray, his breathing still shallow and slightly labored. Doc had been right, the wagon ride from Jeddo hadn't done Matt any good, but he had survived it, cushioned better than Kitty had thought he could be with Alice's clothes and three bolts of material from the general store.

"Matt," she whispered, careful not to wake Doc, who lay on a bedroll by the fireplace. Festus had bunked down outside with Petey as company while Alice slept in the back room. Kitty wondered where she had slept before they arrived.

But those blue eyes didn't open, that fine mouth didn't grin at her. She studied him for a moment, touched his brow, his lips, the beard that was shaggy now and realized that she had never seen Matt with a beard before, not a full one. He always preferred to be clean-shaven; when he returned from a long ride on the trail shaving was one of the first things he did – after seeing her. She considered how it altered his looks and decided that, even though he was still handsome and she liked it, she still wanted to run her lips over his freshly shaved jaw again.

"He'll make it."

The softly confident remark drew her attention, and she turned her head to see Alice slipping out from the back room, plain dress and hair doing nothing to take away from her simple beauty.

Before Kitty could say anything, Alice added, "For you, if for no other reason." Her emphasis on you was not lost.

"I'm grateful for all you've done for him," Kitty told her sincerely.

"You have a fine man."

"What?"

"Your man. He's a fine man. You're very fortunate." Alice was looking down at Matt, her expression one that Kitty recognized immediately, one that she had worn herself many times.

Eyes shining, she glanced back up, studying the other woman, understanding It wasn't hard to imagine her taking care of a wounded stranger. And it certainly wasn't hard to imagine her being attracted to the handsome lawman she had saved. "Yes," she agreed. "He is a fine man."

"Matt – the Marshal told me about you. That's why we were in town. Even as weak as he was, he insisted on wiring you to let you know he was all right." She winced. "Well, all right is relative."

Kitty looked down at the pale face and stroked gently through his coarse beard, love swelling her heart, not having expected Matt just to come right out and tell Alice about her – about them. "Has he – has he been in a lot of pain?" she asked tentatively, not really wanting to hear the answer, but desperately needing to know, to share what he suffered in some way.

Alice's eyes regarded her sympathetically. "No, not too much," she told her, and they both knew she was lying.

"His right leg," Kitty sighed, nodding toward the long limb, which was partially uncovered, revealing a fresh fat bandage just above the knee. "It gives him trouble."

"I can see why," Alice agreed gently. "He's seen a posse's share of hurt in his life."

Kitty knew that all too well. "Thank you for easing his suffering."

"You've already thanked me," Alice said, her voice sharp. Then she offered a smile of apology and added softly, "I couldn't let him die. I was hoping he was a good man, and then when he woke up, and I saw that smile, I knew – I knew he was – "

"You love him." The sudden realization leaped from her mouth before Kitty could stop it. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to say that – "

"No," Alice told her, truth and sorrow in her dark eyes. "But I could have. I surely could have."

"Why didn't you?" Not that she wanted her to, mind you.

"He already has someone who loves him."

Kitty acknowledged that truth by holding Alice's gaze steadily until the other woman looked away.

"He loves you, too, you know."

She did, but it surprised her to hear the statement from Alice. "How do you know?"

"How could I not know?" Alice smiled. "He called for you night after night, he risked killing himself to try to get word to you that he was alive, he refused to – " She stopped suddenly, her cheeks flushing.

Kitty wanted to ask, but held herself in check.

After a moment, Alice cleared her throat and walked briskly to the outside door. As her hand pulled it open, she turned and offered, "He loves you very much, Miss Russell. Maybe more than you realize." Then she was gone, and Kitty stood staring after her.

Maybe more than you realize. Kitty wasn't sure what that meant, but it pleased her to hear it.

"Kitty?" A gruff call of her name drew her attention to where Doc was pushing himself off the floor, grunting in complaint.

She stepped over to help him, but he shrugged her off and shuffled to the edge of the bed, his fingers automatically moving to press against Matt's wrist. "He wake up any last night?"

"I would have gotten you."

The doctor shifted his gaze to the side. "I heard Alice Miller heading out a few minutes ago."

His expression told her plainly he had heard their conversation. "Yeah."

"She's right, you know."

Kitty lifted a brow.

"That overgrown civil servant loves you an awful lot, Kitty."

She had known Doc long enough to admit, "I love him, too."

"I know you do." After a beat, he released Matt's wrist and cleared his throat. "And he's gonna be just fine, Kitty. I promise you that."

"I want to believe you, Doc. I just – I – " The sob choked her, even though she fought it. Tears clouded her eyes, shimmering before they spilled down her cheeks. "What if – "

"Now, don't think like that, Kitty," Doc admonished gently, sliding an arm around her waist. "We haven't come all this way to find out Matt's still alive just to lose him. He's gonna make it. I promise." He offered a hopeful chuckle. "Besides, the boy's too ornery to die."

" – look who's – calling who – ornery – "

The voice was weak and low and hoarse, but to Kitty it sounded as rich and full as a baritone in a Wagnerian opera she had once watched – and Matt had once slept through – in Saint Louis. "Matt!" she exclaimed, catching his hand in hers and holding it to her breast.

"Watch – it – " he joked, a smile just barely touching his lips.

"Oh, grow up. It's not like I don't know that you and Kitty – " Doc's words sputtered to a halt as he realized what he was saying. Grumbling something about grown people acting like kids, he leaned in, pressing a hand against Matt's forehead, then cheek. "I think the fever's gone, or almost there," he said, satisfaction warming his tone.

A tired blink was about all Matt could muster for a moment, but he made a visible attempt to look Kitty in the eye, and even in his vulnerable condition, the impact took her breath. "I thought maybe – I dreamed – you were here."

"I'm no dream, Cowboy," she assured him.

But his smile widened a bit. "Now there's – where you're – wrong."

"Well," Doc announced abruptly, straightening and walking toward the door. "I'll just get some air." But he paused before he left and jerked his chin pointedly at both Kitty and Matt. "Mind yourselves. I mean it."

She laughed. Looking at Matt, lying there barely able to open his eyes, she knew there was no danger that they would violate Doc's orders. Still, there had been other times –

When the door shut, she sat gingerly on the bed, her arm going around him with care, her lips taking his with love and deep gratitude. Even as she pulled back, though, his chest was already rising and falling evenly, sleep overtaking him.

He fought it for another few moments. "I'm – sorry, Kitty," he said. "I didn't mean for – "

She placed her fingers over his mouth. "Shh. It's okay. You just sleep now. I'll be here." And as his eyes closed again and his head relaxed against the pillow, peacefulness smoothing out the lines of his face, she murmured, "I'll always be here."

TBC