nine

His stride was swift and unfaltering. He kept his gaze straight ahead, even though years as a lawman had trained him otherwise. On the right side of the road was the cemetery. A glance in that direction would put him in view of her grave. Anger stirred, he didn't want to think about Kitty, it was bad enough dreams of her haunted his nights without having her take full possession of his days too.

He was one hundred yards from his office when he noticed a minor assembly of townsmen had gathered; Burke, Halligan, Howie the clerk at the Dodge House, Barney from the telegraph office, the bank president Mr. Bodkin, and even Hank the stable man. With their ears all but plastered to the door they stood as one in intense concentration. They were so absorbed in whatever was going on that they didn't notice Dillon walking up behind them. The closer he got the clearer the explanation for their presence became. Festus and Doc, inside the office, were at it again. Five feet away, he heard Festus say loud and clear, "Matthew ain't a gonna court neither one of 'em. Miss Lettie Crump ain't got the sense of a pea hen, and Myrtle's old enough to marry Me-thuselah! Or you."

Heat worked its way up Dillon's neck, his ears burned, but his voice was gruff and gave no indication of the embarrassment he was feeling, "All right break it up." The men gave Matt a guilty look and all but tripped over themselves as each headed in a different direction.

He watched them flee and then opened the door and stared hard at his friends. "You two were drawing quite a crowd out there, you know."

"Matt, we were just talking about you." Doc began.

"I wish you wouldn't" Dillon answered quickly. "Look … just drop me from any future topics of discussion."

"Well, that ain't gonna happen. Thing is, me and ol' Doc was wondering if you ever got around to reading the rest of that there letter Miss Kitty done wrote you."

He thought he'd steeled himself from pain, but a dagger in his heart would have hurt just the same as the mention of her name, his face flashed the ache. No quick words of answer came to his mind, so he ignored Hagen 's question. He turned to Adams , "Don't you have something important to do, some doctoring to tend to?" And to Festus he asked tersely, "and what about that paperwork I told you to take out to Clarence Hart's place?"

Festus saw through Dillon's bravado, the hill-man's voice was tender in response, "Matthew, there ain't nothing so important as being with a friend when he needs you."

"I don't need you." Matt replied harshly even as he recalled once he had needed someone and she had let him down. Unconsciously, he pledged never to 'need' anyone again.

Adams tried his luck, "She had some things to say to you."

Dillon's response was angry, "I don't give a damn. Fact is if she were here right now, I'd more than likely wring her pretty neck."

Doc put a hand on Matt's arm, "I know you're bitter, but she thought she was doing what was best for you."

He pulled away, "I don't have time for this. I've got work to do."

The old man hesitated, "Matt, just read the letter …"

The tether on his self control snapped, "Get out, both of you."

His friends hung back for a moment before they exchanged glances and then turned away, to shuffle, heads down, out of the office.

Dillon stared at the closed door until he heard their footsteps on the boardwalk. He was shaking and he wasn't sure if it was anger or grief that made him so unsteady. He turned and poured himself a cup of coffee to calm his nerves and then sat down at his desk. There was a pile of mail and he began the task of sorting through it. The attempt was half-hearted at best. For the thought of Kitty's letter, and that connection with her overwhelmed his intentions. He pulled open his desk drawer and extracted the letter from its resting place.

He removed the folded pages from the envelope, laying them against his desk to flatten out the creases. For a beat his eyes locked on the written words but they failed to come in focus. Moisture blocked his vision. He was not a man given to swearing with out extreme provocation. The malediction escaped from his thoughts to become a verbal condemnation, "Damn you, damn you to hell for what you did." In anger, he got up from his desk with her letter in hand, opened the stove door and prepared to destroy her last wishes. The corner of the pages actually caught fire before he changed his mind. He shook out the flames and then moved back to his desk, lowering his large frame to rest on the desktop.

He closed his eyes and took a gulp of air, "Okay Kitty, I'll listen, but it better be good."

My dear Matt,

If you are reading this, it must mean I am dead. Let me assure you I am quite healthy at this writing and cannot foresee any event, which might lead to my demise.

Please do not mourn my passing, I have had a wonderful life, filled with love and adventure and true happiness. For that I have you to thank, sharing these years with you has made all the difference. I must confess, and this is very difficult to do, and I pray you will be able to understand, but we share more than years.

In September of 1872, I gave birth to a little girl. You were busy chasing the bad guys, and when you were home you didn't even notice the changes taking place in my body. I never thought I'd be able to fool you. When I said I had to take care of my father, I thought for sure you would come to New Orleans and see for yourself what was going on. I even imagined what I'd say to you as I showed you our baby. But that didn't happen and I came to understand as long as the badge had a hold of you, you could never be mine and would never be ready to know our child.

I left our daughter, Matilda, in the care of the Sisters of Devine Charity, with orders that she should be sent to you in Dodge City in the event of my death.

I have tried to spend as much time as possible with her without betraying her existence to you. I have always felt that our someday would come and we would finally be a family. Now, with this letter in your hands it appears that will not happen.

Matt, I have made this promise to Matilda, ever since she was a baby. Now it is up to you to make it happen. I have given this a lot of thought, and while I don't relish the idea of you with another woman, for Matilda's sake you must marry, and marry quickly.

I have listed several possibilities taking into consideration characteristics, which you might find compatible as well as someone who will be a good and kind mother to Matilda.

Leticia Crump - She's had a crush on you since she was in pigtails. I know she's still young and a bit on the flighty side, but she's helped raise those seven younger brothers and sisters. I'm sure she would make a good mother to Matilda.

Myrtle McGoo - She's a widow, so the two of you would have something in common, both mourning the passing of someone you love. She would give you both a warm and loving home. She has two grown daughters so she comes with experience.

Taffy Boyd - I suppose physically she is the most like me and that might bring you comfort. She hasn't spent any time with children that I know of, but then I didn't know the first thing about being a mother before Matilda.

Sydney Tuttwell - She's intelligent, independent and as a schoolteacher she understands children.

Susan Barts - Don't deny it, I know you were always attracted to her. Frankly I don' t know what kind of mother she'd make, I suppose it would depend on whether she herself has grown up. However, that ranch of hers would be a pleasant place to raise a child.

These are just suggestions, you make the decision, but I want you to marry within four months of my passing. I won't take no for an answer. You may have denied me the right to be your wife, but you are not going to deny our daughter the right to a happy and complete family.

Please do not forget that I have loved you with all my heart.

Kitty

He stared at the paper in shock with his mouth agape. She couldn't have been serious. The idea was ridiculous. This whole situation was crazy and he couldn't believe he was in the middle of it. Kitty had lied to him, deceived him and kept their child locked up in little better than an orphanage until the kid was an unmanageable brat who obviously hated him. Now, he was expected to deal with the product of that upbringing. He had half a mind to pack up Matilda and her belongings and send her back to the nuns in New Orleans . For the second time that day Matt Dillon thought seriously about setting fire to Kitty Russell's letter. He got up and started pacing back and forth. However, as he did a niggling guilt rose slowly to the surface. Responsibility, duty and obligation came in to view and he saw for the first time he was not with out blame.