13

As Kitty sat across the table from Troy, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he wanted more from her than a breakfast companion. Though they'd talked about the robbery and the law's inability to find the men who'd held up the stage and shot Peter, and she'd told him about Grant's sudden reappearance, she got the impression he had other things on his mind.

"Uh, Sheriff…"

"Troy." He shook his head. "Names Troy, Ma'am. Please."

Kitty smiled. "Alright, Troy. And please, call me Kitty, not Ma'am."

"Yes, Ma'am… I mean, Kitty."

His cheeks colored and he dropped his head for a moment, reminding Kitty of a schoolboy with a crush and suddenly she understood. "Troy." She began again. "I'm getting the idea that perhaps you wanted something more than someone to eat breakfast with. Is that true?"

Troy managed not to choke on the coffee he'd just taken a drink of, but just barely. He didn't realize that he'd been that obvious. But since she seemed to know already, he saw no need to hide it.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nodded, finally looking up and meeting her gaze. "I know that you're only here for a visit, until Charlotte Stark is better and all, but well…" He paused, wondering how to say it without sounding like a kid.

"Well, what?" Kitty asked watching him closely.

"Well, I like you, Ma'am… er, Kitty. I like you a lot and I got to thinking…"

Kitty quickly reached over and touched his hand. "Uh, Troy. Please." She stopped him, not wanting to embarrass him or herself, either one. "Troy, before you go any further, I think you need to know, that…" now she was at a loss for how to say what she wanted, what she needed, to say. If Matt had drilled it into her head once, he'd done it a millon times that she should not tell anyone of thier connection.

Taking a deep breath she started again. "Troy, I'm sorry. I think you are a fine man and all but… well… well, I'm sorry. I… I just don't want you to think that…"

"I understand." It was Troy's turn to stop her, not really wanting to hear anymore. "He must be something to get your attention." Pushing his half-eaten meal away from him, Troy got up and reached for his hat, before remembering his manners. "Uh, I guess I'd better be getting to work, Miss Russell. Can I escort you back to the saloon?"

Kitty noted the formal way he addressed her and realized how he must be feeling. He'd been about to make a play for her and she'd shot him down. Shaking her head, she reached for his hand again. "My name is Kitty." She said almost sternly. When Troy still wouldn't look at her, she tugged his hand again. "Troy, I am not going to be staying here. Eventually I will be going back to Dodge where I belong. I just don't want you to be hurt when I do go home."

Troy finally met her gaze and nodded, a smile playing around his lips. "You don't?"

Kitty shook her head with an exasperated smile. "No, of course not. You've been nothing but kind to me since I pulled in here and I appreciate it more than you know."

Troy nodded and reclaimed his seat. But looking at the beautiful woman beside him, he couldn't bring himself to just stop trying. And even though he'd heard the rumors about her and the Marshal he couldn't keep from asking. "So, are you really the Marshal's woman?"

Kitty dropped her head. That was not a question she had any intention of answering. Besides, even if she wanted to, how would she describe what she and Matt had, what they were to each other? Her being his woman didn't quite cover all of the nuances of their relationship. No, some things were just better left unsaid.

"Troy," she finally said. "I appreciate your kindness to me and I thank you for that. But my personal life is kinda complicated and well, personal."

Troy started to point out that she hadn't answered his question but decided to drop it right then. Apparently she didn't want to discuss what he already knew.

"Could another man stand a chance with you?" He asked instead.

"Troy," Kitty let out an exasperated breath. "Please. I told you..."

"Alright, alright." He sighed. "Can't blame a fella for trying though, can ya?" That was another question Kitty didn't answer but he understood.

Wiping her mouth with her napkin, Kitty reached for her reticule and got up. "Mind walking me back to the saloon, Sheriff?"

Troy shook his head with a grin. "Not at all, Ma'am." He answered as he rose and extended his arm.

As the two walked down the street towards the saloon, Grant watched their progress. Furiously, he was trying to figure out a way to get the woman to trust him. Charlotte was washed up as a whore, even if he hadn't beaten her, he knew she no longer had the looks to attract wealthy men to her bed.

But Kitty Russell did. Smart, beautiful, fiery, he knew men who would pay top dollar for a night in her arms. But as it stood right then, there was no way she'd do it, certainly not for him. And forcing her wouldn't work. Sighing, he stepped away from the window. It would take some thought and some time. He would have to overcome what she already knew about him or find a way around it. But somehow, he vowed, he'd find that way.

Grant wasn't the only one, who watched Kitty and Troy as they walked down the street. Peter was also keeping his eye on them, although for a completely different reason. At the tender age of 18, Peter had given his heart and his life to the ministry and he had thought his love of God, and God's love for him, was all he needed.

But that was until he'd met Kitty Russell. It was hard to explain, even to himself, but he had developed feelings for her, over the last week, that he didn't fully understand, complicated feelings of love and jealously and more. Feelings, he felt sure a minister of the Lord should not feel, especially for a saloon owner.

But the feelings were there never the less and he didn't exactly know what to do about them. While in Dodge, he'd heard more than a few rumors about her and the tall iconic lawman, Matt Dillon. Though not normally one to give credence to gossip of any kind, he wondered. Was he the reason she was still single and working in a saloon when it was obvious she could do so much better. Was she waiting on Matt Dillon?

His small reserve of strength failing him, Peter shook his head and moved back to the bed. Reaching over to the nightstand beside him, he picked up the well-worn leather Bible that he kept with him at all times. This treasured tome, a gift from his father, had, up til now, always carried all the answers he needed when he was unsure or concerned about something.

But as he opened the cover and turned the pages, he wasn't so sure that it would this time. He was afraid, that he may have found the one complication that the Bible didn't have an answer for.

TBC