What Doesn't Kill You 29

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

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Doc sat in his office morosely drinking a bitter cup of cold coffee and watching the cold rain fall outside of his window. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving but he had never known a year when he felt he had less to be thankful for than this one.

It had been almost three weeks and not a word had been heard from Matt and Kitty. They had wired the sheriff in Hays who had responded that neither Matt nor Kitty had arrived there and he had not heard from them.

Royce Warren's trial had proceeded as scheduled, without the benefit of Matt's testimony, and as expected, he was sentenced to hang. Due to the time of year, that was scheduled for the Monday after Thanksgiving.

The sheriff had prepared his office and his town for a rescue attempt from Clay Warren, but so far nothing had been tried or heard from the criminal businessman.

Chester of course was a mess. Doc had more than once had to practically sit on him to keep him from taking off cross country to find them even though he wanted to do the same thing himself.

But Doc knew, as he sat in his chilly office watching the rain, drinking his coffee that the only one who could do anything about their disappearance and offer even a glimmer of hope was already working on the problem. Doc had been talking to him all along and placing his cup down on his desk, Doc bowed his head and talked to him some more.

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Kitty sat at the bottom of the stairs, her hands behind her back, one of which held her derringer.

When Matt had taken her carpet bag from the hotel room, he remembered she generally carried one either in her reticule or with her luggage. Finding it at the bottom of the worn brown suitcase, he'd stashed it away in his boot, just in case. He was now glad he had.

Lying on the other side of the stairs, his hands behind his back as well, Matt prayed that little derringer would be enough.

Kitty waited a beat, trying to calm her breathing before clearing her throat and crying loudly. "Matt! Oh no! Please no, Matt. You can't be dead."

Within a few moments the doors were unlocked and a lantern came into view followed by a pair of scuffed boots, worn down at the heels. Once on the floor of the damp underground space, a scraggly young man bent down beside Matt, reaching for his head.

Kitty stepped up behind him and placed the muzzle of the derringer against his skull. "Don't think I won't use this." She whispered into his ear.

The young man froze, obviously not expecting this turn of events.

Kitty stepped back, keeping an eye towards the stairs and the open door above, and her gun at the man's temple. "Move back," she ordered.

He did as he was told, not noticing that the big man on the ground had gotten to his feet until Matt had backhanded him into peaceful oblivion for at least a few hours.

"You alright?" Matt asked quietly as he quickly used the ropes he had been tied with, on the now unconscious guard.

Kitty nodded and moved over to him. "You think anyone else is out there?" she took another uncertain glance up the stairs.

Matt shrugged in the dim light provided by the still burning lantern. "Only one way to find out." He answered.

Kitty swallowed hard. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Matt motioned for her to be quiet and stay put as he grabbed the guard's gun and cautiously began to ascend the rickety stairs to the outside. Third step up, the stair creaked loudly, threatening to give way and he stopped for several minutes, gun raised, expecting someone to come through the door above him.

No one appeared.

Matt took a couple more steps up until his head was just below the doors. Hearing voices, Matt froze trying to discern the direction and the distance of those voices. Glancing back down at Kitty, he raised his hand to stop her from moving up behind him.

"What the heck's taking Nate so long?" A high pitched, squeaky voice asked. Though it was near, Matt could tell the owner of that voice wasn't coming any closer. "How much time does a man need to take a piss?"

Another voice chuckled. "Hell," this voice was deeper, older. "You know Nate. He can take all day to swallow. Give him his time; sides what you got to do tonight? Ain't nothing gonna happen till Clay comes back in the morning."

Matt took a chance and raised his head slightly above the door, looking toward the voices. Two men, standing outside the house, their backs to him, were smoking and apparently waiting for Nate. Matt thought he knew where Nate might be found.

"I sure wouldn't want to be those two, when Clay does get here." Squeaky voice said. "I heared him tell Harmon he's gonna hurt that lawman something awful and make him watch while he takes his woman."

Older voice laughed. "Now that's something I'd like to see."

"Too bad," Matt said into his ear as he laid the pistol across his skull.

The younger man turned quickly, eyes widening when he saw Matt and went for his gun. Matt raised his gun as well but for once he was not the faster man, just the luckiest.

Before Matt could even touch the trigger of his pistol a shot went off and the young nameless cowboy, in front of him, fell forward onto the ground. Looking up he saw Kitty walking towards him, her derringer still up and pointed at the boy.

Quickly Matt tucked his own gun into his waistband and went to her, taking her by the hand and pulling her down into the shadows beside the house. The two waited for several minutes to see if there was perhaps any response to the gun shot. But no one came and no sound was heard from inside or outside of the house save the coyotes that began to yip in earnest out in the woods.

Cautiously Matt stood up and scanned the area.

Nothing.

Looking back to Kitty, he put his hand down and helped her up, pulling her into his arms in one motion. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" he asked, holding her trembling form close.

Kitty nodded. "Um hmm, but I wouldn't mind if you said it again."

Matt chuckled as he bent down and kissed her. "I love you, Kitty Russell."

TBC