Dark Reflection

Chapter 33

"Adjustments"

by Lilyjack

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Kitty folded her crisp white napkin, placing it neatly on the tray beside her bowl. Pressing a hand to her full belly she claimed, "Ma, I declare that's the best thing I've eaten in…well, I don't know how long, to tell ya' the truth." Kitty hadn't eaten regular in a blue moon, actually. And while Charlie had been doing his level best, he wasn't exactly the finest cook she'd ever come across. Not that she'd been able to eat much since she'd come here anyway. But now that she was beginning to feel like she was no longer hovering at death's door anymore, Ma's food tasted like manna from heaven.

Deirdre Smalley protested, "But you've barely touched it! And you still have another biscuit to eat. Here, let me put some more butter on it. We've got to fatten you up!"

Kitty delicately held up a hand. She honestly felt stuffed to the gills. "No, Ma, really, I couldn't eat another bite. Your cookin' is delicious, but I haven't been eatin' too much lately, so…" And Ma wouldn't appreciate it if it came right back up on her either, Kitty reckoned.

"Yes, I understand, dear. You're still not 'up to snuff,' correct?"

"Correct." She smiled fondly at the older woman, grateful for the company. The cellar room had been lonely today. "I'm real glad you came, but you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble."

"Oh, it's no trouble a'tall, really. I cooked a great big pot of chicken soup and baked biscuits for my boarders. It was nothing to simply bring a bit over to you and Mr. Botkin."

"I appreciate your kindness, Ma, I really do." Kitty's mind turned to her benefactor. "And how is Mr. Botkin doin' today?"

"He walked today, Kitty!"

"Did he?" A smile lit up Kitty's face. He'd been bedfast for so long, Kitty had nearly given up hope that the man would ever walk again.

Ma beamed. "Just a few steps, but it's progress!"

"That's wonderful news." Kitty reached out, placed a gentle hand on Ma's arm. "I think Mr. Botkin was…awful brave that day in front of the jail. He was the only man who dared to stand up to those outlaws."

Ma's eyes were stricken, remembering how badly beaten he'd been. "I thought I would lose him."

"But you didn't lose him. And he'll keep gettin' better every day, I know it. I found out that day just what a strength of character Mr. Botkin has. I just wish I could tell 'im in person how obliged I am that he's letting us stay here."

Ma smiled, a hint of pride in her face. "Maybe someday."

Kitty echoed, "Yes, someday." But first, they had to sweep the town of the self-appointed sheriff and his trained gorillas. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Ma stood and held out her arm. "Nothing like a good constitutional to aid the digestion! Ready for a little walk?"

"Am I? Yes—but you're sure you don't have other things you need to be doin'? I don't wanna be a bother."

"Oh, pshaw! Mr. Botkin is napping and my boarders have eaten lunch. They can fend for themselves. You need the exercise." Ma picked up a lantern, and they walked arm in arm out into the small hallway that connected to the underground tunnels.

"I really do need the exercise. I'm startin' to go a little stir crazy in here now that I'm feelin' better."

"Where is Mr. Dillon?"

"Well, Chester and Matt have gone off to the middle of the prairie somewhere for target practice." Kitty had spent the whole day worrying about them. She knew they'd be careful, but she couldn't help but be anxious anyway.

"Target practice!"

"Yes, Mr. Dillon—Matt—has an eye injury and he needs to learn to shoot with one eye." Kitty didn't add that she'd noticed he'd suffered a lot more injuries than just his eye.

"Mr. Bodkin told me that tale. Actually, he heard it from Charles. Between the two of them, I hear a lot of news from around town. Let's go down this way, dear, and then we'll turn around and go back. I don't want you getting overtired."

"You seem to know your way around these tunnels pretty well." Kitty wanted to ask Ma if she'd heard any details about how Matt received his injuries, but…she lost her courage. What if he'd just gotten them in a barroom brawl? Somehow, she believed she'd be mighty disappointed if that were the case.

"I know a few of these passageways. Just the ones between our…" Deirdre Smalley stopped, fearing she had revealed too much.

A ghost of a smile played at Kitty's lips. "…between your house and Mr. Botkin's house?"

Ma blushed.

"Don't worry, Ma. Your secret's safe with me." She looked Ma in the eye earnestly, confiding, "I think it must be a real fine thing to have an upstanding man like Mr. Botkin care about you so much."

Ma just smiled. "He is quite upstanding…and brave, too, isn't he?"

Kitty could hear the love Ma felt for Mr. Botkin in her voice. She squeezed Ma's arm in understanding and teased, "I'm a little bit jealous."

"Why, what about you? Isn't Mr. Goode your intended?"

"My intended? Chester? Goodness no, it's nothin' like that. He and I are just… Well, we're just very close friends."

"Does he know that?"

"Whatta you mean?"

"I mean he cares for you a great deal. That young man takes such good care of you."

"Well, sure, we care for each other very much, but he's just…like a brother to me."

"Oh my, have you told him that?"

"Why, he already knows." Kitty was beginning to doubt herself. "Doesn't he?"

"Only you can answer that."

"But…" Kitty cocked her head thoughtfully. "We've just always been there for each other. I couldn't have lived through what I did without him." They walked companionably in silence for a few moments while Kitty digested Ma's observances.

"Let's turn around now, shall we? You're looking a bit tired. By the way, how have you been sleeping, my dear?"

Kitty hedged, "Sleepin'? Ohh, well…"

"The truth, now."

Kitty made a face although she admired the woman's sand. Ma didn't beat around the bush, that's for sure. Kitty grumbled, "Who's been spillin' the beans?"

"Never you mind. Your friends care for you and they're quite concerned. You're a lucky girl to have such friends as you do."

"Oh, I know it, Ma. I sure do." Kitty knew she wouldn't even be above ground right now if it weren't for her friends.

"Are you suffering night terrors often?"

Kitty sighed. "Honest, I'm fine once I wake up. They're just bad dreams."

"Bad dreams don't cause a poor girl to wake up the entire household."

"Everyone?" Oh my wordthe thought that she'd woken everyone in the house!

Ma stopped, turned toward Kitty and took her hand warmly in her own. "I don't pretend to understand what you went through, young lady. But I imagine it's been very hard on you."

Kitty avoided Ma's eyes, glancing down at her own slipper-clad feet. "I don't think I can talk about this, Ma."

Ma's voice was gentle. "That's alright. But if you need someone to listen, you know where I am."

"Yes, Ma, I know."

"But I reckon it does help a mite having that tall, strapping Mr. Dillon nearby when you're afraid."

Kitty emphatically shook her head. "Men and romance are the last things on my mind right now. Trust me."

"Oh, I believe you."

"Besides, Matt's not interested in me. Men like him can have girls that are…" Kitty bit her tongue just in time.

"What? Men like Mr. Dillon can have what kind of girls?"

Kitty struggled to keep from rolling her eyes. "Well…nice girls."

"My dear, you are nice."

Kitty pulled a face. "No, Ma. I think you know what I mean." She couldn't believe she was discussing this with Ma Smalley. The lady went to church, for heaven's sake.

As they slowly approached the wine cellar entrance, Ma wrapped her arm around Kitty's thin shoulders and murmured in her ear, "I know better now. And I think you are an awfully nice girl."

Kitty couldn't keep the soft smile from her face or her voice, "Thank you, Ma."

"So, do you think you could manage to eat that other biscuit now?"

"Ma…"

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Taking a long draw from his canteen, Matt gratefully leaned back against a fallen cottonwood, quickly wiping his sleeve over his perspiring forehead. Shooting a gun had been harder than he'd anticipated. He'd practiced his one-eyed stance all morning, and he was still only managing to hit his targets-old tin cans Chester had brought along in a sack-about fifty percent of the time. It would require more than one trip way out here in the middle of nowhere to feel confident in his abilities. And with the situation in Dodge City being what it was, it was absolutely necessary that he be able to defend himself in a fight. He was grimly confident that's what it would come to eventually. Silas Blackthorne had to be stopped.

It had been a long day already, because they'd left before dawn under cover of darkness with horses provided by Moss Grimmick, no questions asked. Chester had headed out with his bagful of provisions, picking up Matt at the empty warehouse. They'd chosen a remote location to shoot, but it was slow going at first. Matt was used to shooting with both eyes focused on his target. It threw off his aim if he was using only one eye. It was no small feat, having to change the way you've successfully done something for years. He'd been practicing for hours before they both stopped to rest for lunch.

Chester tossed a piece of dry jerky in Matt's direction. "Here ya go, Mister Dillon."

"Thanks, Chester. Glad you remembered to pack somethin' to eat. We won't be able to head back until dark again this evening."

"I got some apples, too, that ol' Charlie give me yesterday. Catch…"

Matt snagged the apple in midair, pleased to note that his ribs didn't pain him much when he did. Riding had been a little difficult, but he'd been so relieved to be out in the fresh air, he hadn't minded a bit.

He wondered how Kitty was faring down in their dim, depressing little "jail cell" alone today. If he knew her as well as he thought he did, then she was probably itching to get outside herself. She'd become a little short-tempered since she'd begun feeling better. Now, short-tempered was nothing new for this particular red-head, but it had been disheartening to hear her talk last night before bed. He'd mentioned rebuilding the Long Branch, and she'd nearly bitten his head off.

"Why should I bother with rebuilding?" she'd grumbled testily. "It'll just get torn down again! Everything I've worked for has come to this-a man takin' over my place and me hidin' like a jackrabbit in a hole."

Matt stood there astounded by her unexpected response. "But…" He was unsure how to reply. "You always…"

She impatiently interrupted, "I'm sick of runnin' that place anyway. Always surrounded by a buncha men, most of 'em drunk, tryin' to get me to…" Kitty recollected who she was talking to and stopped mid-sentence. Instead she finished, "I oughta just head further West, maybe to San Francisco. I got a friend who lives out there."

Matt protested gently, "But Kitty, what'll you do for a living? You won't have your saloon to…"

Irritated, she countered, "Listen, whatta you care anyway? I've started from nothin' before. I had forty bucks in my pocket when I landed here in Dodge, and I worked my way up, the hard way." She crossed her arms stubbornly and stared a hot hole in the floor. "I can do it again."

"I got no doubt you can, Kitty Russell. You're a formidable woman."

Somewhat mollified, Kitty glanced at him again and was struck by the bewildered expression on his face. She took a deep breath and then sighed. What the hell was she doing, taking out her frustrations on him? He hadn't done anything to her. She dropped her arms to her sides. "I'm sorry, Matt." Her brow crinkled thoughtfully. "I don't know what comes over me." She rubbed a hand wearily over her face. "It's just lately, I…"

"You don't hafta explain to me, Kitty." He'd looked at her earnestly. "I understand."

She just stood there in her nightgown, staring at him and wondering why the hell was he was so nice to her. He didn't seem at all like the kinda guy who had other, baser, intentions. She could spot those fellas a mile away.

"You look tired," he'd finally said. So he'd blown out all the lights except a single candle which he placed on the table on her side of the room. "Let's get some rest."

They both settled into their respective bunks when Matt spoke up one last time. Kitty lay very still, her hands folded atop her belly as she listened to his deep, reassuring voice on the other side of their curtain.

"Kitty, we're gonna win this thing. And we're gonna get the Long Branch back. I promise."

She'd felt a soft fluttering in her chest at his confident assertion, but she'd just smiled and murmured, "Night, Matt."

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"Mister Dillon, want some more jerky? I got a'plenty."

"Sure, Chester. Thanks."

Chester stopped chewing and swallowed, looking thoughtful. "Ya' know, Mister Dillon, I worry about Miss Kitty, bein' a woman alone, ownin' her own business and all. The Long Branch kin be a mighty dangerous place."

"Well, Chester, Miss Kitty's got you." Matt's tongue felt thick in his mouth as he formed the difficult words.

"Yessir," Chester agreed. "I manage the best I can, but I'm not able to be with 'er all the time. Ya' know what I mean?"

"Yeah…" Matt drawled, trying to come up with a neutral response when all the while his chest was squeezing tighter as they broached this sensitive topic. Matt kept reminding himself that Kitty was her own woman and had the right to pick any man she chose.

"I was thinkin' if she got married up, she wouldn't hafta live this way, always in danger. She'd be more…protected-like."

Matt felt his heart sink all the way down to his toes. He just stared at the unfinished jerky in his hand, unable to form a coherent response.

Chester hesitated a moment, cleared his throat and finally ventured, "Like you…fer instance."

Matt curled a lip at Chester, thoroughly confused. "Me? Whatta you…"

Chester interrupted, nodding soberly as he spoke. "Yeah, you, Mister Dillon. Yer just the kinda honest, brave, upstandin' feller she'd…"

"Hold on a minute. Aren't you gonna marry Kitty?" Matt had sat bolt upright, his brows climbing toward his hairline.

"Me? Marry Miss Kitty?" Chester exclaimed incredulously. He seemed to consider the idea for a moment and gushed, "Well, golly, I wish that I…" Abruptly he stopped and shook his head mournfully. "Naw, Mister Dillon, me and Miss Kitty, we're just real close friends."

Matt sat still as a statue, his head swimming.

Chester continued, "You know, Miss Kitty's the nicest lady I ever knowed. When I first come to Dodge, nobody'd give me the time a' day. 'Cept Miss Kitty. She was the onliest woman who ever treated me so nice in my whole entire life. Like I was somebody. She sure knows how t' make a feller feel special."

Matt's jerky had dropped from his hand to the ground, forgotten. He swallowed hard, but he still couldn't speak.

Chester's brown eyes were misty as he ducked his head. "But she don't love me like I…well, you know."

Matt realized his mouth had been hanging open for a considerable time. He finally managed to murmur with complete sympathy, "I'm sorry, Chester. I know exactly how you feel."

Chester gave a mighty sniff. "But, you, Mister Dillon… I kindly think Miss Kitty might like you."

"You think so?" Matt piped up. "I mean, she hasn't been too friendly with me, Chester. She may hate my guts."

"Oh no, Mister Dillon." Chester stopped, absently rubbing his fingertips over the scar on his cheek. His voice lowered to a confidential tone. "Miss Kitty, you cain't imagine what she's been through… It's been plain awful." Chester pressed his lips together and hung his head.

"I understand, Chester. She'll need some time." Matt picked up his jerky, dusted it off a little. "And I appreciate you telling me this. It means a lot to me."

"Yer welcome, Mister Dillon.

"And I'll tell ya' somethin' else. Somebody's gonna pay for what they did to her."

"That sure does mean a whole lot to me, Mister Dillon."

"So we're even?"

"Yessir, we're even. Now whatta you say we git back t' work? I'll go set up the tin cans over yonder."

"I'm ready when you are, Chester."

tbc

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