Dark Reflection

Chapter 37

"Misconceptions"

by Lilyjack

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Kitty's fingertips fumbled with the dainty cloth-covered buttons, her nerves on edge. The boys were heading out soon to meet Silas Blackthorne's men head-on in an attempt to protect Dodge House owner Mr. Dobie from further harm. Sighing, she finally smoothed the soft calico beneath her hands, wishing she had a corset, but thankful that at least Ma had washed her shift and petticoat, too. Kitty's voice rang out from her side of the curtain, "You can look now…" She rounded the edge, hands behind her back struggling to tie the yellow sash. "…I'm decent." She gave him a charming, lopsided smirk belying the apprehensive lump in her throat.

"Say…" Matt exclaimed, abandoning his holster and a sizeable box of bullets on the bed. Seeing Kitty daily in a voluminous nightdress at least two sizes too big had become commonplace; Matt had apparently forgotten how devastatingly beautiful she could be when she put on a nice dress, cut to fit her in all the right places. He could tell that she'd regained a few well-needed pounds, thanks to Ma's good cooking. The telltale dark circles were also fading from beneath her eyes. Since being relegated to hiding out in a confined space with very little to do, she was getting plenty of rest and time to recover from her harrowing ordeal. He adjusted his injured arm in the uncomfortable sling he'd promised Kitty he'd wear while he was here and inquired curiously, "Where'd that come from?"

"Chester found it in my chifforobe and Ma washed and ironed it for me," she explained, a pleased smile adorning her freshly scrubbed face. "I can't tell you how wonderful it feels to get outta that nightgown."

"Well, Kitty, you sure do look…awful pretty," Matt grinned, his rather rakish one-eyed gaze drinking her in. "Can I give ya' a hand there?" he asked, indicating she should turn around and let him tie her sash.

"Well…" she replied, taken by surprise. She hadn't encountered too many men in her life who'd be capable of aiding a lady in her daily toilette, but then the sort of man she was accustomed to was generally a little rough around the edges. "Okay," she relented, turning her back to him and pulling her long hair aside. "But be careful and don't move that arm around much. Doc would have both our hides if you hurt it."

He snorted, then held a hand to his ribs. "Don't make me laugh, young lady. But I think I can manage, even in a sling."

She craned her neck to check his progress. She hadn't met too many men adept at tying a pretty bow either. None actually. She archly inquired, "Have you done this before?

"Who me?" replied Matt, who'd tied his own Kitty's fancy sashes on more than one occasion. Matt was wishing he could tie his girl's sash just one more time. He skillfully dodged a truthful answer by turning his companion's question back on her. He responded innocently, "Why?"

"You act like you've had practice," she attested knowingly.

Chuckling very quietly to himself, he finished the knot, evened up the sides and plumped the bow. A single auburn brow crept up slowly as she observed his technique.

"There," he announced at last.

She turned around to face him, placing her hands on her hips. "I think there must be a lot I don't know about you."

He winked. "I'm a man of mystery."

"Oh, Matt." She pursed her lips, but her eyes betrayed her amusement. She was thinking what a good husband he'd make for a nice, respectable rancher's daughter someday. Suddenly, Kitty suffered a pang of- what? Jealousy? Honestly, she had no right to feel that way. "I hope you can handle a gun as well as a sash," she quipped. Then she bit her lip thoughtfully, her brow furrowing. Kitty fretted, "Matt, do you think you've practiced shooting enough? What if…"

He interrupted, quickly changing the subject, "You know, I believe you've…even got roses back in your cheeks." His mischievous blue eye twinkled at her.

"Matt Dillon..." she gently scolded, her hands slipping up to touch her face. She was surprised to find her cheeks were actually warming. "You're a tease." She fully realized he was trying to distract her, but she also detected a playful tone in his voice. Yeah, he was plenty distracting alright. Funny thing, she also wasn't accustomed to becoming flustered at flattery from a man. She regularly received lavish compliments from her Long Branch patrons, but those men overall had questionable motives. Kitty couldn't quite figure Dillon out. He hadn't propositioned her once. Or laid a hand on her for that matter.

"I wouldn't tease you," he answered, suddenly quiet, staring past her shoulder, gaze unfocused. His face seemed a little melancholy. "Not about somethin' as important as…" Matt took a breath and dove right in, headlong into new territory for him—telling a woman how he felt. He murmured, "…as important as how lovely you are."

Kitty's mouth fell open before she caught herself. She replied with the only thing she knew to say, "Thank you, Matt." Quickly she reached for her hairbrush, looking for anything to divert her eyes from his earnest gaze. She detected the tread of feet upstairs in the kitchen, probably Charlie cleaning up supper dishes, plus a shuffling step, perhaps Mr. Botkin up and about? She unfastened the bandanna tying her hair back and shook loose her tangled curls, observing, "Funny, I used to not walk out of my room without painting my face and putting on a fancy dress. I've spent the past weeks wallowing in a nightgown with nary a glance in the mirror."

He narrowed his gaze thoughtfully. "Well, Kitty, you had good reason. You've been mighty sick."

"I know, and I keep thinkin' how lucky I am to…" Her eyes held a faraway look and her voice became softly contemplative. "…how lucky I am to be alive." Her gaze refocused on Matt for an instant, and then she cast her eyes back down at her work. Maddeningly, small tremors struck her hands. Would they never cease plaguing her?

"Can I…" he ventured quietly. "Can I help?"

"Help?" She swallowed. "You, uh, you've had a lotta practice with this kinda thing, too, cowboy?"

He took the brush from her hand without waiting for her consent and motioned for her to sit with her back to him on her bed. "I might be a little rusty," he murmured over her shoulder, his warm breath brushing her ear.

She shivered infinitesimally at the sensation. "Why don't you let me be the judge a' that?"

He added, "Not to mention the fact that I've got only one good arm and one good eye."

"I don't mind," she replied quietly.

"I've gotta take this sling off though, Kitty."

"But…"

"I promise, I'll take it easy."

"Okay…" Her tone was doubtful.

Kitty felt him take a small section of hair and started carefully working out the tangles beginning at the bottom. He really had done this before, she quickly surmised. But she didn't dare utter a syllable to distract him as he worked his magic.

She felt the brush rake through her hair…once…twice…again…and reveled in this purely sensuous pleasure. Her eyes drifted shut, and she felt rather than saw the gooseflesh rising on her arms, her shoulders, her neck.

"You know, I bet your hair is even prettier out in the sunlight, all lit up like a prairie fire," he murmured, quickly adding, "I'm just guessin', of course."

She was unable to utter a syllable-she felt her muscles relaxing, indulging in the rhythmic stroke of the bristles against her scalp, Matt's big, gentle fingers winding sinuously through her hair. A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine.

"You cold?"

"Nuh-uh…"

"Kitty?"

"Mmm?" she murmured, then quickly amended, "Yes?"

"Hand me that ribbon there." Matt was reliving bittersweet memories, wishing he'd spent a few more evenings in the past brushing his own Kitty's hair, sensing her body melting with contentment, then tying up all those soft, fiery tresses with bright ribbons. Or was this his Kitty, just…in another time and another place? The utterly bizarre speculation made his head hurt.

"Alright…" She languorously passed the ribbon to him, unconsciously releasing a small, blissful sigh.

She felt his large but surprisingly dexterous hands working at tying it neatly around her hair. This man was definitely unusual—pretty damn one-of-a-kind, she reckoned with absolute certainty. She wondered once again what his business was in Dodge. She didn't yet feel comfortable asking, sensing he wasn't the type to willingly reveal his thoughts.

"All finished." He hefted the heavy curls one last time, enjoying their scent and their silky feel within his sensitive palms.

Still facing away from him, she murmured, "Thank you, Matt."

He smiled wryly. "My pleasure, Miss Russell." Then he sighed, "It's almost time for me to leave."

"Matt…" She turned suddenly, her tone serious. "Are you sure it's such a good idea, you and Chester and Deke goin' to the Dodge House tonight?" Her brows beetled worriedly. "So much could go wrong."

"We'll be careful, Kitty. But if we don't do somethin', you might end up…stuck in this dungeon forever. You don't want that, do you?" He smiled teasingly.

His tone was light, and she turned around to look at his twinkling blue gaze. "Oh, Matt… I'm being serious. I… I just don't want you to get hurt is all."

He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "What about Chester?"

Puzzled at his question, she replied, "I don't want any of you to get hurt, Matt. And Chester's my friend."

"Chester is your friend?" He sounded curious.

"Well, yes, he's my friend." What on earth was he getting at?

"Is he…?" Matt tried to bite his tongue but couldn't help asking, "Is he more than just a friend?"

Astonishment was evident in her features. "Why on earth would you care, Matt Dillon, whether Chester was my dearest friend or my beau?"

His voice was quiet, cautious. "Maybe I care a lot."

Kitty just sat silently, digesting his statement. Matt could have any damn girl in Dodge that he desired, but was he tryin' to sweet talk her right now?

"Kitty, I…"

She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "What?" she asked.

"I saw you kiss Chester today. When you were sittin' in the stairwell." He tried to keep his tone neutral, his face expressionless.

"Kiss Chester? Why, Matt I…"

"Mister Dillon, we're ready if you are," Chester called out as he and Deke entered the room.

Deke tipped his hat. "Miss Kitty…"

Kitty attempted to hide her agitation. "Evenin', Deke…Chester."

Matt avoided her gaze. He replied, "I'm ready, Chester." He rose and strode to his side of the room, strapping on his holster freshly stocked with ammunition, clutching his dark hat and duster under an arm. Deke and even Chester were dressed similarly, since Kitty had convinced Chester than his clever disguise needed to be a little less conspicuous this time.

Kitty murmured, "You boys be careful now." She wanted to say more but was unable to. She didn't want to make a jackass of herself and start crying.

Deke tipped his hat again, his sun-kissed face solemn. "Yes, ma'am. You sit tight right here, and we'll be back in no time a'tall. Don't you worry none. We got us a bone to pick with the bastards—beggin' yer pardon, Miss Kitty—what's been causin' you and so many other folks in Dodge an awful lotta grief. We aim t' take care of it."

Kitty bit her lip and clasped Deke's hand tightly. Then she hugged Chester tight, whispering in his ear. Chester mutely nodded, his mouth twisting down at the corners at the emotions stirring within him.

Then she turned to face Matt. "I do want you to be careful, Matt Dillon. You hear me?"

He swallowed hard. "Sure, Kitty. I'll be careful."

She hastily tiptoed and slipped her arms around his neck. After a moment of indecision, he leaned over and hugged her to him tightly. She felt so good—he'd nearly forgotten what her body felt like pressed against his. She squeezed him hard and then let go, stepping back. Her hair was tied up in the yellow ribbon, falling long and curling over one shoulder of that pretty yellow dress. Matt briefly thought if that was the last memory he recalled before dying tonight, well…then…

Kitty interrupted his thoughts. "See you later, Matt?"

"See you later, Kitty."

tbc

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