Dark Reflection
Chapter 42
"Light"
by Lilyjack
ljljljljlj
"Oh! I'm so sorry, Matt!" Kitty exclaimed as she whirled to face him, squinting against the noonday sun despite the wide-brimmed hat she wore pulled low over her hair. "Did I hurt you?"
Seconds earlier, Matt had come up behind Kitty unexpectedly, wrapping his arms around her. Her skin prickling in fear, she'd instinctively slammed back with her fist, striking him squarely in the face. He'd staggered backwards, plainly seeing stars.
She sheepishly stammered, "I… I don't know what came over me—you just… Well, you startled me is all. Oh…let me see where I hit you. Matt, your lip is bleeding!"
"I'm okay, Kitty," he insisted, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he carefully worked his jaw back and forth. "Nothin' broken."
"Oh, Matt, I'm really so sorry." She reached to gingerly swipe the small spot of blood from his lip with her thumb. "You should've told me you were gonna do that."
He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I know, I know. I shoulda warned you." Matt gave her a lopsided smile beneath his dark, flat-brimmed slouch hat. "I just wanted to help ya' aim correctly, but…I shoulda known better." His face clouded over as he contemplated the reason for her reaction, "I shouldn't have touched you unexpectedly, Kitty. Not after what you've been through lately."
"If you'd just given me a little warning-you took me completely by surprise. Does it still hurt?" She anxiously bit her lower lip.
"Nah… But you sure do pack a wallop, Kitty." His one perfect blue eye twinkled to let her know she was forgiven. "But I think I'll be okay. Do you wanna try shooting a different gun for a while? See if you like it better?"
She looked unsure, engaging the small safety lever on the bottom of the Colt revolver, just like Matt had shown her. "What kind?" She poked the pistol inside the waistband of her baggy men's trousers.
"Well, just like your fist, Miss Russell, this gun packs a wallop…" His eyes twinkled mischievously. ,
Kitty pursed her lips at him crookedly and placed her hands on her hips, shooting him a look.
Matt grinned at her. "… and it's a little easier to aim, especially at short distances. The pellets scatter wider. You're sure to stop…anyone in their tracks who tries t' come after you."
"That sounds like it's just what I need," she grimly observed, watching Matt retrieve a short-barreled shotgun from his supplies he'd piled a few paces away.
He held it out to her. "Have you ever used one of these before? It's shorter than…a lot of shotguns so it'll be easier to handle. It's sawed off for stagecoach messengers—they use 'em to defend the treasure box from road agents."
"No, I haven't used one before, but I think I like it already," she observed, hefting its substantial weight and admiring the beautiful wood stock and metalwork. She cast her eyes up apologetically toward him and extended an olive branch. "Will you show me how to hold it?"
"Sure," Matt brightened. "I'll demonstrate first. Then you can try. We'll start out with loading…buckshot cartridges." He pulled the top lever and hinged the gun open. "This is the business end of the cartridge. Load it pointing that way."
Kitty came closer to watch what he was doing. "Two at once?"
"Yep. Double-barreled so you're twice as apt to hit what you're aiming for. Just close it and place the butt snugly against your shoulder, your cheek against the stock. Look at your target and…"
Kitty cautiously stepped back.
Matt unloaded two rounds of buckshot on their target, a teetering tin can tower stacked on a log. With two mighty blasts, one after another, cans flew in all directions and puffs of gray smoke wafted through the air. He checked for her reaction. "Whatta' you think? It's got some recoil…but I believe you're tough enough to handle it."
"You're apparently getting better at hitting your target with one eye, Cowboy." Kitty's arms were crossed atop her oversized man's shirt, borrowed from Deke just like her trousers, duster, bandanna and hat were. Her gaze was determined. "And I'd sure like to try out that stagecoach gun myself."
Matt thought she looked as if she were imagining who she'd like to try the shotgun out on. "Okay, let's load this thunderstick again. You do it this time."
ljljljljlj
Matt stretched out his arms and flexed his hands and fingers. "Kitty, you wanna…take a break? My belly's startin' to rub a blister on my backbone."
"Did you say you were hungry?" She turned toward him, pulling the cotton wool wadding from her ears that Doc had insisted she wear while target shooting.
He'd given her a dire warning, "You won't be able to hear a dad-blasted thing except ringin' in your ears for days if you don't." She was glad she'd listened to him. The noise was deafening enough with her ears plugged. Doc had made her promise to make Matt wear it as well. Matt had already suffered damage to one ear due to the beating he'd taken. Doc was afraid he'd lose his hearing in that ear entirely.
Matt answered, sticking his cotton wadding in his pocket, "Yep, and I'm sure you'd like to rest. You've been at it awhile. You're gettin' pretty good…with that shotgun, Kitty. I wouldn't wanna go up against ya'."
She beamed at him. "I have a good teacher."
He smiled back, his gaze appreciative, both of her praise and at how beautiful she looked out here in the fresh air and sunshine. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes shone brightly. Little wisps of hair were starting to escape from her braid, and they were peeking from beneath the edge of her hat. Matt always thought she looked pretty no matter what she was wearing-Kitty Russell was a natural beauty in his eyes.
She suggested, "Come on, let's sit in the shade. It's pretty hot out here. I bet I've got enough freckles popping out that I'll never be able to cover 'em up even with paint." She untied her bandanna and used it to wipe her perspiring face.
Matt began throwing saddlebags over his shoulder. "You don't need to cover those up, Kitty. I like 'em."
"Oh, Matt," she drawled. "You're just sayin' that. I bet you wouldn't like 'em if they were yours."
She raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled and enjoyed himself so much. It felt good. They ambled companionably toward the nearby copse of cottonwood trees where their horses were tied, serenely munching on grass.
"Well, I guess we need t' wash up first." Kitty was eyeing askance her filthy hands, stained dark with lead and black powder.
"I got soap," Matt revealed. "Let's walk over to the creek. You know, we'll have to clean the guns, too, before we leave. Black powder will…corrode the metal and it gums up the mechanisms. I always use…whale oil to keep them operating smoothly."
"You'll teach me how?" she asked as she crouched by the stream, accepting the small cake of strong lye soap he offered.
"Sure,I will," Matt answered earnestly, glancing over at Kitty as he bent down on one knee beside her, splashing his hands in the cool water. "If you use a gun, you hafta keep it…in good working order, or else it isn't much use." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Kitty, have you ever had a Derringer?"
"No…"
"It's tiny and you could keep it with you at all times. What about a knife?"
She shook her head, held out the bubbly bar of soap and placed it in his big hand, dripping with spring water. Their slippery skin touched for an instant, and her stomach fluttered at the contact.
Matt's tone, his expression, were solemn. "Kitty, I really want you…to be able to defend yourself. A Barlow knife or even a stiletto switchblade…might come in handy, don't you think?"
"I guess…" she answered hesitantly. "Listen, Matt, I'm hell with a beer tap mallet or a broken bottle. I'm pretty good at throwin' things, too, and I might scratch your eyes out in a fight. But I've never owned my own weapons. The barkeep keeps a gun behind the bar. Like I said earlier, I'd be able to shoot it if I had to, but I don't know how good I'd've done…until today." She rinsed her hands and smiled at him gratefully. "Come on, I'm starved," Matt announced. "Let's see what Charlie packed for lunch. I hope some of Ma's cookin' is in those saddlebags."
ljljljljlj
Kitty brushed biscuit crumbs from her trouser legs and laid a hand on her full stomach, sighing contentedly. "I wanna thank you, Matt, for bringin' me out here with you today. I was about to go crazy down in that dark cellar." She had been reveling in the warm sunshine, the endless azure blue sky and miles of wide-open prairie all day long.
"I know it's been hard on you." Matt sprawled lazily on the ground, leaning back against a fallen log in the dappled shade of an ancient black willow, eating a crisp red apple. His hat lay abandoned atop the saddlebags, and dark, shiny curls fell loosely over his forehead. "I'm glad I was able to get you out of the house. This place is miles from town and always…pretty deserted, except for a few jackrabbits, of course, so I figured we'd be safe."
Kitty declared, "We'll shoot anybody who bothers us."
"That's the spirit," Matt grinned as he chewed.
Kitty removed her wide-brimmed hat, similar to Matt's. It had an open crown so it would sit low and hide her bright copper hair beneath it. Baggy clothing helped to disguise her identity when she and Matt had borrowed horses from Moss Grimmick, riding out of town under cover of darkness in the early morning hours.
Kitty settled back against the log next to Matt, breathing in the heady scent of grass and wildflowers and fresh air. The ever-present prairie wind ruffled her hair and cooled her skin while she closed her eyes to listen to a meadowlark's lilting, intricate melody. For the first time in a very long while, she was capable of contemplating something other than her problems.
She opened her eyes again to drink in her intoxicating surroundings. Fragrant red-flowered bee balm, abuzz with honeybees and hummingbirds, grew nearby in a patch of light along with purple milkweed flowers, brilliant orange and black monarchs fluttering atop. Pretty little song sparrows flitted in and out of soft sagebrush in search of seeds and insects while the tall prairie grass swayed in the sunshine. The colors, the sounds, the earthy smells, the feeling of the wind on her face and the warmth of the day on her skin-it was all a feast for her starved senses.
Kitty inhaled deeply and contentedly looked at Matt. It was the happiest Matt had seen Kitty since he'd arrived in town weeks ago. He breathed easier as he watched her relax and slowly unwind.
At last she broke the silence. "Are ya' gonna hafta wear that eyepatch forever, Matt?"
He shrugged. "I wish I knew for sure, but I think the answer is no. My vision seems…to be clearing in that eye. It's been pretty slow going, but I've seen progress." He glanced over at her. He knew she didn't like the patch. That it reminded her of unpleasant memories. Of someone she hated.
"Let me see what you look like. Underneath, I mean," she insisted.
He let her reach out and gently raise the black patch. Her smooth, cool fingers felt good on his skin.
"Hmm. You know, Matt, I think you might be a pretty handsome fella if you didn't have that thing on."
"You think so?" Straight, white teeth shone in a wide grin.
"Maybe." She tried to sound noncommittal but wasn't very convincing as she reluctantly placed the patch back on his eye. "So…uh, you've never told me what your business is here in Dodge. I mean, I'd never seen you around before, and I generally see most men come in the Long Branch at one time or another. Where'd you hail from?"
Matt placed a redolent blade of fragrant grass between his teeth, giving himself time to think. "Well, I rode in from Hays City."
"Hays City, huh?" She stretched luxuriously, then lay on her side on the grass, resting her head on an elbow. "So…I know you can fight and shoot with the best of 'em." She cut her eyes up at him, searching his face. "You an outlaw? Is that why you're hidin' out with me in the cellar? You don't quite seem to me to be the outlaw type though…" She left her comment hanging, waiting.
"Naw, I'm no outlaw, Kitty." Matt couldn't lie to her. But he couldn't exactly tell his story truthfully either. He himself couldn't wrap his head around the bizarre facts, so he couldn't rightfully expect anyone else to.
"Bounty hunter?" she hazarded.
"Nope."
"I didn't think so. You're too honest." She gazed at him forthrightly. "So that leaves one last guess."
He offered, "In the past, I've worked a lotta different occupations—ranch hand, deputy…"
"Aha, I knew it." She looked smug.
"What?" he responded innocently.
"You're a lawman." She smacked her hand on her thigh. "I knew you were too good to be an unsavory character like an outlaw."
"You've never met an unsavory lawman?" he hedged.
"Lots of 'em. But you're different, Matt. I can tell you're…" She sat contemplating for a moment, then finished, "…honorable."
He slowly admitted, "Well, Kitty, I have worked in law enforcement…in the past."
"Yeah?"
"Let's just say I'm between jobs."
She hurriedly jumped in, "Well, let me be the first to offer you a job—we're severely lacking in proper law enforcement in Dodge City, in case you haven't noticed."
"Oh, I've noticed." Matt's expression darkened.
Kitty reclined quietly, ruminating as her fingers caressed the lush, green moss growing beside her. Finally, she asked hesitantly, "So, you've got no kinfolk in another town?" She was remembering what he'd told her about being an orphan, just like Kitty.
"Nope."
His answer was simple and straightforward, and despite her previous experience with men to the contrary, she trusted this man. She remarked casually, "Just wonderin' if somebody back home was missin' ya'."
"I've got no strings tying me down, Kitty."
"Oh…no strings?" She pushed some windblown curls away from her face and gazed at him. "I don't guess you're the type for strings either."
"I never have been…" he murmured. "…before."
That response lay weighty and glowing like a small candle between the two of them as they each considered the meaning it held. Neither dared speak anything aloud. The rhythmic buzz of insects added a hypnotic layer of sound to their secluded hideaway as Matt finally moved to take a drink from his canteen and then offered it to Kitty.
Changing the subject, she observed, "It's gettin' pretty hot. Not that I'm complainin', mind you. I'd much rather be hot out here than holed up underground."
"True," Matt smiled at her as she took a swig and wiped the rim with her sleeve, passing it back.
Their pre-dawn departure time was fast catching up with Kitty. She yawned again and lay her head down on her arm, surrendering to the warmth of the day enveloping her. Matt watched her eyes flutter closed as she was lulled to sleep by a full belly, trusted companionship, and the rhythmic, bittersweet call of a distant mourning dove.
ljljljljlj
Matt jerked to wakefulness. He must have fallen asleep propped up against the dead tree. He quickly looked around him and felt for his gun at his hip. No one in sight. Not even Kitty. His heart pounding, he sprang to his feet and began searching.
It didn't take long to locate her. He heard her first. The sound was alarming, so he approached stealthily, parting the bushes to get a good view of the creek bank. Kitty kneeled there, her face in her hands. She was crying like her heart was broken. Her baggy, long-sleeved shirt lay abandoned beside her. Kitty's arms dripped with water where she'd been cooling herself in the creek.
Matt steeled himself when he caught sight of Kitty's faded bruises disappearing beneath the borders of her white cotton chemise. His heart ached with the sight and the sound of her misery. It also made him burn with fury for what had been done to her.
This wasn't the first time he'd seen her like this. A couple of times, Matt had been woken in the cellar by muffled sobs in the darkness of night. When he'd called out to her, she'd simply brushed him off. "Nothing's the matter. I'm alright now. Go back to sleep…"
That bastard Blackthorne needed to pay for what he'd done to Kitty.
Suddenly a shotgun pointed at Matt from behind, and a gravelly voice murmured intently, "Don't move, young feller. Put your hands up where I can see them."
tbc
ljljljljlj
