Chapter 9

No Chance

A thick row of long black lashes fluttered over a field of brilliant green. As the world came into focus, he found himself staring into a pair of cool blue eyes. They were framed by a mass of bright red curls and a captivating grin.

"Welcome back." Calleigh gingerly brushed the loose hair away from the bandage on his forehead. "How do you feel?"

"I have a bit of a headache." Brontë made an attempt to smile but a painful wince quickly outranked it.

"I don't doubt it. Being shot in the back was bad enough but you managed to smack your head against a rock when you went down." She offered a sympathetic grimace. "Daddy had a heck of a time getting you home." The infectious grin had returned. "Of course Jack was a big help."

"He always is." Brontë chuckled as he relaxed back against the pillow. "I guess we're even now, with you saving my life."

Calleigh settled on the chair next to the bed. "That's very kind but I can never repay you for saving my mother. You will always be a hero to me."

"You're very close with your mother aren't you?"

"Very!" She replied with pride.

"You look very much like her." Brontë was surprised and disappointed that Kitty had not confided in him back then that she had a child. Not that it would have made any difference. He would have gladly taken on the role of husband and father to be with her.

Calleigh contemplated her patient's observation. There was a sadness in his eyes, as though he had lost something precious. The marshal's daughter had a little more insight to the workings of the male mind than Kitty gave her credit for. "If you had known about me, you would have married her anyway, wouldn't you?"

They stared at each other, locked in silence until there was no need for him to respond.

"You come from a very prominent family. I wouldn't think she would have been accepted."

"My mother" Now it was Brontë's turn to speak with pride. "Is a lover of poetry, of romance and her only son. She has always wanted me to be happy and she assured me that Kitty would have been welcomed into the family with open arms."

"I know you are wondering if I was the reason my mother turned down your proposal and I can't let you suffer such a notion. I am not her biological daughter." Calleigh could see the relief collide with confusion in those lush green eyes. "As a matter of fact, I came into her life about a year after you had gone."

Brontë opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again. "I…I don't understand."

Calleigh's compassion took the lead in her tone. "I came to Dodge when I was twelve years old looking for my father. The man I was traveling with took me into the Long Branch where I met Kitty Russell." A shrug of her slender shoulders and tender smile preceded the rest of the story. "I guess you would say I am the daughter of her heart. She has raised me as her own."

"That would be the Kitty Russell I fell in love with." Despite having lost the battle for her heart, his entire face shone with pride when he spoke of the beautiful redhead. Calleigh's confession had left still one question unanswered. "Did you ever find your father?"

A giggle invaded her laughter as she knew her response would surely leave him completely baffled. "I did." Her smile grew wider. "He is the Marshal of Dodge City." Just as she suspected, his expression was one of pure astonishment. In the following moments, the young redhead relayed her short life before coming to Dodge. Including the fact that it was several years before the truth of her birth was revealed to either Matt or Kitty.

"So you are the marshal's daughter."

"And very proud of it. Although I do know how to make him crazy."

This time, Brontë's laugh was deep, similar to the same husky tone of her father. "I'm sure living with two redheads has been a challenge." He hesitated before asking but curiosity got the best of him. "I sense an unspoken order of protection for Marshal Dillon. Not unfriendly, but everyone seems to be curious as to when I'm leaving town."

"Hmmm, I think they see you as a threat. You know, the long lost love come back to reclaim his lady. Festus did say something about running into you at the Long Branch."

"Yes, your husband bought me a beer and then one by one, I was asked, subtly of course, when I would be leaving."

"Festus Haggen – subtle?" Now it was Calleigh's turn to wear the confused scowl.

Brontë amended his earlier statement. "Perhaps he was a little more direct."

The scowl was gone and her infectious laugh quickly pulled him in. "They are good people but devoted to my parents. Please don't take offense.

"None taken but I'm curious that you don't seem to consider me a threat."

Calleigh rose to her feet, her expression one of absolute certainty. "The love that my mother and father share is unlike any you have ever seen. It is doubtful that one could or would want to survive without the other. Nothing on this earth could ever come between them." She paused, a touch of sympathy clinging to her tone. "And to be honest, I think you care too much for my mother to even try."

Brontë drew in a deep breath and shook his head. "No, I would never want to bring trouble into Kitty's life. You are very much like her."

Calleigh's grin was stretched to the limit. "That is the nicest compliment you could have given me." She motioned for him to sit up. "Do you feel strong enough to stand?"

A grunt paired with a moan escaped as he pushed his body up and threw his long legs over the side of the bed. "I believe so. Looks like you did a good job of patching me up."

"Your shoulder should heal in a couple of weeks, just go easy on it." She motioned to the bandage. "That's a pretty good goose egg on your head but it should go down in a few days. I know Jack takes good care of you but for today, don't ride out to the fort. Just hang around the Dodge House and get some rest."

"You're the doctor." Brontë eased down until his smooth black artillery boots hit the floor. I need to thank your father. Is he at the jail?"

"No, he went looking for a friend that he thinks can help him find out who is causing the trouble around here. His name is Tobeel, he belongs to the Arapaho Tribe."

Brontë was too interested in the discussion to acknowledge the pain when he slipped into his jacket. "Matt trusts this man?"

"Oh yeah. They've been friends for years and Tobeel will know if there is going to be a problem with the treaty."

The door of the clinic flew open revealing an obviously frightened redhead. "I heard there was a shooting!" Kitty stepped closer to the surprised couple. "Brontë are you all right?"

A puzzled look passed between the doctor and patient. "He was shot but he's going to be fine. Who told you?"

"For heaven's sake it's all over town. You know how Dodge is." Kitty tossed her reticule on the chair and stepped closer to the wounded man. "I knew Matt was alright because someone saw him ride out of town. Word is he's looking for Tobeel. Are you really okay?"

"I'm fine." Brontë laid a hand on her forearm. "Your daughter is a very good doctor."

"I have an idea." Calleigh held out the soldier's bloody jacket. "He needs to rest and I doubt that he has eaten today." She paused and he reluctantly shook his head. "Momma why don't you escort him back to the Dodge House and have one of the girls deliver some food to our hero here."

Much to Brontë's surprise, there was no hesitation in Kitty's response. "That is an excellent idea. A little nourishment is just what you need." Linking her arm in his, Kitty carefully walked him down the stairs.