Chapter 1

It was dark, totally dark with no flicker of light anywhere. He tried to lift his arm to wipe across his eyes, but something was preventing him from moving. He could hear sounds but they made no sense, just jumbled mumblings coming from far away. The only sense he was clearly aware of was pain. It was as if someone had plunged a hot branding iron into his shoulder and was holding it there. He wanted to push it away, but couldn't. Then he sensed something touching his face, something cool and soft. He needed to see what was going on.

"Matt? Matt? Can you hear me? It's Kitty."

Kitty? Why was Kitty talking to him? He tried to turn his head towards the sound. Now that he'd managed to open his eyes the darkness was replaced by a piercing light exploding inside his head. With effort he managed to make out vague images but they were blurred and at odd angles so they made his stomach uneasy and he clamped his eyelids down again to shut out the disturbing patterns. His body wanted to escape back into the comfort of the darkness once more, but then just as reality began to fade, the same voice and touch pulled him back.

It had to be Kitty. He knew that voice so well. He forced himself to open his eyes and fortunately this time the effects were not so disturbing. By concentrating hard he managed to focus his vision enough that he was able to recognize her face. A weak smile formed on his lips.

"Kitty?" His voice was faint and it took a lot of effort to utter the sounds.

"Easy Matt. Try to lie still. You've been hurt."

He turned his head towards her and she could see the pain and confusion in his eyes.

"Easy," she repeated. Beads of sweat were forming on his face and Kitty gently dabbed at them with a cool cloth. She tried to prevent them from coalescing into miniature rivers that flowed onto the pillow beneath his head. "You just lie still. Chester's gone to get Doc. He'll be here soon."

Unfortunately she knew that wasn't quite the way it was going to be. Adams had taken off on a fishing trip with an old friend. Since Matt was going to be gone for at least two weeks he thought it would be a good opportunity to leave town and enjoy himself.

Kitty had been happy for him to go. Doc hardly ever took time away from Dodge where he was on call 24 hours a day. If his skills were needed, as they often were, he would work around the clock. He could have complained, but hardly ever did because, although he wouldn't admit it, he was as devoted to his profession as Matt was to his badge. The part about Chester going to get Doc was true, but the jailer only had a vague idea as to the physician's whereabouts. He could be as far away as a two-day ride or even more from here.

Matt was trying to sit up. She gently pushed him back down, being careful not to touch his wound.

"Please don't move around Matt. There's a bullet in your shoulder and you'll only make it worse. We have to wait for Doc to get here and remove it."

She reached over to rinse the cloth she'd been using in cool water contained in a small bowl on the floor next to the bed. She gently dabbed at his face again.

"How did I get here?" He had many questions, but no strength to ask them all. Where was "here?" and how come Kitty was "here?" He tried to think but it just made his head hurt worse and the words lost their meaning.

"Chester and I brought you here, and now he's gone to find Doc. I'm staying with you till he gets back."

She'd spoken softly and with a lot of patience, almost as you would to a child, hoping his fevered brain would understand. There was silence for a while. Matt had closed his eyes and Kitty took his hand in hers, trying to encourage him.

"Hang on Matt, it's gonna be alright. Doc'll be here soon. Once he gets that bullet out you'll feel better."

He hardly heard her. He could feel the fires of fever pulling at his mind. Images and words became blurred.

Kitty sat watching over the marshal for several more hours, holding his hand or wiping beads of sweat from his face. After a while she pulled back the cover to inspect the growing bloodstain on the bandage they had hastily applied earlier. It would need to be changed soon. Doc always emphasized to her how important it was to keep any wound clean in order to prevent infection from taking hold.

She felt very alone. They were only about a three-hour ride from Dodge but right now she felt so isolated that the town could well have been a 100 miles away. There was no one here to share the decisions she would have to make. It was up to her to take care of the man she loved and keep him alive until Doc got here.

()()()

The day after Matt had left town, sweet Chester with all his social clumsiness decided to cheer her up by asking her to go fishing. For some reason she couldn't remember, she agreed to go along. She'd ridden her roan mare rather than have Chester borrow a buggy from Moss. She figured that the animal would enjoy getting away from Dodge for a few hours as much as she would.

It was Chester who had first noticed the solitary horse way off in the distance. It was saddled and wandering around loose. As they got closer he recognized the buckskin at the same instant as she did. Immediately a thick knot rose from her stomach to her chest and her heart began to beat faster.

"You stay here Miss Kitty," Chester had yelled as he jumped from his horse. "Mr. Dillon!" he called out several times, but of course there was no answer.

"We'll find him," he assured her. "He can't be far away." His words sounded optimistic but she could tell that his concern was every bit as real as hers. Kitty watched as the jailer retrieved the marshal's buckskin and led him back to where the two horses they'd been riding were patiently standing.

Chester freely admitted that unlike his boss, he was no tracker, but somehow he managed to backtrack the trail left by the marshal's horse. It took them almost an hour to find Dillon. Between them, they carefully hoisted the big man up into the saddle, but it was obvious that he wouldn't be able to stay there long enough to survive the three or more hour ride back to Dodge. Chester remembered a deserted cabin about a mile to the north. It was in pretty bad shape but it was the closest shelter he could think of. That was how they'd finished up here in this shack which had seen far better days.

Matt was stirring again, trying to sit up. His head pounded so much with the movement that it almost overshadowed the burning in his shoulder.

"Gotta find Sam Burton," he was saying over and over - almost like a mantra.

"Matt, please lie still."

She managed to push him back down. Even in his weakened state it wasn't easy to do. She picked up the canteen that Chester had filled with fresh well water before leaving and placed it carefully to his lips. With her other hand she supported his head. "Try to drink a little Matt." He took a swallow or two but was too weak to manage more.

His shoulder was engulfed in a burning fire now and sharp lances of pain shot down his arm at frequent intervals. They seemed to be getting worse.

"Doc here?" he questioned hopefully, trying not to let his face show how much he was hurting.

"Not yet but he will be soon," she encouraged.

"Bullet's still in there. Needs to come out." His words were punctuated by gasping breaths because the pain was made worse by even the slightest of movements caused by speaking. He turned his head to look at her, pleading.

"I know, Matt. Just hang on. He'll be here soon."

She eased his head back to the pillow and he sank once more into the welcoming darkness. She knew from his rising fever that infection was setting in and this would be a good time to check the dressing that she and Chester had applied earlier. It was already wet with fresh blood.

She managed to get a fire burning in the stove using firewood that a previous visitor had left in a small basket on the porch. That same occupant had also left behind a single pan and an old coffee pot. She filled the pan from the bucket of well water and placed it on the stove. Chester's fishing box had very little in it that would be of much use as surgical instruments - several hooks and cork bobbers, a knife and a rusty pair of pincers. A search through Matt's saddlebags had been equally unrewarding. A flask of cheap whisky, some dried beans, a bag of coffee and a dented tin mug were all that she'd found there.

Kitty decided to clean the pincers and the knife - just in case. She would also need to sterilize them in the boiling water, just as Doc always did, if she had to use them. She sincerely hoped that the need wouldn't arise. She'd never removed a bullet, but she had watched the physician on several occasions. If he didn't show up soon it just might be up to her to save the life of this United States Marshal. She didn't like the idea but if that's what was needed Kitty Russell would cope, one way or another.

Turning back to the bed where the marshal lay she stood watching him. He seemed to be asleep or maybe had passed out again. It would be a good time to clean that wound. When they found him they'd done little more than apply pressure with a strip of her petticoat held tightly in place by a moderately clean bandana from Chester's pocket. She could at least improve on that.

His shoulder was fiery red and still oozing blood from the small hole the bullet made. She'd learnt from Doc that bleeding often persisted until the bullet could be removed so that much didn't worry her right now. Even though Matt was not fully conscious he moaned as she carefully dabbed away some of the dirt and dried blood from around the injury. She looked carefully but couldn't see or feel the piece of lead that was causing all the problems. She'd hoped it might be just under the skin, then maybe she could remove it quickly and easily - but no such luck came her way.

Having cleaned the area as much as possible she lifted the whisky flask. She didn't want to do this knowing the damaged skin would protest, but she had to do everything possible to prevent gangrene developing before Doc could get here. It had only been six hours since Chester left. It seemed a lot longer but was likely to be several times that before he returned.

"Matt," she called softly, "can you hear me?" He made a small sound, barely audible.

"I'm gonna have to cauterize this wound. Doc will be a little longer and I need to stop it from getting infected."

He didn't say anything.

"I need you to try and hold still for me."

Bracing herself she poured a little liquid from the flask directly onto the damaged flesh. The effect was instantaneous. His back arched with a sharp intake of breath and a cry escaped from his lips. Once the process was started she knew she had to continue. Doing half the job was worse than nothing.

"I'm sorry Matt, just a little more." She took the small piece of clean petticoat she had prepared for the purpose and soaked it in the whisky, then as gently as she could she cleaned the area around the wound in his shoulder.

He caught his breath as the already ravaged skin exploded at the touch of the alcohol. He heard her say something, but the pounding of blood in his ears drowned out the sound. Kitty felt every pain she saw in his face. She hated what she doing, but knew it was the only way.

Finally the terrible task was finished, but she was haunted by the thought that in a few hours she would have to check the site again. Somehow she regained her composure and her courage.

"I've finished Matt," she said softly while bathing his face and neck again. "It's all over now so try to rest."

The night was a long one. Chester had found one ancient oil lamp half hidden in a corner at the back of the old shack, but very little coal oil to go with it. There were a few candles too, but she knew that once she started burning those they wouldn't last long. A small glow from the stove in the corner would continue to keep her company as long as she stayed awake to stoke it, but since she had to watch over Matt anyway, that wouldn't be a problem.

She sat anxiously by his side as his fever kept climbing. From time to time he moaned and tried to get up off the bed until the spasms of agony the movement brought, forced him to sink back down again. There were brief moments when he would be lucid and ask her questions about how they got here, when was Doc coming and once or twice he repeated that someone was going to have to remove that bullet soon. Of course she already knew that. She just hoped the task wouldn't fall on her, especially when she considered the limited selection of instruments available and and her own lack of knowledge.

The night seemed to go on forever. After what seemed like an eternity, the first faint streaks of daylight came over the horizon and for a while Matt was lying still and quiet. She went to stand on the front porch searching the landscape with her eyes, hoping to see some glimpse of Chester and Doc returning, but there was no sign of them.

The air always seemed unusually cold in the early hours before dawn and Kitty felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn't just the temperature. She knew that much. It was the fear of what she might have to do. Not that Kitty Russell ever backed down from anything, but this was different. She was only too well aware of what had to be done and if Doc didn't get here soon Kitty Russell knew that she would have to do it. Not only was it going to be the most distressing and difficult thing she had ever attempted - she could handle that, it was the intense pain it would cause to the man she loved. And then supposing she couldn't find the bullet and get it out he would go through all that for nothing. Worse still she could cause more damage than had already been done and maybe make the bleeding worse. She looked up at the sky - not because she believed that any supernatural being was going to come to her aid, but because she needed to give herself a few moments to settle her thoughts before retuning to the bedside.

His fever seemed to have stabilized now, not getting any worse, but not getting better either. He had a few lucid intervals and she would talk quietly to him while they lasted. She finished up telling him how Doc had taken off to go fishing and Chester had gone to find him, but it might be another day or even two before they got back.

There wasn't much in the way of food, but she could make coffee. Maybe she could get Matt to drink a little. Having a task that was relatively easy to accomplish made her feel better. She used some of the hot water from the pan to make a pot of coffee, then half filled the tin mug and took it to him.

"Come on Matt, it's fresh made and I want you to drink a little."

Carefully so as not to jar his shoulder, she eased his head off the pillow and placed the cup to his lips. He took a mouthful or two before he lay back. A small smile came to his face.

"Better than Chester's," he managed to comment before closing his eyes again. She smiled. He always did have a sense of humor, but most times kept it well hidden.

"I'm going to get another bucket of water from the well, Matt. You just lie still while I'm gone."

She wasn't sure whether he heard her or whether he'd passed out again. Staying busy helped keep her mind off of what she might have to do later. The well water was cold. Maybe if she bathed him with it, it would help bring down the fever.

Having doused the cloth in the cool water, she wrung it out and bathed his face and neck once more. Pulling the blanket back she started on his chest, being careful to stay away from the inflamed shoulder. He shuddered as the cold cloth touched his heated skin.

"Kitty," he murmured.
"Yes, Matt, I'm here.
"How long?"
"We've been here a day and a half."

There was a pause while he slowly considered what she'd told him.

"No sign of Doc?"
"Not yet."
"If he doesn't come soon..."

"I know, Matt, we'll handle it." She figured one more day would be all she could wait. She'd checked his wound and it was redder and oozing more than it had been the day before. When she changed the dressing she knew that time was running out. If Doc and Chester didn't show up soon ... it would be up to her. She dreaded that thought, but wouldn't shirk the responsibility if that's what it came to.

The afternoon wore on slowly. Matt's lucid intervals seemed further apart now and she thought his fever was edging upwards. That evening she cleaned his shoulder again. Fortunately he was barely conscious and slept through most of it. He groaned and struggled as she dabbed a little of the whisky on the damaged skin. She tried to shut her mind to it. "Just do what you have to do," she repeatedly told herself. It's what Matt would say if he were able.

For Dillon, time had little meaning anymore. He was trapped in a dark world dominated by pain and confusion. Most of the time his mind wouldn't work clearly. He tried to think, to figure out what had happened. Sometimes Kitty was there. She talked to him but he wasn't sure if she was real. One thing that was real was the intense burning that continuously engulfed his shoulder. Every movement sent waves of pain down his arm. He could only escape from it by going down deeper into the darkness.

For Kitty the darkness of the night was endless too. There wasn't much stove wood left now, so she had let the fire die down to just a few embers. She would need to save what little wood that was left until tomorrow. Without the warm glow coming from the corner where the stove stood, the drafty, creaking cabin seemed cold and lonely.

The afternoon had passed slowly but the night was even worse. Kitty could only watch as Matt's condition deteriorated. His fever was definitely worse and from time to time he would thrash around as if trying to escape from something. Of course when he started doing that, the movement would cause his pain to worsen and he would pass out again. She made two more trips to the well to draw the cool water to sponge him with. It no longer seemed to help much, but it did give her something to do. When she was outside she could see an almost full moon high in the sky and it's yellowish light cast a ghostly glow over the old cabin. She hoped that somewhere Doc and Chester were looking up at the same moon and heading her way.

Eventually she fell asleep by the bed sitting in an old rickety chair with her head propped on her folded arms. When she opened her eyes it was morning. She was scared at first because she hadn't been woken by Matt's restlessness, but then realized how long she'd been without sleep. She watched carefully and could see his chest rising and falling with an irregular gasping rhythm. Kitty knew that today she had to do something or else... she didn't allow herself to consider the alternative.

There was a little coffee left, so after checking on Matt she stoked the stove with the few sticks of wood remaining in the basket. She would have to get the heat going to boil water. She'd already cleaned the pincers and the old knife as best she could, but would still need to boil them. That's what Doc would do. She poured some of the hot water into the coffee pot, then dropped the knife and pincers into the remaining water to boil. It was up to her now. She wouldn't let him down.

Matt was becoming very restless. She tried to get him to sip a little of the well water, but settled for just wetting his lips with the cloth. She knew it was now or never. No more excuses. Kitty went outside one last time to scan the horizon for any sign of the people she was waiting for, but, except for the persistent prairie breeze, nothing disturbed the few bushes and clumps of brown grass that surrounded the cabin and the slight rise beyond.

Kitty was not a woman who believed much in prayer, but she took a moment to raise her eyes to the clear sky. If anyone up there was listening, maybe they would help her do this.

Figuring that her makeshift instruments were as sterile as possible, she arranged them on a small piece of fabric torn from her petticoat and placed them on the chair she'd moved next to the bed. There wasn't much whisky left, but maybe if she could get Matt to drink a little it would help with the pain. He was already hurting but things were going to get worse once she started.

The dark curls of his hair were drenched in sweat as she placed a hand behind his head to lift him up a little.

"Here, Matt, I want you to drink some of this for me."

He groaned but did turn a little towards her. His eyes were glazed over and she knew he was not really conscious. Carefully she brought the whisky flask to his lips and forced a drop into his mouth, hoping he would swallow and not choke. It seemed to work a little, at least the bitterness of the cheap whisky managed to bring focus to his eyes. She smiled at him.

"You should have asked me, Matt. I could've given you something better than this rotgut."

He said something but it was so mumbled she didn't understand.

"Listen to me," she wanted to let him know what was going to happen, "I need you to hold as still as you can. That bullet has to come out and Doc isn't here. I hate to be the one to do this but we have no other option."

Did he understand anything at all? Carefully she began to undo the dressing. Amazingly the wound itself looked fairly clean now although it had never quite stopped bleeding.

She picked up the knife, her fingers trembling as she planned where to make a small incision along side the opening the bullet had made. At first she thought she couldn't do it, but Matt's life was at stake. She couldn't stand idly by and watch him bleed to death or succumb to blood poisoning. She concentrated hard on her fingers, making them quiet and still before lowering the knife towards the injury.

"I'm sorry, Matt," she said under her breath as she felt the blade meet the resistance of his skin.
TBC