The two couples tried to nap as the small, sparsely padded coach jolted and bumped over the countless ruts in the well-traveled road. They had pulled down the side curtains in a fruitless attempt to keep out the swirling dust. Soon, both women's heads were leaning against their men's shoulders, eyes closed.
Only five miles down the road, the coach suddenly began to slew from side to side, and the four passengers were rudely jolted awake. They could hear the screeching of the brake and the yelling of the driver and the shotgun guard, followed by the loud neighing and snorting of the four horses.
Fearing an imminent crash, Matt immediately put his right arm tightly around Kitty's shoulder and held onto the window ledge with his right. Old Mr. Stuart glanced over and followed suite with his frightened wife.
"HOLD ON!" Matt yelled as the coach's swerving increased.
Kitty shut her eyes, clutched Matt tightly, and prayed that the coach wouldn't roll too many times this crash.
After a terrifying, seemingly endless couple of minutes, the stage finally straightened and skidded to a jarring stop. The two couples dared to open their eyes and loosened their grips on each other and on the coach.
"Matt?" Kitty looked up into the handsome face that was now tense and focused on the goings on outside.
"Stay here Kitty. You too Mr. Stuart," he ordered as he pulled his long-barreled six-gun. When he flipped his dress coat open to reach his gun, the silver U.S. Marshal badge gleamed and caught the eye of the old man across from him.
"He's a LAWMAN," Henry whispered into Helen's ear, and they both let out their held breath in relief, fearing outlaws had stopped the stage.
Kitty got up and sat down next to the frightened old woman, and took her hand. Helen Stuart looked at the lovely and kind young woman and smiled. Henry had lifted the window curtain and was intently peering out, watching the tall lawman.
Kitty cleared her throat. "Mrs. Stuart."
"Oh, do call me Helen, Kitty," the smiling woman said warmly.
"Helen,…Matt…the Marshal…and I. We're NOT married." Kitty looked down at their clasped hands and steeled herself for rebuke and disapproval. She thought the first sign had come when Helen pulled her hand from Kitty's, but then she felt it slowly lifting her chin.
"Oh, Baby, OF COURSE you two are married! I've never seen such love in the way you two look at each other. At least not ever since me and my Henry were courtin'."
"My man still brings me flowers, you know," she went on in an almost whisper as her faded blue eyes sparkled. "he brings them back from his early morning walks. Daisies and Cornflowers, and whatever else beautiful he finds.
As Kitty listened and watched Helen's face, she could see the young, pretty woman she had once been, still full of love for her man.
"Kitty, if you and your Marshal had to elope, that's fine, too. My Henry and I won't tell a soul. He saw your love even before I did, you know." Sighing in pleasure and tiredness, Helen closed her eyes and rested her head on the coach wall behind her.
Leaning over, the young woman gently kissed the soft, powdery cheek of the old woman and then went back to her own seat.
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Thinking that outlaws had stopped the stage, the Marshal cautiously crept along the side of the stage, semi-crouched in his firing stance, pistol extended.
The driver and shotgun guard were both standing beside the lead horses, talking to four young girls who appeared to be about thirteen or fourteen. All four were sunburned, bedraggled, and frightened looking. The shortest girl, a plump, freckle-faced blonde, was crying and leaning on the shoulder of the driver as he put her left shoe back on her foot.
The shotgun guard, Tim White, glanced at the Marshal and waved him over.
"Marshal! Come on over! Sorry about that ride, but that there girl Jim is helping came running outta those trees back over there, tripped, lost her shoe, and fell right in our path! It sure took some doing for Jim to not run her down!"
Holstering his gun, Matt walked over, curious as to who these young girls were and what they were doing in the middle of the prairie.
The coach driver, Jim Buck, straightened up and patted the still sniffling girl's hand. "This is Marshal Dillon from Dodge, girls. Tell him your names and how you got here."
The tallest girl, slim, with dark hair and eyes, cleared her throat, shushed her companions and stepped forward.
"Marshal, Sir, I'm Sylvia, and this is Cindy, Susie, and Terry. We're all from St. Agnes' School for Girls and got lost after taking a walk earlier when the Sisters took us on a picnic."
"And I almost got KILLED when I tripped and fell on the road!" blonde Cindy added in a now proud voice.
Sylvia frowned, glared at Cindy, and continued. "We've been walking for ever so long now and once we saw the road and the coach coming, we all started running so you wouldn't pass by."
Susie, also a rather plump but pretty brown haired girl, looking much younger than her thirteen years, piped up. "Can you help us please? We're awful thirsty!"
The fourth girl, Terry, stared at the big Marshal with huge green eyes. "Mr. Marshal, Sir. Sister Dolores is going to be so worried about us by now. She's very sweet to us, you know."
Jim had gone to get his big canteen and gave it to the girls, who were obviously well-mannered as they politely passed it around among themselves.
"All right girls, come on and get inside the coach!" Matt led the four over to the door, opened it, and looked inside at the three anxiously waiting passengers.
"Kitty. You're going to have to move over next to the Stuarts. Girls, it will be a bit tight, but you share the other seat."
The Marshal stepped up into the coach and then turned and pulled the four girls up and inside.
The exhausted young girls were used to obeying their elders, and dutifully sat down, staring wide-eyed at the beautiful, red-haired young woman across from them. They had only seen such loveliness in their art history books.
"Hello girls," Kitty said in a gentle voice, "I'm Kitty and this is Mr. and Mrs. Stuart. What are your names?"
Sylvia looked at her now shy friends and spoke up. "Ma'am, I'm Sylvia, and these are Cindy, Susie, and Terry," she said, pointing them out.
"These girls are from a Catholic school about eight miles from here," Matt explained to the other passengers as he bent over to keep from scraping the roof. "The driver says we can't detour due to his schedule, so they'll go on to Dodge with us and I'll get them back home from there. Kitty, I'm going to ride on the roof."
As he turned to leave, Helen Stuart grabbed the back of his jacket. She and her husband had been whispering together and made a decision.
"NO, Marshal! You can't be bounced around up there for another twenty miles or more!"
The old couple quickly stood up, Henry pulled Kitty to her feet, Helen pulled Matt backwards, forcing him to sit beside her, and her surprisingly strong husband picked up Kitty and plopped her down on the started lawman's lap. Then Helen settled in beside his wife.
The old man grinned in triumph, and his wife tearfully smiled at the young married couple.
"There! A honeymoon isn't over until you reach home and carry her over the threshold!" Henry crowed.
The four schoolgirls giggled in delight. Matt blushed and put his arms around Kitty as the coach jerked to a start, and she struggled to hold in a boisterous laugh, covering her mouth with one hand.
After a few miles, the overly-excited schoolgirls nodded off on each other's shoulders, the old man began to softly snore, and both women rested their heads against their men.
Matt held Kitty against his broad chest as she slept, inhaling the delicious aroma of her perfume, hair, and body. His initial embarrassment and emotional reticence eased away and he began to enjoy the closeness of his 'wife.' He even grinned at how his minx of a woman had gotten such a kick out of the situation. Neither one could bear to crush the old couple's pleasure.