A/N I had several requests to continue this story, and even though any kind of challenge or request usually causes my chronic writer's block to double or even triple down, I did get a few ideas and even managed to turn them into something vaguely resembling another chapter. So, even though I kind of know where I'm going with this (this chapter already took a couple of unplanned turns) I'm posting each chapter as I write it, so I don't have any set schedule for the next update. Hopefully I can keep up the momentum from this one. So, for DodgeCityAngel, themarshalswoman09, hellomatt, and anyone else who's interested, here's the beginning of the rest of the story.

Chapter 2

"Kitty...Kitty." Matt was gently shaking her awake. "We're pulling into town."

Kitty lifted her head from Matt's shoulder and rubbed her eyes, embarrassed to realize she must have been asleep for the better part of two hours. "I'm so sorry," she said to the passengers in the seat across from them, an older couple who had traveled most of the way with them.

"Quite all right, my dear." Mr. Tyler, a portly man who had wasted no time telling them he was the new banker in Hays City, said jovially. If he'd taken offense to her falling asleep right in the middle of his and Matt's discussion of cattle buying, he showed no sign of it.

"Indeed," his wife said icily, glaring at her husband and then giving Kitty a sour, suspicious look. Kitty looked back at the other woman expressionlessly. She was wearing a modest, respectable black traveling suit and had none of her saloon paint on her face, but Mrs. Huldah Tyler evidently thought that young, unmarried women who traveled unchaperoned with a man were no better than they ought to be and had treated her accordingly from the moment they boarded the same stagecoach.

Matt put one arm around Kitty and gently took hold of her by both arms to help her sit up straighter. He felt that prude, Mrs. Tyler, watching his every move. She could obviously tell they weren't married and assumed the worst of them. He wouldn't have given a flying leap what she thought, except for the fact that she had taken it out entirely on Kitty. The last couple of days had gone from bad to worse for her even without that spiteful woman's dirty looks and hateful comments. Matt, having been the one to convince her to come back to Dodge, after having driven her away in the first place, knew he was completely responsible for the whole mess and the worst thing was that there seemed to be nothing he could do to make it up to her.

The shack that passed for a house at the way station was probably the worst he had seen on any stage line. Even worse, the station master, Olaf Andrews, was one of the most miserable excuses for humanity he'd ever met outside of some he'd put on Boot Hill. His leering eyes traveled up and down Kitty's body and he laughed lustily as he told her the stage back to Dodge wouldn't be there for another four days. Andrews looked at Matt with open hostility when he asked him when the next stage was due. He still had business back in Hays and had intended on having Kitty travel back to Dodge, where she'd be met with open arms even if he couldn't be with her for a few more days. But the thought of Kitty spending even one night anywhere near this loathsome man, much less four, nearly made him sick to his stomach-he could only imagine how she felt about it. When Andrews reluctantly told him there was a stage the next day for Hays, it sounded like the answer to his prayers, and Kitty had needed no convincing to travel to Hays with him, even though she'd be continuing on to Dodge alone while Matt escorted a prisoner who had been given a life sentence for horse stealing.

The one bedroom in the shack was just as foul as the rest of the place. Matt had already made up his mind that no matter what the station master said or did, he was not letting Kitty sleep in that bedroom alone. When he stepped into the room behind Kitty, he was glad he'd left her bags on the porch. Kitty was standing in the middle of the room with her arms wrapped around her middle, whimpering "bedbugs." Matt gently took her shoulders and she whirled around and buried her face in his chest, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, Kitty," he said, holding her close. She'd never cried in front of him before and he was at a loss as to how to deal with it.

"I can't stay here, Matt!" she cried.

"I know. You don't have to. Come on." Matt let her cry herself out and when she was ready, they walked out of the room together, his left arm around her securely and his right hand free, just in case.

"Mister, your stable is cleaner than this place, and that's where we're sleeping. If you're smart, you'll stay clear of it until we're gone." Matt's gaze was as unwavering as his words, and Kitty followed his lead, staring the man down silently, refusing to show her fear.

"Suit yourselves," he spat out finally, looking Kitty over again and rubbing his groin to make sure they got the message.

"No, Matt," Kitty hissed almost silently, putting her hand on his chest, when Matt made as if to charge at him.

He made her a bed in an empty stall, covering the floor with fresh hay and spreading out his bedroll on top of it. After he made sure she was comfortable and covered her with his scratchy but warm and relatively clean blanket, he leaned down and gave her one brief kiss softly on the temple. He didn't need to tell her that this wasn't the time for distractions.

He sat between her and the opening of the stall, leaning his back against the rails. He left his gun belt on and kept his rifle next to him. Kitty looked at him curiously. "Aren't you going to lie down?"

"Nope."

Kitty understood his meaning immediately and snuggled down into the hay, momentarily feeling as comfortable and safe as she could, considering she was still fully dressed with her shoes on and with a potential rapist lurking around. She was almost asleep when a sudden thought jolted her awake.

"Matt?"

"What's wrong, Kitty?" He reached over and took her hand.

"What about all the other women who have to stay here? And young girls?"

"Yeah," Matt sighed.

"You think he-" Kitty couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"Probably." Matt sighed again. He'd saved his girl from that dirty old man, but what about all the others? "I'll write the stage line about him. Maybe they can do something."

"I hope so. Thank you, Matt." Kitty closed her eyes and drifted for a moment, then woke again. "I love you, too."

Inside the city limits, the driver finally began slowing the team, overshooting the stage depot by several buildings before jerking to a stop. Kitty grabbed her black velvet hat just in time to keep it from sliding off the seat next to her and hastily began pinning it to her slightly disheveled updo. Mrs. Tyler gave her another disdainful look. Her gray hair was pulled back tightly under a flat straw hat with daisies on top, which hadn't left her head once the entire trip.

The driver pulled the stagecoach doors open and Matt got out first, offering his hand to Mrs. Tyler with feigned politeness. The older woman simpered as Matt helped her out, a red spot forming on each cheek as she thanked him. Apparently she had no problem with US Marshals who traveled unchaperoned with young, unmarried women. Mr. Tyler stretched his hand across the stagecoach, hoping to help Kitty out, but Matt was quicker, reaching in to grasp Kitty's right hand with his left and resting his other hand at the back of her waist. He wrapped his fingers around her side and whisked her away from the Tylers before she had a chance to say something they'd all regret.

"Why, that old biddy!" Kitty muttered when they were out of earshot.

"Never mind, honey," Matt said placatingly. "They aren't worth it." It had hurt his heart to see the other woman giving his girl the cold shoulder, but he hadn't been particularly impressed with the way Ronald Ellingson Tyler III had spent more time looking at Kitty than at his wife while incessantly crowing about his banking career, either.

"Don't-" Kitty began, and stopped short. "What did you call me?"

"What do you mean? I called you your name," Matt replied, completely oblivious to what he'd just done. Kitty stared at him wordlessly, a faint smile on her face. He'd just called her honey for the first time, and didn't even realize he'd done it. While she was still trying to figure out how she felt about all of that, a male voice called "Matt!" and they were approached by a blond man with a mustache, not quite as tall as Matt, but stockier.

"Tom!" Matt reached out and shook the man's hand.

"You old son of a gun, is this what you meant by urgent business?" he asked, nodding his head in Kitty's direction. "You federal boys get all the plum assignments." Kitty noticed the gold star that read "SHERIFF" on the man's chest and wondered how much trouble Matt was in.

"Uh...something like that. Kitty, this is Tom Roth, the sheriff here in Hays. Tom, I'd like you to meet Miss Kitty Russell from Dodge City. A friend got word to me that she might have some trouble on the stagecoach and I kind of figured Toby Spicer wasn't in a real big hurry to get to the federal penitentiary anyway. I'll see if I can get Washington to reimburse you for the extra days."

Kitty reached out a gloved hand to shake the sheriff's. "I'm happy to know you, Sheriff Roth, and I sure appreciate you letting the marshal here come to my assistance," she said with all the charm she possessed, batting her eyes for good measure.

"Think nothing of it, ma'am," the sheriff said, tipping his hat. "As a matter of fact, your marshal friend is off the hook. Matt, you lit out in such a hurry you left those transfer papers on my desk. Toby Spicer is on his way to the penitentiary with my deputy right now."

"Well, I reckon I owe you one, Tom," Matt said sheepishly, and Kitty wondered again if he was going to be in any trouble for putting off his duty to attend to a personal matter.

"I figure a steak dinner ought to square things," Roth said with a grin.

"Fair enough," Matt agreed. He slipped his hand around Kitty's waist again and the two exchanged a look the sheriff couldn't fail to notice. "If you'll excuse us Tom, I think I'd better get Kitty's bags and my horse before the stage decides to take off with them.

"That your horse?" Sheriff Roth eyed the buckskin tied to the rear of the stagecoach as the three approached it. Matt nodded. "Why don't I take him over to the livery so you can get the young lady settled into the hotel and get ready for supper?"

"By golly, Tom, looks like I'm going to owe you breakfast, too!" Matt draped his saddlebags over one shoulder and untied the horse's reins.

The sheriff laughed. "See you around seven at Crouse's restaurant." The three of them said their goodbyes as the sheriff led Buck away.

"Much obliged, John," Matt said as Kitty's bags were handed down. He did his best to gather all of them, finally putting one under each arm.

"Oh, Matt," Kitty sighed, coming to his rescue. "I can carry some of those."

"It's all right, Kitty, I've got them." He continued his attempt at hanging onto them while walking in the general direction of the hotel, but they kept threatening to slip out from under his arms or through his fingers.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Matt. Stop being so stubborn." Kitty pulled the nearest one, which to Matt's utter shame was the largest, out from under one arm, and did her best to keep from smirking as she walked across the street to the hotel, Matt meekly bringing up the rear.

One of the men occupying the rocking chairs on the porch of the Palomino Hotel saw them coming and got up to open the doors for them, tipping his hat at Kitty as she passed through them. The others had evidently witnessed their difficulties with the bags at the stage depot and barely let Matt get past before the snickers began.

"Don't forget all my hat boxes, marshal," one of them squeaked in a falsetto much higher than Kitty's voice.

"Yes, dear," another one gave an exaggerated sigh, and the entire group burst into riotous laughter. Matt did his best to ignore them.

"Thank you, Cowboy," Kitty said, to his extreme gratitude not mentioning the onlookers from the porch. She stopped, and it was out of sheer luck that Matt noticed in time to keep from running right over her. Mrs. Tyler, sans husband, stood in their path. She barely glanced at Kitty, at the same time managing to give her a look suggesting that only common trash would carry her own bags, and spoke over her head to Matt.

"Marshal, have you seen my husband?" she demanded.

"No, ma'am," he answered, feeling like he was about to lose his grip on another of Kitty's bags.

"He went to find a couple of boys to carry our baggage. I guess that's what's wrong with the youth of today. They don't appreciate the value of hard work!" she sniffed, giving Kitty another look of contempt.

"Yes, ma'am. If you'll excuse us, ma'am," Matt said, and stepped around her and Kitty in order to reach the front desk before Kitty's bags went crashing to the floor. Kitty gave the woman a long, unreadable look and followed Matt, resisting the impulse to take a swing at her with the valise in her hand.

"Isn't there another hotel?" Kitty whispered as they waited for the desk clerk to finish writing something in his ledger.

"Not one I'd take you to."

"I'd sooner take my chances with a bunch of rowdy trail hands," she said, but gave him a look that made him glad he'd caught up with her in Colorado.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said the clerk, a prissy man who reminded Matt of Howie at the Dodge House. "Need a room?"

That's why we're here, Kitty thought, avoiding Matt's gaze in case he was thinking the same thing.

"Two rooms," Matt answered. "Or, maybe-do you have a double room?" He leaned across the desk and whispered conspiratorially, "I promised my uncle I wouldn't let her out of my sight. You know how protective fathers can be."

Kitty suppressed a giggle. This sounded an awful lot like the story he was going to tell the sheriff if he'd been mad about being left with Matt's prisoner.

"There, Huldah, are you satisfied?" Mr. Tyler had finally made it to the hotel. "She's his cousin."

Mrs. Tyler snorted audibly. "Ronald, if you were as naive about business as you are about every pretty face you see, you'd never have made it past bank teller."

"Just sign here, Marshal." The clerk turned the register around and Matt scratched his name on the line. "You too, miss."

Kitty penned her flowery signature on the next line and looked up at the clerk with wide-eyed innocence. "Do you have someone who can bring my bags up to my room? I'm afraid I've worn my cousin plum out."

The desk clerk flushed red as a beet and stammered, "Of course, miss. I'll get those brought right up." He handed Matt the key to their two-room suite and looked from him to Kitty, flustered. He had a sneaking suspicion that the young woman was no more the marshal's cousin than she was his, but he couldn't very well demand they prove otherwise. It wasn't hotel policy.

Kitty wrapped her hand as far as it would go around Matt's muscular upper arm. "Lead the way, Cousin Matt."

TBC