Dry Route to Dodge

A Gunsmoke Story

by MAHC (Amanda)

Chapter Four: One More Day

POV: Kitty

Spoilers: None

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I did not create these characters, but I love them.

Kitty Russell gave a sidelong glance at the man seated next to her and made sure he was gazing out the stage window, at least long enough for her to be subtle about sliding a finger inside her dress collar and letting in a little air. Not for the first time did she second-guess her decision to use the stage tickets her father had purchased before his death. The train would have been faster – and certainly more comfortable. Still, it gave her a few more days with Matt, just the two of them, and as rare as that was, it was something she absolutely could not pass up.

But her relief from the heat was ephemeral. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling the deep ache in every joint of her body, wondering what she had done to be so sore. Of course, she had sat for days at the hospital, and now she was fighting to keep her seat in a jolting stagecoach. Surely that explained the stiffness.

The coach hit a particularly rough patch of road and tossed them all up, then back down several inches. She landed almost sideways against Matt, unable to stifle a groan as her back and shoulders throbbed.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he steadied her. "Kitty?" The pain was almost worth the concern on his face – almost.

"I'm okay," she lied, pushing back into her place, but keeping a hand on his arm in reassurance.

"You sure?" he prodded softly, using the intensity of his blue eyes to assess her honesty. "You look a little pale to me."

Dropping her gaze before he saw the truth, she covered with her usual humor. "Well, what a compliment. You sure know how to sweet talk a lady, Mister."

But he wouldn't be diverted. "Kitty?"

Forcing the strength into her voice, she patted his arm. "Really. It's just all this jerking around has me a little dizzy. I'll be fine when we stop for the night." She watched him consider her for a moment, then gave him a warm smile and leaned up to whisper in his ear. "I'll be more than fine later tonight, if my plans work out."

Bingo. Raising an eyebrow, he regarded her with a familiar heated look. "Plans?" he asked hopefully.

"Plans."

Plans. She hoped she was up to following through with those plans. At the moment, what she figured she wanted most was a big swallow of water and a soft mattress. Matt would understand. Besides, they had made good use of that fancy hotel bed back in Kansas City. Ruefully, she thought it might have to hold them for a while.

"Yer lookin' a mite peaked, ma'am, if ya don't mind me sayin'."

Kitty lifted her eyes to watch the man seated across from them. Rail-thin and not even as tall as she was, he reminded her of one of the shallow-chested teenage boys that would hang out at the barn dances back in Dodge, hoping to catch a reel with a proper – or maybe not so proper – young lady.

She felt Matt tense beside her, but he remained quiet, knowing she liked to fight her own battles, at least at the beginning. "Well, I do mind, but thanks for the concern."

He flushed. "Didn't mean no insult, ma'am. Just noticin'."

Next to him sat an older couple, years of marriage clearly visible on both their faces. The man had watched the exchange with minimal interested, but the woman smiled knowingly, her pale eyes moving from her to Matt then back. "How far?" she asked.

Kitty smiled back politely, not really feeling like talking. "Dodge City," she supplied.

The older woman's smile widened. "No, I mean how far along are you?"

Matt suddenly shifted beside her and cleared his throat. Confused, she looked at him and was even more confused by the blush that reddened his cheeks. Matt Dillon never blushed. Then a memory from that night in Kansas City crossed her mind. Well, almost never, anyway.

"How far along – " Kitty echoed.

"You're not showing, yet, of course, but I can tell from the paleness. "

Then she realized, and almost laughed out loud before she considered how the well-meaning woman would take it. "Oh, I'm not – that is, it's not what you think."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, dear," she assured Kitty. "A natural thing. A blessing from God."

"But – "

"You're bashful, I can see."

Matt coughed abruptly, then grunted when Kitty dug her knuckles into his ribs.

She was losing her patience with the old lady, even if her intentions were good. "Look, it's really none of your – "

"No need to worry about anything," she continued, not reading Kitty's warning. "I can see you have a loving husband, there." She turned to Matt for support. "You're thrilled, aren't you?" she asked him, her pointed look making it clear that he'd better be.

"Delirious," Matt said confidently, scooting a tad to the left to avoid another rib gouging.

"See, dear?"

Determining that it was a losing battle, Kitty sighed and nodded. "Okay. You're absolutely right. We're very happy."

"Of course you are. Is this your first?"

"Our first?" She pondered the question for a second or two, then decided, "No, not the first. I think this is number eight, or is it nine, dear?" she asked Matt, who stared at her blankly.

But he recovered with admirable alacrity and pursed his lips in contemplation. "It's ten," he announced proudly after a moment. "You forgot about Aloysius."

"That's right," Kitty nodded, fighting for her best poker face. "I always miss him." She turned to the woman, who now sat bug-eyed and silent by her chuckling husband. "I appreciate the advice. Do you have any more for me?'" she asked sweetly.

With a slight shake of the head, the other woman retreated a bit into her seat, most likely wondering who on earth would volunteer to keep such a passel of brats while their parents vacationed in Kansas City.

Under the guise of a gesture of support, Matt leaned over so that his lips were at her ear. "If we're supposed to have ten kids, don't you think we ought to get started on that?"

For a moment, she felt a thrill that he might actually be suggesting – but the teasing in his eyes was clear, and only that. Suppressing the disappointment she knew she shouldn't have had in the first place, she slid him a sly look and returned, "I think we've shocked Mrs. Busybody enough for one afternoon, don't you?"

XXXX

"Council Grove!" yelled the stage driver over the pounding of hooves.

"Thank God," Kitty breathed, a little louder than she had intended, judging from the frown on her traveling companion's face.

"Tired?" Matt asked, the smile not quite wide enough to mask his concern.

Swallowing carefully, she fought against the rawness in her throat and admitted, "A little."

Bending close to her ear so no one else would hear, he promised, "We'll stop in Lyons tonight, get a nice room with a soft bed – " The innuendo wasn't particularly subtle.

And she would have liked nothing better than to lie in his arms after they had exhausted themselves in heated lovemaking, but the throbbing in her head, paired with her sore throat, didn't make that scenario very likely. Matt would be disappointed. Hell, she would be disappointed. Still, it would be some relief just to get off that teeth-rattling contraption for a few hours.

As the stage rumbled to a halt, the older couple gathered themselves stiffly and bent to descend the steps. At least, Kitty sighed, that damned woman wouldn't be gawking at her for the next 200 miles.

Just as they reached the door, she turned back to Kitty and offered gently, "Good luck with the little one." But the look she shot Matt was a blatant warning. "You know," she advised him wisely, "sometimes a little self-control is called for."

Kitty couldn't suppress the laughter, even though the reaction scratched at her throat.

With that expression of little-boy innocence, Matt said, "What?"

"Let's get out of this thing for a few minutes," she suggested, re-directing his attention.

He nodded, and unfolded his long frame as best he could in the tight confines. When he had stepped onto the dirt street of Council Grove, he turned and offered his hand to her. It surprised her to realize that she had to hang onto to it harder than usual, and she blinked her eyes quickly to push back the spots that suddenly popped in and out in front of her.

Lifting her gaze to see if he had noticed, she saw to her relief, that his head was turned to the right, eyes intently focused on something – or someone – down the street. Her slight stumble brought his attention back as his other arm came up to brace her.

"Kitty?"

"I'm all right." Another lie. "Just slipped. Been cramped up in there for so long."

"Tell me about it," he agreed, shifting his weight to his left leg and his attention back to whatever had interested him a few blocks down.

"What is it?" She knew her man well. His curiosity was peaked.

Chewing on his lower lip as he did when he was contemplating something that didn't quite seem right, he said, "Not sure. Thought I saw someone – "

Damn. Usually Matt's "someones" ended up being murderers, crooked lawmen, or former girlfriends, none of whom Kitty had any interest in meeting.

She followed his gaze down the boardwalk past the usual milling crowds of a busy cow town, all the way to the stark figure dressed in dark shirt and pants and standing alone lighting a cigar. Didn't look like a lawman, crooked or not, nor certainly a former lover. That meant murderer. And that meant trouble.

"Who is it?" she asked him.

"Maybe no one. Maybe – " But he knew; she saw it in his eyes.

XXXX

The coughing woke her, a dry, rough sound that cut through her sleep. Irritated, she wondered who on earth was making that noise, but when she opened her eyes, Matt's worried face hovered in front of hers, his large hands firm around her shoulders. Oh.

Flushing, she pulled back from his grip to try to re-establish some bit of dignity. The shallow-chested man still sat across from them, but in place of the nosy couple now perched the very mystery man Matt had scrutinized in Council Grove. His piercing black eyes sent nervous shivers down her spine, and she shifted a little closer to Matt.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, arm around her waist in either comfort or protection, she wasn't sure which.

This time, she couldn't deny the aches the wracked her body. God, she felt awful. Pounding head, throbbing throat, chills and cough. The same symptoms her father had before he became too ill to move. What she had feared for the past two days had apparently come to pass. And they were still along way from Dodge.

"I – I don't feel too well, Matt," she admitted, placing a hand on his chest and leaning against him.

"You don't look too well," he agreed, grimacing in anticipation of her response. But she was too tired and too weak to pretend offense. "We're almost to Lyons. Think you can make it?"

She didn't ask him what he'd do if she couldn't. Instead, she just nodded and closed her eyes, letting the comfort of his hard, strong body protect her as she drifted off again. A nice rest in Lyons and she'd feel better – or at least good enough to get to Dodge. Just one more day.

One more day.

She could make it.