Imperfection

A Gunsmoke Story

by MAHC (Amanda)

Chapter Seven: You Are His Woman

POV: Kitty

Spoilers: "Hidalgo"

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.

Kitty Russell hurried through her last check of the Long Branch books, not particularly concerned that she might have made a mistake. Well, not too concerned, anyway. Frowning, she gave the figures one more scan, just in case. But she could not give it her complete concentration, because that was divided, with most of her thoughts, up in Doc's bedroom on the tall, stubborn marshal who lay there. It was telling that her usually focused attention was distracted by the new arrival to the saloon.

It required a double take, but Kitty recognized the man who walked through the doors and stepped to the bar. Only a few days before, he had scared her nearly to death by bringing in the body of a lawman, they thought was Matt Dillon. She didn't hold it against him, though. After all, he was only trying to be kind, bringing the marshal's body back home. Only, it hadn't been Matt, thank goodness.

"Well, Mister McMannis," she greeted, closing the ledger and easing around the counter toward him.

The Texas Ranger turned, pushing his hat back. "Ma'am," he said politely but blankly, and she realized he did not remember her; they had not been officially introduced on that dreadful day.

"Kitty Russell," she said, extending a hand, feeling gratitude toward this man who had gone to so much trouble for a man he didn't even know.

He took it and touched the brim of his hat, eyes lighting. "Kitty Russell? The Kitty Russell who owns this fine establishment?"

"One and the same."

"A pleasure, ma'am." Then he cocked his head and said, "I've heard about you and – well, if it wouldn't be too forward, I'll say Matt Dillon's a lucky son of a b – gun."

She pulled her hand away, frowning. It had been too forward, and she wasn't sure why. It was not like she hadn't skillfully deflected much worse remarks over the years. "I thought you were headed back to Texas," she reminded abruptly.

If she had offended him, he didn't show it. "I was. I was. Heard the marshal came back, though. That's good news." His smile seemed genuine enough. "I wanted to talk with him a minute, if I could."

Her frown deepened. "The marshal is recovering," Kitty told him. "I doubt Doc'll let him have any visitors for a while yet." She didn't bother to say that Matt still wrestled with a high fever and had yet to show much sign of coming to consciousness.

"Sorry to hear that. I wanted to see if he had been able to take care of them Mexicans he went after." McMannis threw back the shot of whiskey Sam had set in front of him, then stepped away. "You say he's at the doctor's?"

Kitty smiled carefully. "I don't believe I said."

"No, don't guess you did." With another tug at his hat, he said, "Well, glad he's back. Pleasure, Miss Russell." Nodding at Sam, he pressed through the swinging doors and walked out onto Front Street.

Kitty looked his way for a minute, then shook her head, pushing away the sensation of unease. She had no reason to feel so. Nothing was unusual about one lawman helping another. She wondered vaguely how he knew about Matt and her. Not that it was a secret. As subtle as they had been over the years, they had never denied their relationship, and all of Dodge – and most of Kansas probably – knew that she was Matt Dillon's woman. And he was her man. Still, it seemed a bit unusual that a Texas Ranger would have heard of them, as well. Then again, Matt cast a long shadow.

She glanced at the clock. Festus had spelled her so she could get a quick bath and check in with Sam. Those things done, she was more than anxious to return to Matt's bedside, to hold his hand, to brush through his hair – anything that might provide comfort and bring him back to them. To her.

XXXX

The ranger was forgotten as soon as she walked into Doc's office and saw again the long frame of the lawman – of her lawman.

"Miz Kitty," Festus rose immediately and greeted her in his own ineffective rendition of a whisper.

It didn't matter much, unfortunately, how loud he was. Matt still lay, unconscious, in the bed where earlier that day half a dozen men had carried him after Doc had pronounced him sufficiently stable to move from the examining table. He gave no indication that he was disturbed at all by the deputy's voice. His holster and gun lay coiled on the bedside table. She wondered if it was simply a coincidence that they rested there, or if someone had decided he needed the comfort of them when he woke. Some comfort they gave her. She tried not to scowl at them.

"Festus," she returned, closing the door behind her. "Thanks for giving me a break."

"Twernt much of one," he noted with a frown. "Ye've hardly bin gone a hour."

"It was long enough." Too long. A toss of her head asked silently how the marshal was.

Festus glanced back at the bed. "He's a mite restless," he said, his squinted eyes dark with concern.

"Fever?"

"Yes'm. Mebbe the least little bit better, but not so much as ye'd notice right off." The disappointment must have shown on her face, because he added quickly, "But his color's a comin' back, dontcha think? Not sa peaked lookin', if ya ast me."

Kitty managed a smile of appreciation for his efforts at optimism, but one glance told her Matt looked no better now than when she had left. His face, already red from the harsh exposure to the sun, was flushed more by the fever. The part of his chest that wasn't bound in bandages glistened with sweat.

"If'n you wuz ta need more time, Miz Kitty, I'd more more'n happy ta set up with Matthew a whilst longer."

"Thank you, Festus," she acknowledged. "I'm fine."

Settling in the chair by the bed, she lifted Matt's hand in hers, caressed along the back, tracing the bold veins, stroking the long fingers. She had always loved his hands. Even as the years took his face from a young man's smooth beauty to a mature man's rugged handsomeness, his hands remained the same. And she often marveled at how hands that had been tough enough to haul in violent outlaws and break up raucous barroom brawls could be tender enough to bring her such exquisite pleasure as she had experienced in his arms. She yearned to feel those hands again, to sigh under his touch, to give him pleasure, as well. Before she realized it, she had leaned in to brush a kiss across his lips and cup his whiskered jaw in her hand.

A shuffle and nervous cough behind her reminded her that Festus was still there. "I spose I'll jest see how Buck's fairin'," he decided. "Matthew'll have my hide if'n I don't see ta his horse whilst he's ailin'."

"Was Buck in bad shape?" she asked, not looking back, but moving to grasp his hand again. She had become rather fond of the animal that had shown his loyalty to Matt as many times as he had brought him back home.

"Pure tuckered out mostly, and in need of a few good swallers of water. Matthew musta parted with a right good portion of his own supply fer that horse or he wouldn't a made it."

"Matt wouldn't have made it without Buck," Kitty confirmed.

"No'm. I'd have ta agree with ye, thar. Buck and Lucero."

This time, she did turn, frowning. "Who?"

"Lucero. That Mexican woman what hepped me bring in Matthew."

"Oh." Kitty's eyes widened, a vague memory of the slight Mexican who rode in with Festus. A woman? "She helped you bring him in?"

"She did. I come up on 'em 'bout sunup. Matthew wuz in a bad way, I have ta say. The worstest lookin' I ever seed him, and you know I seen him in some sitcheeashuns – "

"Festus – "

"Well, she'uz bent over him, and at first I couldn't tell she'uz a shemale. I thought this here bandito had done kilt him. I pulled my pistol, but then she turned right around and I seed she weren't no bandito. Peers she follered ol' Matthew right straight from Mexico, even run off some real banditos what wuz a gunnin' fer him."

"She ran off banditos?" Kitty asked, incredulous. What kind of woman was this? A rugged trail woman, hardened from years of rough living? She tried to picture her, but remembered only the sombrero and hand-sewn poncho.

"I wuz jest as doubtful as you, Miz Kitty, but it's the flat out fact. Said she kilt one and pinned Matthew's badge on him so's the others would think he wuz dead and go on back home."

"How did Matt meet her?" Kitty wondered. "Why did she help him?"

"I ain't got no answer to neither of them questions, Miz Kitty," Festus admitted, "but I figure it don't much matter none. Matthew's alive 'cause of her."

Fair point.

"Well," she decided, "I'd like to meet her sometime, thank her for – "

"So, you are Kitty."

Kitty Russell's head jerked back toward the door to Doc's bedroom. The woman who stood before her was certainly no rugged trail woman hardened from years of rough living. Without the shapeless poncho and wide sombrero to mask her feminine features, Kitty found herself staring at a young, dark beauty. Despite her trust in Matt, and despite the fact that this woman had almost certainly saved his life, she couldn't quell the ugly burn of jealousy that flamed in her chest. This woman protected Matt? This woman killed a bandito?

"I'm Kitty Russell," she clarified smoothly, regaining her composure as she rose. "And you are – " She already knew, of course.

"I am Lucero," the woman provided, unable to keep her focus completely on Kitty. Her eyes dropped to the figure on the bed.

"Lucero. Festus told me about you. How you helped Matt. I'm grateful." Her words were sincere, but she could not mute the sharp warning in her tone.

Festus shifted awkwardly, his gaze flashing between the two women, for once comprehending the situation. "Well," he stammered, "I orta, uh, see 'bout, uh – Newly might shore nuff need hep at – " He turned suddenly and said, "I'll see ya, Miz Kitty," and was halfway down the stairs before the door closed behind him.

Kitty allowed his hasty exit to bring a slight smile of amusement to her lips before she turned back to the visitor, letting her gaze take in the slim figure and lovely eyes. She wondered if Matt had found her pretty. "Doc says he's about the same."

"He is strong," Lucero observed.

Kitty nodded, itching to know what had transpired between the two, what had brought the obvious look of attachment into those dark eyes.

The Mexican stood another few moments, then stepped closer. "May I sit with you?"

"Of course," Kitty said with less enthusiasm than she intended. She indicated a vacant chair, then sat again herself.

"He was so gravely wounded, I was afraid – " She broke off, and to Kitty's surprise, tears pooled in her eyes.

"Thank you for saving him." That she could offer more sincerely.

Lucero continued to look at Matt, as if verifying for herself that he still breathed. "He saved our village. He saved my family. He saved – me. He could have left, could have saved himself, but he didn't."

"What happened?" Kitty asked, unable to stop herself. She yearned to know, to re-live whatever he had been through. This woman had experienced something with Matt that she hadn't, and even if it was bad, she couldn't suppress a certain feeling of envy over not having been there, too. On a nobler scale, she also felt that if she could share the pain with him, perhaps she could give him the strength and comfort to endure and overcome it.

"Mando shot him and left him for dead," Lucero began, and Kitty flinched at hearing it put so bluntly.

"After my grandfather and brother found him, Lucho – that's my brother – came to me for medicine. He was very brave. It was a dangerous thing to do."

"Why?"

"I was Mando's woman," she admitted.

"Oh." Kitty digested that bit of information, confused as to why his enemy's woman would consent to help Matt.

"After he had recovered some, we thought he would return home, but he did not. He sought Mando out, rode right into him and his men. He confronted Mando in front of the entire town, in front of Mando's men." A shadow passed over her eyes. "He was so weak, he could not stand by himself. He had to hold onto his horse's saddle." Chin lifted, she met Kitty's gaze proudly, as if Matt's actions somehow reflected on her. "But he stood taller than any of them ever had."

Awed, Kitty could only listen, wanting to hear what had happened, needing to know. "You were there?"

"I saw it. I saw him kill Mando."

"But you were Mando's woman."

"Mando was – a bad man."

"Oh."

"The marshal was weak, after he killed Mando. He stayed with us a few days. Grandfather and I tried to tell him he should stay longer, but he was stubborn."

Kitty smiled. It hadn't taken Lucero long to find that out. "So you followed him, to make sure he got back to Dodge?" she surmised. "You followed him all the way from Mexico?" This was no weak woman, Kitty decided grudgingly, and her devotion to Matt must be deep for her to go through so much, to take such a risk.

"At first, I thought only to take him to the border, but he was riding hard and I could not catch him. After three days, I saw that other riders were following him more closely than I and I knew they were probably Mando's men. I could not let them get him, not after what he did for me and for my family."

"Festus said you – you killed one?" It was hard to believe.

"I did. He was careless, did not see me. I shot him. Law – the marshal – had given Lucho his badge."

Kitty smiled. That sounded like Matt.

"I brought it with me, for protection, perhaps. I pinned the badge on the man I shot. Maybe the others following would think it was the man they sought and go back."

"A Texas Ranger brought in a body a couple of days ago," Kitty said, connecting the two. "He wore a marshal's badge – "

"It could be the man," Lucero agreed. "I did not have time to bury him."

Well, that mystery was solved, Kitty thought, a bit amazed at how things fit together. "I thank you for taking care of him," she repeated, meaning every word despite the ache her story had caused.

She understood Lucero's attachment now. If she and Matt had gone through such an experience together, it wouldn't be unusual for a bond to form. She wondered how far the bond went. It wasn't that she didn't trust Matt, but she knew in times of duress, people sometimes did things or acted in ways contrary to their characters. Still, she had never known Matt to be anything but constant – sometimes infuriatingly so.

After a long moment, Lucero smiled, her expression a mixture of understanding and envy. "You are his woman."

Kitty Russell had heard that term for many years, had even answered to it on occasion, but coming from this person whose connection with Matt was so strong, she found her defenses rising.

"What do you mean?" she asked, managing to keep her tone even.

But Lucero was not fooled, merely placed a hand on her arm knowingly and continued smiling. "You are his woman," she repeated. "Be good to him. He is a man."

Kitty heard the deeper levels of meaning in that last sentence, saw the emotion in those dark eyes, read the feelings of a woman who could not have what she wanted, but tried to do the right thing, nevertheless. "You love him," she realized with a jolt.

Lucero did not speak, but her eyes acknowledged that truth.

"How do you know I am his woman?" Kitty wondered, reluctantly acknowledging a feeling for Lucero she had not had before. Pity, perhaps, but no longer jealousy.

"You are his woman," she repeated confidently. "I would know even if he had not told me."

Stunned, Kitty asked, "Matt told you about me?" Not that it couldn't happen, but she knew how close-mouthed he was, even with their friends in Dodge, who knew just about everything, despite their discretion.

"He called for you when he was in the fever. Over and over, he cried out your name. I could tell what you were – what you are to him. I told him – I told him I was you, to calm him. I hope you do not mind. It helped."

Swallowing to keep the emotions from overwhelming her completely, Kitty brushed hot tears from her eyes and turned back to look at the sunburned face of Matt Dillon – of her man.

"You have stayed with him a long time. You love him."

Kitty nodded. "Very much," she acknowledged.

"He loves you."

Smiling, Kitty looked back at Lucero. "He told you that, as well?"

She nodded. "He loves you very much."

Kitty felt the catch in her throat, turned away so she didn't lose control. Fatigue and emotion swept through her, and she could not stop the trembling that suddenly claimed her body.

Placing a hand on her arm, Lucero said, "You have not slept. Go home. Become strong for him. I will stay here if you like." Her voice softened in promise. "You do not need to worry."

Their eyes met, dark to light, and an understanding passed between two women who cared for a man, two women who had suffered for a man, two women who loved a man, but who both knew that only one would receive that love back.

"I won't worry," Kitty said, at peace now. "Thank you, Lucero. For everything."

She would take the time to rest, to make herself strong again for him. Any suspicions she harbored about Lucero had vanished. She was leaving her man in good, non-threatening hands.

Still, as she rose to leave the vigil to the other woman, she tugged the bedcovers up just a bit higher over Matt's bare chest.

XXXX

The gunshots brought Kitty out of sleep, and she fought to shake off the confusion of unconsciousness. No one else seemed to notice, but the sound drew her out of the Long Branch into the alley between the saloon and Doc's office. The door at the top of the stairs stood open, an ominous beckoning. Slowly, she climbed each stair, dreading what she would see, not wanting to continue, but driven to go, nevertheless. She stopped on the landing, closing her eyes in dread, until a voice called to her.

"Kitty! Help me!"

"Matt?"

He needed her. She had to go to him, to help him. A shadow brushed by her, smoke from a gun still curling around him, but she couldn't stop to see how it was, had to get to Matt. Stepping into the dark room, she had to wait a moment before her eyes adjusted, but when they did, she couldn't suppress the scream that ripped through her throat.

Matt Dillon lay on the floor, broad chest torn with bullet holes, blood pooling beneath him, blue eyes staring and vacant, long, strong body limp and useless. He still held the gun, that damned gun, in his hand, but she knew he would never fire it again. Laughter echoed from the stairs, a voice she should know, but couldn't latch onto. A flash of silver passed her wavering vision. She reached out to the body, grabbed the collar of his ruined shirt in both hands and shook him.

"Don't you leave me, Matt Dillon! Don't you dare leave me!"

But it was too late. She had known before she even mounted the steps. One final mistake. And it was hers. Somehow it was hers. She should have known. She should have suspected. Now it was too late. Marshal Dillon lay dead on the floor of Doc Adams' office, and it was her fault.

Her fault. Her scream grew to a wail.

And the wail woke her.

Kitty Russell shot up in bed, throat raw from the screams that had been wrenched from her. Heart thudding inside her chest, breath coming in gasps, arms trembling, she blinked twice, took in the familiar surroundings of her bedroom, and collapsed in sobs of relief.

A dream. Oh, thank God, a dream.

She looked toward the window. The slanted orange rays of the sun indicated that dusk was beginning to settle over the town. Her catnap had turned into a long sleep – and a terrible dream, but only a dream.

A dream. Thank God.

Thrusting away the horrid vision that her brain had conjured, she tried to calm herself by replacing it with current reality. She had left Lucero with Matt, intending only to catch a little nap. She wondered how he was, wondered if he was still groaning under the fever, if he was still grimacing with each restless movement, wondered if Lucero was taking as good care of him as she would be.

Flinging off the covers, she slipped back into her dress and made a perfunctory stab at smoothing her hair, not particularly concerned that it didn't look as coiffed as usual. Doc would understand.

Pausing in the hallway, she took a breath, still steadying her body. A dream, she reminded herself. Just a dream.

Evening was beginning downstairs in the bar, and the usual bustle of cowboys and drifters had whipped up a right lively din. That was probably why no one had heard her scream, thank goodness. Sam caught her eye as she descended the stairs, his craggy, but friendly features giving silent assurance that all was well. Just as she reached the swinging doors, Doc Adams stepped inside, taking her elbow and guiding her to a back table.

"Doc?" she asked, alarm in her voice.

But he shook his head. "No trouble, Kitty. Matt's fine. In fact, I think the fever's dropped a bit. That Lucero's quite a nurse." He smirked.

Relief at the good report overrode irritation at his attempt to needle her. Barely. "Well, her nursing had better be limited to strictly medical techniques," she decided.

Doc snorted and swiped a hand over his mustache. "I'm gonna leave that one alone."

"You're a wise man, Curly."

"Anyway, I wanted to talk with you a minute before you went over to see Matt."

Relief churned into anxiety at the pit of her stomach. "I thought you said he was better."

"He is. He is. It's just that he's gonna have to take it easy for quite a while, Kitty. Between these injuries and that back wound, well, you know as well as I do that Matt's body has taken a lot of abuse over close to twenty years of marshalling."

Who would know the toll taken on his body better than his doctor and his lover? She took a breath, mentally running her hands again over each scar, just like she did their last night together. "Yeah," she agreed, waiting.

"Well, he just can't keep doin' it, Kitty. Matt's strong and big, but – but I just don't want to see him grow old before his time."

She chuckled humorlessly, hearing again the stifled groans as he pushed himself from bed each morning, seeing the masked grimaces when he turned too hard on his right leg. "You're not telling me anything I don't already know, Doc. You know Matt, though. Not much you or I can do about it."

"Maybe. But someone's gotta convince him to take it easy. At least for a while, until these latest injuries heal completely. And I don't mean when he thinks they're healed. If he'd listened to me all these years and let his body mend like it should, instead of jumping out of bed before I could even finish sewing him up, he wouldn't be limping around like Chester used to."

She smiled at the mention of their old friend, long gone from Dodge, but still fond in their memories. "I'll do my best, Doc, but I don't think – "

"Just listen. I've booked two tickets on the train to Denver for three weeks from now. That ought to be just about when he's kickin' to get loose of me."

"Not before?" she asked, surprised.

He leaned in, cocking his head. "Kitty, I'd be surprised if he's even in any shape to get out of bed at all for at least two weeks. After that, you'll just have to think of a way to keep him there another week."

"Doc!" she protested, blushing just a bit.

"What? Oh!" he spluttered. "I didn't mean – well, by golly, Kitty."

Then she smiled wickedly. "I'll do my best, Doc."

Now it was his turn to blush. "Well, if the man's got the strength, I guess more power to him."

Kitty grinned outright, then let her expression drop into more serious lines. "I'm in, Doc. You know I'll do whatever you think is best for Matt."

"Atta girl," he said, patting her hand.

The piano tinkled out a bawdy tune, and Kitty took just a moment to let the normal sounds of the Long Branch bring her a sense of reality. Just a moment, and then she would resume her vigil by Matt's side, where she belonged, where she would always belong.

"Say," Doc said, breaking her reverie, "that Texas Ranger was up at my place earlier today. I told him, of course, Matt couldn't talk to him. Seemed mighty anxious to check on him, though. I guess lawman sort of stick together."

"McMannis?" she asked, stiffening. "He was in your office?"

Doc frowned. "Well, yeah. Seemed concerned about him."

"Did he mention he had talked with me?"

"No. Not that I recall. Why?"

She sighed, not sure why she couldn't shake the feeling of unease about the ranger. "No reason. I just – I just don't know about him."

"Seemed okay to me. He was heading out tonight anyway. Said he'd done what he needed to do, or least he would have before he left."

"What?"

"What what?"

"He said he would have before he left?"

"Yeah."

"Doc," she asked, a disturbing idea forming in her head, "did you tell him what Matt had been doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you tell him Matt was in Mexico, that he had gone after Mando?"

The physician wiped at his mustache and thought. "Well, I don't know. Don't recall that I did. Why?"

The shadowy figure of her dream snapped into focus, clear and distinct, and she bit out an oath at the realization. She jumped from her seat, upsetting the chair so that it crashed back onto the floor. Even in the raucousness of the room, a few patrons looked at her curiously. Sam was around the bar within a few seconds.

"Miss Kitty?" he asked, worry in his voice.

"Kitty?" Doc asked, rising himself.

"We have to get over there," she snapped, grabbing Doc's hand and tugging him toward the door. "Before it's too late!" Fear raced through her, igniting adrenaline.

"What are you – "

But before he could finish, the explosion of gunfire propelled all of them through the swinging doors and onto the boardwalk that ran in front of the Long Branch.

"Oh God! Oh, please, God!" she prayed with all sincerity as she sprinted down the planks toward Doc's office, knowing that's where the shots had come from, knowing what she would see when they arrived.

And sick with the knowledge that Matt Dillon would already be dead.

TBC