Imperfection

A Gunsmoke Story

by MAHC (Amanda)

Chapter Eight: He is a Man

POV: Kitty

Spoilers: "The Bullet;" "Hidalgo"

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.

The sound of gunfire was certainly not alien to the ears of Dodge City, but in the years since Matt Dillon had become marshal, that distinctive noise had echoed through the streets with less regularity, a sign of the order he had brought to the bustling "Queen of the Cow Towns." Of course, they still heard it on occasion, usually from the pistol of a hapless, and short-lived, outlaw who foolishly thought to make a name for himself by killing the formidable Marshal Dillon. No one had succeeded in that quest.

Yet.

The blasts – there had been at least three – propelled the citizens of the town, already edgy from the long wait for the lawman, out of their doors. By the time Kitty Russell reached the corner of the Long Branch, a good fifty or so folks stood outside their stores or houses, or even right in the middle of Front Street. Heart pounding, she followed their gazes, her eyes tracking up the stairs to Doc's office. A figure lay sprawled about halfway down, one leg through the banister, both arms flung over his head, pointing toward the street. Clutching her throat, she stumbled across the dirt alley and up the steps, praying frantically.

"Please, don't let it be him. Please!"

As she fell against the rail beside the prone form, she saw that the hair was too dark, the frame much too short. With a rush of relief she found herself staring down at the dead face of Texas Ranger Seth McMannis.

"Oh, thank you," she lifted up toward the darkening sky, not even guilty at the lack of regret over the lawman's death. She could feel bad for him later, if it was warranted. It wouldn't make him any more or any less dead. Still, the relief was fleeting. If this wasn't Matt –

Her gaze flickered up again almost immediately to the door, which stood wide open. With dread surging in her stomach, she hitched up her skirts and stepped over the body, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time.

"Kitty!" Doc yelled in warning, but she ignored him.

In the seconds it took to reach the top, she had played out the scene, knew what she would see in the room. It was her dream again, and she was too late, just as she had been in the dream. Matt would be there, sprawled on the floor, blood spreading beneath him, those beautiful blue eyes staring and vacant, that strong body limp and useless, that deep, rich voice silenced forever.

A scream tore at her throat, and she fought to keep it inside her. He could not be dead; she wouldn't let him, refused to allow it. Clawing at the rail to keep her feet, she vaulted onto the landing, her momentum throwing her against the frame as she took in the sight before her.

Her nightmare came to life. Blood pooled on the floor, beneath a limp body. She let her gaze lock onto the blue eyes as her breath came in gasps and her heart hammered against her chest.

Blue eyes.

Blue eyes. But they weren't staring and vacant. In fact, even though they shone gray with pain, they were alert – well, maybe not alert, but focused enough to look back at her. She blinked to clear her mind, to take in the scene with better comprehension. It wasn't her nightmare, not exactly. Instead of Matt Dillon crumpled on the floor, Lucero lay, blood splattering her blouse. But her eyes were not wide and glassy; they were not even open.

Kitty tried to do the right thing, to worry about the woman, but she couldn't keep herself from centering on the man who hovered in the doorway to Doc's bedroom, smoking gun still grasped in one hand, the other hand clutching a blanket to his waist. Sweat trickled down his bare chest and into the stained bandages; unkempt hair fell wildly over his forehead; a half-grown beard scrubbed at his jaw.

He was the most beautiful sight she could imagine.

Even as she watched, Matt began to sink slowly to his knees. She lunged toward him, catching his shoulders just as he collapsed against her, pulling the fallen blanket back up to cover his naked body from the gawking crowd that had begun to gather on the landing. He shuddered and moaned her name, too weak to fight when she cradled his head against her breast.

"Oh, Matt," she breathed in fear, in gratitude, in relief. Working hard to keep the panic from her tone, she asked, "What happened?"

It took several gasps before he could take in enough oxygen to answer. Even then, his voice was strained. "Lucero – is she – dead?"

Shuffling as quickly as he could into the room, Doc dropped to one knee beside the woman. "She's alive. Took it high enough, I think." He looked over his shoulder and called to Festus and Newly, who gaped in the doorway. "You two get over here and get her on the table."

As the men lifted the woman gently, Kitty stroked Matt's face and prodded again, "What happened?"

"Mc – Mannis," he grunted, his left hand sliding to brace his abdomen. "Tried to – kill me. Lucero stepped in – front before – "

"McMannis?" Kitty said, her suspicions confirmed.

Settling his burden on the table, Newly looked back at them. "But he was looking for you, Marshal, to help you. He's a Texas Ranger."

Blue eyes looked up, dull with pain and confusion. "Seth – McMannis? No – not – Ranger – hired gun."

"Hired gun?" Doc asked, as he kneeled by Kitty and reached to check Matt's injuries. "Are you hit again?"

Matt shook his head gingerly, immediately grimacing at the unwise movement.

"McMannis was a hired gun?" Kitty echoed, struggling to keep his increasingly heavy body from toppling them over.

Lucero groaned from the table, and Doc pushed up from the floor, grunting. Her voice, weak and thin, answered Kitty's question. "Mando's men – hired him – to – follow – I did not realize – "

"There now," Doc admonished gently. "No talking. You can tell them later. I've got to get that bullet out of your shoulder."

Scratching at his beard, Festus reminded, "But Doc said that McMannis feller done come in with a body. Sez he thought it'uz Matthew."

"The man Lucero shot," Kitty realized, remembering the woman's story.

The deputy lifted both eyebrows. "Shore. If'n McMannis wuz a-tryin' ta kill Matthew, he musta brawt him back ter make shore he got tha right man."

"And when Doc saw it wasn't Matt, he had to keep looking," Kitty added, brushing her fingers through the marshal's tousled hair.

"Kitty," Matt managed through gritted teeth, "I'm – sorry – was gone – longer than – thought – "

She looked down at him, surprised. He had never apologized before for being gone, had always expected her to accept that as part of his job. Blinking away hot tears, she soothed, "That's all right, Cowboy," even though it hadn't really been all right at all. "You're back now, and – " But before she could finish, his head lolled forward, and his body sagged heavily against her, knocking them both to the floor. "Doc!"

Turning away from Lucero only for a moment, Adams motioned to Festus and Newly again. "Here, get him back in the bed. Burke, they'll need your help, too."

Kitty worked to keep the blanket over his hips as they struggled with him through the doorway and to the bed. No need to provide any curious onlookers with a view that was meant only for her – even as nice a view as it was. Perhaps especially as nice a view as it was.

"There're some scissors on my desk. Check the wounds for me, Kitty," Doc instructed over his shoulder. "I'll be there as soon as I can." As she picked up the scissors, she heard him mutter, "Don't know how he even stood, much less fired a gun good enough to hit anybody. Damned fool."

One look at the fresh blood that seeped through the bandages was enough information, but Kitty dutifully slid the scissors under the cloth and cut it away from the damp flesh. Matt moaned as his body instinctively pulled back from the pain.

"Shh, Cowboy," she whispered. "I'm right here. Stay still, okay? I need you to be still."

He didn't acknowledge verbally, but the fact that he didn't move any more under her hands indicated he heard. Or maybe just her touch was enough to control him. Either way, it enabled her to remove the ruined material and get a good look at the injuries.

She grimaced and ran a soft finger around the reddened, bleeding tissue. The ragged holes looked raw and angry still, but the fluids oozing from them were no longer mixed with the rancid infection. Just blood, now. And that was definitely a good sign. Maybe Doc could close them up soon and Matt could begin to regain his strength.

"Miz Kitty?"

She looked back up, having forgotten Festus still stood on the opposite side of the bed. Offering a reassuring smile, she said, "He's okay. Better, maybe."

An answering smile appeared in the deputy's beard. "Well, now that's a right good thang ta hear. Right good. I knowd ol' Matthew'd make it. 'Specially with you a nursin' him, Miz Kitty."

Surprised at Festus' blatant acknowledgment of her influence over Matt, she fumbled a minute with the bandages, drawing a grunt from her patient when she brushed over one of the wounds. "Oh. Well, thank you, Festus," she finally said, deciding to accept the compliment with the attitude in which it was given.

"I wouldna give ya two cents fer him even a gittin' outta bed, but, golly Bill, he plugged McMannis good. He shore is somethin'." She heard the admiration in the deputy's tone.

"He's something, all right," she agreed, her heart embracing more than just the surface meaning of that comment.

The familiar scuffing of the doctor's shoes drew their attention to him. "Well?" he asked abruptly, but Kitty knew it was only concern that prompted the gruffness.

"He's all right, I think. Of course, you'd know better." She stood to give him access to the bed.

After a few obligatory grunts and teeth clicks, he straightened. "Not bad. I think I can close 'em up now. Infection seems to be gone."

Kitty ran a trembling hand across her brow, the adrenaline of the past moments leaving her in a whoosh. "How's Lucero?" she asked, bracing on the back of the chair for support, truly concerned about the woman who had now saved Matt for the third time.

Gathering up his instruments, Doc said absently, "Oh, she'll be okay. Weak for a few days, but she's gonna be fine."

Kitty's gaze shifted to the outer room, and she stepped through the door to stand by the examining table. Lucero lay quietly, her dark skin paler, her smooth cheeks a bit sunken, her left shoulder swathed in bandages. But her chest rose steadily.

Unsure if she was awake, Kitty brushed her arm, smiling when those dark eyes opened. "Doc says you'll be fine," she offered, in case the preoccupied physician hadn't already told her.

Lucero blinked and gave a slight nod.

"I guess I owe you again."

A frown and head shake answered her.

"I do. You saved him once more. McMannis surely would have killed him."

"Law – killed – the other. I – just gave him – chance – "

But Kitty knew better. "Well," she allowed, squeezing the arm, "I'm grateful."

"Not just – for you," Lucero admitted.

Kitty smiled. "I know."

"I will – go home."

"Not before you're ready," she insisted. "I'll fix you up a place at the Long Branch – where I live. You can stay as long as you need to."

Their eyes met again, and the same understanding passed between them again. Two women who cared for a man. Two women who had suffered for a man. Two women who loved a man. Two women who realized that only one would receive that love back.

And yet, Lucero had been strong enough, and unselfish enough, to risk her life again so that the man she loved could be with another woman. Kitty wondered if she would have been so noble. Not that she wouldn't willingly sacrifice herself for Matt, but to see him with someone else –

She shuddered and cloaked herself in the assurance that it would never be a decision she had to make. Lucero's revelations about Matt calling for her had wrapped firmly around her heart and bonded her to the big lawman with an eternal resin that nothing could dissolve. Even when – or if, she correctly with optimism – that day arrived when there was no victory, she would always be Matt Dillon's woman. And that was enough.

XXXX

It seemed as if all of Dodge had turned out to see them off on the train, much to the chagrin of their tall marshal. The town had breathed a collective sigh of relief when word got around that Matt Dillon would recover – again. Kitty tried not to smirk at his bashful grin, or the way he ducked his head at each greeting from the well-wishers, but she enjoyed the rare aw-shucks attitude, so different from his usual controlled, stoic image.

And she enjoyed seeing him freer of pain than he had been in several months. The enforced rest, two weeks in Doc's care and a week in her own, had gone far in restoring his strength and his appetite. In fact, that last week, when he was confined to her room, he had tried to demonstrate just how much of an appetite he had. It took all the will power she possessed to follow Doc's orders, regardless of what he had said earlier in jest, and relegate her impatient patient to careful hugs and platonic cuddling. But the week was over, and she had made no promises to Doc about limiting any activities on their vacation.

On cue, the physician stepped toward them, his skilled eyes taking in Matt's appearance in a single, thorough glance. "Well, it took a whole town to get you to take a vacation."

Matt just smiled.

Doc leaned in and gave Kitty a kiss. "Make him take it easy," he ordered, but softened it with a wink.

"I'll do my best," she said, echoing what she had promised earlier.

With a cock of his head, he sidled up closer to Matt and said, "Marshal, remember what I told you." And then he shambled back through crowd.

She looked after him fondly, then turned back to smile up at the man beside her. To her surprise, Kitty saw his cheeks flame crimson. Intrigued, she leaned forward. "What was that he told you?"

Teeth tugging at his lower lip, Matt said, "I'll tell you later."

Even more intrigued, she made a mental note to ask him again as soon as they got on the train.

"Matthew, you an' Miz Kitty have yoreselves a good ol' time, now," Festus said, clanging up to them and shaking Matt's hand vigorously. Kitty watched for any sign that the motion hurt him, but saw only a grin.

"Thanks, Festus," Matt returned. "And I thank you again for coming after me – "

"Aw shucks," the deputy interrupted, waving away the gratitude. "You'd a done the same fer me."

That was true enough. In fact, he had done the same before.

"I'm jest proud everthang's worked itseff out. Miz Kitty wuz sa worried about ya, I wuz a feard she'uz jest gonna shrivel up – "

"Festus," she warned, catching the shadow that passed across the marshal's face. "Like you said, everything's worked itself out."

"Well, I reckon so. Don't you worry, none, Matthew, Dodge'll be settin' here jest a waitin' fer ya. Newly n' me'll take good care of thangs."

"I know you will, Festus," Matt agreed, pushing back the gray dress coat he wore and hooking his thumbs in his gun belt, a concession she had made, knowing he wouldn't feel completely dressed without it.

With a wink, the deputy stomped off in the same general direction Doc had gone. Kitty was just about to suggest they board when a slight figure emerged from the pack.

"Lucero," she greeted, taking the woman's hand in true pleasure.

"Kitty. Marshal." Her eyes rested briefly on his face before returning to look at Kitty. "I came to wish you a good trip, and to thank you for your generosity." She let her hand flow down the fashionable new dress she wore.

"Well, you had to wear something," Kitty reasoned, "besides that old hat and poncho. Didn't she, Matt?"

He cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah."

"Besides, it was the least I could do."

"You have been kind to me. I do not forget kindness."

This time Matt spoke. "I'll always be obliged to you and your family, Lucero. I can never repay – "

"There is no repaying freedom, Law," she said boldly, her tone accepting no contradiction. "You gave that to me and to so many others. How can I equal that?"

"With his life," Kitty replied softly, and felt Matt's gaze on her.

"Goodbye, Law," Lucero said, starting to turn away.

"Wait."

Kitty glanced toward Matt, watched as he pulled something from his pocket, recognized it all too well.

He thumbed the silver badge for a moment, then pressed it into Lucero's palm. "I believe this belongs to Lucho."

She hesitated, then smiled and took it. "He will keep it for you, Law, until you return."

Her gaze met Kitty's, and the established understanding passed between them. With a gracious nod, Matt Dillon's woman granted her permission, and Lucero rose on tiptoe, her lips meeting the startled marshal's. Kitty saw him pull back on impulse, then relax and return the kiss gently. She smiled, secure enough in her man to allow Lucero this moment.

But only a moment.

When the caress lingered a bit too long for her comfort, Kitty coughed pointedly. Lucero pulled back, letting her gaze take in the handsome face one more time. Cheeks flushed again, Matt cleared his throat and threw a sheepish glance toward Kitty.

"Goodbye," Lucero told them both. Reaching out to squeeze Kitty's hand, she reminded, "Take care of him. He is a man."

As the woman disappeared into the crowd, Kitty slipped her arm through Matt's and strode proudly with him toward the train. He was, indeed, a man. That was something no one had to tell her.

TBC in Epilogue