"Kitty. Are you sure you're all right"
The tall, well-built Marshal stood close, facing her, big hands encircling her upper arms as he stared down into her face with concern.
Looking back up into those intense, light-blue eyes, wordless emotions passed between them as swiftly as the blur of a hummingbird's wings.
"Yes…yes, I'm all right…now," she answered in a voice still shaky with adrenaline after dodging the bullets aimed at her feet by two drunken cowboys. Matt had viciously backhanded one, and now the other cowboy was tasked with dragging his partner down to the jail.
It occurred to the relieved young woman as her pulse slowed, that Matt has not initially asked aloud, "Kitty, are you all right?" before checking again with "Are you sure?" And she had never answered that first, unspoken question in words.
"It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart. Without saying a word you can light up the dark," she thought to herself with a smile curving her lips. From early on, their relationship had quickly moved beyond the need for words. His silent ways had surprisingly never made her feel the need to fill the air with her own words. Even though she laughingly denied it to Matt, she had always known exactly what he was thinking.
With one more look that she felt envelop her like a warm caress, the big Marshal followed his two prisoners back to the jail. Kitty rubbed the toe of her shoe over one of the bullet holes in the splintered wooden floor as she paused in helping her barkeep clean up.
She turned her head towards the still moving bat-wing doors. "Try as I may, I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing," she mused. Shaking herself a little, she straightened up and headed behind the bar.
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Two weeks later, Matt stood outside the Long Branch, his hands atop the bat-wing doors, his sharp eyes scanning the boisterous crowd for the beautiful red-haired woman. Not seeing her, he frowned, pushed in through the doors and made his way to the bar, rowdy trail hands clearing a path at sight of his imposing frame and shiny badge.
"Clem! Where's Kitty?" Matt yelled, leaning over the bar.
"Whadyasay Marshal?!" The thin barkeep's hands never stopped filling glass mugs with beer and sliding whiskey bottles and glasses along the bar top towards grasping hands. "OH! Miss Kitty! She's taking a break up in her room!" he yelled, still filling glasses and scraping coins towards him as he shot his eyes up towards the second floor.
Matt nodded, turned and wove his way between raucous, celebrating cowboys, one nuzzling the neck of a giggling, pretty saloon girl on his lap, another loudly and drunkenly singing while waving his splashing mug of beer, and two arm wrestling at the table nearest the stairs. At the foot of the stairs, he paused to look around, and grinned at the loud, harmless fun that the hard-working trail hands so deserved after months of deprivation.
Reaching Kitty's room, he stuffed his big Stetson under his right armpit, and rapped his right knuckles on the door while running his left hand through his unruly curly hair.
"COME IN!" Her voice was a mix of irritable tiredness and resignation, thinking Clem had sent one of the girls up to fetch her back to the melee of grabbing male hands.
Matt opened the door slightly, and playfully peeked inside.
"Oh MATT! Come on in!" She was sitting on a small couch, shoe off, rubbing her foot. Even with a slight frown, her face was strikingly beautiful. "I swear, if I have to fend off one more drunken cowboy tonight!" She looked into his face with her large, sky-blue eyes wide open. "Matt, NONE of those men could have had a mother! They were all raised in caves!"
"Oh, Kitty, is it really that bad?" he asked with a chuckle. "Come on. Let's have a drink!" He went over to the small table holding a tray containing a cut-glass decanter of rye whiskey, and two small, heavy glasses. After pouring the rye, he picked up both glasses, handed one to the now-smiling young woman, pulled a chair close, facing her, and sat down. "Here's to you, Darlin'," he said in a deep, warm voice, his eyes glittering with admiration. He leaned forward as he raised his glass to her, and she leaned in towards him with her glass. The thick glasses lightly clinked as their sparkling eyes locked on each other. After each had sipped some of the smooth-but-fiery amber liquid, they set down their glasses, stood up and wrapped their arms around each other.
Her head was pressed against his broad chest, and as she felt the strong beating of his heart, she snuggled closer, feeling his strong arms tighten. In the silence of her room, the sounds of the revelry downstairs wafted under the door.
"All day long I can hear people talking out loud. But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd," the contented young woman thought to herself. "Old Mr. Webster could never define what's being said between your heart and mine."
Then the big man loosened his embrace, put his hands around her upper arms and gently leaned her back so he could see her lovely face looking up at him. He leaned down and tenderly kissed her soft, full lips long and sweetly.
"See you later, Kitty." Matt had his last rounds of the night to do, and strode to the door, putting on his Stetson as he stepped out into the hall and headed down the stairs.
She stood still, basking in the kiss, and despite the cacophony of noise from the celebrating cowboys, she could clearly hear and follow his distinctive boot heels going down each step, crossing the floor, and disappearing outside.
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Kitty was sitting at her dressing table brushing her long, glossy red hair when she heard Matt's tap on her door, followed by him stepping inside, holding his boots. She smiled at him in the mirror, and he put his boots in their usual spot and padded over, removing his Stetson and gun belt as he walked, He left them in their place atop the small round table, and came up behind her, putting his big hands on her soft, bare shoulders. It was a warm night, and she was wearing a sapphire blue, sleeveless, figure-hugging, satin nightgown.
She loved the touch of his big, callused, but gentle, hands, spreading a delicious warmth through her. Standing up, she turned to face him, and those hands cupped her face as he bent down to kiss her, softly at first, then with increasing pressure and depth. Gasping a little when he pulled back, her summer-blue eyes met his piercing clear-blue ones, and he gave her the slow, sensuous smile reserved for only her.
Neither had spoken yet. Neither needed to. As Kitty slowly unbuttoned Matt's shirt, her hand lightly tracing his muscular chest, the silent words swirled into her mind.
"The smile on your face lets me know that you need me. There's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me."
His right hand was now stroking the delicate indentation at the base of her slender neck, and his left held her right hip.
"The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall…"
When his clothes lay in a pile on the floor, Matt swung her up into his arms and carried her to the big brass bed. He put her down as delicately as an armful of roses, slid in beside her, pulled her close, and rolled over on top, propping himself up on his forearms. He looked down at her lovely face visible in the soft moonlight through his half-closed eyes.
Kitty looked up into his handsome face and wrapped her arms around his big neck and smiled to herself.
"…You say it best when you say nothing at all."
End.
