"Kitty, look …. that's just the way this job is…. I can't run around and hide. And believe me, there isn't a crowd big enough to get lost in if somebody really wants to kill me….you've known that all along."

—Matt Dillon, "Anybody Can Kill a Marshal"

Fifteen Miles to Dodge

Two and a half months later, a familiar, solitary figure rode his buckskin through the lonely, open prairie, the full moon lighting his way through the crisp autumn night. A hundred million stars shone brightly in the sky, their full splendor on display.

A chill cut through Matt Dillon as he made his way by the light of the moon. He fought his somnolence but allowed himself a little shiver as he pushed a reluctant Buck on. The sun had set several hours before, and the temperature had continued to steadily drop. Matt's every breath now puffed out white in front of him.

He was traveling back from testifying at a trial in Hays. The trial had gone several days past what Matt had expected, and he was anxious to get back to Dodge. The trip was one he'd made about a hundred times before. But this trip hadn't felt like the others.

In the past, when Matt Dillon traveled around the country, he had bounced from place to place like a tumbleweed in the wind, barely noticing whether he was coming or going. This trip, he realized, he'd acutely felt the ache of leaving something behind, and now the joyful hope of traveling back to it. He would ordinarily have made camp a few hours earlier, but as long as he could see by way of the moon, Matt was determined to put a few less miles between himself and home before stopping for the night.

Home.

That word had never meant much to Matt before. But it meant something now—meant someone.

Kitty.

Matt Dillon smiled softly as he thought about the past two and a half months, the incredible months since he and Kitty had first come together. Those months, like the five before them, had once again changed everything.

Oh, there had been a few growing pains in their relationship. Matt was used to being on his own. He'd had to adjust to letting Kitty in. She never pushed him, though, never tried to force his thoughts and feelings out of him like some women in his past had. No, she'd sit patiently, waiting until he was ready to speak, silently letting him know with her eyes, or with a soft touch of her hand, or with her loving smile that she was there for him.

She was always there for him, ready to offer whatever he needed. Matt had never met such a giving person in all his life. He tried his best not to show it when they were around others, and he hadn't told her again since that first night, but he loved her. He loved her more than he would have ever thought a man could love a woman.

It had only been a little less than eight months since Matt Dillon had met Kitty Russell, but he couldn't imagine going back to the way things had been before her….to the loneliness. To the harshness without her softness. To the darkness without her light.

With very few exceptions, Matt had been fortunate enough that the badge had not forced him out of town overnight during the past two and a half months. This trip had been his first real one since he and Kitty had become a couple. Matt had spent every night with Kitty that he was in town and not needed at the jail. In fact, they spent every minute they could together, but Matt could never get enough.

Spending his nights at the Long Branch with Kitty, of course, meant that Matt had been forced to have a mortifying yet very necessary conversation with Chester regarding where he could be found during the night if the need were to arise.

A red-faced Matt had mumbled to his sometimes-naïve assistant that if he weren't at the jail, he would no longer be found spending the night alone at his rented room in the back at Ma Smalley's. That he would instead be in room number six at the Long Branch….with Miss Kitty.

Chester had been smiling and nodding politely during the first part of Matt's speech. Matt recalled the truly cringeworthy moment after he'd spit it all out, when the realization finally hit Chester….

Even several seconds after Matt had finished speaking, Chester had continued gazing at Matt with his head cocked to one side, still a trace of the smile on his face. Suddenly, the smile had dropped like a weight from Chester's face, his eyes slightly widened, and a blush so bright blossomed up from his neck that Matt truly wasn't sure which one of them was suffering more. As Chester sputtered out an acknowledgement, Matt had wished a giant sinkhole would open up and swallow them both….

Matt now smiled and chuckled to himself as he rode home towards Kitty. As unpleasant as that moment had been, it had all been worth it because of the very pleasant place where he got to spend his nights.

Sometimes late at night, after they'd once again brought one another the seemingly endless pleasure they'd only ever experienced with each other, Matt would lie awake, holding Kitty tight, trying to make the night last forever. He'd try to remember every detail, so he would have something to hold on to while he was away, for all the future nights like these when he couldn't be with her.

Matt had never felt more at peace, yet had never been more scared. Scared for Kitty, scared for himself. Kitty had made him so happy—so much happier than he felt a lawman deserved to be—that sometimes it felt like only a matter of time before something terrible happened, before he was forced to pay it all back. The worst, most unbearable thing would be if something were to happen to Kitty. Matt didn't know if he could survive that…. not that he'd want to.

And then, there were Doc's words from that morning in Delmonico's. They echoed constantly through his mind.

Just don't go gettin' yourself killed, Matt!

That might not be so easy. There was, after all, a reason that Matt had required his relationship with Kitty to be secret and "non-permanent." Even when in love with beautiful redheads, US Marshals were always living on borrowed time.

Matt bundled his collar closer up around his neck and chose to instead focus on all he was riding towards. Kitty's bright, welcoming smile. Her warm, wet kiss. Her open, loving arms. Her steady, all-consuming love….

Clouds had begun setting in, thwarting the light from the moon and making it too dark to safely travel any farther. Just as he'd admitted to himself that he'd been forced to stop for the night, Matt spotted a campfire in the distance. Once he was closer, he dismounted Buck and cautiously approached the campsite, his right hand hovering near his Colt. A man could never be too careful out here on the unforgiving prairie.

"Hello, the camp!" Matt called out.

As he came closer, he saw a dark-haired man of medium build sitting on a rock by the fire, facing away from him, holding a plate and sipping out of a tin cup, seemingly oblivious to Matt's approach. An oblivion that was odd, considering the amount of noise Matt was purposefully making so he wouldn't catch the man unaware. The man turned, acting as though he were noticing Matt for the first time. He had small, piercing gray eyes, a scruffy black beard, and a jagged scar over his right cheek. "Hello there, stranger," the man said in a rough, although not unfriendly voice.

Matt steadily looked the man up and down. "Howdy. Name's Matt Dillon. I'm the United States Marshal outta Dodge."

"How do, Marshal," the man replied, looking Matt over just as carefully.

"I was just about to stop for the night. Mind if I make camp here with ya?" Matt asked, giving a quick glance around.

The man eyed Matt for a moment, looking suddenly tense. His voice, however, projected a casualness. "Sure, sure, Marshal. And my name's Johnson. Ray Johnson."

Matt had an uneasy feeling, although he couldn't quite pinpoint the cause. "Much obliged. I've got some coffee and beans I'd be happy to share," Matt offered, continuing to eye the stranger warily.

Matt couldn't have told you why, but he'd bet his life this man's name wasn't Johnson. Call it a lawman's intuition. Call it hard-earned experience. Whatever it was, it had gotten Matt Dillon out of many a dangerous situation.

Matt squatted down and warmed his hands by the fire. "Where ya headed, Johnson?" he asked in a friendly voice, feeling out this Ray Johnson.

"Oh, no place particular, Marshal," Johnson answered noncommittally.

"Uh huh," Matt nodded, gazing at the man steadily, unconvinced.

Matt knew he was going to be keeping at least one eye open until the sun came up enough so that he and Buck could move on towards home. Towards Kitty. Only fifteen miles to Dodge.

Matt Dillon waited, already regretting needing to stop.

tbc