~~Chapter 9
The wind swirled violently around the house rattling the shutters and whistling under the eaves, searching for a way in. We had a day, maybe two that we could get to the outbuildings with relative ease. After that, it would be a once-a-week expedition using snow shoes and the guide ropes.
James Anna and I would have a lot of time in close quarters, free from distractions.
It had only been three and a half weeks since I arrived here. I wasn't quite myself yet but I could feel my strength returning – and with it, my libido. There were things I could do to help re-gain my strength and blow off steam – push-ups, calisthenics that I learned in the army. As far as my other urges, there were things that could be done about that, too. The problem was, I hadn't been with a woman for several months, which made … things a lot harder to deal with.
I realized with a pang that in all of our long conversations in front of the fire, I'd never mentioned Kitty to James.
Over the years, my relationship with Kitty waxed and waned. There were times when I visited her rooms every night and often came back for more during the day. We tore at each other in a fever of lust, barely taking time to remove our clothes. Other times, it was meals at Delmonico's or drinks and conversation at the Long Branch. The last couple of years, the times we were lovers shortened and the time we were "just friends" lengthened. The sex, if we had it, was perfunctory and empty and left me feeling a little lonely.
On occasion, if I happened to be in Wichita or St. Louis, I took a lover. I kept these encounters to myself but if there was one thing Kitty Russell knew, it was a man who had just fucked another woman. She seemed to choose to ignore it but I was fooling myself if I believed that, if it meant nothing more than a man's release to me, it would mean the same to Kitty.
Being with the Wichita or St. Louis women began to wear on me, though. I didn't like the feeling that I was sneaking around. I liked even less the feeling that I was using these women to stave off the inevitable with Kitty. On top of that, I repeatedly told Kitty that we couldn't be together. At the same time, my actions held her to me. It was dishonorable behavior and I needed to start thinking with the head on my shoulders and not the one hanging between my legs.
In the months leading up to our big row, I kept myself to myself and my cock in my pants. I thought celibacy might lend me some clarity.
A wise old man once said to me, "Pray to God but send for a doctor." What I believe he was trying to say was, ask and it shall be answered – just not in the way that you think. The Lord will give you what you need. You have to get out of your head, see it, take it - or leave it. I lay on that ridge above this valley preparing to die when James Anna Lémieux stepped out unto her porch and lit a lantern. The Lord provides.
But here I was - a man who claimed to be unafraid of dying - cleaning a god damned rabbit with my back to the most beautiful and unlikely future I could ever imagine, my body braced like I was about to take a bullet, rather than go all-in with a nineteen year old, one hundred and fifteen-pound black girl.
I sat at the kitchen table while I cleaned the rabbit with James bossing me from the bath tub about how to properly prepare it. She kept up a steady stream of chatter and questions to which I half-listened, responding with grunts and monosyllables, trying to keep my mind on not severing my thumb instead of the thought of her body made soft and warm from her bath.
"Give the feet and ears to Mortimer," James said.
"Sure," I said.
"But not the whole head. He should not eat the brain."
"Right."
"One of the chickens laid an egg. It is far past egg season."
"Huh."
"Do you think it will hatch?"
"Maybe."
"Remind me to fetch the snow shoes from the woodshed."
"Okay."
I chopped the rabbit into parts and placed it in a pot. I gave the liver and heart to Mortimer and minced the entrails for chicken feed. I decided to finish the job and sliced onions and carrots for stew. I rummaged through the cupboard opening jars and sniffing the contents. I found some laurel and dropped a couple of leaves and a few peppercorns in with the rabbit.
"Where'd you learn to cook, Marshal?"
"Picked it up here and there."
"You're pretty skilled for a bachelor."
"Could be."
"I'll wager you have left a trail of heartbroken, doe-eyed shop girls with ruffled skirts and flowing golden hair."
"Never had much luck with blonds."
I picked up the pot and carried it to the fireplace. I set it in some coals off to the side. I added a log and jabbed at it with the poker. I stared into the flames.
"There's no one waiting for you back in Dodge City, Mr. Dillon?"
Right then, with that question, I made my decision. I have been told by everyone I know that I think too much but after all my mental contortions, it ended up feeling as easy as turning a page in a book.
I finally looked at James.
"I have a first name, you know," I said.
She gazed at me with her head cocked. She raised a hand to swipe a strand of hair from her cheek, briefly revealing her breast above the cloudy bathwater that hid the rest of her body. I lifted the kettle from its hook over the fire and added more hot water to her bath. I put the kettle back and pulled a chair to the side of the tub.
"You side-stepped my question," she said, watching me with narrowed eyes.
I scooped the sponge out of the water.
"Sit up, cowboy" I said.
Without hesitating a single second, James leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I dipped the sponge back into the water and began to wash the smooth brown skin on her back with slow circular strokes. James bowed her head and sighed deeply.
"There was someone waiting for me back in Dodge," I said. "I told her to stop."
"Did you love her?"
"I always will."
"Then why did you leave her?"
"Lawmen make a lot of enemies. It's not always safe for the people close to me."
"Outlaws bent on revenge?"
"That and - ."
"And what, Matthew?"
"Always some young buck looking to make a reputation," I said. I squeezed suds from the sponge and watched them slide down her back. "Always another man to kill," I murmured.
"How many?"
"Enough."
"Do you think about quitting?"
"Every day."
"Then why don't you?"
"Never had a good enough reason."
"What's a good enough reason?"
I hooked a finger under a long ringlet of hair that had escaped her bun, pulled it straight and released it.
"Don't you want a family? Children?" she asked.
"I'd need to disappear. Live somewhere far away, where people don't know me. It's a lot to ask of someone to do that with me."
She gazed at me for a long moment then looked away. She stood and stepped out of the tub. She tugged a sheet off the chair wrapped it around her body. She turned her back to me. Her neck was slick with water and steam curled off her shoulders. I walked around the tub so we faced each other. I stood close and looked down at her bowed head.
"I'll bet there are plenty of women who would go anywhere with you, if you asked," she said, her voice a near whisper.
"Maybe you could introduce me to a couple."
"I don't know any white women. In fact, I don't know any women at all."
I lifted her chin with my knuckle.
"I guess it's just you, then," I said.
"Do not pity me, Marshal," she said, her eyes flashing.
"That's the last thing I feel for you."
She stepped out of my reach and wound the sheet more tightly around herself. She frowned down at her feet.
"You would stay here for me?" she asked.
I was done. I felt everything I thought I knew about myself come apart in my chest. This girl had roped me in and set her brand upon my heart.
"I might jump off a cliff if you asked me to," I said.
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