A Time to Heal
Matt fumed as they sat at the table eating supper in the relay station, but he did glance fleetingly at Kitty sitting beside him with that boyish grin she found so irresistible. He knew the remarkable redhead wouldn't try to force him into facing his demons, but would do everything she could to dispel them. Their needs were equally great as they undressed and settled without a word into bed in one of two private rooms. Somehow during frenzied bouts of lovemaking that lasted until morning the soul mates silently communicated. She understood he needed time to process everything from Quinton to now. He, mulling over what needed doing, pulled his hat over his eyes pretending to sleep as the stage moved onto the road.
Ham Holbird felt his body relax thanks to the attempts by the beautiful young woman sitting across from him to smooth things over. Although his jaw still ached, a day after he was hit, he felt no animosity toward the marshal for hitting him when he spoke of Brad Shumway's childhood. Ham had seen that fleeting look of shame on the lawman's face that was replaced by anger and resignation before the big man struck him. One thing he knew for darn sure was Matt Dillon wouldn't open up to him, so he contented himself with polite, yet friendly conversation from Kitty Russell until they stopped to change horses before the final leg to Dodge City. The final few miles were without conversation as each passenger turned inward.
A reception committee greeted the travelers at the stage depot. Among them were stage company and Long Branch employees, men used to carrying heavy loads, who took charge of Miss Kitty's many personal items, including her trunk, bringing them to her room upstairs in the saloon. Matt's stiff-legged assistant Chester Goode hailed his boss and politely nodded to Kitty, taking charge of the lawman's carpetbag and saddlebags as soon as he welcomed them home rushing ahead of them down the boardwalk. Doc Adams soon joined the trio making their way toward the best watering hole in western Kansas. Jake Worth, the clockmaker Ham Holbird he'd be awaiting in tow, followed in their wake.
"How's the shoulder?" Doc asked noticing the sling still tied around his friend's neck hanging empty as they sat down at their usual table, just out of earshot from where Jake, two of his riders and Holbird sat. "You can't pretend you didn't try something foolish."
"Frank held the other end," Matt retorted in exasperation, knowing he couldn't hide the truth. "Stop gloating and finish your beer. Okay, I'll admit I should have used my right arm once I didn't need the cane rather than my left."
"I'll make a deal with you Mr. Marshal. Keep that arm in the sling until you stop by my office so I can check you over," Doc countered, knowing it would get the big man on his examining table sooner rather than later.
Matt glanced over to where Ham Holbird sat and wished he would disappear as easily as ridding himself of the cane and soon, the sling. The little man sitting at a nearby table remained a fixture in his mind. He deserved an apology for the undeserved knockdown in the stage. No sense putting it off any longer, the big man thought as he reached the table and stood with hat in hand beside the man's chair.
"Holbird," he stated quietly, but loud enough for Jake Worth sitting next to the man to hear, "I should never have hit you. Sorry."
"I understand, Marshal. In a way I deserved it for messin' in your private affairs by tellin' what was best left in the past." the Hays clockmaker replied, standing and offering his hand, in turn, to the man looming over him.
Jake watched the lawman and Holbird shake hands. He rose, as soon as Matt turned to return to his table, to escort the man he'd hired for one singular job out to his ranch. An hour later, Kitty excused herself to update the Long Branch books Bill Pence had wisely left alone. Meanwhile, Chester took advantage of the empty cells at the jail to join Jim Buck in a friendly poker game for as long as his money lasted, the Dodge lawman climbed the stairs to Doc's office.
"You're lucky," Doc muttered as soon as his patient removed first the sling and then his shirt. "Your collarbone's completely healed. The stiffness will gradually disappear unless you do something else as foolish as carrying Kitty's trunk, albeit with Frank's help, before your body's ready for it. Do me a favor. Do the exercises I prescribe for at least a week before attempting anymore heavy lifting. By the way, your leg's in good shape."
"Thanks, Doc. Time I got back to work."
By evening Matt had sorted through the accumulated mail and paperwork enough back to his usual routine as if the events of the past month never happened. A bit past midnight he bid Chester goodnight and left his office to make the late rounds, starting on Front street and ending by rattling back doors to make sure they were locked as he made his way to the closed Long Branch back stairs and Kitty's room.
"The room Frank and Maria provided was nice, but it's good to be home," Kitty purred as she poured him a nightcap of the finest whiskey available from the decanter on the table by the settee. "Sit back and enjoy your drink."
Matt downed that first double shot of rye in one gulp. He sipped the next oversized shot glass full, but only after he removed his boots and vest and drew Kitty, dressed only in a robe and nightgown, closer to him. The embrace became a kiss, the kiss deepened and the outside world disappeared. The couple's physical connection, complete as it was, let them know they had things to talk about before surrendering to lovemaking until they slept from shear exhaustion.
"I'm glad you apologized to Holbird," Kitty murmured, jumping right into what needed saying. "He meant well. Telling us about Shumway's childhood was his attempt to help you eventually forgive the scumbag and allow us to move forward."
"I know that. It's why I hit him and why I apologized. I didn't want to hear excuses for that bastard so in a moment of anger I backhanded the clockmaker. Sure Shumway had it rough, but that's no excuse for what he's done since, up through the morning he hanged. It was part of a calculated plan to use a child, a boy who'd just lost his ma and would be without his pa for the next five years. I shouldn't have allowed that on my watch."
"Matt, you didn't. You did what was necessary for Pete to survive long enough to reach his aunt and uncle. If you'd acted differently Peter Patterson would have been left to suffer alone until they killed him too."
"Kit, I understand what you're saying, but I still failed that boy and my oath. I should have thought of something more than surviving long enough for him to escape or be rescued. It wasn't like in Quinton. There it was only on me to suffer and die with what dignity I could muster. I should have jumped Shumway and shoved Pete outside so he could run to the nearest house as soon as I learned it was more than a simple stage holdup. How can you still think enough of me to want me with you?"
"Cowboy, you're denser than usual. It's your stubborn pride talking. During the whole time you and Pete were held captive you kept looking for an opportunity to keep Pete safe no matter the personal cost. You didn't give up even after Shumway shot you. If you had, my being by your side telling you there's no shame in doing what we must to survive wouldn't have been enough to pull you back from the brink. You'd have failed only if you stopped trying."
"Honey, I don't deserve you. What saved me at the Gilbert farm and gave me the strength to face that trial is your love and that's a fact."
"Is that a fact? Did it ever occur to you that I love you because, with all your flaws, you're the best man I know? Matt Dillon you're not infallible. You're a kind, gentle yet strong man who has the ability to do more than most to bring justice to this God-forsaken prairie through his dedication to the law even if what he has to do to fulfill that sworn duty eats him up inside."
"Did you come to that conclusion yourself or with the help of Frank and Maria? Either way, you have a way of seeing deep inside me. Maybe the demands of the job in April were too close to what I went through this past month. Someday, if I live long enough to retire and we build a home together we should hang a motto on the wall, one that I plan to hide among the wanted posters in my office until then, called Lawman's Lament – Do what you must, no matter the personal cost, to bring law to the frontier for as long as you manage to survive."