All characters are copyright to CBS, I'm just borrowing them.

"Particles of honesty

And tenderness entwined

Things with you are different now

And I can feel the strain

What is it that protects you from this pain?"

-- "Promises We Keep" performed by Eleanor McEvoy

Chapter 4

Matt never did get the sleep he craved. He'd been in his bed no more than half an hour before he was called upon to deal with the widow Pry being locked in Burke's new safe and the apprehension of the delinquent pie thief. He'd gotten tired of the child's behavior and, losing patience, had turned the boy over his knee to tan his hide. It had resulted in such an amazing change of attitude that when the boy's father finally showed up to claim him, he decided the treatment would benefit all of his out of control young'uns.

By then, it was nearly time for Matt to go to dinner with Kitty. He was still ruminating about what he would do about dinner since he didn't want to set her off and he still didn't feel like eating. A wash in cold water helped clear his head and a shave did wonders for his appearance. He decided it would have to do. He discovered that if he didn't exert himself too much and kept his breathing slow and even he wouldn't get the urge to cough.

Promptly at seven o'clock he climbed the back stairs to the Long Branch, went to Kitty's room, and knocked. He had a key he kept on a thin satin ribbon --- a gift from her several years ago --- but he didn't figure with her in the mood she'd been in lately that it was appropriate to use it tonight. No, he'd be better off behaving like a courting gentleman instead of her lover.

She opened the door after he'd waited only a minute or two and greeted him with a warm smile. "Matt, come in." He stood awkwardly, suddenly all hands and feet, in a room that seemed far too small for his masculine bulk. He felt as though he ought to have brought something for her, a peace offering perhaps. Matt had nothing to give but himself and his earnest regrets that he'd been the cause of her hurt feelings. "Oh, for heaven's sake, cowboy, make yourself at home. I won't bite," she added more gently. It was her way of saying she'd forgiven him and the closest she got to an apology for snubbing him earlier.

"Thanks, Kitty." He took a long look at her as he seated himself at the table. She was wearing one of his favorite dresses, a satin confection one shade darker than her curls with some sort of nearly transparent netted material at the bodice. She wore simple jewelry with it, a gold locket which she'd told him once contained pictures of her parents and in her ears the freshwater pearls he'd brought her back from a trip to San Francisco. Her hair was held back by matching pearl combs and hung down her neck in loose ringlets the way he preferred it. "You look beautiful," he said. He wanted to say it more eloquently, to quote romantic poetry for her or something, but that just wasn't his way. Instead he smiled into her eyes, took her hand across the table, softly kissed it, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Kitty was up from the table and behind him in a blur of movement. Matt thought he'd somehow managed to offend her again until he felt her arms around his neck and her cheek nestled against his silky curls. "Oh, Matt," she whispered back with tears glistening on her lashes, "it's all right." She kissed the top of his head and returned to her place at the table. "I really don't like being on the outs with you."

"I don't like disappointing you."

Nothing more needed said and they ate in companionable silence. Matt found himself hungry after all and ate with good appetite. Kitty's cooking, as usual, was excellent. He found himself daydreaming about always having one of her meals --- not to mention her other talents --- available to him exclusively when he came home from work. He sighed; it was yet another promise which would have to wait until he could guarantee it. In this case, he had no business contemplating more than a discrete relationship with her until he either laid aside the badge or found a way to keep disgruntled ex-prisoners from gunning for him. Unfortunately, they both knew the odds of him giving up being a US marshal or the likelihood of him being able to prevent attempts on their lives out of revenge.

By the time they had finished dinner, twilight had painted the streets of Dodge in deep purple shadow. The lamplighter was going about igniting the gas lamps with his torch and the people had begun drifting in for a night's pleasure after a hard day's work. It was too early yet for them to have become rowdy in their pursuits which made it a pleasurable evening from Matt's point of view. He figured he wouldn't need to make rounds until later and it didn't look like there'd be much to do. He would be able to spend the rest of the evening in Kitty's arms. That was an agreeable prospect for him.

Kitty lit the lamp above the table. It cast a pleasant green glow in the immediate vicinity and made soft shadows in the corners of the room. Matt set his napkin aside. He hoped Kitty hadn't noticed he didn't eat as much as usual; the food had been pleasant enough but he still felt rather strange and didn't wish to complicate the evening with something as untoward as his innards acting up. "Kitty, that's the best meal I ever ate." Matt meant it, too. Festus' cooking might keep a man from starving but it got monotonous after a while and it certainly wasn't very tasty at times.

"Well, thank you very much." A blush tinted Kitty's cheeks. Matt wasn't normally this demonstrative and it pleased her that he valued their relationship so highly. She'd noticed his subtle attempts to hide that cough of his and Kitty thought she had just the remedy for it, one he'd take with no argument. "How about a little brandy?" She smiled and didn't wait for him to answer before she began pouring. "Napoleon, 1837." They stood together, glasses in hand, not quite embracing, and Kitty smiled as she said, "Well, here's to a quiet evening with no interruptions." The soft clinking of glasses echoed musically n the room.

Before either of them could take their first sip, however, they were interrupted by a scream from downstairs and the sound of breaking glass. She and Matt looked at each other, shrugged, and took a sip of the brandy. Their laughter was forced this time but they ignored the ruckus from downstairs. A second louder scream and more breaking glass carried to them from downstairs. Matt set down his glass and began heading toward the door. Kitty placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, mindful of his injury, and set her glass down two. Gently, she pushed Matt back into his chair. Tired as he was, he offered no real resistance. "Not this time," she chided. "You're just going to stay right here. If it's anything less than a murder I'll take care of it myself." She flounced out the door and slammed it shut as if by sheer force she could contain the marshal.

Matt admitted to himself he really was in no condition to break up a fight now. Fatigue dragged at his senses and he dropped the façade he'd maintained for Kitty's sake. The brandy did soothe his raw throat and stifle the cough. He sighed and took another sip. His eyes were losing focus. Matt shook his head to clear his vision; that had been a bad idea because it started the room rotating. He had every intention of only sitting on Kitty's bed, where he'd be more comfortable, until she returned but the darkness he'd been fighting rose up to meet him and he fell over backwards on the pillows.

Kitty hadn't gone far. The door to her suite opened out onto a balcony which overlooked most of the Long Branch's floor. Below she could see a several of the locals drinking their beers and watching the spectacle of the two prospectors Matt had caught fighting earlier throwing beer glasses against the wall as they drunkenly belted out "Down in the Valley". Kitty's lips pursed in disapproval as she wondered why on earth both Sam and the saloon girl were letting the two get away with it. They noticed her watching and momentarily stopped their antics, waiting to see what the proprietress would do next. With a disgusted wave of her hand, she turned away from the balcony and went back into her suite.

The fire had burned low, leaving the room a bit chill. Kitty closed the door softly behind her. "Well, it wasn't anything, Matt," she said. "Just those old prospectors having…" She stopped mid sentence when she realized Matt was no longer sitting where she'd left him. A glance around the room revealed him sprawled across her bed, apparently sound asleep. "…a little fun," she finished as the irritation and frustration began to build within her. She had planned on him ending up in her bed but sleeping wasn't the activity she'd had in mind, at least not right away.

Standing at the foot of her bed, gazing at the big man sleeping there, Kitty fought a war within herself. Pity, compassion, and love battled with irritation, frustration, and a feeling she'd been somehow jilted. The harder emotions won. In a fit of pique, she grabbed a large porcelain soup tureen and sent it crashing to the floor. Matt flinched in his sleep but didn't wake. Truly angry now, Kitty left the room and with a loud slamming of the door.

The patrons took one look at her face as she came downstairs and immediately ceased their carousing. They hastily put the table upright and dusted it off with their shirt sleeves. Both of them scuttled to the bar and came back with full beer mugs. "Buy you a drink, Miss Kitty?" With a bittersweet smile, she took both mugs and then upended them on the drunkards' heads. As she began to push the batwing doors open, she heard Sam the bartender calling to her.

"Miss Kitty?"

"What?" The edge in her voice just dared anyone to cross her and boded ill for anyone who was foolish enough to do so.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, concerned. He'd seen the marshal go up to visit with her and thought it odd that she would come back down alone. Usually the two of them stayed in her suite for most of the night.

"Why?" she demanded. Sam was a good employee but if he didn't let her alone, he'd find out just how much said about a redhead in bad temper was actually true!

"Sam looked uncomfortable. "Well, it's getting late and you could be…molested."

A high, brittle laugh escaped. "Really?" she said and pushed her way out onto Front Street.

Sam looked thoughtfully at Kitty's disappearing back and the up in the direction of her suite and wondered what the marshal had done to make her mad this time.