Hard Promises to Keep
All characters are copyright to CBS, I'm just borrowing them.
Chapter 15
"Burnin' both ends of a candle
Can leave one in the dark
And I know what I put you through
Is hard upon your heart
And it's just that you're concerned for me
Sweetheart, I understand
You do the best you can with who I am"
-- "Who I Am" performed by Alan Jackson
It had been quite an evening…and a day for that matter. Flash images of those events played through Kitty's mind. She crinkled her nose, smelling again the gun smoke in the silent seconds afterward as she had peered through the haze frantically searching for the one person in her life who mattered most.
She'd known when she saw the barrel of Matt's gun lower that it wouldn't be a killing shot and that he couldn't possibly avoid O'Malley's carefully aimed bullet. Both gunmen had disappeared from her vision as she flattened herself over Sam's prostrate body to protect him. When she thought she could chance looking around she saw O'Malley, clutching what was left of his gun hand, slinking toward the batwing doors leaving a trail of blood. Westfeldt kept them covered, dragging Fancy in front of him as a human shield, until they had all cleared the saloon. The anger and helplessness she felt burned away in the wake of a growing panic. She knew Matt had been shot but she didn't see him. If he hadn't been seriously injured he certainly would have been up and after the outlaws.
Kitty closed that line of thought and focused on the present. She set the beef tea in a pan of water beside the fire where it would stay warm, then checked on Matt before she did anything else. A slight scowl creased his face, as though he'd fallen asleep thinking about something and it still bothered him. Gazing down, Kitty wondered if Matt was also plagued by memories of the day's events, even in sleep. There wasn't anything you could have done, you know. I should have anticipated something like this would happen. She sighed. I've seen it often enough. She combed the damp, wild curls back from his forehead with her fingertips and kissed him. The gesture chased the frown from Matt's face as he relaxed, coming closer to consciousness, leaning into her comforting touch. Kitty smiled in relief. Not much fever and he doesn't seem too much the worse for wear. Maybe Matt will get off lightly this time. He's been through so much. If I can just get him to eat something….and stop dancing with death -- at least until he's mended.
She found one of the delicate little Blue Willow cups used for tea and ladled out a small amount -- no more than a few spoonfuls, as Doc had instructed -- from the simmering jar.
Matt's eyes were finally open and followed Kitty as she approached the bedside. Seeing the cup in her hand, the lawman swallowed hard and turned his head aside. "Ah Kitty, I appreciate the thought but I…I don't think I could eat right now."
"You need to eat something, Matt. Doc's orders. You need to build your strength back up."
Matt knew she was right, but with his stomach performing queasy flip-flops he wasn't sure about eating yet. "I'm not promising anything."
"Just try it, Matt."
He cradled the porcelain in his large hands and savored the heat it gave. The liquid had a pleasant aroma, not overly medicinal or too thick with herbs. Encouraged, Matt took a cautious sip. It wasn't nearly as bland as the broth he loathed but he could identify no dominant flavor. The warmth settled into the pit of his stomach, which heaved a few times in protest and then subsided. When he was certain it wasn't going to come back up, Matt forced himself to slowly drink the remainder.
Kitty took the cup from him and set it on the bedside table. Matt's color had improved but he still looked uncomfortable and ill. "Are you all right, Matt?" she asked as she measured out the evening's final dose of quinine for him.
"Just tired," he reassured her. Matt stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Come to bed with me tonight, Kit. No sense in you sleeping on that chaise lounge or in the chair again."
She couldn't resist the mute appeal in his blue eyes. "Well, I don't suppose it could hurt anything." Kitty moved tiredly across the room. "Anything to make you feel better, Marshal Dillon," she consented and began unbuttoning her shirtwaist. No one would bother them at this hour of the night; as tired as she was, Kitty didn't see any point in stepping behind the dressing screen. She simply let the garments fall to the floor and stepped out of them. The corset came next, but Kitty found that her injured wrist prevented her from undoing the laces.
He saw her struggling with it and offered, "I can do that, Kitty." With deft fingers, Matt untied the laces and then loosened them. The corset too fell abandoned to the floor to join her other clothing.
The room was cold; Kitty put more wood on the fire and then sat down at her dressing table. She took a soft eggshell colored flannel nightgown trimmed with deep blue satin ribbon from one of the drawers and slipped it on over her camisole. One by one she took the pins from her hair. The thick tresses fell across her shoulders in loose waves. Matt watched her drawing the brush through those rich auburn curls and wished he were feeling well enough to help her with thatand then to indulge in the intimacy and passion that usually followed. Even in his present condition, his body twitched in reaction to his thoughts, causing the marshal to smile. "You don't know how much I've missed having you close, Kitty."
Her bedtime preparations finished, Kitty glanced at Matt's reflection in the mirror and could fully read the longing in his darkened eyes. With a sigh, she extinguished the lamp, slid beneath the quilts, and curled up with her back against the lawman's chest. "Good night, Cowboy."
"Good night, Kitty. And thanks. Sleep well, pretty lady," he murmured, nestling his chin into her silken hair as he pulled her closer. Soon both were asleep, their bodies comfortably entwined.
Sometime later, Matt's restless tossing woke Kitty. She could feel the warmth emanating from his damp skin and actually heard a pained groan coming from the big man. It was the sound that snapped her to full wakefulness.
Kitty sat up in the bed, lit the lamp on her bedside table, and trimmed the wick back to its lowest setting. The big man lying next to her was also awake, had been for some time judging from the dark circles beneath his red rimmed eyes, and was trying unsuccessfully to bite back the moans of pain. A film of sweat covered his face and the look he gave her was one of pure misery.
"Shhh, Matt," she said, trying to soothe him with her touch. Matt couldn't relax because the pain had overridden all else. He moaned, surprising Kitty; the man had an iron will and seldom betrayed his discomfort to anyone. She'd seen him silently endure what had to have been excruciating injuries without making a sound.
"I…I'm sorry, Kitty," Matt managed. "I didn't mean to wake you."
She ignored his apology and got up. "Don't be ridiculous, Matt. Let me see what I can do to make you more comfortable."
"You don't have to do that," Matt protested. "Go back to sleep."
"The bandage needs changing; it's soaked through. Just let me take care of you for once." She gathered up the things she needed, placed them on the table on his side of the bed, and then crossed the room to retrieve one more item. "Drink this," Kitty ordered, handing a filled shot glass to him.
"What --" he began suspiciously.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Matt, it's just whiskey!" Kitty exclaimed in exasperation. "I thought it might help ease the pain a bit. Changing this dressing isn't going to be much fun, I'm afraid." Matt silently downed the whiskey and then presented his arm to her.
"Hurts like hell," Matt confessed. "I think Doc's maybe right about the bone being chipped."
Kitty began the tedious task of soaking away the old bandages from the injury. She scowled when she saw the wound; she had told Matt it was more than a graze, and she'd been right. Doc's stitching was neat and precise, although he'd kept the final layer loose to allow for drainage. She didn't think this one would scar much. The edges were irritated but not inflamed. "Well, it looks all right," she said, though her voice lacked certainty. Matt winced but was otherwise quiet as she cleaned the wound with rubbing alcohol diluted with water. She swathed it in fresh bandages and then did her best to position it in a manner that wouldn't hurt him quite so much. "It probably ought to be in a sling," she mused.
"I can't sleep like that," Matt complained. "It's too much like being tied down and it wouldn't help anyway."
She didn't pursue that argument. Kitty went over to the fireplace, coaxed the embers back into flame, and then returned to the chair at his bedside.
The whiskey evidently hadn't helped much; the big man said nothing but his hand in hers was white knuckled, a nearly crushing grip at times. Beads of sweat rolled down his face with each wave of pain. Kitty wet a cloth and soothed him with it. The fever hadn't gotten as high as it had been, but she was worried about it.
"Matt…." Kitty began helplessly.
"No laudanum," he insisted between gritted teeth.
"You're being ridiculously stubborn," Kitty murmured, wishing there was something more she could do to help him.
It was the growing distress in her eyes as she watched him suffer, rather than the mounting pain, which changed Matt's mind. An hour later, he capitulated. "Just use as little as possible," he pleaded with her. "You know what it does to me."
"I know," she responded as she measured the thick cloudy liquid into a teaspoon. Matt grimaced at the bitter taste of the medication. His stomach roiled in protest; he wanted to gag but clamped his mouth closed. Without being asked, Kitty gave him a glass of water. He drank it quickly, knowing that it wouldn't quite wash away the vile taste left by the laudanum but that it was better than nothing. After taking the glass and placing it on the bedside table, Kitty once again climbed into bed beside Matt.
"Talk to me, Kitty," he said, hoping that conversation would take his mind off his discomforts and also wanting --needing-- to be close with his woman.
"Matt," she coaxed, "you really ought to try getting some sleep. You've been through so much -- too much even for a well body to endure without being worn down. How will you ever get well if you keep on like this?"
He didn't like being coddled. She was talking to him as though he were no more than a cranky toddler. "When I said talk to me, that isn't quite what I had in mind, Kitty," the big man grunted. Despite the persistent, low-grade nausea, he was pleased to note that the searing pain was beginning to subside.
Kitty bit her lip. There were things which needed said but she wasn't certain this was the appropriate time for them. "Matt," she began, taking his large, calloused hand into her warm, small one and placing them against her heart, "about your gun…."
He grinned weakly at her. "I wondered where you'd hidden it this time. It wasn't in any of the usual places."
"I put it in the bureau," she told him, stifling a laugh, "in the one drawer I knew you wouldn't dare go through."
The idea of the big Colt nestled among Kitty's delicate unmentionables struck the marshal as ludicrous. "You're right," he said gruffly, "I wouldn't have looked there." He tried to laugh but groaned instead, clamping his free hand over his stomach. He was glad when Kitty didn't seem to notice his distress.
"If I hadn't put your gun belt back on its peg this afternoon…I mean, if you hadn't had it when the trouble started --"
Matt squeezed her hand and managed a smile. "I've got a spare, honey, and I'd have used that one. You weren't the cause of what happened."
"I should have told you -- well, Newly and Festus anyway -- about Fancy's troubles, but I thought Sam and I could handle whatever came along. I…I only put your gun belt back because I wanted you to know I'd caught you disobeying Doc's orders." The next bit of Kitty's confession came out as a remorseful lament. "I never thought you might need the gun, not in your condition. When you told me that if you hadn't -- that Westfeldt would have -- Matt, I'm sorry!"
He didn't want her dwelling on what would have happened if he hadn't been able to prevent Westfeldt from coming up the stairs after their daughter. Matt contrived a suitable hangdog look and changed the subject. "Just how did you find out I'd left? I thought I'd been pretty careful."
Kitty laughed. "Listen, Cowboy…you might be able to outsmart Doc and me, but you're no match for a special little adoring nine year old! Rose saw you going to the office and came to ask if she could go over there and play."
"I'm awful sorry about that, Kitty, but I had things which needed doing and no one was listening to me."
"I shouldn't have asked you to make that promise in the first place. Matt, I'm not going to ask promises of you any more that you may not be able to keep."
Matt blinked, uncertain he'd heard correctly. Some of their most serious disagreements had been over just that: the way Kitty seemed to need a firm commitment every so often, a commitment he could seldom give because of the demands of his occupation. Oh, she never pushed for commitments regarding their relationship's status, but there were other things that were important to her where he'd let her down, again and again. There'd been a lot of implied promises broken over the years, a lot of missed birthdays and other social occasions.
Deeply moved by that concession, Matt pulled her to him until her head lay on his shoulder. For a long moment he said nothing and simply ran his hand through the silky softness of her hair. "Kitty, I do my best to keep those promises. It's just that…." He shrugged. "I have an obligation to that badge and the law behind it. It's an oath I've promised to always honor. That's just the way it's been."
Kitty smiled against his shoulder. "Things are different now."
He was silent so long Kitty wondered if Matt had finally fallen asleep. She looked into his face, flushed from the fever, and noted a contemplative far away look clouding his eyes. "Yeah," he answered slowly, thinking about the little girl in the next room and the woman who'd held sole possession of his heart and soul lying beside him, "things are definitely different." I never expected to live this long, he realized. That's one of the reasons I couldn't burden Kitty with a full commitment. Yet keeping the relationship discreet hadn't protected her from the dangers inherent in his work or from the sorrows of seeing him suddenly shot down by those hell bent on eluding justice.
He also had a daughter to consider now. Rose's appearance in his world had gradually changed the marshal's mind about some things he'd once thought written in stone. I guess the reasons I gave Kitty so long ago for not marrying her don't matter now. Even Kimbro eventually realized…
"Things were different from the moment you and I promised to honor Chester's request all those years ago," Kitty echoed his unspoken thoughts.
"And I wouldn't change that decision for anything," Matt said, hugging her.
Their talking done, they lay quietly together; it had been a long time since they had been completely alone and at ease with one another. Matt loved to watch her, and he did so now as her eyes drifted slowly closed.
He knew now that she was -- and always would be -- the one true love of his life and he cursed himself for taking so long to realize what that truly meant. I ought to ask her to marry me, he thought yet something inside him still shied away at the thought of taking that next step. Still, he resolved to both verbalize and demonstrate his affections for her more often in the future.
Searching Kitty's face for the signs of the worry which had been her constant companion for the past week, he was relieved to see her resting well. Matt regretted the stress he'd caused her over their many years together more than he'd regretted anything else in his life. He knew he'd put her through living hell when he'd gotten so sick and then nearly succeeded in ensuring his demise…repeatedly.
Kitty's eyes flickered open and she noticed him watching her. "A penny for your thoughts, Cowboy." Kitty met his gaze and the depth and intensity of emotions reflected in those eyes nearly took her breath away.
"What time is it?" he asked.
Kitty yawned. "I don't know exactly, Matt. I'd guess there's still a few hours till dawn."
"Sleepy head," Matt teased.
"Sleepy head? I've been putting in forty-eight hour days lately!" Kitty arched an eyebrow. "I ought to take offense to that."
"But you won't," Matt whispered, tugging at the sleeve of her nightgown. She allowed him to pull her closer and went willingly into his arms. Matt wrapped them tightly around his beloved woman and pulled her snugly against his chest with his chin nestled in fiery strands of her hair. Gently, Kitty lifted her head and planted a soft kiss to her man's lips; it deepened into a full kiss, fanning the flames of desire. His lips were quite warm from the fever and slightly dry, but Kitty had missed them so much over the past weeks. Matt held her in his gaze and ran a slow hand along her gowned back as their seeking tongues slowly tangled. He felt a renewed resolve to get well as quickly as possible. Yet, as soon as the thought was formed, a sudden shaft of pain caused him to stiffen with a gasp.
Instantly contrite, Kitty pushed away from him and quickly sat up on the bed. Her sapphire eyes reflected guilt and concern. "You all right, Matt? I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It's all right, Kit, you didn't hurt me." A second wave of pain caused him to squint and take a few deep breaths as he waited for the worst of it to subside. His body was swirling with various sensations and he struggled to sort through them. Pain dominated; he ignored it and concentrated on the underlying uneasiness tugging at him. The primal tingle along his spine cultivated by Kitty's soft kisses slithered away, replaced by an icily familiar tug that held no joy.
"Are you certain?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." Matt tried a smile which didn't quite work and patted the mattress. "Lie back down and quit frettin' over me."
Kitty returned to her place in his arms. "You have got to learn to take it easy, Cowboy. You're not indestructible, you know." She broke off her scolding when she realized Matt was shivering. "You look pale. Are you certain you're all right?"
Matt didn't answer her. He swallowed back the nausea and floundered upright. Running fingers through sweat soaked hair, Matt concentrated on trying to pinpoint the new, unsettling feeling that was comingled with the pain. His breathing and heart rate evened out. He felt a little better but not much.
"Matt?" Kitty had scooted over beside him. Her fingers lightly stroked his back in a soothing motion. "What's wrong?"
"I…I don't know," he answered, distracted. If I just concentrate… The nausea hit him again, accompanied by more rippling spasms of pain. "Kit, I feel awful strange..."
It must be bad if he's willing to admit it so frankly. I should go get Doc. She didn't want to leave him alone and she hadn't the heart to go downstairs and wake Sam. "Take it easy, Matt. It'll be all right." Kitty couldn't do anything more but murmur vague reassurances and watch Matt struggle for control as a bone rattling cough hit him.
He made a clumsy attempt to get up off the bed. Dizziness drove him back against the pillows. Think, Dillon. You're missing something important. The laudanum induced haze made it difficult to focus his thoughts, but he finally pinpointed what was bothering him. This felt different; it wasn't drug or shock induced. It felt like….
….When I'm walking down Front Street and suddenly know someone is about to draw down on me. He shook his head at the improbability. No one would dare come up from the saloon after them; if the patrons didn't stop them, Sam certainly would, head injury notwithstanding. I must be sicker than I thought to be imagining such things. Then it occurred to him that the saloon had long ago closed for the night. Listening, he didn't really hear anything. At this hour, no one should be moving about.
His lawman's instincts, however, refused to accept that explanation. "Kitty," he said, trying to make his request sound casual, "would you mind getting my gun? I'd feel a lot better with it in easier reach."
Kitty stared at him in disbelief. She didn't think her newly made promise not to interfere with his job any longer would be tested so soon. "You're not fooling anyone, Matt Dillon," she said, glaring at him, and sighed in resignation. "I know you're not going to tell me what's wrong, but I'll get it for you."
"I don't know that anything is wrong," Matt explained. "I'd just sleep easier with the Colt closer at hand."
Something in his expression told her this seemingly absurd request might well be of life saving significance. She found the gun belt and then hung it on the headboard where the marshal could quickly draw it if the need arose. Going back to their bed, Kitty helped Matt get resettled and then burrowed into the blankets beside him.
They had just gotten comfortable when the door between her suite and Rose's room opened a crack. Kitty could feel Matt tense but they both relaxed as they listened to the patter of small bare feet coming closer. Kitty reluctantly opened her eyes…and blinked to make certain she was seeing what she thought she was. "Rosie," Kitty gasped, "what on earth are you doing?"
The little girl held the doll she customarily slept with in one hand and a toy wooden six shooter in the other. The latter she held pointed in a fair imitation of her father's shooting stance. "I heard noises," she said reasonably, "an' I was 'tecting Papa Matt." Her chin jutted out stubbornly -- another of Matt's classic gestures -- and her green eyes narrowed. "I'm the Marshal till Papa Matt feels better an' it's my job to 'tect the family. Uncle Festus said so."
"He did, did he?" I'm going to string him up by his thumbs when he gets back! Kitty and Matt had both argued with the hill man before about saying things like that to their daughter. Like her adoptive father, she tended to take such charges seriously. Unlike either of her parents, she also tended to take Festus' gentle joking literally. "And just where did you get that…toy?" Kitty asked, pointing at the wooden replica.
"Uncle Festus made it for Tommy an' Tommy gived it to me."
Brother! I thought I made it clear to the girls that Rose wasn't to be playing with the boys any more. The boys had made a point of teasing the little girl, whom they considered a mite dim witted anyhow, about her insistence that Matt was her papa. They often goaded her into playing boys' games to prove she was like the marshal, as she fiercely claimed. Kitty had spent quite a few hours rinsing dirt and grass stains out of pinafores, repairing rips in dresses, and lecturing her wayward daughter on proper behavior for young ladies.
"Well," she said firmly, "I think you'd better give it to me now." Reluctantly, Rose handed it to her. Kitty could see the questions and anxiety written on her daughter's face. Whatever her mental shortcomings, Rose was a sensitive, intuitive child. She was still overcome with horrible bouts of insecurity when it came to fears of her adoptive family being taken away. Kitty was quick to reassure her daughter, "I'll take good care of Papa Matt and make sure nothing else happens to him." She kissed the little girl on the forehead and gently swatted her on the backside. "Now go on back to bed."
"Let her stay, Kitty. She can't hurt anything."
"Matt, I thought you were asleep!" Kitty scolded.
A faint smile touched the marshal's lips. "I was…until I saw my daughter making her rounds. Let it go, Kitty." He held out his hand. "C'mere, Rosie. It's too cold for you to be standing around in your nightgown."
Matt and Kitty made room for the little girl as she carefully climbed up into the big brass bed. Nestled between the two, Rose wrapped one little hand in Kitty's curls and snuggled into Matt's shoulder. Matt remained awake after the rest of his family had fallen asleep in his arms. He listened tensely to the darkness, uncertain of what he should be hearing but convinced that something was out there. Rose doesn't tell whoppers, he realized. I ought to have asked her what she heard. Both he and Kitty had assumed that their daughter had either heard them moving about or had only thought she heard noises. As Matt continued to ponder Rosie's motivations, he heard Kitty's breathing even out as she finally drifted back to sleep.
There it was again: a scuffling sound and the slight creaking of the risers on the back stairs. Someone was trying to come up unnoticed but wasn't familiar enough with the terrain to know that the ninth riser always made noise when stepped on. "Kitty! Kitty," the now fully alert lawman whispered urgently, "wake up."
"Go 'way, Matt, I'm trying to sleep," she muttered grumpily.
He shook her gently by the shoulder. "Kitty, I need you to wake up. We're about to have some unwanted company."
"Mmm," she muttered into the pillow, "they can help themselves from the bar. I ain't servin' tonight."
"Kitty." The marshal's voice, cold and businesslike, had the same effect that a bucket of ice water would have; she sat up and stared at him. He was a lawman now, all traces of her lover hidden beneath the steel blue gaze and impassive expression.
She scooped up the child sleeping between them and held Rose close, sheltering her from their discussion so she wouldn't wake. "What's wrong, Matt?"
Matt, freed of his daughter's embrace, slid the colt out of its holster. He flicked the loading gate open with his thumb and checked the cylinder to ensure it had remained loaded. "Someone's coming up the back stairs."
"Maybe it's Festus," she suggested but her voice trembled with doubt. She was beginning to catch Matt's uneasiness.
"Festus knows about the ninth riser and so does Newly," Matt countered as he slipped the Colt back into its holster and quickly strapped on the belt.
"Most of the town does," Kitty ironically conceded.
"Well, whoever's coming up here didn't. I want you to take Rose and hide in your dressing room. Don't come out until I tell you it's safe to do so." He gripped her arm, not un-gently but with more pressure than he would customarily have used. "I mean it. No matter what you hear, no matter what happens, don't come out until I tell you to." He'd finished buckling his gun belt around his waist and held the Colt cocked and ready. "Now go; they're on the landing."
Kitty gathered Rose into her arms; the little girl nuzzled into Kitty's neck, murmuring "Love you, Mama Kitty" as she slept. Before Kitty could obey Matt's orders, however, the door splintered inwards. A bullet whined through the air and struck the window, shattering it.
"No time now," Matt shouted as he threw himself between his family and the intruder, "get down and don't move!"