Thanks, as usual, for the great feedback everyone has given me on this story. My life has been quite busy recently, and I've had little time to write (for pleasure or for business), but several of you have prodded me into getting back to HH – at least for a little while. There is one more chapter to go. I hope you'll stick around for it – and I hope you like this one!

Haunted Heart

A Gunsmoke Story

By Amanda (MAHC)

Chapter Fifteen: Something That Should Be Said

POV: Matt

Spoilers: "Kimbro;" "Disciple"

Rating: PG-13 (Teen)

Disclaimer: The original GS characters aren't mine, of course, but I created Sam. (Well, Matt and Kitty created him in my story.)

XXXX

"Well, that gash across your head doesn't look quite as bad today," Doc said, replacing the cumbersome wrap with a smaller bandage. "Keep it dry and covered for another few days, at least. Now, let's get a look at that shoulder."

Adams turned toward the desk in his office, and Matt heard the gentle clink of instruments as he stripped off his shirt and perched cooperatively on the examination table. Might as well give Doc the satisfaction of looking him over. He wouldn't let him rest until he did, anyway. As many times as the physician had patched the marshal back up, he sort of figured he had partial ownership of his body. Matt couldn't really dispute that.

When he glanced up, he caught Doc studying him critically.

Sighing, he asked, "What is it?"

But the answer surprised him. Adams didn't berate him for adding yet another scar. He didn't fuss at the obvious loss of weight. And he didn't question how much rest he had gotten the night before. Instead, he clicked his teeth and shook his head.

"Matt, for a man who's been shot up more times than any of us can count, you're in pretty good shape."

"Well, thanks, Doc," he answered carefully, wary of a following comment that contradicted the first one.

"No, I mean it. You're fit. Muscles are lean and hard. If I were to be checking you out for the first time, I wouldn't guess you're coming up on fifty right fast."

"Forty-eight," Matt corrected gamely, even though the age didn't really bother him. He figured it was a miracle he had gotten that far.

"Well, you look ten years younger than the last time I saw you," he said, voice suddenly serious.

Matt lowered his gaze, not sure how to react. He knew what Doc was talking about, knew what toll losing Kitty had taken on his body. There were no words at all to express how he felt about finding her again – and about Sam. So he just swallowed and nodded, clenching his jaw to keep his emotions tight.

After a moment, Doc tugged on his ear and cleared his throat. "All right, let's check out this New Orleans fancy pants doctor's work." Adams leaned over to inspect the healing wound, and grunted his reluctant approval. "Not bad. Not bad. Of course, it's not like he was sewing up somebody for the first time. That shoulder looks like the railroad tracks at Grand Central Station in New York City."

"Thanks."

Doc clicked his teeth once, then lifted Matt's arm, gently manipulating the socket. The marshal couldn't quite avoid the quick grunt that escaped him with the flash of discomfort from the injury. It had still been sore yesterday, and after his and Kitty's rather energetic encounters last night –

"Hurts?"

Matt tried to shrug it off. "Not too bad."

"Well, it's not completely healed yet, ya' know. You going over to the jail after this?" he asked, his tone making it plain he didn't approve.

"For a little while," Matt admitted, his own voice firm. "Things pile up over a month, ya' know." He didn't mention that Newly had done a better than fair job keeping the paperwork up, and he really didn't plan to stay very long – especially with a certain beautiful redhead waiting impatiently for him back at the Long Branch.

"Hmph. Well, you keep takin' it easy. Maybe see if you can stay away from people tryin' to shoot ya' for a while."

"I'll do my best," Matt answered wryly.

"I'm not holdin' my – " The physician was just about to tug off his spectacles, when something else apparently caught his eye. Frowning, he leaned over Matt's shoulder and let his gaze move down the broad back.

"What's wrong?" the marshal asked, confused.

"What on earth did you get into, Matt?"

He still didn't understand. "What?"

"Looks like you had a fight with a wildcat – or maybe you wallowed around in a briar patch."

Matt started to protest that he had no idea what the doctor was talking about – until he suddenly realized. Oh boy. A deep flush raced over his face and down his chest, as he understood what Doc was seeing. Matt coughed and cleared his throat, reaching for his shirt. "Don't worry about that, Doc. It's fine."

The doctor pushed his arm back. "No, looks like ya' need a little salve, maybe. Could get infected."

Dillon leaned away from his touch, almost frantic to escape before Doc figured out what he was looking at. "Really, Doc, I'm fine. You finished?"

"Matt, what on earth's wrong with you?"

"Absolutely nothing. Can I go now?"

"Listen, some of those are kinda deep. I'm tryin' to figure out how – "

The big man slid off the table over the physician's protests. "I didn't wallow in a briar patch. And I didn't tangle with a wildcat – well, not exactly."

"Well, for Pete's sake, I figured that much. I just wondered what on earth you'd done to get those scratches all the way from your shoulders to your – well, some of 'em go kinda low."

"Just give me the salve and I'll put it on myself."

"I'll give it to ya', but it'd probably be easier if you let Kitty – "

Matt felt his face burn and started to turn away, but Doc had seen his reaction already.

The doctor paused, eyebrows soaring almost to his hairline. He looked up at Matt, a terrible smile playing at his lips. "Wouldn't be that Kitty – " He ran a hand over his mouth and mumbled, "Maybe you did tangle with a wildcat, after all."

Hastily, Matt shoved his arms into his shirt and slapped his hat on his head. "That's none of your business, Doc."

The physician's brow drew down. "By golly, I told her to take it nice and easy."

"What?"

"Yesterday, she was – well, she came in to make sure she was healed enough to – "

The flush that had begun to fade now rushed back even deeper. Kitty had been talking with Doc about – about that? He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, missing more than one hole as he went. "I'll see ya' later."

"Nice and easy," Adams grumbled, but as the marshal reached for the door knob, the older man called after him. "If you let those scratches go, and they get infected, you won't be able to lie on your back for a week or so. Then – "

Matt felt logic and pride battle within him. If he hung onto his pride and refused the salve, it might mean that he and Kitty couldn't –

Doggone it. Logic won out – logic and the memory of their previous evening's activities. Sighing, he extended his hand, open palmed, toward the doctor.

"What?" Doc asked, and Matt pressed his lips together at the physician's obtuseness.

"The salve?" he answered, his tone long-suffering.

"Oh – sure."

He tried to ignore Adams' chuckle while the older man shuffled through his cabinet in search of the medicine. Finding the right one, he handed Matt the jar.

Just before the marshal stepped outside, not even bothering to finish buttoning his shirt, Doc ran a hand over his mustache, unable to suppress the grin that popped to his mouth. "Guess this explains why it was almost lunchtime before you got over here to me. Did Kitty mention anything at all about takin' things nice and easy?"

Dillon winced, dropping his head, but figured Doc saw his smile. "It – uh – it never came up, Doc," he admitted, then gave in to the little mischievous urge that prodded him and let the smile turn into an outright grin. "Not after other things did, anyway."

He couldn't help but laugh at the astonishment on his old friend's face. It was rare that Matt Dillon uttered anything even the least bit suggestive – at least to anyone other than Kitty. That made this moment all the more effective.

Still chuckling, he dropped down the stairs, not even noticing the twinge in his knee or the ache in his back.

XXXX

The razor scraped down his jaw with steady, confident motions, its path the same as it had been for thirty years' worth of shaving. Bending, as usual, so he could see into the mirror, Matt lifted his chin to reach the stubble that scratched his neck, then swished the sharp instrument in the waiting basin. As he looked back up, he caught her image in the glass, and his heart pumped a little harder just from her beauty.

"You just gonna just sit there?" he asked, knowing very well that was exactly what she was going to do – and more than happy to let her do it. The very simple task of shaving while she watched filled the emptiness that had gnawed at his gut for so many months, the scene a symbol of Kitty's presence and her love – and his deep need for her.

She smiled lazily at him, her elbows resting on her knees as she perched on the end of the bed behind him. "Um hmm."

"Okay."

"What did Doc say about your head?" she asked casually, but he heard the concern behind the tone.

They hadn't taken the time to talk about his visit to Doc when he returned from the jail earlier. They had been occupied with other things – deeply occupied.

"The usual," he answered lightly. "That it's hard."

"Funny."

"That's what I said."

"Matt – "

"He said it looks good." Catching her dubious glance in the mirror, he added, "Really."

"Really?"

"Yes. And my shoulder's coming along fine, too, since you're going to ask that next."

Her smile revealed his accurate prediction. "I was just going to tell you to hurry up. The party's about to start."

They weren't sure if it was Hannah's doing, or just a mutual idea among the whole town, but all of Dodge was headed to the Long Branch that night for the biggest celebration the town had ever seen. It still baffled the marshal a little that all the hoopla was for Kitty and him – and Sam, he guessed. Nevertheless, he wouldn't disappoint them by not showing up – as much as he'd rather just have a private little party with his wife.

He lifted the blade and started on the other side. "You gonna go to like that?"

Eyebrows rising, she glanced down at the rather skimpy undergarments she wore. "What's wrong with this?"

Smirking, he held the blade away from his jaw. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, I, uh, I like it a lot."

"I know you do," she assured him, voice husky.

Party, he reminded himself ruefully. But at that very moment it would have taken very little encouragement from her for him to disregard any public celebration – at least for another half hour or so.

"It's just that I figure every man in Dodge would like it a lot, too."

"Yeah?"

The frown pulled down his brow before he could stop it. "Yeah. And I'd hate ta' have ta' shoot 'em all down for ogling my wife." He was kidding, of course. Mostly.

"I guess that'd be a shame," Kitty agreed, cocking her head. "Sure would narrow down the selection pool for all the other girls." Her lips pursed. "And they already look at you way too much for my likin'."

That drew a grin to his mouth. "That so?"

A true scowl darkened her face. "Hey, now. Don't you go gettin' all swelled up."

He chuckled at her involuntary touch of jealousy and turned. "Honey, when I'm around you, I can't help but get all swelled up."

The scowl lightened. "Well, as long as it's just around me – "

"You're the only one, Kathleen Dillon," he said, making sure enough seriousness colored his voice for her to know how much he meant it.

Her eyes smiled at him. "All right, then, Cowboy."

After a beat, he turned back to finish shaving, knowing that if they were late, he'd never hear the end of it from Doc.

"I got a scolding from Doc, by the way," he told her, still flushing slightly with the memory.

"About the – the gunfight?"

He heard the hesitancy and winced at the pain that lingered from the fear of the previous evening. "No."

Her reflection frowned. "No? What about then?"

"I suppose it was really you he was scolding."

"Me? I didn't do – "

"He got a look at my back and wondered if I'd been wrestling a wildcat."

Her reflection flushed deep red. "Oh. Oh, Matt, I'm sorry." She slid off the end of the bed and stepped up behind him, her hands running gingerly over the red marks her passion had left. "I didn't realize I'd – well – " Her voice dropped from remorseful to sultry. "You made me lose control, Cowboy. I can't be held responsible for my actions."

Dropping the razor onto the marble top, he turned so that her face was eye-level with his bare chest. "That's too bad," he told her.

"How come?" she asked, letting her fingers run through the light hair that trailed down his abdomen.

The sensation shot straight to his groin, and he slid his arms around her, lifting and depositing her back on the bed, then stepping in between her thighs. "Because I was hoping you were completely responsible for your actions. Matter of fact, I was hoping you'd repeat those actions later tonight."

"Yeah?"

Bending, he nuzzled her neck, letting his hands ease up to caress her breasts. Abruptly, he remembered the results the last time he had done that, though, and pulled them back. The amazing experience of her milk letting down was something he'd never forget, and something he certainly wouldn't mind doing again, but this wasn't the time or the place. Smiling to balance any concerns she might have had, he turned back to the dresser to finish shaving.

Besides, they were expected downstairs any minute. Plus, it had been a while since Hannah came to get Sam. Matt wasn't quite an expert yet on babies and their feeding schedules, but he knew enough by now to realize it had been a couple of hours since Kitty last nursed – and Sam seemed to have just as big an appetite as his father. Either way, interruption seemed eminent.

She smirked, wiping away the shaving lotion he had left on her neck. "I guess he figured out we didn't take it nice and easy."

"Yeah. I think he did."

"He scold you for that?"

"I think it's you he's gonna give the talkin' to."

She sighed, but didn't look too remorseful.

"He gave me some salve to put on my back."

"It's that bad?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in guilty concern.

Toweling his face dry, he turned to her. "He said if the scratches get infected, I won't be able to lie on my back and – "

"Oh dear." She clucked her teeth. "That would certainly mess up my plans for tonight – "

He felt himself blushing, even though it was just Kitty. Grasping her upper arms, he tugged her up to stand before him. "Kathleen Dillon, I ought ta' – "

"Ought ta' what?" she challenged, eyes intense and eager.

His body urged him on, prodded him to meet her challenge, to plunge them both right back into that bed and spend the rest of the evening wrapped up in her passion and heat and love.

The clock chimed seven, its unwelcome interruption announcing that they were now late for the party. He let his lips move on hers gently and slowly, promising much more later. When he pulled back, she moaned.

"Matt, please don't stop," she begged, her tone breathy. "Please, make love to me again."

God, he wanted to do just that. He ached to be with her again. But he shook his head. "You want Festus to clomp up those stairs and walk in on us like this?" Half-clothed and aroused.

He figured it was the mention of his deputy that did it. Exhaling hard, she stepped away. "Damn."

Chuckling, he nodded. "Yeah."

"Later?"

"Oh, yes." Definitely later.

Letting her hand slide down his chest and brush teasingly over his trousers, she twirled away toward the wardrobe where she had hung her gown for the evening. "Well, I guess I should finish dressing, then, to protect the men of Dodge from my charms."

Swallowing down the renewed craving her touch had brought, he threw in a bit of charm himself. "Honey, you could be wrapped in flour sacks, and the men of Dodge would still be in danger. Hell, there wouldn't be a man in Kansas safe."

Her delighted smile lit up the room. Oh, how he loved that woman. As he shrugged into the crisp white dress shirt she had laid out for him, he found himself fighting back an abrupt and disturbing swell of emotion. Never really comfortable showing his feelings, his recent revelations to her had loosened that lifetime hold on them, and he worried now that he wouldn't be able to suppress his impulses as well. That could be dangerous, he knew, in the wrong situations.

Still, it had liberated him, in a way, and brought him closer to the woman he had loved for twenty years. He supposed it was a small price to pay. Kitty was back. He had a son. And the world that had almost collapsed on top of him only a few months before seemed eager and ready to embrace him again.

"Matt?"

The ominous tone crashed into his pleasant thoughts. He had known her too long not to recognize the hint of sadness, of fear. He looked up to see her emerge from behind the curtain, gown draped over her arm. One look at her face twisted his heart. Pain tightened the beautiful features.

Oh God. In his chest, his heart raced, pushing at his throat. She was not leaving him, he reminded himself. She had told him so. She was not leaving. "Kitty?" he managed.

Head down, as if she were gathering strength for her words, she said, "Yesterday, when I left the note with Dobie, I said we needed to talk."

He wondered if it was possible for someone's heart to pound right through his chest. "Yeah?"

Her fingers grasped the fine material of the dress, kneading it, showing her nervousness. "I put it off last night, but I before we go downstairs, there is something I – I need to tell you. Something that is – hard – for me to say, but that should be said."

She's not leaving, his brain repeated, trying to convince his heart. It wasn't successful.

He stood, immobile, waiting for the dire news, waiting for her to tell him that it didn't matter that he was giving up the badge, that they would never be free of enemies who wanted to kill Matt Dillon, that she couldn't raise her son in such an environment. He waited for her to announce she was sending Sam back to New Orleans, to live with Ira and Charlotte, to be safe from the danger his father would bring to all of them. Or maybe – despite what she had said the night before – maybe she was going back herself.

Suddenly, weakness swept over him, and he forced his knees to lock so he could remain upright. "I thought – " His voice broke, and he took a breath to smooth it out. "I thought it was – to tell me you weren't leaving." Please be that.

Her eyes lifted to his, soft and guilty. "Oh, Matt. Like I told you last night, I never intended to leave you. Not again."

Somehow, he kept standing, somehow, he didn't just collapse there on the bed in relief. With more strength than he thought he had, he cleared his throat, drew in a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay."

"I'm not leaving," she repeated.

Yes. He knew that. He would always know that now. Gaining more control, he let his fingers reach out and swirl over her shoulder. "Okay. "

"And you're not leaving," she announced abruptly, tears in her eyes despite her obvious effort to smile.

The caress stopped. Matt pulled back, a confused smile curving his lips. "What?"

"I said, 'you're not leaving.'"

He sighed, understanding. She wanted to stay in Dodge, then, or thought he wanted to stay, anyway. "Kitty, I appreciate the thought, but I meant it when I said we could move wherever you want. If we stay in Dodge – well, it wouldn't be wise to stay here after I turn in my badge. Too many risks. And too hard on whoever comes in to replace me."

"I know," she assured him surprisingly.

His hands rested on her hips, as if holding her still so he could figure out what she was saying. "I don't understand – "

"You're not making this any easier, Cowboy," she laughed, but the sound was tight.

He had always prided himself on his quick perception and ability to comprehend, but this time he couldn't decipher all the clues. Of course, that rarely worked with Kitty, anyway. "I'm sorry, Kitty. I just don't know what – "

Drawing a deep breath, she lifted her chin and said evenly, "You're not turning in your badge."

He frowned and shook his head, disappointed. Surely she didn't think he would go back on his promise. "I told you I would, Kitty. Don't you believe me?"

"I believe you," she assured him, then took another breath and said quietly, "but I don't want you to."

His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. The hands that held her hips slipped away. After several seconds of silence, he whispered, "What?"

"I don't want you to resign." She couldn't have stunned him more if she had told him she was going to be the organist at the Dodge City Baptist Church.

"What?"

Patiently, she said, "I don't think you should resign as marshal."

"Kitty – " he began, stepping forward, still not truly comprehending what she was saying.

But she held him at arms length. "Let me finish. It's hard enough to say it as it is." She braved a smile. "Being a lawman is so deep in you. If you were to give that up, what would you do?"

"I've thought about that," he assured her. "Ranching, maybe."

But she shook her head. "You would be lost. Mister Matt Dillon, not United States Marshal Matt Dillon? You would be lost."

"I wouldn't, Kitty," he promised. Oh, God. Maybe she was still sending Sam away.

"I know better. And if you were lost, I guess I'd be lost, too. You have to be who you are. And I wouldn't want to be with someone who wasn't."

The pain beneath her brave front tore at him. "Kitty, I don't know what you're saying. You've wanted me to give up that badge for twenty years, and now you're telling me – "

"I know. Don't you think I've told myself the same thing? Twenty years is a long time, Matt. And you've been a lawman for longer than that. Close to thirty years, counting your time with Adam Kimbro, I would guess. I've known all along how much it means to you, how much it means to Dodge, even to Kansas and maybe the whole country, now. It's entwined in who and what you are. I tried to imagine what you would be after you turned in the badge. Farming was out, of course. Too boring. Banking? Ridiculous. Like you said, ranching, maybe, but I don't think so. I realized that being a lawman is so deep in you, Matt, you'll never get it out."

"I can try, Kitty," he assured her earnestly, still fighting to understand just what she was telling him.

"Damn it!" she cried, confusing him even more. "Don't you see what I'm saying? I'm not leaving, and you're not leaving. We're staying. Here. In Dodge. Where I'll be Kitty Dillon, wife of United States Marshal Matt Dillon."

His eyes glistened, his breath caught. Surely, she wasn't offering – she wasn't telling him not to – Grasping her shoulders, he drew her closer. "Kitty, do you know what you're saying? That means more gunfights and more barroom brawls. The risk – "

"You've risked more than that for a long time," she said softly. "You've risked your heart twenty years ago, after you'd been hurt before. That wasn't easy. I know from experience."

"I didn't have a choice," he admitted, leaning in and running the backs of his long fingers against her cheek, the surge of love for this woman almost overwhelming him. "I couldn't not love you, Kitty."

She didn't try to suppress her tears, and they rolled down her cheeks.

But he had made a promise. He saw what she was doing, and he wouldn't allow it. Not now. Not anymore. "You're not going to do this. I made you a promise. I – I gave you my badge."

"And I'm giving it back to you." Turning, she shoved her hand into one of the carpetbags that rested on the floor, pulling it back out with the shining metal resting in her palm.

He swallowed hard at the poignant gesture. "I've already sent in my resignation."

"Get it back."

"What?" Surely she wasn't serious. "Why?"

"Maybe I figured it would be a mistake."

"But – "

"And maybe I figure you'd be a lousy rancher."

"Kitty – "

"And just maybe I figure we'd be safer with that badge still on your chest than with it off."

"What about Sam?" he asked.

Her face softened at the baby's name. "Matthew Samuel Dillon has a right to grow up knowing his father, and knowing just what kind of man Matt Dillon is. He'll be proud of you, Matt. Just like I've always been proud of you. I hope he can be half the man his father is."

Stunned, he pulled her to him, and she let him, buried his face in her hair, unable to stop the emotion from wetting his cheeks. "My God, Kitty," he breathed raggedly, overwhelmed by her gesture.

"I love you, Matt," she answered, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I love you so much."

Her closeness, her touch, her scent all attacked his sense of logic, and he found himself responding with a pulse against her. Grimacing at the inappropriateness of his lack of control, he tried to withdraw, but she shook her head and held on tighter.

"No, Matt. I want this now. I want you now."

"Kitty – " But his resistance vanished as she tossed the badge back into the bag and ran her hands between them.

They were involved again almost immediately, the months of separation impossible to make up for in only a few hours – no matter how incredible they were – clothes ripping, bodies moving frantically against each other, lips and hands bringing moans and cries. In fact, they were so involved that neither of them heard the knock. It took a second, then a third knock to break through to them.

Chest heaving, Kitty tried to push away. "Matt, stop, I think – someone's – at the – door."

But he wasn't interested in the door. His lips continued their delicious caresses of her most delicate areas.

"Matt," she moaned as he held onto her, wanting her to do anything but answer the damned door.

"Kitty?" a voice called tentatively.

Something pushed at his memories. Something relatively important. Something he was supposed to be doing. But he really didn't want to be doing anything else but making love to Kitty right then.

"Marshal?" the voice called again, a little louder.

"Go away," he murmured, not sure at all that he could pull back from the edge he found himself perched on.

But Kitty's voice broke through, the urgency different enough from her passion to drive into his consciousness. "Matt," she whispered frantically, "get up. Get up."

"I'm up," he assured her. Surely she could feel that for herself.

"No. I mean move off me. I have to answer the door."

The door? Oh, hell. The party.

Even as he fought through the haze of desire, it took another a hard shove for her to coax him back enough to slide out from under him. He watched as she shrugged into a robe and reached for the knob.

Glancing back at him, she noted pointedly, "Uh, you might want to get out of sight, big man. You're giving Hannah quite a lot more to see this time. And last time she was more than interested – "

The threat sent him scrambling off the bed in such haste that his legs tangled in the covers and dumped him unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" Kitty asked, eyes both amused and a little worried.

He grunted in response, still aching from the discomfort of interruption, and stumbled into the dressing room, knowing Hannah would have to be blind and deaf not to realize what had been going on. Then he realized it didn't matter. It didn't matter at all that Hannah knew they had been intimate. It didn't matter if the whole town knew anymore.

The burden of twenty years lifted from his shoulders in that one moment of realization, and he fell back against the wall, his body slumping from the sheer relief. As he listened to Hannah's muffled, but clearly amused, conversation with his wife, he reflected on what Kitty had told him, on her unselfish sacrifice.

Maybe he would let her do it. Maybe not. They would talk about it, anyway, but he had brought Kathleen Russell enough heartache the past twenty years. It was time for him to bring her some joy.

With a nod to his own conviction, he tugged on the pants and shirt he had grabbed on his way into the dressing room. The bustling noises that rose from below told him the party was already going strong – even with the guests of honor conspicuously absent. He would take considerable ribbing from Doc about the cause of their tardiness. Still, it would be in good fun.

Their private party would come later. The people of Dodge awaited their arrival – not as the Marshal and Miss Kitty, but as Matt and Kitty Dillon. A new beginning.

He just hoped it was the beginning Kitty had wanted all those years.

TBC