Defend Me from My Friends

by MAHC (Amanda)

Chapter 21: A Rusted Coffin Lid

POV: Matt

Matt Dillon jerked awake, as usual. He supposed there had been a time in his life when the sweet melody of a kestrel, or the warm rays of the sun, or maybe even the loving whisper of a mother had drawn him gently from slumber. But if those moments had ever occurred, they were lost to his memory. For most of his adult life, sleep had been yanked away with a shout or a gunshot or the sickening sweats of a nightmare. And so it was again – the spasm of muscles shooting pain through his body, infesting every sinew, every nerve with burning agony until he gritted his teeth so hard he feared they would shatter.

Slowly, as if prying up a rusted coffin lid, he opened his eyes, blinking and squinting against the light.

"'Bout time!" declared a gruff voice beyond his vision. Forcing his gaze a bit wider, he saw Doc standing at the foot of the bed, the older man's curly gray hair wild and unkempt, his trousers and shirt wrinkled and worn. Matt had seen that look before; it meant Doc had stayed up day and night with a patient. He didn't have to wonder which patient this time.

"Doc," he mumbled, uncertain that he had actually managed to make a sound. He tried to shove up on an elbow but pain knifing through his lungs forced him back against the solid mattress.

"Hold on," Doc scolded, moving to the side of the bed and pressing one hand gently but firmly against Matt's shoulder. "Stubborn…"

Stubborn? Matt drew a breath, intending to protest, but instantly decided he would do that later – when his head didn't pound and his leg didn't scream and his stomach didn't heave and his chest didn't ache.

"Matt?"

There was the voice he had waited to hear, longed to hear, for…hours…or days…or weeks? He had no idea how long he had lain there in Kitty's room, had only a vague memory of even being there after his awareness vanished out on the prairie.

With more effort than he had thought it would take, he managed to turn his head enough to see the beautiful – if rather haggard – face of Kitty Russell hovering over his. He might have said her name or just thought it, but she smiled either way, tears shimmering in her blue eyes.

"Matt," she choked, squeezing his hand gently. He tried to squeeze back, and again wasn't sure if he had.

"What – happened?" he rasped.

Doc cocked an eyebrow and sent a pointed look toward him. "Well, you just decided that getting shot, knifed, and beaten up wasn't enough, so you went and got pneumonia, too!"

That explained the anvil on his chest. Before he could respond, he heard a knock at the door. "It's me!" Chester's voice called.

Kitty didn't budge from her place by his side, her eyes still locked on him, her smile broad and grateful. He smiled back as best he could.

"Mister Dillon?" Chester asked as he entered, his own voice filled with excitement. "Oh my gracious goodness, we were worried about you. Ol' Doc here ain't slept in two days, an' Miss Kitty ain't even eaten – "

"All right," Doc interrupted. "He just woke up. Give him a half a minute to focus his eyes." But the physician was smiling, too.

Suddenly, Chester snapped his fingers and grinned. "I'll be back terreckly," he declared, spinning on his good leg and scurrying back out.

"He was worried about you, Matt," Kitty told him, fingers stroking his arm. In a whisper she added, "We all were," before the tears gathered again.

"It's okay, Kitty," he mumbled, frowning at how frail his voice sounded. "I'm okay." Briefly lifting his gaze, he asked, "Right, Doc?"

The old man returned the look seriously. "I think so, Matt. I think so."

Matt found his eyelids sliding shut again, despite his desire to stay awake. Doc's and Kitty's voices faded to muffled murmurs, and after a few seconds – or maybe minutes, the door burst open again, jarring him from his impromptu nap, and Chester rushed in, a crumpled piece of paper in one hand and a bulging gray sack in the other.

"I brought this over for ya. Figured you'd wanna see it." He shoved the piece of paper toward Matt, who nodded for Kitty to take it. He already felt completely exhausted, even though he had apparently been out of it for two days.

Not waiting for Kitty to reveal the contents, Chester rattled on. "I found it behind the rye. Not sayin' that I read the note or anything, but…well, this Mister Adrian M. Smthye, esquire, from Virginia City, wrote that this here money was from some fella named Harp McLeod, 'cept he up and died and left it to Glenn Cantrell and you, and then – "

Matt's brain spun dizzily – whether from his injury, his sickness, or the Chester's rambling he couldn't tell. "What?"

Kitty's soft hand rested on his arm. "Seems Glenn was telling the truth, Matt," she clarified. "That money really was from your old – uh, friend."

Gritting his teeth, he tried to push up in the bed, but pain swept through him, and for a moment he merely concentrated on not heaving as Kitty and Doc fussed over him. Finally, he groaned out, "Glenn stole that – money, and Harp was just – he never – "

She held up the paper. "Nope. This is a letter from a lawyer, like Chester said." She handed it to him, showing an addition note scrawled at the bottom. He squinted at it, trying to concentrate past the headache and incredulous story. Sure enough, it was from Glenn, misspelled and crude, but very clear that he was leaving all of the money to his old friend the marshal.

Matt looked up again, jaw slack in shock.

Well," Doc said after they stared at each other a few moments, "I might actually get paid for patching you up this time."

Matt grunted.

Looking back and forth between Matt and Kitty and then heading toward the door, Chester declared, "I'll be headin' out now, Mister Dillon. Don't you worry about a thing; I'll take care of Dodge."

Matt ignored Doc's eye roll and lifted his chin toward the younger man. "Chester?"

His assistant stopped and looked back.

Eyes leveled and serious, Matt drew in a careful breath and offered simply, "Thanks."

Chester flushed slightly, opening his mouth to respond but ending up just nodding before he turned and left. Settling back against the pillows, Matt glanced at Kitty and found her smiling tearfully at him. He cleared his throat and smiled back as they heard Chester singing on his way down the hall.

"My daddy come west to Kansas…"

TBC in Epilogue