The gunshots startled Kitty out of her near doze beside Doc's bed. She rushed to the door to the front room, heart pounding in hear ears. Newly was in the office, carefully peering through the edges of the curtains. The wick on the oil lamp was as short as possible, just a tiny glow of flame, and thick oily smoke rising from it.

"What's going on?" Kitty's voice was hoarse with stress and lack of sleep. Her chest felt tight with anxiety. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take.

"I can't tell." Several more shots rang out. Newly crossed over the desk and picked up his gunbelt, buckling it on. He checked his revolver for rounds and re-holstered. Then he lifted Doc's shotgun off its rack above the desk. He checked it for shells, and handed it to Kitty. Her eyes were wide in the dim light.

Several long minutes ticked out on the wall clock with no more shots. Newly squared his shoulders. "I'm going to find out what's happening. You don't let anyone in Miss Kitty. "

Kitty hefted the shotgun familiarly. "I'll be fine. Just you be safe. With Festus gone... " the rest of the sentence hung in the air, with Festus gone, and Matt gone...

Newly gave her one last solemn look as he carefully shut the door behind him with a barely audible snick of the latch.

0-0-0

Matt looked around, doors started to crack open and curtains swayed in windows as folks peeked out. He heard boots coming down the steps from Doc's and turned expecting to see the old sawbones. But it was Newly who moved into the otherwise deserted street. Matt strode toward him. As he drew closer, he could see Newly had a black eye and bruised jaw.

"Newly." A bad feeling churned in Matt's stomach. He glanced over at the long branch, the doors remaining silent and still. "Is Kitty...?" He couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"KItty's fine, Matt, but Doc... well... " Newly looked away, unable to meet Matt's gaze. Without another word, Matt strode purposefully to Doc's office.

0-0-0

The swing and click of the clock's pendulum seemed to be louder than the gunshots, in the dark silence while Kitty waited. Her exhausted mind raced in circles. There was a physical ache in her chest that nothing seemed to help, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to eat... What was Dodge becoming in just a few short days without... Her eyes filled with tears for the millionth time. He couldn't be just gone. She wouldn't, couldn't believe it...

Heavy steps-too heavy to be Newly- were coming up the stairs. Fast and purposeful. She blinked the water from her eyes and braced her back against the door frame to the bedroom where Doc lay sleeping. She raised the shotgun, racking it as she brought it up to tuck into her shoulder.

Matt barely paused to lift the latch on the door, but as he burst through it, all his momentum came to a halt as he heard the racking of a shotgun. Carefully he raised his hands as his eyes sought out the threat in the shadows. "I mean no harm!"

"Matt?" Her voice, somewhere between a cry and a whisper reached his ears. For some reason he still saw the barrel of a long gun pointed at him.

"Kitty it's me. Put the gun down." His voice was soft and coaxing.

"Oh." She looked down at the shotgun. Lowered it, then slowly stood it on it's stock next to the doorway. She shook her head slightly, as if trying to remember something. "You're alright? What's going on... Newly... ?" She began to move toward him.

Matt stepped over and turned up the oil lamp. The darkness fled to the corners. With the light came discovery. Kitty saw him, saw the old dried blood, the torn shirt. "You were shot."

"Yeah." He watched her warily. She was pale, and her eyes were red as if she'd been crying. NO-dread filled him... "Doc... "

"He's sleeping. He was beat up pretty bad." She clenched her jaw, her voice low. "He hasn't woken up yet, we don't know." She'd arrived in front of him. He reached for her, hands clasping her arms. She stiffened slightly. "Let me look at your wound."

"It's fine-" He started to protest. "An Indian hide hunter patched me up good." But she moved him to sit on the examining table. He knew better than to fight the inevitable. He shrugged out of his vest and helped unbutton his shirt. He noted her fingers trembling as she tried to work on the buttons. She didn't take it off him, just pulled it down enough to examine the bullet wound. It was still red and ragged, but not hot or infected.

Her chilled fingers felt like angel's breath on his sore shoulder. She gently pushed the area around the scab, checking for swelling.

"I don't know... ah... Doc would do something, but I... don't know... " She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Matt raised both his hands to cover hers, to hold them against him.

"Kitty, honey. It's all right." He was about to gather her into his arms when more boots could be heard hurrying up the steps. The accompanying jangle of spurs left no doubt as to who it was. With a sigh Matt buttoned up his shirt. Festus blustered in the door out of breath.

"Newly done told me that Doc was hurt bad... Miss Kitty?" He took his hat off and was rolling it in his hands.

Kitty straightened her shoulders, somewhere finding the starch for her spine once again, but her voice was tired. "He's hanging in, Festus, but he hasn't woken up. They beat him up pretty bad." Festus' face fell and he paled visibly.

"Can I see him Miss Kitty?"

"Of course you can, Festus." Kitty smiled gently at him. For all their fighting, Festus and Doc were devoted friends. The three moved into the bedroom. Doc looked small, terribly frail and older than Kitty could ever remember seeing him look. The bruises stood out horribly, and his left eye was swollen shut. He was resting peacefully though, with no fever. His pulse and breathing were steady and strong. She just wished he'd wake up.

"He hasn't woken none atall?" Festus asked, his face scrunched in worry.

"No." Kitty shook her head. The three stood in shared silence. Each owed their lives to their friend, but more than that, they loved him. None could imagine a life without him.

Festus looked up when Kitty yawned. "Why Miss Kitty, yore all done tuckered out yoreself. Why don't I sit with the ole scudder for a bit and you go git yerself some sleep. I'll send someone to come gitcha if he starts to wake up."

"No, no, Festus, that's fine, I'll stay..."

"Kitty," Matt interrupted. He stood behind her, and now placed his hands on her shoulders. She almost wept at the simple comfort of that weight. "You're about to fall over. You need to be rested if Doc gets a fever." Matt hated to scare her, but she needed to take care of herself. She and Newly were the only ones who could help Doc.

The ache in her chest had bloomed, now threatening to devour her completely, so she acquiesced. She checked Doc's brow one more time, satisfied it was not too warm, and dry. And then giving in to her impulse, gave Festus a peck on the cheek. "Thank you, Festus." He blushed from his neck right up to his hair, ducking his head. She meant for more than just sitting with Doc, she meant for bringing Matt home too, but she knew if she said even one more word she would start to fall apart.

Matt took her arm at the bottom of the stairs. She wrapped both her hands around his arm and leaned against him. It was just past midnight. "Let me stop at my office for just a minute, OK?" She nodded.

At the Marshals Office Matt ducked in just long enough to be sure Newly was all set. Newly assured Matt he was, and the gunsmith told Matt (with a determined scowl) it would be his 'absolute pleasure' to finish night rounds now that the 'Committee' was taken care of. Matt wondered how much more of the story there was. Things must have escalated after Festus left.

Kitty was shivering lightly by the time they finished climbing the stairs to her rooms. Matt was bone weary. When he turned from lighting the lamp by the window, Kitty was still standing, just inside the door. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were crossed, but her hands were clenched in fists. Matt walked up behind her, even though he touched her extremely gently, she jumped when he put his hands on her shoulders. "Kitty, come on... you need to rest."

She turned to him then, and raised a hand to his face. Her fingers touched his lips, then her hand formed along his jaw.

The fat teardrop finally could not be contained and pushed out of her eye, and then with the first, the rest seemed to be released. She leaned into him, her forehead against the uninjured side of his chest. His arms came up around her.

"I told them." She murmured.

"What?" Matt's hands went from soothing her back to gently pulling the pins from her hair.

"I told them you weren't dead." With that the dam broke and her silent tears turned to great, gasping sobs. Matt finally understood... they had thought him dead and even tried to vote in a new Marshal. Festus had told him about the grazing rights and the so-called 'Public Safety Committee,' but it hadn't even occurred to him how Kitty must have felt. His heart broke a little for her. And then Doc...

"Aww... Kitty..." His lips brushed her temple. She tried to stop crying, her breath coming in ragged stutters. He moved her over to sit on the bed, helping her to undress like a compliant child. "I'm sorry, " she sniffled. He found a clean handkerchief of his on her bureau and gave it to her.

"What are you sorry about?" Matt asked. She sat on the side of the bed in her chemise as he began pulling off his own clothes.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess." Sniffle. Watery sigh.

"Aww... Honey. You are not a mess. You are the strongest person I know. Things got crazy around here." He climbed into the bed and drew her to him. She melted against him, careful of the wounded shoulder, but greedy for the feel of him against her. Solid. Warm. His heart beat strong and steady beneath her cheek.

A sudden, strong shudder passed through her.

"What is it?" Matt asked, tightening his hold on her.

"Just, when they brought Buck in, and said they'd... buried... " She took a deep, calming breath. "I'm sorry, Matt. I know you say this is why you can't have a wife, and I'm sorry I'm such a mess about it. I know it's the risks of the job." She was getting herself all wound up, and she didn't know why. He was back, he was safe. He hated hysterics.

"It's OK honey." And it was. Matt had not considered just how dire things must have looked. It was one thing for him to be late from a trip, it was totally another thing altogether for someone to bring back his horse and say they buried a tall man.

He gathered his feisty, tired redhead to him. She was exhausted, she was worried about Doc, and her distress over his own mistaken demise spoke volumes as to her love for him. Things would look better in the morning. Doc would wake up. He had to. "Shh.. I'm here now. Just sleep, Kitty. I'll hold on to you for a while."

Those were the perfect words for Kitty. Finally she gave in to the bone deep weariness hounding her. The pressure in her chest had dissipated with the great gulping sobs of crying. And it didn't hurt at all laying next to Matt. She could even believe that tomorrow Doc would wake up. Just as sleep was claiming her, she murmured, "Welcome home, Cowboy."