Chapter 4-Rocky Roads
Kitty flung open the door to the boys' room, clearing her throat, "Excuse me, my three princes. What seems to be the problem here?" she folded her arms across her chest.
Just as she'd finished her question, a wayward pillow hit her square in the jaw. She snatched the fluffy projectile and the boys' laughter quickly metamorphosized into silence.
"So that's how it's gonna be, huh?" she scrunched up her face, taking in the expressions of her little rowdy men. As fast as her husband's quick draw, she chucked the pillow at her middle son while he sat perched on his top bunk.
Adam dramatically tossed himself backward, clutching the pillow, gasping, "Ya got me, Mama. Ya got me."
"You all oughta know by now that my aim is true," she sashayed into the middle of their large, blue bedroom, "Now what are you all still doin' up?" she rested her hands upon her hips, surveying the little faces studying her.
"Wael," Ezra began in a Festus-like twang, "we was jus'-"
"Stop right there, Son. I love your Uncle Festus, but you have got to speak like a Dillon, not a Haggen. It's 'well' and 'we were', not 'we was'. Got it?" Kitty's eyes were wide, her lips taut.
"We were," Ezra quietly repeated, his eyes looking up to the ceiling, "I gots it. You betcha, Mama."
The frustrated mother sighed and rolled her eyes, "Let me turn down the lamp, but since I'm here…" she ran in overexaggerated slow motion to Matthew's bed and ordered, "Give me one more kiss, fella," she held Matthew's face between her palms as she noisily kissed both his cheeks.
"Mama!" he swiped at his cheeks.
Adam eagerly leaned over the edge of the top bunk while lying on his belly, "Me next!"
She happily smooched both of his cheeks and then bent down to kiss Ezra's forehead, the tip of his nose, and his plump, heart shaped lips.
"I love you, gentlemen," she whispered as she turned down the lamp.
"Mama?"
"Yes, Matthew?"
"Where's Daddy?"
Relieved the room was fairly dark, Kitty closed her eyes and answered, "He's at a party for Jeb Ritter. A few men were taking him out, kind of as a party before his fiancée arrives in town next month."
"Doesn't he want t' get married?" Adam quietly asked, squinting through the darkness to see his beloved mama.
"Sure he does. But men like to go out and enjoy themselves from time t' time."
"Seems like ever since the Ritters moved here, Daddy goes out a lot," Matthew said, barely above a whisper.
Kitty felt her heart squeeze at the true statement from her oldest son. Out of the mouths of babes, she thought.
Doc had been waiting for Kitty in the sitting room. He'd been hoping to distract her from her husband's absence by challenging her to a game of chess. The adults had been trying to play more often, so they'd be able to beat the school aged children. Miss Nelson had a few chess sets at school for indoor recess and the Dillon children had taken an instant shine to the game.
Kitty seemed preoccupied as she slowly descended the staircase, tapping the banister as she mindlessly stepped.
"Kitty, Honey, wanna play some chess? I've already poured ya a brandy," he nodded toward the crystal snifters on the side table.
She half-grinned and nodded her head, "Sure, Curly, why not?" The melancholy redhead plopped into her upholstered chair across from her surrogate father. She swiftly snatched her glass, lifted it and asked, "What shall we drink to?"
"Well, how about me making it through another day?" Doc chuckled.
"I'll drink t' that," Kitty lifted her glass slightly before taking a healthy swig of the amber liquid.
"Ladies first," he nodded toward the chess board.
"Okay," she paused, the tip of her tongue resting on her top lip before she pushed one of her pawns forward.
Doc quickly pushed his pawn to counter hers.
"Why didn't you go out t'night?" Kitty asked, taking another sip of her brandy.
"Buck said he'd stay behind if I wanted t' go, but my big nights out are over," he swiped his mustache, "Your turn."
Kitty slid another white pawn forward before commenting, "You're allowed to go out, Doc. You don't have t' stay and keep me company. After all, I am a big girl," she finished the rest of her drink and poured another, holding up the decanter in an offering.
"Not yet," Doc shook his head and slid his black pawn to meet Kitty's, "I know I don't have t' keep you company, but I want to. I kinda like it when we can just sit and visit like this. I'm not getting any younger, ya know."
She smiled at her dear friend and confidant, "I kinda like it, too. And by the way, you're probably gonna outlive me," she slid her bishop diagonally a few squares.
"Well, I'm gonna outlive your overgrown, former civil servant husband if he doesn't quit carousin' with that Josiah Ritter," he studied the chess board, patiently waiting to see how Kitty responded.
She took a big swallow of her libation before quietly answering, "He goes t' be polite, Doc. Josiah doesn't have that many friends, and Matt doesn't want him out in saloons alone. You know how rowdy cowboys can be and the Ritters are from a big city. He promised me that once Josiah has a few barfly buddies, he'll cut 'im loose. Besides, Matt's getting some good business out of the nights out, and that's good for all of us."
Doc took a deep breath, pondering, But at what cost to his family? He calculatedly moved his knight, noticing Kitty pouring herself another drink. She then slid forward another pawn.
"I understand what you're saying, really I do, but Josiah is a grown man. And think about Elsa at home all day with Bonnie. She never gets a break," Doc scrunched his nose while debating his next move. He slid his opposing pawn.
"Tomorrow afternoon I'm taking Adam and Ezra over to the Triple D to play with Bonnie so Elsa and I can have some tea and chat," she moved her bishop again while finishing her drink.
Doc couldn't hold his tongue, "You may want t' slow down, Honey. You're a bit of a lightweight these days," he half grinned while tugging his ear.
"I'll keep that in mind, Father," the redhead bit, narrowing her eyes as she gripped the sides of the small table.
"No need t' get feisty. I was just remembering Matt's retirement party," he moved his knight again.
"No comparison," she batted her eyelashes while pouring another drink, "that was a celebration. This is just a friendly game of chess with my daddy."
"You'd best watch it, Missy, or Daddy's gonna take you over his knee for your sass."
Kitty heartily laughed, "Just try it, Pops."
As Doc opened his mouth to reply, Maggie's cries echoed, bouncing off the sitting room walls.
"Saved by the baby," he mumbled, "I'll go change her and see what's going on." Then I'll have her sleep in my rooms.
"You do that," Kitty slightly slurred, watching the gray-haired man amble up the stairs.
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Kitty Dillon stood at the wash stand in her water closet, rinsing her face with cool water. She'd known Doc was right about her imbibing too much, but at the time she hadn't cared. All she'd wanted was for her husband to be home, telling a silly olden days' story to their children. Instead, he'd been out at a saloon with a handful of men, all single except for Josiah Ritter.
Let's face it, if anyone knew how the game was played in saloons, it was Kitty Russell Dillon. No man was off limits to a saloon girl. If he had money in his pocket, he was fair game. That's how Kitty had made her small fortune. She'd hired pretty women to convince men to buy them a drink, flirt a little, then get the customers to perhaps part with two dollars for a bottle, and maybe a few dollars more for a tumble.
She knew that her husband was a very savvy man. He also knew how the game was played in saloons. But what made it different at this point in time, was the fact that he wasn't the U.S. Marshal any longer, popping into the establishments to keep the peace. He was now a horse rancher, a regular man, trying to support his large family. Why all of a sudden Matt wanted to build an empire for his children, Kitty wasn't sure, and why he wanted to conduct so much business in saloons really had her befuddled.
Perhaps her nightmare from the other night had been prophetic. Perhaps her husband was beginning to enjoy the company of young saloon women. She reasoned that it would be alright, as long as all Matt did was flirt with the young women-plural. In her heart of hearts, the ex-saloon proprietress hoped that he hadn't become attracted to just one saloon gal. In Kitty's past experience as the owner of the Long Branch, situations like that had never boded well for the wives and children who'd waited for such men at home. She'd never forgotten about Millie Scot and her six boys being abandoned repeatedly by her husband, usually for saloon women.
As she gazed out her bedroom window, Kitty's mood quickly brightened as she spied Festus closing the barn door behind him. They're home! her heart sang. She checked her appearance in the looking glass before heading downstairs to greet her sweet cowboy.
She stoked the dying fire in the large, stone fireplace and poured two glasses of brandy while she waited for Matt to finish bedding down his horse. She sat on the settee, slowly sipping her libation, knowing she'd already had plenty. Before Kitty knew it, five minutes had turned into ten and ten minutes into twenty. I hope everything's okay out there.
Armed with a little liquid courage, Kitty threw on a cape, lit a lantern, and made her way over to the family barn. Once inside, she whispered, "Matt? Ya in here?" Her heart sank when she spotted Major's empty stall.
"Festus?" the concerned redhead lightly knocked on the door to her friend's small residence.
The scraggly hillman opened his door, asking, "Miz Kitty, is evry'thin' okay?"
"You tell me," she spoke softly, searching his squinty blue eyes.
"Whadd'ya mean?" he coyly asked, rubbing his whiskered chin.
"Festus Haggen, you know what I mean," Kitty raised her voice, "Where is my husband?!"
"Wael, Miz Kitty," he stepped out of his rooms, unable to meet his beloved friend's gaze, "I imagine he's still at the Bull's Head."
"You left him there?! Alone?!" she shouted.
"No, Ma'am. Moose is still there, Buck went t' the Long Branch, but Josiah's still there, too," Festus explained.
"I saw Morris ridin' up as I came into the barn, so he's back," Kitty searched her friend's face. She wanted answers and she could tell that Festus didn't want to supply any. "Festus," she whispered, pulling her cape tightly around her chilled body, "why didn't Matt come home with you?"
He concentrated on his hands, "Wael, ya see, I think he was waitin' fer Josiah t' leave. See, he done had a lot t' drink and ya know how Matthew is. He couldn't jus' leave 'im there."
"Uh-huh," Kitty skeptically chewed her bottom lip, "But you could leave him there?"
"Wael, yeah. I like the Ritters and all, but he's a growed man. Fer some reason, Matthew watches over 'im, real close like."
"Yeah," Kitty seethed, "well me and ol' Matthew are gonna have a talk about him giving up the job of being Josiah Ritter's babysitter."
Once Festus was back inside his residence, he pressed his back against the door. By golly, Matthew, you'd best get yerself home. And wash up b'fore ya do, if ya know what's good fer ya.
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Kitty laid on her stomach, sleeping fitfully under her winter quilt upon the big brass bed. She'd not only finished the glass of brandy she'd poured herself, but she'd polished off her absentee husband's as well. She hadn't had that much to drink in years. Probably not since she had challenged Will Mannon in his hotel room in Deep Ford. That was a memory she'd rather forget. She didn't count the poisonous Haggen hooch from Matt's retirement party.
The groggy, restless redhead tried to bring herself to full consciousness when she heard her husband's heavy footsteps on the staircase, but she couldn't seem to lift her head off the pillow. She groaned as Matt entered the bedroom. He masterfully removed his gun belt and hung it on its own special peg and plopped onto the edge of the bed, all in one motion. He quickly removed his boots and chucked them under the bed while unbuttoning his shirt.
"I gotta pee," he grumbled, rising to visit the water closet.
Once he'd finished his business, Matt reentered the bedroom and stared at Kitty. He licked his lips in anticipation of what marital delights likely awaited him. After all, hadn't she recently told him that some of their best love making had occurred as a result of being tipsy?
She moaned as she attempted to turn over. Like a jack rabbit, he jumped under the covers and tightly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. The aroused, naked man nibbled at the back of the half-conscious woman's neck, hoping to stir her inner wildcat.
Matt flipped Kitty onto her back, clutching both of her wrists above her head while instantaneously covering her lips with his. The slightly inebriated husband kissed his wife deeply, furiously, as if he hadn't seen her in months.
"God, Matt," she gasped as she turned her head to the side, "that cheap perfume makes you smell like a whore."
He slyly smiled while hovering over her, retorting, "well, you taste like one."
Kitty's eyes widened in shock at first, then narrowed in fury. She balled her hands into fists and tried to free them from his tight grasp. She writhed under his muscular body, trying to liberate herself, but the former marshal was three times as strong as former saloon owner.
"Let me up," she seethed between her gritted teeth.
Matt leaned in closer to her face, his chest pressing against her breasts. He felt her taut nipples through the soft flannel of the gown she wore, assuming this type of play excited her.
He whispered into her ear, "You've never been a prude, Miss Russell. Let's pretend like it's the old days."
"Are you crazy?! After you've been cavorting with God knows who," Kitty murmured as she bucked beneath him.
"Remember the old days, Kitty?" Matt released one of her hands to untie the blue satin ribbon at the scoop neckline of her nightgown before unbuttoning its three buttons.
"Matt," she gasped, pushing against his chest with her free hand in an effort to get him to look at her face, "what are you talking about?!" she implored.
He released the frantic redhead's other hand, grabbing her waist while he plunged his face in between her breasts. When he came up for air, he didn't notice the tears escaping her closed eyes, trickling toward her ears.
"It's not a good time," Kitty whimpered, pulling on her husband's unruly, smokey- smelling curls as she felt him tug at the bottom of her gown, "I can't get pregnant…I just can't…please, stop," she began to audibly cry.
Matt slowed his movements and raised his head to look at Kitty's face. He rolled onto his side, still maintaining contact with her body. His eyes watered with sadness and disappointment. He'd been certain that she would've welcomed his advances, as she always had.
The dejected lover cupped her face between his two big palms and kissed her forehead, mumbling, "Okay, Kathleen. You said the magic words. Nothin' like the word 'pregnant' to kill the mood."
Kitty laid on her back, trying to shake the cobwebs from her head. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, replying, "Nothin' like your husband coming home with the smell of another woman on him t' kill the mood."
Matt frustratingly ran his hands through his hair as he sat up, quipping, "You know how it is in a saloon, Kitty. The gals stand real close and ask ya t' buy 'em some drinks. Jeb picked the Bull's Head since it was his night out. You know yourself those women are a little more aggressive when they know men who actually have a little money walk through the door."
Kitty forcefully shoved her arms into her flannel dressing gown as she extricated herself from the twisted covers. By the time her husband had finished pleading his case, she stood facing him from across the room in front of the fireplace, her arms folded in front of her chest, waiting for him to look at her instead of the floor.
She softly asked, "Were you gonna force me, Matt?"
His head jerked up, "What did you just say?!"
Kitty stood her ground. "Were you going to force me?" she spoke succinctly, her blue orbs begging for the truth.
"Is that how you saw what we were doing, Kitty?" Matt stood, wrapping the flat sheet around his waist.
"What we were doing?! You mean to tell me that me trying t' push you offa me-"
"Hold on a minute," he angrily interrupted, taking a step in her direction.
Kitty held out her hand in the halt position, "No, you hold on a minute, Marshal. You came in here all ready to have me, like a stud that'd been with a teaser pony, but I don't recall any appropriate foreplay," she wiped an angry tear from her cheek.
Matt shook his head in disbelief, "Appropriate foreplay?! Teaser pony?! What the hell are you talking about?" he growled.
"What's happening here, Matt?" Kitty's floodgates suddenly opened as she lowered her head, "We've never struggled like this…" she buried her face in her hands.
The big man settled quickly, realizing the argument had gotten out of hand.
"Kathleen, come 'ere," he gently pulled her toward him, embracing her trembling body, "Honey, you're shaking," he whispered while leading her over to the chairs in front of the fireplace. Matt sat down, gently pulling Kitty onto his lap.
She sniffled, resting her head upon his shoulder as he tenderly rubbed her back in a circular motion. After a few moments she found her voice.
"Matt," she whispered, "we've never had any problems like this. Not until," she swallowed hard, closing her eyes, "not until we had that fight, and you left, and the baby…" Kitty began to weep again, her entire body quivering.
Her husband found himself at a loss for words. He shushed her as he would Maggie, "Shh, Honey. We'll be okay," he patted her back, "I promise. Please don't cry, Kitty. Please."
She pushed against his bare chest to sit up straight, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I gotta ask ya," Kitty stared at him through a veil of misty blue, "Do you still love me, Matt? If you don't," she physically shuddered, "I understand. We've been together a long time. I know men can get bored, tired of-"
"Now you stop right there," Matt interrupted, his timbre was both calm and deep. He caressed her fevered cheek, continuing, "How could you ask me if I still love you? Kathleen Russell Dillon, we've had seven children-"
Kitty let out a whimper, covering her mouth at her husband's inclusion of the child that was recently born too soon. She said barely above a whisper, "Lots of men lose interest in their wives, especially once children come along."
The gentle giant of a man lifted her chin with his callused fingers so their eyes would meet. He matter-of-factly reaffirmed, "It wouldn't matter if we had one child or ten. I love you, Kitty. I always have and I always will. Not that long ago I promised you that I would never leave. I have a responsibility to you and our family."
"Oh, Matt," the solemn redhead sighed, placing her palm against his heart, "I know you love me. But I also want you to be in love with me, like I am with you. I don't want you to stay out of a sense of responsibility."
The former marshal took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. He bit the inside of his cheek before stating, "I'm not sure what you want me to say here, Kitty. You asked if I loved you. I responded and now, you spout some female malarkey about loving someone versus being in love with someone," he placed one hand upon his hip, while the other rested upon the small of her back.
Kitty tilted her head to one side, her brows furrowing, "Female malarkey," she repeated his words as if she'd swallowed vinegar. She pursed her lips and nodded her head, "What exactly did you mean by referring to 'the old days'?"
"Huh?" he grunted, his eyes squinting in confusion.
She extricated herself from his lap and paced in front of the fireplace, "You said it twice while you were on top of me. You wanted it like the old days. What did you mean?" she folded her arms in front of her chest, her glare burning through her husband.
"Woman," he stood, letting the flat sheet he'd used to cover himself fall to the floor, "you're making something out of nothing."
"Oh, really?!" she shouted.
"Lower your voice," he growled, "In case you've forgotten, there are six children asleep up here."
"Oh, here we go again," she threw her arms above her head, turning to face the dwindling fire, "Kitty is so dumb. Seems she can't remember how many children she's birthed." She slammed her palms onto the mantle, bracing herself against it.
"I don't know what's going on with you, but I'll tell you somethin' about the Old Days, Mrs. Dillon," Matt stood as close as possible to his wife's back without touching her. He began to whisper in her ear, "In the Old Days, Miss Russell would wait up for her marshal, knowing he would come to her bed. She didn't care if he'd been late due to his work duties. She didn't mind if he was dusty or trail worn, or if he smelled like warm beer or cheap whiskey," he leaned over, his arms also bracing the mantle, just barely touching hers, "That's right, Miss Kitty took her lover whenever and however she could get him, because no matter what, there was fire. There was passion, spontaneity. Sometimes, lovemaking was slow and gentle, sometimes quick and a little rough. But it was lovemaking all the same."
Matt unbraced his hands from the mantle and returned to the upholstered chair. He winced, slowly lowering himself, once again covering his lower half with the flat sheet.
Kitty didn't move. She wouldn't let her husband see the tears streaming down her cheeks. She gathered herself, rebutting, "Sounds like Miss Russell was either a desperate, foolish woman, or a woman deeply in love with someone who'd had a lot of responsibilities," Kitty finally turned to face her husband. She sighed, wiping her clammy palms on the sides of her dressing gown, "Miss Kitty was a lot younger in the Old Days. She was confident her cowboy would only come to her bed. She also didn't make many demands upon her marshal, because that was against the rules. But then one day, Miss Kitty and her beloved cowboy accidentally made a baby. And after something horrible happened to her in the Old Days, something wonderful happened. This event marked the beginning of the New Days. The marshal and the saloon keeper had a miracle baby, and ended up with a whole houseful of amazing, beautiful, little responsibilities."
A lone, pearl sized tear trickled down Matt's weather worn face. He studied his lovely wife, from the top of her unkempt red head to the tip of her bare toes. While she wasn't the twenty-something wildcat from the old days, she was the forty-something mother of his seven children. While in the old days they'd had to somewhat sneak around, in these new days, they were free to be who they'd always wanted to be.
At that moment, Matthew Dillon realized he must abandon some of his newly acquired bad habits, or he risked losing everything.
TBC