INCOGNITO: CHAPTER 2
Every other time they'd ridden into town together, they'd headed for the marshal's office. Surprised, Jake looked up at his father as they pulled up in front of the pretty little house with the manicured grass and the white picket fence.
"Why we stoppin' here?"
"Because Judge Brooker lives here with his son."
"Doctor Joseph?" Jake's eyes squinted thoughtfully.
"That's right." Matt stepped down and tied Buck in front of the house. "Doctor Joseph is Judge Brooker's son. You lived in this same house a long time ago when you were a baby, Jake."
Intrigued, Jake stayed seated on Red while he processed the new information. "Fathers and sons get to stay together, then?"
"Sure, if that's what they want to do. Now Joseph takes care of his father, and they live together right here where you used to live."
Before Matt could continue with the lesson, Cyrus Brooker opened the front door. "Good morning, Dillons!" he waved a welcome. "Come on in!" He followed up with a motion of his arm.
Jake's eyes met his father's. The judge had called them both Dillons, and that sounded mighty good. He slid down off his horse and tied him up next to Buck, then followed Matt into the house.
"Good morning, Jake." Brooker extended his hand for a shake. "You ready for a hot cocoa?"
Politely just as he'd been taught, Jake shook the judge's hand. "Yes Sir, that'd be good. And do you think I could see where I lived in your house?"
"I'll bet your father can show you," Brooker chuckled. "The house isn't very big."
Matt led Jake to the tiny alcove under the stairs that Quint and Tip had built so many years ago, and pushed his hat back off his forehead to take a wide-eyed look himself. Instead of the old baby crib, it was filled with finely crafted mahogany bookshelves, replete with three tiers of law books and records.
Jake looked confused. "Where is it?"
"Right there." Matt pointed at the brimming library.
"I lived there?" The boy's brow furrowed.
"You did!" The booming voice of Cyrus Brooker called across the room. "I remember when your daddy brought you home. I'll bet you didn't weigh much more than one of those books. Now get over here and sit, your cocoa's ready."
"What brings you men to Dodge today?" Cyrus asked while he poured the hot brew.
Purposefully, Matt said nothing about Jake's poor decision the previous afternoon. "Jake wants to learn about adoption. I told him you could teach him a lot more about it than I could."
The old judge took a long, thoughtful draw from his drink. He didn't need to see Matt's quick wink because he knew exactly what it meant. It took him all of five seconds to start in on his opening statement.
"Well Jake, adoption is a judge's favorite case, because it's the happiest thing we ever do." The sincere gleam in his eye was indisputable. "Now don't get me wrong. Sometimes judges get to marry men and women too, and that's very happy. But grown-up people can take care of themselves. Adoption means that a young person who can't take care of himself gets a family to love him forever." The judge paused for a moment, letting that revelation sink in.
"You see, we judges have to hear all sorts of cases," he went on. "Most of them involve men who've broken the law. Men who've shot other men, stolen things from them, even men who've hurt women and children." Pretending he didn't know why Matt had brought Jake to see him, he added, "Why do you ask? Would you like to be a judge some day?"
"No sir, the boy answered confidently. "I want to run a saddle shop or maybe even be a horse trainer like Tip."
"Ah, of course." Cyrus smiled. "Fine professions filled with people who like to help other people. Those are good choices."
Matt put a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "Jake wants to know the difference between foster and adoption."
"I see," the judge said, putting his hand thoughtfully to his chin before he answered. The real reason for the visit had just become abundantly clear. "Foster is temporary, Jake. It gives a young person a family for a while, but it's not a permanent home. Adoption is forever, just like being born into that family. No one can ever take an adopted child from his family."
Jake looked to his father for the next answer. "Is that how my name got to be Dillon?" Matt nodded, confirming what he'd told the boy in the barn the afternoon before.
Brooker decided to seal the deal. "Jake, would you like to see the court record when your mother and father adopted you?"
The boy's eyes lit up enthusiastically. "Yes sir. Will it say Dillon?"
"It certainly will," the judge smiled. "Yours was my favorite adoption. Go back under the stairs to my library. Pull out the book that has the number twelve on it and bring it here."
Matt leaned in close to Cyrus while Jake headed off on his errand. "That Bo Henry kid gave Jake some grief over being adopted."
"I guessed that right away, Matt. And I'm afraid I've got some bad news about Bo. I heard from Topeka that he ran off again right after he got there. I hope he's not headed back this way."
"He's thirteen, Cyrus. That'd be a stretch for a grown man with no horse and no money."
"You and I have seen some pretty amazing stretches over the years, my friend. Just tell your deputies to keep their eyes and ears open."
XOXOXO
Never one to skip a stop at the office, Matt tied the horses in front and led Jake inside like he ran the place. Which in fact, he did.
"Anything new goin' on, Deputy?"
"Hello, Jake." Frank purposefully ignored his boss, knowing he'd get some good-natured payback over his smugness later. "This is new, big marshal man." He held out a telegram. "Gotta warn you, I looked at it."
"My secret admirers don't send wires, Frankie," Matt quipped. "What's it say?"
"It says there still might be opportunities for you workin' the law if you leave town." Frank took a guarded look at the wide-eyed eight-year-old who was studying his face intently, stopped teasing, and waved Matt off. "Just read it."
"Wow." Matt pushed his hat back on his head and read the wire again, then looked at the clock on the wall. "Train for Denver's long gone already. I'll send a wire back to Seth and go get tickets out for tomorrow morning. Can you spare Blake?"
"You're serious?" Frank's eyebrows arched. "You really want to head up to Laramie in the dead of winter?"
Matt crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Course not. No one in his right mind would."
"Whoa, now just a minute," Frank squared off with Matt. "I'll go. If nothing else, you hired me thanks to Seth telling you where to find me."
"Not a chance in hell, Frankie. Seth's a real good friend of mine." Then he leaned in close so young ears couldn't eavesdrop. "And he sent for a marshal."
Matt's teasing words had a certain kind of sting to them. But Frank gave him a light swat on the arm, a quick sign of resignation. "Yeah, I suppose I can spare Blake. Somebody's got to look out for you, after all. Bring him back alive, please."
"That's the plan, Deputy," the big man grinned while he folded the telegram and put it in his pocket. "Fill Blake in and have him meet me at the depot tomorrow morning." Then he took his son by the hand. "Let's head out, Jake. We've got things to do."
"Later, Matt," Frank called as Matt walked out the door. Matt waved a hand over his shoulder, and that was it for a long goodbye between best friends.
XOXOXO
The wind bit into them ferociously as they rode back to the ranch, promising to spoil Matt's plan to take the boys down to the lake to spend their last afternoon together for who knew how long. Unconcerned, Jake babbled away brightly on the entire ride.
"Where you goin' on your trip, Daddy?"
The title sounded good to Matt, coming from a youngster who a day earlier had been convinced he wasn't really a Dillon and that he'd soon be snatched from his happy home. "Laramie. It's in Wyoming, up north . . ."
"I know where that is." Jake interrupted proudly. I learned it in geography." He switched hands on his reins, as if that would help him see the map in his head. "It's right above Colorado, and that's next door to us right here."
"You're right as usual. But Colorado takes a day on the train, and Wyoming another day after that. Neither of those is exactly next door."
"Why can't I go again this time?"
It was a fair question. He and Kitty had taken both boys along on two trips earlier in the year. Matt had hand-picked Kansas City and Topeka, where Kitty could show the boys the stockyards, museums, the state capitol, and even an orchestra that played in a park. Their favorite tour of all had been the giant machine shops of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad where they watched the huge locomotives being constructed. Matt smiled to himself at the memory: The boys got a valuable lesson they couldn't have learned from a book, and as a bonus, he'd taken Kitty along on a trip that kept her out of the dress shops and millineries.
"Because Laramie's going to be dangerous, Jake."
"I'm brave. Besides, Miss Ava never said Wyoming was dangerous."
"I meant my job is dangerous this time," Matt corrected himself. Even though Sara had been just as inquisitive at this age, somehow he'd never gotten used to it.
"Momma's not gonna' like that." the little boy counseled.
"I'll tell all of you about it at supper tonight. No secrets from any of you. How's that?"
"No secrets, Daddy. Not ever. Not anymore."
Matt decided he'd trade on that reflective statement so he didn't have to say anything in front of the rest of his family that might embarrass Jake. "Can I count on you to stay close to home and watch over Momma while I'm gone to Wyoming?"
"Yep. Count on me. You'll be plenty busy watchin' over Blake."
XOXOXO
Tactfully, Matt waited until Ava had gone to her quarters and his children had finished cleaning up all the supper dishes before he called them back to the table for the big family pow-wow. The meetings had become a family ritual and made everyone more comfortable with what a marshal did for a living. He poured more coffee for Kitty, then silently handed the telegram to her and waited quietly. When she looked up and met his eyes, a mixture of love and caution registered on his face. Somehow these trips had been so much easier to explain before they had a family. But even if Kitty didn't like what she'd read, he knew she understood, so he began his explanation.
"I have a good friend up in Laramie, Wyoming by the name of Seth Bullock who's a marshal just like me. He has a jail like we do in Dodge. But there's also a big federal prison near Laramie where some very bad criminals get sent to be locked up forever. A couple of days ago there was a fire at the prison and now Marshal Bullock has to watch over all of 'em while the prison gets repaired. He sent a telegram asking me to come and help him, so I'm leaving in the morning. I don't know how long I'll be gone."
He studied the doleful young faces around the table and decided they needed some sort of good news. "Here's the deal, Dillons. Laramie has a train and it has a telegraph. I'll be able to send you letters and wires so you know what's happening up there and when I'm coming home. Momma or Grandpa or Tip can ride into town and get the mail every couple of days. If a wire comes in, Festus will bring it out right away."
"That's right," Kitty added cheerfully, backing Matt up when she saw the same concern on her children's faces. "And when we go to town, we'll take the surrey so you can all go along."
Sara was the first to speak up. "Can I write letters to you, Daddy?"
"Of course you can, Princess. Frank knows exactly where I'll be. He'll give you the address."
"Can we take you to the train in the morning?" Luke offered hopefully.
"Definitely. If you boys'll help Tupe hitch the team, we'll take the surrey."
"I'm real good at that, Daddy," Sara reminded her father. "I can do it all by myself."
"If you do, Jake and Luke'll never get any practice." Matt stood up from the table, then leaned over and gave his first born a tender kiss on the cheek, signaling the end to the meeting. "You can hold the rest of your questions for the ride into Dodge. Right now I'd like to . . ."
"I know, I know," Sara interrupted sagely. "You'd like to spend some time with Momma."
XOXOXO
Matt drew her soft backside into him, letting the steamy hot water in the tub work its magic. Spontaneously, his long fingers found not just one but both nipples with skilled deftness, and that's where they played expertly while he hoped to distract her from her thoughts about the trip.
"That . . . is . . . marvelous," she barely purred. Then, probably because it was much easier to ask difficult questions when she wasn't gazing into his piercing blue eyes, she said, "I don't think you fooled them tonight, Sweetie. You won't have lot of time up there for writing letters or telegrams."
"Maybe not," he muttered, unable to stop his building desire. "But thanks for playing along and helping me convince them."
It was a honed skill. How many times she'd explained the absence of a telegram or a letter to them over the years when he'd traveled off to somewhere. But as the years rolled by, she'd discovered that her carefully worded explanations helped quell her own fears as well. She held her next thought for a moment while she dipped the sponge in the water, reached behind her and squeezed the hot water over his chest.
"It's real dangerous this time, isn't it?"
"Probably not." he repeated his words, wondering who he was trying to convince. "I'm not huntin' down some gang. These fellas are already corralled."
It sounded good to him, and besides, she didn't argue. He moved his fingers to the insides of her thighs, treating himself to the feel of her satiny soft skin. Everything about her smelled of the lavender soap he'd used to caress each part of her body. Like magic, his feather touch had pulled her thoughts back to the present, far away from Wyoming and everything else that might go with it. When his fingers strayed far enough north, she rolled over to face him and gave him a provocative nibble on the neck.
Kneeling over him, she pressed eager lips to his. "Do that again." she whispered.
Her words sounded more like a command than a request. Faithfully, he thought it wise to oblige. "What . . . this?"
"Ohhhh." Was that a shudder or a moan? "Ohhhh, Matt!" This one was definitely a moan, and no doubt about it, he'd succeeded in surprising her. He'd only overlooked one thing: Kitty had complete control now, and she snatched it eagerly. The tub of steamy water didn't stand a chance, waves building, then crashing uncontrollably over the sides, keeping perfect time with their escalating passion.
Abruptly, calm prevailed.
"Hold it!" he demanded, his eyes shut tight.
"Why?"
"Because if you move one more time . . ." jaw muscles trembling, he gritted his teeth.
This time she let go a laugh. A guiltless laugh. She wiggled down on her captive mercilessly: once, twice, and then held short at the sensation of his release. One hundred twenty pounds of femininity had completely conquered two hundred forty pounds of masculinity.
Was it time to assess blame? It was his fault, after all: He'd started it. Regardless, she tenderly mimicked what he always did after the kind of ride they'd just shared, slowly covering his exhausted face with the softest of kisses, brushing her lips over his, snorting in his ears, then gently biting him on the neck.
"Mmmm. That feels good," he managed to mutter as his breathing quieted. He opened his eyes and started playing with a loose curl that had tumbled down onto the side of her face like a flame that had escaped from a campfire. "You know how to wear a fella out," he sighed.
"And you know how to finish off a tub of clean water, Mister." She winked at him. "Hate like hell to leave you all worn out," she smiled and ran her hands through his salt and pepper curls. "But I'd better save a little for dessert." Abruptly, she stood up and stepped out of the tub, leaving him there with his manhood still standing at half-mast.
The fluffy terrycloth she kept stocked in their private water closet both soothed and aroused, another graphic reminder of the perfect life they shared when they were together. They dried each other as slowly as they'd lingered in the big tub, each of them wanting to prolong the anticipation forever. Matt drew a deep breath while she caressed his most sensitive parts, willing himself to etch the feel of her touch in his thoughts until he returned to this exact spot for their reunion. And it wouldn't be long. By God, he vowed to himself, it wouldn't be long.
With no need to ask permission, he slid away the towel she'd draped around her shoulders and watched it pool at her feet. Like an artist uncovering a sculpture, his breath involuntarily hitched in his throat at the masterpiece he'd revealed. He let his hands stroke her nakedness, then slowly rove down her back until they found a home on the warm flesh of her butt. She wrapped her arms around his neck, making it effortless for him to scoop her up and carry her to their big brass bed. Their sanctuary. Their nest.
He reached over and snuffed the lantern by the bed, leaving the silhouette of her body outlined only by the sliver of moonlight coming through the window, forcing his mind to record that image forever. Or at least until Wyoming was nothing but a distant memory. He eased into the bed next to her and pulled the big down quilt over both of them, blocking out the events of the day as adeptly as he'd shut out the lantern. When he drew her into his arms, his body surprised both of them.
"You didn't get enough in the tub?" She could feel her favorite part of his magnificent body responding all at once. "It's after midnight, Sweetie. You need to get some sleep."
"Mmmm. I can sleep on the train," he whispered into her neck while his hips gyrated spontaneously.
"Don't go, Matt." She whispered even while she allowed her body to follow the rhythm of his. "Send Frank. Ask one of the marshals from Denver to go. There's still time."
"Not this time. I owe this one to Seth, Kitten. Hadn't been for him, we wouldn't have Frank in Kansas now and I'd still be sleepin' at the jail."
And so, sleep never claimed either one of them. The two lovers who dreaded being separated spent what was left of the night wrapped in each other's arms, sharing the most private of touches and whispering words to each other meant for no other human being's ears.
tbc
