Anger blazed across her face. She swore under her breath as another bullet shattered a window pane and splintered the leg of a table. Kitty felt as if she was in the middle of a wild Saturday night at the Long Branch, but she wasn't at all. She was five miles from the saloon. Her lawman husband wouldn't barrel through the door and halt the chaos with a baritone command. Her nostrils flared, and her face hardened with resolve. She marched to the oak gun cabinet and stopped in her tracks at the sound of crying. She spotted Charlotte sitting next to the door of the library, head ducked into her knees, rocking with her sobs. Kitty crouched in front of her and gently touched her face as she looked her over. "Charlie," she whispered. "You're not supposed to be here. Celia said you were home. It's all right, Charlie," she soothed and pulled the trembling girl into her arms. Kitty dusted bits of glass from the youth's chocolate-colored hair.
Charlotte spluttered and disjointedly explained how the boys' game of checkers at home had been mind-numbing. Her brothers and cousin had shut her out of conversation also, and she'd decided to find company in the pages of A Tale of Two Cities. "I saw the man. I don't know him. He shot into the library, and," she hesitated and broke into sob.
"Just one?" she asked and felt the nod of confirmation against her chest. "I know it's scary, Charlie, but it's all right. You're not hurt. It's all right," Kitty reassured and rubbed her back. "Now, dry those eyes, and get out of here, Charlotte."
Charlotte scrambled to her feet and helped the redhead to stand. Her eyes widened as Kitty resumed her walk to the gun cabinet. "Miss Kitty?"
"Go, Charlotte."
"But what are you gonna do?"
"What I have to. Go, Charlotte," she ordered and selected Matt's favored Winchester rifle. Kitty heard the shout and wondered what man could be such a fool to come to her home and call out her spouse. She cursed at the noise of the last bullet in the revolver firing and glass clattering onto the hardwood floor. Kitty blew out a frustrated breath and peeked out of the window to see Mel Billings sitting atop a bay mare. She watched the unkempt cowboy sit unsteadily in the saddle. She supposed the man had done what he'd always done when he spent time in town – drank too much, shot up the Long Branch, spent a night in jail, and decided it was all Matt Dillon's fault instead of his own. "Drunken fool," she muttered, knocking out the rest of the window and leveling the rifle on the frame.
"Dillon! Come out!" Mel hollered and nearly fell off his mount as his hat flew off his head. He looked behind him, swearing at the hole in his Stetson. Mel watched the chilly wind blow his ruined hat across the blanket of snow. "Son of a bitch," he muttered and raised his Colt revolver, cursing as he realized he'd wasted all the bullets. "Dillon!"
"He's not here," Kitty shouted, stepping onto the porch.
Mel gripped the saddle horn and focused his bloodshot eyes on Kitty. "Well, if it ain't the calico queen," Mel offensively bellowed and let out a low whistle. He'd always known Kitty Russell was Dillon's woman, but he hadn't expected to find her at the ranch. "I'd take my hat off, but you shot it off my head." He hollowly laughed. He scowled at the sight of his yellow-bellied brother, Loren, riding up and turned his attention back to the rifle toting redhead. "Where is Dillon? Hiding behind your skirts, Miss Kitty?"
"He's not here, Mel. Go on or the next one will blow your head off."
The tone of her voice sent a shiver up his spine. Mel didn't care for the unwavering look in her eyes. He ran his tongue along his teeth as his hungover mind worked on his next step.
"Mel, let's get out of here," Loren begged.
"No. I've had me a bellyful of Marshal Dillon for a awful long time now."
"He's not here, Mel. He's not comin'. You brought us out here for nothing."
"You didn't have to come. Not nothin', Loren. I'll take her," Mel decided and flicked his eyes to Kitty. He'd always wondered what it would be like to have her.
Loren glanced in the direction of Kitty and breathed out a profound sigh. He was tired of trying to talk sense into his brother, but he prepared himself for the argument. "If you put a hand on her, the marshal will be after us for sure. Mel, there won't be anywhere we could go. Mexico wouldn't be far enough."
"Let him come," Mel said and grinned. "He'll get his."
Loren scoffed. His brother couldn't take Matt Dillon. He didn't know a man that could. "I'm sick of trouble. That's all I remember all my life – you and trouble."
"Well, leastwise, I do somethin'. I make trouble," Mel stated and kicked his horse hard in the sides.
Loren unholstered his revolver and swiftly hit his reckless brother in the back of the head. He grabbed the mare's reins as Mel cried out and slumped over in the saddle. He rode up to the steps and met Kitty's eyes, tossing Mel's wallet at her slipper covered feet and apologizing for the damages.
She eased her hold on the Winchester as the horses disappeared from her sight. Her legs felt weak as she walked to the door, and her hands shook as she turned the knob. Kitty recognized that she was coming down from the peak of the hormone rush and remembered what Doc had instructed her to do as she entered the foyer of her battered home. She couldn't afford to pass out like she had after her confrontation with Cornelia Conrad. She found a comfortable spot to sit and took deep breaths into her diaphragm, exhaling slowly until she relaxed.
Matt had set off on the brothers' trail as soon as he'd made sure that his wife and everyone was fine. He didn't believe throwing a man in jail warranted that man shooting up his office and home, but some men weren't meant to be understood. Mel Billings had endangered the love of his life and unborn child. He wanted to kill him with his bare hands. Matt pulled gently on the reins and spied the crimson stains covering the snow. He got down off his horse and stepped over to the lifeless body. He noticed the wound in the middle of the man's back and turned him over, shaking his head as he recognized Loren Billings. "Sorry, Loren," he said. The ground was too frozen to dig a grave.
Matt heard the rumble of thunder and took in his surroundings as he put his foot in the stirrup, getting back in the saddle. He remembered an abandoned shack nearby and hoped he'd have Mel in custody before the storm set in. He pulled his collar up and guided Buck in the direction of the shanty.
He tied Buck to a dilapidated wagon and strode to the cabin, putting his hand on his holster and shoving the door wide open. His ire simmered at the sight of Mel passed out on a cot in the one room shack. Matt hooked his thumbs into his belt and thrust his boot into the wooden frame of the bed. "Wake up. Get up off of there," he ordered gruffly.
Mel startled awake, dropping the bottle of rotgut and propping himself up on his elbows. He narrowed his eyes on the tall United States Marshal and shifted off the bed, approaching Dillon. "You put me in jail. You run me outta your town. You gonna run me out of the world too?"
"That's a good idea. Get going." Matt shoved him, forcing him through the doorway.
Billings caught himself from tumbling down the steps. "Marshal, I gotta know one thing."
"What?" Matt dully asked as he stood behind him.
"Why didn't your mama ever tell you that you can't turn a whore into a housewife?" Mel needled with a spiteful curl of his mouth.
Anger rose in him like a tide and swelled through every part of him. He clenched his fist, clocking Mel in his jaw. Matt jumped off the porch as Mel landed feet away on the cold ground. "All right, now get up from there. You're going to jail," he growled.
"Oh, I ain't going to no jail, Marshal," Mel vowed. His jawbone rang from the force of the blow. He sprang to his feet and ran, barreling towards the law enforcer and throwing his body into Dillon, knocking the wind out of the marshal. Mel hooked his arms around Matt and knocked him onto the porch. He heard the strained groan from the larger man as he solidly landed. Mel tussled and tried his best to maintain the upper hand in the fight. He pressed his boots into the Marshal's stomach and pushed him onto his back. He grabbed a barrel and crashed it onto the giant's head as he charged him.
Matt shook off the pain and repeatedly struck blows to Mel's stomach. His fist collided with the cowboy's jaw, sending him over the railing and onto a table. Matt leapt off the side and felt blood pouring from his head. "You killed your brother. Didn't you?"
"Yeah. Loren was sick of living, and I was sick of him living," he admitted and wiped the blood from his mouth. He caught the table leg out of the corner of his eye and picked it up, rushing Matt and swinging wildly. He missed, hitting the porch's beam. Mel painfully grunted as a clenched fist solidly pounded into his ribs and assaulted his jaw. He licked his lips and tasted the blood pooling in his mouth.
Matt snatched him up by his vest and backhanded him several times. He watched Billings flounder in the snow and hoped the fight was out of him. He realized how close Mel was to the scabbard that held a Sharps rifle. He drew his gun and fired before Mel could fire at him. Matt stood over the unmoving man, catching his breath from the scuffle and rolling him over with his boot. His shot was fatal for Mel Billings.
She groaned deeply in annoyance and pressed her knees into the eiderdown mattress. She ground out her husband's name and pushed down on his shoulder. "Matt, be still," she ordered and applied the antiseptic soaked cloth onto the laceration at the crown of his head.
"Kathleen!" he screeched.
"Stop being a baby," she reprimanded and clucked her tongue. Her eyes raked over the scars littering his torso and back from gunshots and knives. She didn't understand how he could handle that discomfort but always recoiled and whined about disinfecting a wound. "Matt, I swear if you don't stop movin'," she griped. Her patience was wearing thin.
"It stings," he said in defense of his behavior.
"So, you've said." Kitty removed the cloth and peered at the gash.
"It's clean. I washed my hair."
"I'll decide that."
Matt squeaked as she pressed the cloth firmly against his scalp. He winced and crossed his arms over his bare chest. He flinched from the sting and ducked his head, evading her next germ-killing attack but not the wallop from her hand. "Did you learn your bedside manner from Doc?" he asked as he poked his lips out in an intense pout.
"You wouldn't get this treatment from Doc," she retorted and took away the rag. "If he tends to you in nothing but a robe, I'll have to have a talk with Curly," she remarked. Kitty arched her back slightly and grabbed the bottle of antiseptic. She pursed her lips as Matt flopped back onto the bed. "You're a menace," she whispered, giving up on taking care of him. His playful grin and the mischievous glint in his eye dulled her irritation. She leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the lips.
He reached up and cupped her face as she straightened, running the pad of his pinky finger along her cheekbone. "I'm proud of you for today," he told her and stared at her lovely face. Matt tried to force down the guilt rising within him. "I should have been here."
"Honey," she said gently and put her hand on his wrist, stroking her fingers over the bone. "I wish you'd been here too, but you can't be in two places at the same time. Stop beating yourself up. Doc's orders."
"Doc Kathleen, huh?" he teased, sitting up as she pulled a face and cumbersomely shifted her body. "Do I need to take you into town and see Doc?"
"I moved wrong is all," she told him and rubbed her hands low along the sides of her belly to ease the spasm-like pains. She noticed concern remained in his azure eyes. "I'm all right, Matt. Promise," she assured. Kitty hadn't realized how difficult and uncomfortable the end of her pregnancy would be. Her body was sore and tired. The simplest tasks were problematic. She wondered how she'd make it to February.
"You're hurtin', Kitty." Matt kissed her head and slipped off the bed. He strolled through the pocket doors leading to the sitting area off the bedroom. Matt searched through the drawers of her vanity until he found the jar of her luxurious skin cream. He glanced out the window, watching the snow twist and swirl in the wind. He was grateful to Timothy Roniger and Ben for putting in new windows and to Saoirse O'Sullivan having the foresight to stockpile windows in the carriage house. Matt wandered back to the bed and waited for her to pin up her long locks. He arranged pillows against the headboard and slid into bed. "Off," he instructed and touched the material of her robe.
Kitty untied the sash and shrugged her robe off, granting him access to give her a massage. She shivered from the lack of clothing and tugged a blanket over her as Matt put his hands on her. She let out a moan as he concentrated on her lower back, sinking into her aching muscles with his thumbs and the heel of his hand.
He swallowed hard at the gorgeously obscene sounds she made as he pressed against her spine. Matt flattened his palms over her smooth skin and dug into the jar, warming the rich cream between his calloused hands. He deftly worked out the tautness within her shoulders and neck. He stopped his movements as the blanket fell. He licked his lips and stared at her breasts. Her request for him to return his attention to her lower back derailed his indecent thoughts. "You're distractin' me, honey," he rumbled against her ear.
"Matt, I," she faltered, loath to tell him that she wasn't in the mood for lovemaking. She turned her auburn head and set her apologetic gaze on him. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he sincerely uttered and kissed her bare shoulder as he squeezed her hips. He focused on kneading the strained muscles of her back and slipped his arms around her as she settled against his chest. Matt brushed his lips against the side of her face as he righted the silky material. "I'll do this for you every night," he promised and opened the middle of her robe. He scooped more of the emulsion out of the jar and gingerly roved his palms over the swell of her belly. He sucked in a breath as he felt rhythmic, jerky movements.
"Hiccups," Kitty explained.
"Hiccups?"
"Mmhmm," she murmured with a bow of her head and glimpsed at his amazed face. She never tired of seeing his astonished expression when the baby wriggled and squirmed. "She gets the hiccups almost every night now."
"By golly," he spoke faintly and widened his eyes, watching the baby push, roll, and stretch against the confined space. His curiosity took a hold of him. He pushed back and received a hard kick against his hand.
"Matt! Don't provoke her. That hurt," Kitty whined and put her hand over his, steering it away from her mistreated ribcage. "She needs to settle down."
"Hold it," he mildly barked and felt a few more rolls and punches. A smirk settled on his lips. "Well, she takes after you. She doesn't listen," he jested.
Kitty arched a brow at her husband. "Oh, like you do?" she quipped and let out a satisfied sigh as her gentle strokes calmed the baby.
He cleared his throat and sheepishly grinned at his wife. "Well," he drawled and looked around the bedroom.
"Exactly," she retorted, suddenly feeling tired and stifling a yawn. The day had finally caught up with her. "Hold me until I fall asleep," she requested as he twisted the sash of her robe around his finger.
"Want a gown?" he inquired in a sotto voice and hoped she'd sleep for more than a handful of hours. "All right," he responded to the shake of her head. "Go to sleep, sweetheart." Matt set about getting her under the duvet as best he could since she was using him as a cushion.
"Matt, you won't be able to do this every night," she drowsily stated with her eyes shut. "You're not staying home with me because of Mel Billings. He's the only man crazy enough to come to our home. I'm a big girl, and I can," she trailed off,
"Yes, Kathleen, you can take care of yourself," he finished and tugged the comforter over her, planting a kiss to her temple as she started to snore.
Author's Note: Credit to the writers of Take Her, She's Cheap (S10.E6) again. We're getting close to the end, y'all! Less than a handful of chapters left!