Kitty opened her eyes and blearily focused on the darkness around her. She felt the cold, empty spot next to her and sighed, pushing herself up to sit. She didn't know when he'd left but hoped he'd left to make rounds. Kitty rubbed her belly to ease the baby's wild kicks and slipped out of bed. Her eyes caught the time on the clock. "Midnight. I wonder if your daddy knows it's our anniversary…wherever he is," she whispered and placed a hand on her belly. She pulled on her robe and walked to the window, gazing out at Front Street. She watched the snow falling and thought about the last time that it snowed on the first day of December.
She felt like she had reached her limit as she closed the door behind her and leaned heavily against it. The redhead had trouble lifting her head off the pillow even though she'd slept until noon. She had dragged her feet all day and wanted to crawl into bed, but it wasn't even seven o'clock. Kitty stifled a yawn and pushed herself off the wooden door. She needed to change for the evening even if it had been a slow day. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her abdomen was still flat, but her clothes felt like they were getting tighter and tighter by the minute. She unbuttoned her velvet jacket and let out a soft groan as she shrugged it off, haphazardly tossing it and stalking to her armoire filled with dresses. She took one off the rack and twisted her face. "No," she muttered as she looked over the satin frock, thinking how indecent her cleavage would be even for the Long Branch. She seemed to be bursting out on top lately. With a huff, she browsed through her wardrobe and swore under her breath at the urgent knock on her door. "Come in!" she yelled and hoped it wasn't Pearl. She wasn't in the mood to hear her whiny, high-pitched voice complain about the lack of customers. Kitty smiled softly at the sound of his boots on the hardwood. She hadn't expected to see him until later in the night.
"C'mon," Matt said, taking off his hat and shaking snowflakes off the Stetson as he stepped closer to her. He was uncertain how much time he had to get her where she needed to be.
"What?" she breathed out and reached behind her to unfasten the button on her skirt.
He set his hat back on his head and lightly knocked her hand away from the button. "Kitty, come on," he urged and lifted her jacket from the floor. "Put that back on."
"Matt, I have to get changed," she insisted.
"No, you don't," the marshal fired back. He should have known she'd be stubborn. Sometimes, he'd rather tangle with an outlaw than the woman that captured his heart three years ago.
She crossed her arms as an auburn brow critically arched at him. "Why don't I?"
"No one's downstairs. It's snowing. We're in for a blizzard. Bill told Freddie to close. Now, will you come on?" he pleaded and took her by the arm, forcing it into the jacket.
"Will you stop it?" Kitty growled and put the garment on herself. "If we're in for a blizzard, where are we going?" she asked and tamed the ruffles of her blouse. She longingly looked at her bed, wanting nothing more than to crawl onto the eiderdown mattress, pull the covers over her head, and sleep for a week.
He didn't answer her as he rifled through the armoire. He pulled a heavy cloak from the depths and put it on her shoulders. "You'll know when we get there."
Kitty stamped her foot in frustration at his evasiveness. "Matt, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me where the hell," she stopped as he scowled in exasperation and lunged towards her, crudely sweeping her into his strong arms. She felt sick from the sudden movement. "Matt! Matt! Put me down," she begged and pushed against him.
"No," he said resolutely and tightened his hold on her.
"Matt, please," she mumbled faintly and clamped her hand over her mouth, swallowing the bile rising in her throat and fighting the wooziness coming over her.
"Oh, honey," he murmured, looking down at her pale face and setting her down gently. He wrapped his arm around her slim waist to steady her. "You all right?"
She weakly nodded as she leaned against him, remaining silent as the wave of nausea passed. Kitty leaned into him and rubbed her temple as she breathed in and out, slowly and deeply.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he apologized and squeezed her hand. "I'm not used to," he fumbled for the right words and raked his hand through his dark curls.
"Me being pregnant," she whispered and glanced at him. "I'm not either," she admitted. It was strange and foreign to her. She still grappled with the idea that she'd be a mother come summer. "I'll go with you. Just let me walk, please."
"Until we get outside, Kitty. There's a foot of snow on the ground," he advised and waited for her to secure the cloak on her. Matt put his hand on the small of her back as they walked down the stairs and out of the saloon. He watched her shiver and pull the cape around her tighter as they stepped onto the boardwalk. "Kitty, will you let me carry you now?" he asked, looking up and down the street. Not a soul was out except for him and Kitty.
"Be real easy about it, Matt," she cautioned and held her breath as he gingerly scooped her into his arms. She bit into her lip and slipped her arms around his neck, burrowing into the warmth of his body. "I'm all right," she assured as his eyes scanned her face. "You better not drop me."
"I won't," he promised and pressed his lips to her coiffed hair.
She listened to the crunch of the snow under his feet and rubbed her cheek against the fur collar of his coat, gazing up at him. A week ago, she'd told him about the baby. His reaction surprised her. He'd had a grin as broad as the prairie plastered on his good-looking face, and he'd thrown his hat so high into the air while he whooped and hollered thought she'd thought it would get stuck in a cottonwood tree. She threaded her fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. "Matt," she whispered. "Where are you taking me?"
"To Doc's," he revealed and adjusted her in his arms as he put his foot on the first stair to the physician's office. He cautiously and carefully took each step, not wanting to jostle her too much.
"Doc's? Matt, I told you I'm all right."
"I know, Kitty." Matt set her down at the top of the stairs and opened the door for her. He drew in a profound breath and steeled himself as he followed her inside. He smiled at Doc Adams as Kitty removed her cloak and hung it on the rack.
"Ready?" Doc asked, glancing at the redhead and the lawman.
Matt nodded his head. "I am. I don't know about her."
"Ready for what?" Kitty asked and turned around from the coat rack, tugging self-consciously on the edge of the deep royal purple velvet jacket as if Doc would know she was with child by simply looking at her.
Doc's eyes bulged, and he gaped at the giant man, rubbing his chin and shaking his head in disbelief. He assumed Matt had asked for her hand, but he'd been wrong. He stepped out of the way and kept an eye on the redhead as Matt whispered into her ear. The physician craned his neck to hear.
"Marry me, Kathleen Russell."
Doc smiled as she dipped her head and dabbed at the corner of her stunning eyes. He had never known Kitty Russell to be thunderstruck, but she seemed to be at the moment. Doc thought the evening was a first for many things.
Kitty gulped as she set her eyes on the middle-aged stranger that stood next to Doc Adams. Her mind raced as she took in his black three-piece suit and stiff white clerical collar. She stared at Matt with wide blue eyes but was too stunned to speak as he stood in front of her and took her right hand. She listened to him repeat the vows and felt like she was in a dream. She had to be in a dream.
"Kathleen, please repeat after me," the reverend spoke with a New England accent and instructed her to take Matt's right hand.
She blinked away the tears pooling in her eyes and cleared her throat to find her voice. She felt Matt squeeze her fingers. His crooked smile melted her. "In the name of God, I Kathleen, take you, Matthew, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death parts us. This is my solemn vow," she finished as her voice cracked. She heard the reverend's blessing of the ring and quirked a brow.
Matt kept the lopsided grin on his face as he pulled the wedding ring out of his front pocket. "I give this ring as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," he said and slipped the ring onto her finger.
"Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder," the reverend spoke. "I want to remind you to keep God and His principles at the center and heart of your marriage. Always remember this day, and the promises you have made to each other and to God. Stand humbly," he paused as the train whistle blew.
Matt broke his eyes from his wife and looked at the reverend. "They must have cleared the tracks. You can't miss your train, Reverend Gray."
Kitty watched the two men scramble out of the office and rush down the stairs. She stood in the middle of the room and lifted her left hand, staring at the gorgeous oval diamond. "Doc," she murmured and jerked her head as heavy boots thudded towards her. She looked at the tall cowboy as he nudged his hat back and lowered his head, covering his lips with hers and kissing her until she was breathless.
Doc mirthfully shook his head as Matt ran out the door and into the snowy night. He focused his attention on the bride. "Congratulations," he offered and took the bemused redhead to the chair at his desk. Doc sat her down and poured her a glass of whiskey.
She took the tumbler and downed the liquor. She felt her throat burn and lifted her eyes to Doc's kindhearted blue ones. "Am I married?"
He covered his hand over his mouth to smother his chuckle and scrubbed his hand over his face. "You are, Kitty, by an Episcopal priest on his way to California."
He stood in the doorway and silently watched her at the window as he took off his hat, shaking the snowflakes off. He hung it on the peg and stepped over to her. He slipped his arms around her and cradled her belly in his large hands, nuzzling his nose into her neck. "Six months pregnant on our sixth wedding anniversary," he whispered and pressed his lips to her neck.
"I didn't think about that," she responded and put her hands over his as she contentedly rested against him. "Happy Anniversary," she told him and turned her head to kiss him.
"Happy Anniversary, honey," he returned and felt the robust kick to her ribs underneath his palm. He massaged the assaulted spot. "I suppose you won't be sleepin' anytime soon."
She woefully shook her head. "Not until she settles down," she replied with a grimace. "You know, Doc keeps tellin' me to get plenty of rest before the baby comes. How can I? I can't get comfortable. When I finally do, I have to run to the water closet or the baby's actin' like it's a square dance. I think the next time he tells me that I'll tell him just where he can go," Kitty muttered and tucked a wayward curl away behind her ear.
"Easy, Kitty," Matt placated, placing his hands on her shoulders and applying gentle pressure. He kissed the back of her head. "Want your anniversary gift?" he asked and hoped that would lift her mood swing. He had his answer when she tilted her head and gazed at him with sparkling eyes. "Meet in the sitting room in five minutes?"
Kitty nodded in agreement and waited for him to leave the bedroom. She rummaged in her jewelry drawer until she found the thick paper she'd wrapped as beautifully as she could and tied with blue satin ribbon. She clasped it in her hands and walked into the dimly lit sitting room, creasing her brows at the sight of her husband. "Matt?"
"Hold on. I know it's up here," he grumbled as he stretched his arm to feel around for the small box that he'd set on top of the armoire she used to store cloaks and capelets.
"That's your hiding place?" she questioned with a giggle and shake of her head. She sat down on the settee and watched him with interest. She had to admit that his hiding place was simple yet effective.
"You can't reach up here," he explained and glanced at her as his fingers felt around. He thought about the anniversary gifts she'd given him – a love letter, a monogramed handkerchief, a fine leather saddle, a basket of oranges from California, and a maple and walnut checker board with base and pieces. Kitty was definitely the better gift giver, but he believed he'd done reasonably well with selecting a gift for her. He grasped the square and blew the dust off the box. Matt joined her on the sofa. He handed over the box as she gave him his present. As always, he waited for her to open hers first.
"Oh, Matt," she uttered huskily. "They're beautiful," she cooed and held up one of the teardrop amethyst earrings. "Thank you." She leaned over and kissed him deeply, cupping his face as she slid her tongue into his mouth. Kitty regretfully broke the kiss before she become too carried away and nestled into his side, putting her head against his arm. "Open yours."
Matt untied the ribbon and unwrapped the brown paper, uncovering the linked horseshoe hearts. His lips turned upwards, and he kissed her temple. "Thank you, Mrs. Dillon," he said with a chuckle as she quirked a brow and pursed her lips.
"You're welcome, Mr. Dillon. What's so funny?"
"Weeks ago, Festus came into the office telling me that the Comanche had gone plumb soft and plumb out of his mind. Quint was making horseshoe hearts. I didn't believe Festus."
Kitty broke into giggles, burying her face into the cotton of Matt's shirt. "Plumb soft and plumb out of his mind," she repeated, imitating Festus' accent.
Matt chuckled at her antics and caught her infectious laughter, laughing with her until his sides hurt. He slowed his laughter and calmed his breathing as he stroked her side with his thumb.
She placed her head on his chest and fiddled with the button of his shirt. "Matt, do you think he made it to California?"
"Who, honey?" he drawled and yawned.
"The Episcopal priest."
"Honey, the railroad was out of Southern Baptist preachers that night," he told her.
Kitty rolled her eyes at her husband's sarcasm. "What was his name? Gray?"
"Reverend Jasper Gray. I don't know if he did, but I know where I'm going."
"Where?"
"To bed," he declared and patted her thigh. "C'mon," he summoned and stood, holding out his hand to her.
He was proud of himself as he dusted the deep-fried, donut-like square pastries with powdered sugar. Matt had followed the recipe to the letter. He plated the pastries and set the dish on the tray along with two coffee cups. With a steadying breath, he lifted the platter off the counter and made his way up the stairs to surprise his wife with breakfast in bed. He tiptoed into the room and set the tray on the bedside table. He put more wood on the fire and opened up the curtains. Matt sat down on the mattress and pushed through the pillows and blankets to put his hand on Kitty's hip. He squeezed gently and laughed as she swatted at his hand. "Kathleen," he whispered.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she groaned in protest. "No," she grumbled and struggled to roll over. "Matt, let me sleep. Too early," she objected, burying her face into a pillow to hide from the morning light.
"Kitty, it's nearly ten o'clock," he informed and settled against the headboard, looking down at her. "Merry Christmas, grumpy."
She mumbled and rubbed at her eyes, pushing herself up to sit. "Merry Christmas, Cowboy," Kitty murmured and kissed him on the lips, pulling back and peering at him strangely. "Matt, your lips taste like French roast and chicory."
He gave her a crooked grin and nodded his head, handing her the mug. "A café au lait for madame."
She took a sip and closed her eyes, savoring the chocolatey and nutty flavors. Kitty opened her eyes when Matt nudged her. "Beignets?" she gasped and lifted one off the tray, taking a bite.
He wiped some confectioners' sugar from the corner of her mouth and popped one of the deep-fried squares into his mouth as Kitty snuggled into him. He let out a contented sigh, finishing off his coffee and giving her the last beignet.
Kitty chewed thoughtfully and traced the pattern of the duvet. "Matt, what time did you wake up?"
"I believe it was after seven when you pushed me out of bed," he responded. "You stopped tossin' and turnin' once you had the bed all to yourself."
She smirked and pecked him on the cheek in apology. "Do you have to leave?" she asked, wondering if that was his reason for supplying her with fluffy pastries. She had to admit that beignets were one of his better ideas to soften the blow of bailing on a holiday.
"You're stuck with me all day, Kathleen," Matt said and kissed her head.
"What did you do?"
"Nothin'," he answered. He wouldn't tell her how he'd spilled powdered sugar on the top of Murphy's head when the dog stole a beignet. His life would be a lot easier if he could stop confusing the commands for stay and fetch. Matt caught the cynical expression on his wife's face. "I didn't do anything, Kitty."
"You've never made beignets before on Christmas. You have to be guilty of somethin'," she supposed and tapped her nail against the porcelain mug. She hoped he hadn't broken their long-standing agreement of no gifts.
"I'm guilty of wanting to make this Christmas real special for my wife," he confessed. His heart squeezed in his chest as her lips curved into a gorgeous smile. Matt cleared his throat, praying he wouldn't upset her with his observation. "I know you've been missing Louisiana," he told her.
"A little," Kitty declared softly.
He comfortingly squeezed her fingers. It was rare for Kitty to be homesick, but he knew the signs. She'd mention a street or two then eventually talk about her late mother. She'd spoken about her mother more and more. He wasn't sure if his wife was that nostalgic or if it was because of her getting closer to becoming a mother. "How's jambalaya and gumbo sound for Christmas dinner?"
Kitty nearly choked on her last swallow of the café au lait. "Jambalaya and gumbo?" She gnawed on her bottom lip and sat up, placing her empty cup on the bedside table. Her eyes suspiciously raked over her spouse. "What do you know about jambalaya and gumbo?"
"Enough."
"You have to make a roux first with the gumbo."
"I know," he told her.
"You know?"
"Well, yeah. Antoinette told me."
Kitty fell silent as she thought of her first best friend. Antoinette was Céline's only daughter and five years older than Kitty. The girls had been thick as thieves in their youth, running through the neighborhood and laughing until their sides hurt. She missed those carefree days. She reminisced until a thought struck her. "Matt, how did you get Antoinette's address?"
"Kitty, I can't give away all my secrets," he replied with a sly wink.
"Oh, of course not," she countered derisively She assumed that he'd probably rifled through her desk until he'd found her address book. Kitty pulled the blanket up higher and put her head on his chest. She fought to keep her eyes open as Matt's fingers stroked through her auburn locks. "You keep doing that, and I'm gonna go back to sleep."
"You can," he whispered and rested his head against the headboard, closing his eyes.
"Can't. Everybody'll be here soon enough."
"Nope," Matt said and sighed heavily as he felt her head jerk off his chest. He lazily opened his eyes and stared into her furious blue ones. "Don't, Kitty," he advised and put his index finger over her rosy lips. "I told them not to come. It's the last Christmas that'll be just us. That's what it's gonna be…just us," he finished matter-of-factly, glowering as her teeth nipped his finger. "Kathleen!"
She giggled and rested her head against his shoulder as she admired him. "Have I told you how handsome you are when you're selfish?"
"Mrs. Dillon, you have all day to tell me."
Author's Note: I return to work tonight, so I thought I'd post since I may not be able to update tomorrow. Merry Christmas! I hope each of you has a wonderful, magical, and safe holiday!
