Epilogue
The eight-and-a-half-year-old exited the chicken coop with a basket full of eggs, wondering if her uncle had trained the hens to hide the eggs. Vivienne wiped her ginger brow, calling her silver poodle to her. She patted Cadeau's side and set off for the barn to check on her brothers since Josephine hadn't wanted to go with her to collect eggs. She'd been surprised when her mother allowed Josie to come with her and her brothers, especially since it was their first week of doing chores without any supervision. Vivienne suspected that her mother was simply worn-out, especially since she was in her final month of pregnancy.
The petite redhead passed by the tack room, snickering at Luc's griping about organizing the bridles. She rested against the doorjamb. "Luc, where's Josie?"
"With Alexandre. He's feeding the horses."
"Merci," she replied, walking deeper into the stable. Vivienne greeted each Thoroughbred and Quarter Horse. The child stopped at her best-loved mare, digging a peppermint stick out of her pocket. "Bonjour, L'Impèratrice," she spoke to the gray Thoroughbred, laughing as L'Impèratrice's lips tickled the palm of her hand. "I'll be back," she promised. She knew Alexandre would want her help to take care of Cheval Noir, their papa's cherished stallion. Since Henri's death, the black stallion's spirited temperament had worsened. Sometimes, she could smooth her hand down Cheval Noir's forehead, but other times the Thoroughbred's ears would pin back while his nostrils flared, snorting and blowing like a dragon. Vivienne occasionally wondered if horses grieved like humans did.
Her brow arched as she spotted her twin climbing down the ladder of the hayloft. "Alexandre, where's Josie?"
"She's in the corner playing with the kit—" Alexandre's eyes widened as he jumped off the ladder. His baby sister wasn't playing with the barn kittens.
"Alexandre Matthieu!" Vivienne screeched. "Maman trusted us!"
"Josie! Josephine! Quatre!" he hollered, sprinting to the tack room, rapidly instructing Luc to search for their two-year-old sister. He raked his hand through his tawny brown curls and tried to compose himself. He should have known better than to let Josie out of his sight.
Within minutes, the children were running around the large barn, frantically hunting for the toddler. Alexandre envisioned how angry his mother would be while Vivienne reassured him that Josie couldn't have gone far. The duo hurried back to the barn after checking the blueberry bushes. Alexandre nudged Vivienne with his elbow, pointing to Luc.
The five-and-a-half-year-old boy didn't dare move a muscle as he stood feet away from the black stallion's stall. "Found her," Luc whispered to his siblings.
"Where?" Alexandre asked. His blue eyes bulged when his brother pointed to Cheval Noir's paddock. He wondered how Josie had managed to get inside, and he hoped with every fiber of his being that the stallion was in the pasture. Before he'd retired, Silas had helped Festus take a wall down to allow the Thoroughbred to come and go as he pleased. "Luc, is he in there?"
Luc craned his neck, fearfully gulping as he heard the clop of hooves followed by a nicker. He dreadfully nodded, confirming his older brother's worst fear.
"Vivi, get her," Alexandre urged.
"Me?"
"He likes you best."
"He liked Papa best," she countered.
"At least Cheval lets you touch him."
"Fine," Vivienne huffed, brushing past her terrified brothers. She drifted to the stall and gently opened the door, carefully stepping in. She rubbed her eyes, wondering if her eyesight had failed her.
"Vivi!" Josie squealed while the Thoroughbred followed her every move. She patted his muzzle, giggling as the giant horse nuzzled her shoulder then tried to nibble her pigtails.
Vivienne's jaw dropped, watching her sister plop onto the grass to feed the stallion a patch of white clover. She released the breath she'd been holding and edged nearer since Cheval seemed to be enamored with the toddler. "Bon garçon," she praised the horse, gingerly sitting next to Josie.
"Horsey," Josie crooned, resting her forehead against the stallion's nose while rubbing his cheek.
"His name is Cheval Noir, and he was our papa's horse."
"Nice," the toddler declared and sweetly pecked his forehead. "Cheval."
"He likes you," she wiped her eyes and sniffled, recalling how gentle the stallion had been when her papa was alive. Vivienne watched Josie imitate the steed's nicker and wander in circles with him. She was grateful her sister had brought out the side of Cheval's personality that he'd tucked away for so long. "Viens avec moi, Josie."
Alexandre waited for Vivienne to secure the stall door before he knelt in front of the toddler, hugging her tightly. "You scared me, Josie."
"Sowwy," she mumbled into the crook of his neck.
"You can't wander off like that. Understand?"
Josie nodded her auburn head and patted her brother's back, pulling out of his embrace. She strolled back towards Cheval's stall, whining as soon as Alexandre lifted her off the ground.
"You stay outta there, Josephine," he firmly told the strong-willed moppet, carrying her to a hay bale. Alexandre motioned for Luc. "Sit with her until I'm done."
"I'll help you, Alexandre," Vivienne offered while Luc climbed onto the bale of hay.
Without a word, she finished helping her twin feed the horses. Vivienne knew her brother's mind was racing with a million thoughts. She watched him feed the last mare and squeezed his shoulder.
The lanky eight-and-a-half-year-old blew out a sigh, silently thanking his sister for the comfort and help. He held Josie's hand tightly on the walk back to the house. Alexandre held the door open for his siblings and fought the urge to run straight to his room. He didn't want to tell his mother what had happened, and he felt he'd crack as soon as he set his eyes on her.
"We don't have to tell her," Luc whispered to his older siblings.
"Luc," Vivienne groaned in annoyance, "we have to tell her. Daddy, too."
"But Quatre's fine," he reasoned, watching his little sister toddle alongside Cadeau.
"It doesn't matter," Alexandre glumly spoke, sliding his hands into his pockets. "She'll know. Maman always knows, and she won't ever trust us again. I'm the oldest. I should know better."
Vivienne indignantly pursed her lips since Alexandre always acted as if he was years older instead of just an hour and fifteen minutes older than her. She set the basket of eggs on a table, following after him with Luc right behind her. She rolled her eyes at his insistent, whispered argument of not telling their mother. "Tais-toi," she muttered over her shoulder, colliding into Alexandre's back as he suddenly stopped short of venturing into the den. She sucked in an anxious breath as Josephine ran past them.
"There's my sweet girl," Kitty smiled warmly at her youngest, helping her climb onto the sofa. She quirked a brow, listening to her older children whisper amongst themselves while wondering why her baby girl's pigtails were wet with some straw sticking out. "Alexandre, Vivi, Luc…come in here right now," she beckoned, watching the trio lumber into the den while exchanging troubled looks.
The perceptive mother scrutinized her offspring as all three sat across from her, huddling on the tufted leather sofa. Her firstborn avoided eye contact with her. Vivienne knocked Luc's hand away from her arm while he kept nervously glancing at his baby sister. "If you three think you're actin' like yourselves, you're not."
"It's my fault, Maman," Alexandre lifted his head and met her eyes.
"No, it's mine," Vivienne asserted as she scooted to the edge of the cushion. "Maman, it's all my fault. Not Alexandre's."
Kitty puffed out an exasperated breath, staring at the twins, trying to figure out what exactly they were taking the blame for. She heard her husband's boots on the hardwood floors, glancing at him as he stopped at the threshold.
Matt focused on the children, setting his hands on his gun belt. "What's going on here?" he inquired. He'd hoped he wouldn't return to chaos since he'd been out before sunrise to repair fences. He'd busted his thumb with the hammer and had to shoot a rattlesnake while mending the fences with Festus.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Kitty answered, resting her hands atop her rounded belly.
He fixed his eyes on Alexandre until Josie ran to him, stretching her arms up while chanting 'Daddy' repeatedly. He hoisted her onto his hip and tenderly kissed her on the cheek. "Josie girl, what have you been up to?" he examined her copper tresses, picking bits of white clover and hay out. He listened to her enthusiastic speech as she awkwardly plucked his sweat stained Stetson off his head, jerking his head back before the brim bumped into his eyes. He took the hat from the moppet and placed it on her head, furrowing his brow as Josie mimicked a horse's neigh. "Did Vivi let you visit Empress?"
"No. Cheval," the child uttered, clapping her hands. "Horsey."
"Cheval!" Kitty thundered, struggling to push herself off the plush sofa. "Josie had no business being around that horse! She's just a baby! All three of you know better! What were you doing around him?!"
The big man hurriedly walked to his wife, placing his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Honey," he soothed, conveying that he'd handle the matter as he put the toddler next to her. He sat down on the coffee table in front of his children, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why did you let your sister get near Cheval?"
"We didn't," Alexandre and Vivienne answered in unison.
"What do you mean?"
"It's my fault," Vivienne stated, folding her hands in her lap. "Josie didn't wanna go with me to collect eggs from the hens. She wanted to play with the kittens in the barn, so I let her, Daddy."
"No," Alexandre protested, "I should have kept an eye on her. I had to go into the hayloft. I was gone for just a minute or two. I climbed down the ladder, and Josie was gone. I don't know how she got in there with Cheval. Honest. I have trouble with that latch."
Vivienne looked up from her hands, softly clearing her throat. "Daddy, it's not all Alexandre's fault. I should have made Josie go with me. Punish me, too. I deserve punishment just as much."
"No, Vivi! It's my fault. You don't need to be punished. You got her out of there."
"Enough," Matt barked, silencing the twins. He leaned back while hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his vest. He surveyed the awfully quiet dark-haired boy. He never really knew if Luc was quiet because of his innocence or guilt. "Son, what were you doing during all this?"
"I was sortin' the tack like you told me."
"I see. Have we learned anything from this morning?"
Luc stopped swinging his legs, slanting his head. "Josie's a menace."
"Henri Luc Galen Broussard-Dillon," Kitty admonished, stroking her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Josie isn't a menace. She's two. You were just like her when you were her age."
He incredulously mumbled under his breath until he caught the harsh look on his mother's face. "Je suis désolé, Maman. Can I go now?"
"You may," Kitty permitted.
Matt watched the boy exit the den. He refocused his attention on the twins. "Well," he sighed. "I hope you two learned more than your brother did from what happened. You realize it could have turned out badly. Cheval's unpredictable." He waited for the chorus of 'yes, sir' and was satisfied.
"Daddy, It's all my fault. I'm the oldest. I wasn't responsible," Alexandre proclaimed.
Matt chewed the inside of his cheek while he stared at his contrite son. "Alexandre, if you're not responsible, then I'm not either."
"What?" he gasped.
The embarrassed father bowed his head while scooting closer to his son. "Josie got by me a couple of days ago. I fell asleep right here on this couch. I thought Josie was taking a nap with me, but she snuck into the pantry. Son, I can't tell you how she managed to get in there, or how she got the jar of oats open, but I can tell you she had a real good time dumping them all over her head," he glared over his shoulder as his wife emphatically snickered. Matt turned his head, meeting his son's skeptical blue eyes. "I'm not lying to you, Alexandre. Your sister's wily."
"That's why we don't have oatmeal!" Vivienne giggled, falling back into the cushion, laughing until her sides hurt.
Matt listened to his daughter's infectious giggling. He shook his head as Kitty began laughing followed by Josephine. He stole a glimpse at his son. In that moment, he realized the boy was probably hoping his new sibling would be a boy.
The redhead enjoyed the cool breeze coming in through the open windows while she pressed her lips to her sleeping toddler's copper curls. Josephine had fallen asleep an hour ago, and Kitty didn't have the heart to move her. She wanted to soak in all the snuggles and cuddles before her days were filled with the demands of a newborn. "You won't be the baby soon enough, Josie, but don't you worry…I'm not gonna love you any less, sweet girl," she whispered, smiling softly as the child shifted against her.
"Maman," the moppet whimpered, blearily cracking open her dark-brown eyes while cuddling closer.
"I'm right here," Kitty kissed her forehead while gently rubbing her side. She heard a soft knock at the door and smiled at her oldest daughter with Cadeau at her side. The silver poodle's leap onto the foot of the bed startled the drowsy toddler. "It's just Vivi and Cadeau. Go back to sleep, Baby," she soothingly murmured to Josephine.
Vivienne apologized, climbing onto the bed. The child had turned down the invitation to an after dark fishing trip with her favorite men. She drew her knees to her chest, letting her toes snag down the hem of her cotton nightgown. She fixed her sapphire eyes on her sister, peacefully sleeping with her small hand resting on their mother's swollen belly.
Kitty studied her firstborn daughter, speculating on what could be on her child's mind. She'd heard her daughter's regrets numerous times throughout the day along with how Cheval Noir had been besotted with Josie. "Sweetheart, you don't have to keep apologizing for this morning."
"It's not that, Maman." She rested her chin upon her knees, letting a heavy sigh escape her lungs.
"Vivienne, what's on your mind?" Kitty gently prodded, realizing the issue had to be serious for her daughter to struggle. Unlike her brother, Vivienne rarely had trouble expressing her thoughts. She reached out, placing her hand on her child's forearm, stroking her thumb over Vivienne's wrist, murmuring, "Mon petit amour."
She hugged her knees tighter, hiding her freckled face as tears sprang to her eyes. "You can't die, Maman. The angels can't have your help. They took Papa. They can't have you, too…and Daddy doesn't know how to braid my hair. We need you. Alexandre, Luc, Josie, and me…and…and Daddy. You can't die. Please, don't die." Her words crashed together like the rapids of the Arkansas River.
Kitty gasped, sucking in a shuddering breath as her heart thundered in her chest. "Vivienne Serena," she choked out, trying to compose herself. "What—what makes you think…Honey, come here," she summoned since Vivienne's petite body quaked with her sobs, grunting as soon as her inconsolable child launched herself at her. Kitty wrapped her arm around the child, holding her as close as she could. "Baby, I'm not dying."
"You might like…like," Vivienne sniffled, "Maribelle's mother."
Kitty pressed her lips to her daughter's auburn tresses, closing her eyes as she realized her classmate's mother's recent death in childbirth had prompted the breakdown. "Vivi, that was a sad thing that happened. I won't tell you that it can't happen to me, but I will tell you that your Pépère and Octavia will do all they can to make sure nothing happens to me and the baby…just like the night you were born."
She lifted her head, staring at her mother with wide eyes. She knew the story of her birth. She'd heard it plenty of times. Her ginger brows wrinkled with puzzlement.
"Vivi, I had a difficult time with you. I pushed with everything I had, but you didn't want to come. Octavia pressed and pushed on my belly for the longest time to try to get you in a better position. You were stubborn…even then…determined to come into the world feet first. I thought I was going to die. I was worried we both would, but Octavia and your Papa helped me onto my hands and knees."
The eight-and-a-half-year-old chewed her bottom lip, realizing she'd been told a glossy version of her birth. "That's why Alexandre's so much older…"
"Mmhmm," she hummed, stroking the tears from her daughter's flushed cheek. "You were finally born, but you weren't cryin'. The cord was wrapped around your neck, and you were blue…not breathing. Pépère worked on getting you to breath."
"That's when Papa took me?"
Kitty dipped her head. "He did. Pépère told him what to do. He heard your first little cry. Baby, nothing happened to us because of Pépère's and Octavia's knowledge."
Vivienne absorbed the information, twirling her mother's hair around her finger. She tilted her head to gaze at her mother's beautiful face. "Maman, I'm sorry I was difficult."
"Oh, Baby…don't be. You were my most challenging birth, but I'd do it over again."
"But Maman…"
"Not 'but Maman'. Vivi, I don't want you to worry. Octavia will be here soon. For a while now, I've been drinking her special herbal tea that'll help with labor and after. You know what I want you to worry about?"
"What?"
"If we'll be outnumbered by boys or not," she smiled as that remark produced a giggle out of her daughter.
The big man listened to his sons' animated chatter as he stepped onto the sleeping porch. He'd kept them out later than expected, but the fish had been biting too good to stop. Matt drifted to the curtains, uncinching the tie to fully darken the screened porch.
"Daddy, not too dark," Luc requested, settling on the twin-sized mattress of the hanging daybed.
"Nothing's gonna get you, Luc," Alexandre assured, shaking the remaining water out of his damp curls before deciding to use a towel. "Not even a mosquito."
"I know that," Luc muttered. He'd never admit that he was afraid of the dark. "And I wanna use the shower all the time. I loved it."
Matt chuckled. He'd let the boys use the outdoor shower for the first time. "That can be arranged, Son."
"Where's Vivi?" Alexandre asked.
"I don't know," Matt answered, easing onto the bed to tuck in Luc. "You want the quilt, too? Alright," he pulled the patchwork quilt up to the boy's shoulder.
"Vivi gets tired of us sometimes."
"Is that so?" Matt feigned ignorance. He had noticed that Luc knew exactly how to wear on his sister's nerves from time to time.
"Uh huh," the five-and-a-half-year-old yawned, kicking his feet out from under the summer quilt.
"I bet your sister decided to stay with Josie tonight."
"Why can't Josie sleep out here?"
"She's too little," Alexandre responded and climbed onto his bed, flopping onto his back to stare at the pale blue ceiling. "Go to sleep, Luc. We gotta get up early for chores."
Matt kissed Luc's forehead, slipping off the bed. "Goodnight, Son," he said to Alexandre, leaning down to plant a kiss to his head, whispering, "You can sleep late. Festus and I will handle the chores. After breakfast, we'll go to the corral."
"Alright," he sleepily mumbled. "Night, Daddy. I love you."
"I love you, too," Matt smiled at his oldest, tiptoeing out of the room. Minutes later, he strolled into the master suite, glancing at the young redheads piled in bed. He noticed the toddler had an arm over her head and half of her precious face covered with her violet baby blanket, telltale signs that she was sleeping deeply. On his side of the bed, Vivienne was sleeping on her stomach with his fluffy pillow over her head. He glanced at his wife coming out of the water closet.
"How was fishin'?" she asked, rubbing the underside of her belly with a slight grimace fixed on her mouth.
"By golly, Honey…we caught so many." He quietly walked over, tenderly kissing her temple as he rested his hand on the small of her back. "You're hurtin'."
"A little."
"I'll get the girls out of here, and give you a rub down."
"Alright," she appreciatively whispered and waddled to the bed. She rubbed the middle of Vivienne's back, chuckling at her irritable rumbling. Kitty lifted the pillow off her daughter's head to meet her bleary eyes. "Go to the sleeping porch or your room."
"C'mon, Vivi," Matt beckoned from the doorway, adjusting Josie in his arms. He guided his daughter down the hall and made quick work of getting the girls into their beds.
Matt stood in the doorway to observe his wife, reclining against the pillows with the cotton sheet tucked under her arms. Her head was tilted back while she breathed deeply in and out. Her negligée was draped over the bed frame. He focused on the curve of her belly. An elated grin spread over his face as he thought about the miracle thriving inside of her. He'd thought there wouldn't be another baby in the house, especially since Kitty had been adamant about no more babies after she'd suffered a miscarriage when Josie was nine months old. He'd been just as shocked as she'd been when she'd vomited all over his bare feet on Christmas morning.
"You just gonna stand there gawkin' at me?"
He chuckled, slinking into the room as she laboriously shifted on the mattress trying to find a comfortable position. "Can't get comfortable?"
"Everything hurts," she truthfully answered.
"I got a little somethin' for that," he offered with a roguish smirk blossoming on his lips.
"Cowboy, I believe that's why I'm in this predicament in the first place, and it wasn't a little somethin'," she grinned at how her remark caused his suntanned cheeks to blush.
He cleared his throat, waltzing to her vanity to retrieve a jar of lavender-infused cream. He heard her soft groans as she scooted forward on the mattress. He settled in behind her, kissing her freckled shoulder as the cotton fell away from her beautiful body. He warmed the cream in his large hands, starting to work on her lower back, kneading the tight muscles and knots with his thumbs.
She moaned, throwing her head back into his shoulder. "Oh, right there," she hummed, inhaling the calming scent of the lotion.
Matt unhurriedly massaged her back, swallowing hard at the sounds she made as he skillfully massaged the tension out inch by inch. He pressed his lips together, racking his brain with what subject he could discuss to ease the impure thoughts flooding his mind. Quickly, he began talking about the cotton crop while placing his hands on her shoulders.
"Do we have enough workers?"
"More than enough, Kitty. I had to turn some away."
"Well, they all want to work for the big fella that's not afraid to get his hands dirty."
He blushed at her praise. "I think it has more to do with you offering shares to 'em. That was a good idea." He knew how thrilled she'd been to offer that additional compensation to the sugarcane and cotton laborers.
"Thank you, but take the credit you deserve, Matt. You know the name of every single worker. You respect them, and the feeling is mutual." She lifted her hand to her mouth, biting her manicured thumb nail. "Do you think he'd be proud of what we've done, Matt?"
"He would, Honey. I know he'd be tickled over the confectionery and factory," he nuzzled her neck. The factory and confectionery had employed more than a thousand men and women. "I'm proud of what you've done, too. I don't know how you do it somedays," he earnestly remarked.
With a wistful smile on her rosy lips, she relaxed against him, turning her head to kiss his jaw. "Thank you, Matt. I couldn't do it without you. Will the cotton be harvested next month?"
"Yeah," he scooped more cream into his hands, moving around to the front of her belly. He took extra care as he smoothed his palms over her taut skin. "I don't know what'll be ready first…the baby or the cotton."
Kitty sucked in a breath, pinching her eyes shut while the mild contraction rippled through her abdomen. She'd had a few contractions, but nothing that had truly concerned her.
He felt her womb tighten underneath his calloused hand and resisted the urge to rouse Doc from his bed. "Kitty, Honey…" He pressed his lips to the curve of her neck, gently rubbing his hand across her belly until the tension eased.
"I'm alright, Matt."
"The hell you are. It's time…isn't it?"
She shook her head, resting her hand over his as she opened her eyes. "Not yet. It could be days from now or longer. But I think it would be a good idea to send Festus into town in the morning to send a wire to Octavia."
"But…isn't it too soon? I thought you figured a week or so before our anniversary. Doc agreed with your estimation."
"Well, this baby wants to be here before then. He or she's comin' sooner rather than later, Matt."
"How soon?" His rich baritone rose a pitch. He'd become more confident in fatherhood, but he didn't believe he'd ever tackle the rush of nerves when it came to her bringing a baby into the world.
"Oh, Matt," she grumbled, "you know better than to ask that. Babies come when they want, but I believe Noah Russell or Lark Rebecca will be a July baby instead of an August baby."
He grinned as he cradled her belly with his large hands, stroking his thumbs over her ribs while resting his chin in the crook of her neck. "You kick once if you're a Noah. Kick twice if you're a Lark."
Kitty bit back a laugh, shaking her head at her husband's antics. She threaded her fingertips through his shaggy hair. "You know something…"
"What?" he frowned since the baby hadn't moved in the slightest.
"Your wedding gift will need to be redone," she referred to the portrait of her and the children she'd given him almost two years ago. He'd proudly displayed the stunning work above his desk in their shared home office.
"Honey, I've been thinkin' about that portrait. Maybe you should wait."
Her brow critically arched as she slanted her head, gaping at him. "What for?"
"In case we have a sixth."
She stared at her husband, taken aback by his audacity. She hadn't even had the fifth, and he was suggesting another. "Oh no. Matthew Dillon, we are not having a sixth baby!"
"Kit—" he closed his mouth as she roughly used his inner thighs as leverage to slip out of bed. He listened to her tongue-lashing in French as she redressed, but he unfortunately only recognized a handful of words. He raked his hand through his hair and slid his hand over his face. "Honey…I was—"
"You were what?"
"We don't know what might happen. After all, we didn't plan on a fifth, but it was a nice surprise."
Her eyes widened. "No, we didn't plan! Matt, we've never planned a baby. Your babies are always surprises," she proclaimed, realizing her only planned pregnancies had been Luc and Josephine.
He licked his lips before meeting her gaze, unsure of how to ask. "Kitty…if it did happen…you wouldn't…do anything…would you?"
"No, I wouldn't, Matt. How can you ask me such a thing?!" she softly rumbled, observing the conflicted, pained expression on his face. "Do you know about…" she gasped as he confirmed with a subtle nod.
"Come here, Honey," he murmured, reaching for her hand to gently pull her to him.
She eased onto the bed next to him, letting her head fall onto his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her. "I would have had that baby, Matt. I wanted that baby, but Emmett didn't."
"Emmett? Bowers?" He held her tighter as he heard a sniffle or two. He'd never known, but he'd always wondered who'd fathered the child she'd terminated shortly after arriving in Dodge City.
"He convinced me to do it. Said I'd be better off. Took me to the woman across the tracks and paid for it…"
He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, smoothing his hand up and down her side. "I'm sorry, Honey."
"It was a long time ago," she faintly uttered, rubbing her hand over his chest while tilting her head to meet his compassionate eyes. "After I lost our second baby, I wondered if it was because of what I'd done." She took a cleansing breath, "Who would have thought, Cowboy…how many years did I try to get you to give me babies? I'd like to be finished, and you're just gettin' started," she murmured, wondering if he was trying to make up for lost time. "Matt, I'd give you another if that's what you want…but I'm forty-three-years-old. You're pushin' fifty. Have you realized how old we'll be when this one turns eighteen?"
He bowed his head, acknowledging that he'd done the arithmetic. "Kitty, for a lot of years, I missed the bigger picture. You're examining that right now. I know we'll be over sixty, but we'll be growing old together."
The dark-haired boy sat atop the old Quarter Horse with a scowl on his face, watching his siblings on their horses. He studied his sister's mare, appreciating the Thoroughbred's lustrous silver-gray coat. L'Impèratrice had a well-chiseled head, elegant long neck, and lean body. She was full of energy unlike his sorrel mare. Luc adjusted his hat on his head and heaved a sigh. "C'mon, Wish," he urged, bumping his heels against the horse's sides. He wondered if she was named Wish because of people wishing she'd move.
Festus glanced at his youngest nephew and nudged the retired marshal with his elbow. "Matthew, reckon we ought t' put Luc on Spice?"
"No, Festus. Luc needs to stay on Wish until he gets more experience in the saddle. She's the best one for him."
"That boy wants to go, Matthew."
"I know. He thinks he's ready," he stated, not taking his eyes off Alexandre on Goldie. He had to admit that it warmed his heart that his son had a penchant for buckskin horses like he did. "Son, sit her good. Get a free, firm hold on those reins," he instructed, sensing the boy was anxious about going faster. "Trot a little more before you let her into a canter. Let it come naturally. Don't rush it, Son." A pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as Alexandre's shoulders relaxed.
Festus whistled as he watched the petite redhead. His niece had perfect timing. She'd sat the trot just right for several strides, transitioning to a nice, smooth canter. "Golly Bill," he hummed.
"Daddy! Look at me!" Vivienne shouted, grinning from ear to ear as her body naturally moved with the smooth gait of her horse.
"Good job, Honey!" the big man praised his little girl.
"That youngin' needs a mule."
Matt snickered. "Festus, Vivi's about the hot-blooded breeds. You couldn't ever get her to give up Empress. That's it, Son!" he delightedly shouted to Alexandre. His firstborn was successfully loping around the corral.
"Oh, fiddle, Matthew. Bet I could," he vowed, climbing on the fence to sit on the top rail. He scratched his whiskered cheek as he kept a watchful eye on the frustrated five-and-a-half-year-old. He hooked his thumbs into his vest, momentarily believing he'd acquired his maternal grandmother's gift of second sight. "Luc!" the hillman bellowed. "Hold your taters!"
The oldest and slowest mare at The Oaks had enough of her inexperienced rider ramming his boot heels into her. Wish bolted into a gallop, terrifying and thrilling the boy in the saddle.
"Hell," Matt muttered, jumping off the railing. "Luc, tighten your legs and reins!" Matt glanced back at the house and was grateful that his wife hadn't come out yet. "Luc! Tighten those reins!" He quickly realized the child was having the time of his life. He grumbled under his breath, widening his stance as the duo barreled towards him. "Whoa, Wish," he commanded, relieved the mare slowed to a stop. "Get down, Luc."
"No, Daddy!" Luc protested, gripping the saddle horn. "I wanna go fast again!"
"Until you can learn to respect your horse, you're not ridin' anymore," he rumbled, hooking his hands under the boy's armpits to pull him out of the saddle. He forced away the urge to chuckle as the docile sorrel let out a huge, thankful sigh.
"Daddy, I wanna do it again! Lemme go. Daddy!" Luc wrestled as his father tossed him over his shoulder.
"Son, you're gonna give me gray hairs."
"You already got 'em," the disgruntled child retorted, tenaciously struggling against the giant.
"Luc, that's enough," Matt warned, gripping the youngster's legs.
"Matthew!" Festus warbled.
"Hold on, Festus!" Matt firmly spanked Luc's bottom as a French curse word passed through the boy's lips. "Henri Luc Galen Broussard-Dillon, you don't say that," he growled as Luc continued to struggle against him.
"Matt, you got a minute?"
His wife's voice caused him to falter, nearly dropping the five-and-a-half-year-old. "Hold on, Honey," he placated, adjusting Luc in his arms as he stopped resisting after another reprimand.
"Matthew, iffin' you don't get to a hurryin', this here baby's gonna be borned right here!"
Under the shade of a magnificent oak, the redhead breathed out a contented sigh, relishing the simplicity of her second anniversary. The basket of cold chicken was empty, and the bottle of champagne was chilling in the pond. Her oldest daughter was nearby, teaching her younger sister French in the same way their papa had done with her as a toddler. Her boys were roughhousing with their father. She laughed softly as the youngsters bested the giant, clambering on top of him in fits of laughter.
With a warm smile on her lips, Kitty gazed at her first child with Matt since being a married couple. Lark Rebecca had been three weeks early, but she'd arrived safely and without incident on the sixteenth of July. She lovingly stared into her daughter's slate blue eyes, tenderly stroking the pad of her thumb over the girl's tiny hand wrapped around her finger. She glanced at her husband as he approached them clutching the bottle of champagne.
Matt took his time, reverently admiring his wife and newborn. Lark was a precious, dainty gift from Heaven, pure and angelic. Just like her sisters, she had filled a place in his heart that he'd never realized was empty. He felt an overwhelming sense of completeness every time the serene girl rested her tiny head on his chest or when he held her in the crook of his strong arm.
"Cowboy," Kitty greeted as he finally sat down on the picnic blanket.
He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead, grinning as she stretched her arms over her head and squirmed in her mother's embrace. He met Kitty's eyes, the love in her sapphire orbs made his heart flutter in his chest. His lips brushed hers, teasing her lower lip, letting himself drown in the sensation of her impossibly soft, plump lips. He reluctantly drew apart from the love of his life to pop open the bottle. "What should our toast be, Mrs. Dillon?" he asked, filling the flutes.
Kitty breathed in the sweet floral, green freshness from the rose garden as it floated on the gentle evening breeze. She contemplated the tribute, regarding her happy and healthy children frolicking in front of the two-story house framed by the mighty oaks. A look of peace settled upon her features as she turned her head to gaze at her husband.
"I know you'll understand," she raised her flute. "To Henri Luc Broussard…a firm believer in love and the ultimate believer in second chances. We are deeply grateful for his blessing."
Matt smiled softly, gently tinkling his glass against hers. "Hear, hear. Well said, Kathleen."
She sipped the champagne slowly, locking her eyes with his over the rim of the crystal until she set the empty flute onto the blanket. She leaned into him to capture his lips, gently caressing his cheek with the palm of her hand. Thank God for second chances.
Author's Note: Thank you to all that read. I never thought the tiny idea I had back in December would have turned into forty chapters. Some of you didn't care for the work, but I'm proud of the time I put in exploring the imperfect aspects of our Dodge City Marshal and saloon proprietress' relationship. Sometimes, I struggled with the angst and sadness, but my partner in crime, AZgirl66, was there to guide me. I can't ever thank her enough for the proofreading, encouragement, and cowriting on some of the chapters. I also can't apologize enough for the sleepless nights this fic caused her.