A smirk curled onto his lips as he stared at the fussy three-week-old infant wriggling on the coffee table in the sitting room. "I have the distinct notion that you're gonna be a handful, little lady," he said to Vivienne. She was grouchy from her weekly comprehensive examination.
"Doc, she's already a handful," Kitty affectionately remarked. Her first weeks of motherhood had proven to be a challenge. She thought all the years of dealing with trailhands had prepared her for the demands of an infant, but a drunken Texan demanding another bottle of whiskey had nothing on two hungry, screaming babies in the early hours of the morning. As exhausting as the weeks had been, it had been worth it, especially when she'd get lost in their blue eyes and those tiny fingers would wrap around hers. Her daughter's fed-up whimpers and whines broke her thoughts. "Vivienne, he's almost done with you."
"I know you don't like me much, but you'll change your mind," Doc hoped aloud.
Kitty stepped closer, asking, "Keep doin' what I've been doing with her?"
Doc nodded his head. He'd suggested double the feeding time for Vivienne. Her brother had steadily gained weight, but she was taking a little longer to pack on the pounds. He knew she'd never catch up to Alexandre, and he speculated that she may always be a bit on the small side.
"I know it's best, but I hate waking her up every two hours," she stated.
"Kitty, she's gained back what she lost and a little extra," he told her as he redressed Vivienne. Doc admired the blush pink knit set. The cream-colored ruffle collar with hand embroidered roses made his old heart melt. It also helped his heart that Vivienne was finally starting to look like the outfit wasn't swallowing her whole. "By golly, Kitty, you made a pretty girl," Doc declared as Vivienne's irritated wail pierced his eardrum. "I know you can do better than that, but before you show me, I'm gonna let your Maman have you."
The new mother beamed at him. "Thank you, Doc." Kitty lifted her girl off the makeshift exam table and gently patted her bottom. "I promise he's finished with you now," she whispered, kissing her head. "Maman promises, Vivi." She walked with her to the chaise lounge, sitting down to curl up with her. "Oh, that was a big yawn. Yes, it was," she soothingly spoke, relaxing into the cushions.
"I gotta have a word with you."
"What about?" Kitty asked as Vivienne snuggled into her, swiftly falling asleep.
Doc swiped his fingers across his mouth and slid his hands into his pockets, perching himself in front of the fireplace. He felt like he was about to set a match to a stick of dynamite. "Alexandre Matthieu."
She huffed exasperatedly and looked up from her slumbering daughter. A deaf person would have heard the way he articulated her son's name. "What about Alexandre?"
"You swore me to secrecy. Threatened that you'd never speak to me again if I told Matt, and you name the boy after him, Kitty."
"I didn't name him."
"Oh, pshaw! You most certainly did!"
"Doc," Kitty growled, "I swear if you wake Vivienne up," she warned, hotly glaring at him.
"I'm sorry, Kitty. If you didn't name him after Matt, who would have?"
"Moi, Galen," Henri chimed, passing through the open door. He walked straight to his surprised wife and ardently set his lips upon hers, stroking her cheek as he pulled away. "I missed you and the babies too much to work a full day."
Somedays, she still couldn't believe she had a man that would put work aside for her. She didn't have to ask or beg for his time. "We missed you too, mon beau," she returned, smacking his reaching hand.
"Kathleen!" he hissed in offense, brow furrowing and eyes widening. He reached for the baby a second time.
Kitty slapped his hand harder. "No, sir. She's cranky from all Doc's pokin' and proddin'. You are not waking her up. Let her rest, please," she implored. In a dash of a second, she read her husband's mind, jerking him by the sleeve of his coat. "Oh, no. No, you don't. You're not going into the nursery and waking Alexandre up either. Delia put him down for a nap about an hour and a half ago. You just sit right down here by me," she forcefully ordered. She could have had the twins on a consistent routine if he hadn't started waking them up to spend time with them since he'd returned to work.
"Femme cruelle," he muttered and plopped down next to her, crossing his arms, sulking.
With a graceful smirk, she leaned in closely to him, whispering, "I know, but you love my ways."
He shivered at the tickle of her warm breath against his skin. "Chérie," he grated, uncomfortably shifting next to her.
"Je suis désolé."
Henri tilted his head back, muttering to himself. "Mon Dieu!" Her speaking French nearly caused the end of him. "Kathleen, please," he rumbled, scooting over to put distance between himself and her. The Frenchman drew in a profound, calming breath.
Doc raucously cleared his throat, disapprovingly narrowing his eyes on Kitty. "Yes, Kathleen, please, stop!" he barked, shaking his head while mumbling to himself about sex-crazed redheads. He'd have to broach that subject with her again.
After several moments, Henri returned his attention to the physician. "A man should have his son named after him. I believed it was fair for Alexandre to be named after Matt Dillon. His name will not be discussed further," he said flatly, fixing his coffee-colored eyes on the doctor's clear blue ones.
Doc puffed out a beaten breath. Henri left no room for a squabble from him.
"Oh! I forgot!" Henri jumped up from the seat, strolling out of the bedroom.
Doc listened to the Frenchman's footsteps retreating down the hallway. "That man," Doc mumbled, raking his hand through his silvery hair. "I don't believe I'll ever figure him out. He's taken these babies as his, and he chose to name that handsome baby boy after Matt. Remarkable."
"Some people just have an unlimited capacity for love," Kitty murmured. "The idea made me anxious, too, but Henri did have a point. Now, will you let it go, Doc?"
"Fine. Fine," Doc conceded. "I still think Vivienne's name's bigger than she is."
"Oh, you old goat," Kitty good-naturedly grumbled, sitting upright, tossing a soiled spit up cloth at him.
"For heaven's sake!" Doc bellowed as the cloth landed squarely on his head. He flung it off, scowling at the redhead's boisterous laughter.
"Baby, I'm sorry," she apologized to her jostled daughter. Vivienne grunted, stretching her whole, tiny body as her eyes sleepily darted around the circumference of her mother's face. Kitty soothed her, adjusting her to her shoulder and smoothing her hand up and down her back. "Your Papa's home. He's gonna steal all your sweet little cuddles away from me, but that's all right," she told her. Kitty set her eyes on her husband as he waltzed back in with an ornate baroque picture frame tucked under his arm. "Henri, what is that?"
"You'll see, Kathleen," he informed and held up the frame, showing off the week-old page of The Daily Picayune. He was delighted with the short article explaining how the Broussard twins were the first set born in the New Year. "I bought a hundred copies."
"A hundred?" Kitty gasped. "Henri, why so many?"
"One for the scrapbook. Several have been mailed to relatives in France. Galen can have however many he wants, but this will go in the nursery," he disclosed, stepping toward her and propping the frame against the chair. Henri spread a blanket on the floor and dazzlingly smiled at his girls. "Viens à moi, mon petit amour," he cooed to Vivienne, taking her from her mother and peppering her cheek with kisses. Henri lowered himself to the floor, using the chaise lounge as a back rest, putting Vivienne down on her tummy. "Let's make you strong, Vivienne."
Doc ambled over and peered at the framed page. He read the headline over and over, wondering if the edition had made it to Dodge City yet. He was grateful he wasn't there to find out.
The U.S. Marshal returned to the snow-covered streets of Dodge City after two weeks of testifying at a murder trial in Denver. He knocked the snowflakes off his shoulders and stepped into his toasty office. Matt hung his hat on the peg and shrugged out of his coat.
"Marshal," Newly acknowledged, closing the door of the wood stove. He wiped his hands off on his pants, eyeing the big man. "Town's been quiet. The blizzard we had has kept most everyone indoors."
Matt nodded his head and sat down at his desk. "Thanks, Newly," he said, taking the ceramic mug filled with fresh, hot coffee.
"I'll handle the rounds," he told him and walked to the door, slipping into his winter coat. Newly lingered in the doorway, turning his head, watching the seasoned lawman rifle through the desk drawers. "I put those newspapers from Louisiana in the top right-hand drawer. You have an awful lot to catch up on," he boldly stated, marching into the night.
Matt snickered at his deputy's well-intentioned brashness. He promptly yanked open the drawer to leaf through the publications. Newly had organized the newspapers by date. He kicked back in his worn leather chair, listening to the moans of the metal joints as he propped his boots on the edge of the desk. Matt read through the stack of the daily papers. He learned that northern Louisiana had received heavy snowfall, and the snowstorm had caused considerable suffering to unsettled cattle. An arrest had been made in a murder case, but the authorities weren't certain if the right man had been apprehended. He refilled his coffee cup and picked up a fallen section from the floor.
New Year, New life: First set of twins born!
He slapped it onto the desk, sipping his coffee. He picked up the earlier edition he hadn't finished reading, wandering to the table in the middle of the office. He inattentively scanned the society page but couldn't shake the nagging of his gut. His instincts had never failed him; he had a duty to take heed. Matt bit down on the inside of his cheek, striding over to his desk, staring at the neatly printed headline. His heart settled in his throat as he unceremoniously dropped into his chair, spilling the brew all over his hand and sleeve. He'd smeared some of the type, but his eyes landed on a vital line.
Mr. and Mrs. Henri Broussard of St. Charles Avenue welcomed twins. Late on the night of Epiphany, the boy and girl came into the world. Mother and babies are doing well.
His head spun as he feverishly read, devouring every word, mind kicking into high gear with what he knew about the workings of females. He remembered the last time he'd been in her brass bed. He recalled her determined begging and pleading in New Orleans. I have to tell you somethin', Matt. She knew she was with child. She'd tried to tell him. He didn't give her a chance. He didn't listen to her. Of all the times for him not to listen to her. He had a son and a daughter. He'd pushed her and his children into the arms of another man.
"Kitty, if I'd known, I would have…" he murmured in vain. Another would have. One more to add to his long list of would haves with Kitty. He exhaled an infuriated breath, massaging his temples. He was a fool. Just like Doc had repeatedly told him. Doc.
Doc knew. Doc had known and never uttered a word to him.
He stood up, slamming the chair back into the brick before marching out of his office. He burned from the top of his head down to his toes as stomped up the steps, hurling the door open, slamming it behind him. "Doc! Come outta there before I drag you out!" he roared.
John Chapman came out of the bed chamber, slipping his arms back through his suspenders. He befuddlingly stared at the tall, incensed lawman. "Can I help you, Marshal?"
"No," Matt thundered and barreled out of the workroom. He stood on the landing, simmering like son of a gun stew on a stovetop while gathering his thoughts. He stepped back into the office. "Dr. Chapman, do you know Henri Broussard?"
"Of New Orleans? Well, of course, I do," he answered. "Everyone knows Monsieur Broussard."
"I have questions, and you're gonna answer 'em."
He hadn't slept. He hadn't taken the time to pack another bag. He'd gruffly told his deputies where he was headed. He'd ignored the questions and the dumbfounded, squinty look from Festus. He hadn't devised a plan.
A baby's howls roused him from his restless catnap. He tried not to be obvious as he stared at the red-faced, grumpy infant in the doe-eyed brunette's arms. He politely smiled at her and folded his arms over his chest, hearing her apology for the crying.
"It's all right, Ma'am."
"You got any, Marshal?" she asked, taking notice of the badge peeking out from his vest.
He replied without hesitation, "Yes, Ma'am. Twins. I'm goin' to meet them for the first time."