The big man was surrounded by hand-crafted marquetry, beautiful Baroque furniture, sumptuous navy fabrics, and embroidered rugs and pillows as he reclined atop the double bed. He glanced at his sweat-stained Stetson as if the hat could ground him from being swept away by the overwhelming indulgence of the grand suite. His son's fingers pulling at his shirt reminded him of his task. Matt cleared his throat, resuming his singing of Pop! Goes the Weasel. He tickled Noah's chubby belly each time he came around to the pops of the song and grinned at the boy's squeals. Matt called to his wife as she puttered through the lounging area.
"Yeah?" Kitty answered, taking a glance at herself in the mirror of the en-suite bathroom. She powdered her nose and cheeks a bit more.
He licked his lips, adjusting Noah against his thighs as he shifted on the bedding. Matt had concerns he needed to get off his chest, but he knew he'd have to tread carefully since he assumed she was still touchy from last night's conversation. Kitty had returned to the suite after putting Luc to bed, peppering him with questions about what he'd do if one of their children became deaf. He didn't see the need to examine hypotheticals since all of the brood except Noah had overcome the measles and mumps. "Honey, what do you think it'll be like when we get to Dodge?"
Her brow furrowed as she placed the puff back into the powder box. "What do you mean?" Her husband's silence caused her to exit the washroom and walk to the foot of the bed.
"You haven't been there in twelve years."
She placed her hands on her hips, peering at him with an arched brow while speculating what he meant. "Well, you haven't been there in close to six years."
Matt inched up the upholstered headboard, inhaling deeply as he readied himself for his wife's inevitable outburst. He gently put Noah on the bedding, placing pillows around the infant to keep him from rolling off the edge. Matt should've kept his mouth shut, but the closer the train rolled to Kansas, the more his worries moved to the forefront of his mind. "We're coming into Dodge in an eighty-five-foot rail car with a full-time porter, a maid, and a cook. Honey, your life is very different now."
"My life?!" Her whiskey voice rumbled like thunder across the sky. "Not our life, Matt?"
"Kitty, hold on," he implored, glancing at his son. He wished he could be as unbothered as Noah. The boy was contentedly wriggling around in great effort to put his toes into his mouth. "I'm simply trying to say that you've changed more than me, and you're taking it the wrong way," Matt proclaimed, rising to stand.
"The wrong way…how the hell else am I supposed to take it? And I've changed more than you have?!" the redhead scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, fuming since he was acting as if he hadn't benefited from their privileged life in Louisiana.
"All I'm trying to say is that your – our lives are very different from when we were last in Dodge City. Only Doc, Sam, and Newly even know you're a mother. Or that we're together. There's gonna be questions and a lot of talk."
"I know there will be, and I don't care. I only care about the questions our children will have when we get there. But folks like Burke and Halligan…our life is none of their business," she finished, lips pursing into a firm line as he came to stand in front of her.
"Honey…" He stretched his arms, placing his large palms on her shoulders while looking into her stunning, yet angry eyes.
Her temper simmered from his syrupy tone, trying to placate her. She shrugged his hands off her. "Don't you worry, Matt. I haven't forgotten about my past," she growled, spinning on her heel, bumping into her four-and-half-foot tall son. "Luc," Kitty gasped. "Uh…Daddy and I…"
"You and Daddy were having a disagreement like every married couple," Luc recited what she'd told him. The dark-haired boy careened his body around his beloved mother to gape at the chagrinned giant. He let out a low whistle while shoving his hands into his pockets. "Maman, you weren't lyin'. You and Daddy do fight worse than me and Vivi."
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she looked over her shoulder at her husband. She rubbed her lips together and turned her head, staring at her boy.
He stepped around his mother, walking the short distance to his daddy. He straightened his spine while puffing out his chest. "You're wrong, Daddy. Maman hasn't changed. She always makes everything right for us. She has a lot to be proud of, and she loves us, no matter what," he defended.
Matt released a slow breath, dropping his hand onto Luc's shoulder. "You're right, Son," he murmured, squatting to the boy's level. He was reminded of the way Henri Broussard had been Kitty Russell's knight in shining armor as he met the child's dark brown eyes. "Luc, your papa would be proud of you," he confessed in Luc's ear.
"He would?"
"He certainly would. He'd be very proud of how you took up for Maman to me. I am, too. Just like him, you've reminded me that I foolishly take her for granted sometimes. I appreciate it, Luc," he pressed his lips to the side of his son's head while clapping him on the back. "How about you do me a favor?"
Luc leaned into his daddy's side, expectantly gazing at him. "What do you need me to do, Daddy?"
"Take Noah to the observation lounge. Your maman and I will be there in a minute or two. I gotta make up with her." Matt stood to his full impressive height as Luc dutifully followed his instruction. He rested his hands on the buckle of his belt, shifting his weight to his other foot while Kitty unhurriedly swayed to him.
"You think the makin' up is gonna be easy? I don't believe you have a grain of sense in your head when you speak to me sometimes, Cowboy."
"I don't," he admitted, hooking his arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. He concentrated on her full, rosy lips. Matt lowered his head to graze his mouth against hers while delicately placing his hands on either side of her slender neck. "I don't at all, Honey," he thickly murmured, feeling her lips curve into a grin against his until he kissed her fully.
Tower Grove Park in St. Louis was a vibrant tapestry of laughter and sunlight. The 289-acre park was the perfect place for the Broussard-Dillon children to run off their pent-up energy. With a smile on his whiskered face, the hillman surveyed the families on blankets spread over the lush grass, sharing sandwiches while enjoying animated conversations. Since arriving in the expansive park on the south side of the city, he'd heard languages he'd never heard before and seen statues of men he'd never heard of. He breathed in the fresh air, letting the calm of the stopover wash over him until the silver poodle's bark disturbed him.
Festus turned his head, squinting his eye. "Golly bill!" he exclaimed, springing into action. He grasped his charge's hand, pulling her away from the shallow lily pond. "Now, Lark, look here," the hillman ordered, ignoring the child's whining. "I done told ya t' stay away from there. You ain't catchin' no frogs."
"Why not?" the moppet demanded an answer with a stomp of her little foot.
"You jus' ain't. I keep a-tellin' you."
"Why?"
He puffed out his cheeks in exasperation, staring at the strong-willed redhead. Festus regretted agreeing to keep an eye on three of the brood while his dear friends took a stroll to the Piper Palm House. "Lark, you ain't catchin' 'em. That frog will get loose in the train. Your maman don't like frogs. You best listen t' me. I know what I'm talkin' about," he finished, groaning as an object hit him in the middle of his back.
"Je suis désolé!" Luc shouted. "Throw it back. Maybe I'll catch the football this time," he grumbled while running closer to his uncle and sister. It seemed like he'd spent most of his time missing Alexandre's throws.
Festus let go of Lark's hand, bending to pick up the football. He shook his head and held the pigskin in his hands, concentrating on making his throw powerful as the noise of a splash hit his ears. The hillman wildly threw the ball to the dark-haired boy and hopped into the lily pond, splashing in his attempt to catch the toddler. "Lark, you li'l scamp!" he bellowed.
The girl leapt farther into the pond, landing on a cluster of St. Louis Gold waterlilies. She used both of her hands to keep ahold of the biggest and prettiest green frog she'd ever caught. "No, Unka Whiskas!" Lark yowled as his arm hooked around her small waist. She wrestled for freedom, losing her grip on the frog.
Festus lifted the howling moppet out of the water like she was a small sack of potatoes. He tossed her over his shoulder, stomping toward the gingham blanket spread under a white mulberry tree. He griped to himself as he put Lark on the blanket, surveying her soaked shirt and linen knee pants. "Lark, stop all that cryin'," he ordered, using the corner of the blanket to wipe her flushed face. "I kept a-tellin' you no. Fiddle, Lark," he drawled, her crocodile tears and whimpers breaking his heart. "It was jus' a li'l ole frog. You'll catch another one."
She sniffled, quickly wiping snot from her nose. The nearly-three-year-old took her uncle's words as permission to hunt another toad. Lark sprang away from him, grunting as Festus held her in place by gripping the waistband of her trousers.
"I didn't mean now, youngin'. Maybe you'll get dry 'fore yer daddy and maman get back," he wished aloud, but the big man's laughter dashed his hope. Festus sighed, wrapping an extra blanket around Lark.
"What happened here?" Matt asked, pretending he hadn't seen the whole ordeal while holding onto Josephine's hand. He never had to worry about the five-year-old jumping into ponds to catch a toad. He stared at his bedraggled friend and pouting toddler, grunting as his wife playfully socked him in the ribs.
"You're terrible," Kitty whispered, propping her elbow on the wicker baby carriage's handle. She smiled at her cheerful baby boy. "Tell Daddy not to give Uncle Festus a hard time. Your sister's already done that."
"Matthew," Festus warbled. "I'd like t' see you try t' stop Lark from a-jumpin' into that ole lily pond after a frog. She wasn't in no mood t' listen t' me."
"Nope," Lark confirmed, plopping onto her bottom to take her wet socks and shoes off while complaining about her uncle.
Kitty choked down the laugh rising from her throat. "Well, she gets it honestly," she smirked at her husband while deciphering her youngest daughter's heated speech about Uncle Whiskers. Luc had jokingly called Festus that one time, and it had stuck with Lark. "Matt, what are you gonna do about her?"
The big man slid his hands into his front pockets, rounding on the toddler. "Well, Honey, I don't know what to do with her," he stated as Lark innocently looked up at him. "Oh, I know what I'll do." Matt eased onto the blanket next to Lark, swiftly grabbing her ankle. "Young lady, you get tickles since you jumped into the pond." He tickled the soles of her bare feet, tickling more as she breathlessly laughed and squirmed on the blanket.
Festus shook his head and moved to stand next to his favorite redhead. "That li'l gal has Matthew wrapped around her finger."
"She certainly does. All the girls do in their own way," she added with an affectionate smile, looking around the area. "Where are Vivi and Doc?"
"Watchin' birds," Festus answered.
"Wonderful," the redhead commented. She couldn't remember when Doc had begun the activity, but she knew he enjoyed spending the bulk of his mornings birdwatching in Audubon Park. During Christmas break, he'd convinced his oldest granddaughter to tag along with him. In his loving, hard-hitting way, Doc had told Vivienne she needed to replace her terrible memories with good ones. She knew Vivienne would have a new sketch in her book with whatever bird had caught her eye. "Festus, would you mind rounding up the boys? We'll have to head back and get cleaned for supper."
"I don't mind, Miss Kitty. What fine vittles is Sadie a-cookin' for us?"
"Sadie is not cooking for us this evening. She's never been to St. Louis, so I gave her the night off," she told him, ignoring his disappointment. "I'm not cooking, Festus. I heard about an Italian restaurant called Beffa's."
"Italian?" His eyebrows rose. He'd been looking forward to Sadie's culinary talents or a place with a steak the size of his head. He was tempted to set off on his own for dinner, but he'd have to pay himself if he did that.
"Don't stress the I so hard, Uncle Festus," the auburn-haired girl informed while walking alongside her grandfather. "You might like Italian food. You won't know unless you try. It's good for a person to try new things. Will you try? S'il vous plaît."
Festus courteously plucked his hat off his head, beaming at the eleven-year-old. "Mi sombrero es rojo."
Doc scrubbed his hand over his mustache. "Vivienne, you're forgetting a significant fact about Festus. He doesn't know what's good for him. He never has! And what in the name of thunder happened to you?"
"Why you old quack!" Festus rumbled, wagging his finger at the retired grouchy physician. "I do to know! And Lark happened t' me!"
Kitty shook her head and placed a hand on the hillman's shoulder, feeling his body tense the more Doc laughed at him. She wasn't in the mood to hear their bickering. Doc seemed to provoke Festus even more since the hillman spent most of his time at The Oaks. "Festus, don't waste your time. Just get the boys for me."
"Miss Kitty, he started it."
"I know. He always does," she glared at the elderly man, effectively shutting down his rebuttal. "Festus, get Alexandre and Luc for me, please," she implored as Vivienne walked to her while thumbing through her thick sketchbook. "What did you draw, Baby?"
"Pépère told me it was a black-and-white warbler," Vivienne said.
Kitty took in the details of her daughter's sketch, marveling at the shading of the black and white streaks on the medium-sized bird's body. "Très bien," she complimented, kissing her daughter's temple while slipping an arm around her. "You're so talented, Vivienne Serena."
"Merci. Maman?"
"Yes?"
Vivienne leaned into her mother, enjoying the one-on-one time. "Are we all going to Beffa's?"
"Of course, we're all going, Sweetheart. I want all of you to enjoy St. Louis, even if it's just for a little while," she said. "It's probably your last chance to be in a civilized city for a while. Dodge won't be like this at all," she whispered.
"Kitty," he whispered into the darkness, fixing his eyes on the silhouette of her as he sat up. His size twelve bare feet padded softly on the finely woven carpet. Matt stopped at the window to raise the shade, glimpsing at her perched on the luxurious velvet sofa. He chewed the inside of his cheek as she looked away from him. From the angle of her face and the gleam of moonlight, he caught the glistening rivulets of tears on her fair cheeks. He settled beside her, easing her slender legs onto his thighs. He smoothed his palm back and forth over her silk-covered thighs while wondering how long she'd been crumbling under the weight of her thoughts.
Kitty let her head fall back against the woodwork while holding back the fresh set of tears forming in her sapphire eyes. Her brow cinched from the effort. She felt weaker and weaker with each passing mile, bringing her closer to the cattle town she used to call home. "You were right," she spoke quietly. "I have changed. I haven't been Kitty Russell for twelve years."
Matt stilled his hands but didn't look up. He'd seen through her earlier. He'd recognized the strong façade, but he'd thought the veneer would last usually had in the past.
"I closed that chapter of my life. I thought leaving that place was the hardest thing I'd ever do, but…goin' back," she whispered, shutting her eyes, letting her fears and worries consume her. Kitty was concerned about Sam. She didn't know how she'd say goodbye to him. She was troubled by what the town gossips might say about her children. She was bothered by the memories that would flood into her mind as soon as she stepped onto the dirt of Front Street. "I don't think I can do it."
"You can. I won't tolerate anyone talkin' about you."
"I don't care if they talk about me. They always have. I'm worried about my babies, Matt. Alexandre looks just like you. Then there's Luc and Josie…the darker skin and those brown eyes…"
He sighed softly, resuming his slow, soothing kneading against her thigh. "Alexandre does look like me. He can't help that," he reminded. He'd always been pleased as punch that his firstborn looked like him, especially when she'd taken another man's name and ring. Back then, he'd taken pleasure in the fact that God had given her a constant reminder of him. He blew out a breath and met her eyes, softening at her distressed expression. He tenderly cupped her cheek, "Honey, Luc and Josie girl can't help what Henri gave them either."
"But, Matt…"
"I won't tolerate any talk about my children. Newly will have to throw me in jail if I hear an unkind word toward 'em."
There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he'd do his best to defend and protect the children, but she didn't believe she could handle the heartache and pain if her innocent babies heard the back-fence talk. Kitty still vividly remembered the toll the truth of their paternity had taken on the twins. She cast her eyes downward, speaking barely above a whisper, "We should have stayed home."
"I'll get up from here and tell the operator to stop the train if that's what you want, but I think you'd regret going back home to New Orleans. Sam's been asking for you." He stared at her for several minutes, watching her delicately pat her wet, flushed face dry. "Honey, tell me what you want."
"Matt, I—I don't—"
The tremble in her voice was enough to thrust him into action. "Alright, Kitty," he murmured, leaning in to press his lips to her temple. Matt gently pushed her legs off his lap. He scooted to the edge of the sofa and felt her palm flat on his chest.
"I don't think I'm strong enough to do this, but…I have to. For Sam and me. He was always so good to me…"
He rested his hand overs, closing his fingers around hers to squeeze softly. "Honey, if you're running low, you can borrow my strength." He gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly.
"Oh, Matt," she murmured, sinking into the comfort of him while nuzzling her face into his chest. "I'll need all of it," she softly proclaimed, wholeheartedly supposing he was embracing her so snugly as if he could truly pass his strength to her.