With his back to the entrance of Delmonico's, the boy sat in the bow back Windsor chair. He looked around the restaurant and its handful of patrons while drumming his fingers against the red gingham table cover. Alexandre was unsettled by the silence and stares from the customers when he'd walked in with his mother and sister. "Maman," he whispered while she removed her gloves.

"What, Baby?"

"Why'd it get so quiet?" he asked, covering his lap with the matching gingham napkin.

"Well, most people haven't seen me in a long time. They certainly didn't know I'm a mother, and," Kitty paused, addressing the gawkers while raising her voice, "they certainly don't know it's not polite to stare."

Vivienne ducked her head to hide her amusement. She propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her palm as her sapphire eyes surveyed the room. She wondered at which table her mother had sat at so many years ago when she'd first set eyes on the man that would be her daddy. The girl barely heard her mother order coffee and two glasses of milk and tell the waiter to give them a few minutes.

Kitty glanced at her dreamy-eyed daughter and puzzled son. The perceptive mother knew her twins' thoughts. Vivienne was most likely speculating a decades old event, and Alexandre was probably wondering why it was just the three of them at breakfast without it being a special occasion. She gently nudged Vivienne's elbow. "Well, what are you two gonna have for breakfast?"

Vivienne watched the elderly man shuffle away. She supposed it was true that good help was hard to find since the waiter was as old as the hills. "Pain perdu aux myrtilles," she declared.

"Sweetheart, you won't get that here."

Her ginger brow creased. "Eggs Sardou?"

"Not that either, Vivi."

Alexandre fell back against the spindles, complaining, "There's not anything Vivi wants. We could have had Sadie make us breakfast on the train. I'd rather have Sadie's cooking anyway."

Vivienne kicked her brother's leg, not wanting his bellyaching to ruin the outing. "Hush," she mouthed.

Kitty eyed her displeased boy as he rubbed his shin. "Your options are bacon and eggs, ham and eggs, or steak and eggs with biscuits. You can ask for gravy or fried potatoes if you want."

"I suppose I'll have bacon and eggs," Vivienne decided. She lifted her glass of milk and ignored her brother's contemptuous gaze. She gasped as Alexandre decided on ham and eggs with biscuits. Her flabbergasted expression remained on her face as their mother ordered breakfast for them.

"What's wrong with ham and eggs, Vivi?"

"Nothing. That's what Daddy ate when Maman first saw him."

"What?"

"That's why we're here. To see where they first saw each other. Right, Maman?"

"You are correct, Vivienne Serena," Kitty beamed, taking a sip of her coffee. She placed her cup on the tablecloth and set her eyes on her firstborn. "Alexandre, you've never heard the story, but your sister has. I'm gonna share a few new details," she lingered, waiting for the breakfast plates to be put down. "Thank you, Joe."

Alexandre picked up his fork, digging into the heap of scrambled eggs while his mother recounted how she'd come to Kansas and the rainy day she'd waded through the mud of Front Street to Delmonico's. He listened intently and wiped the milk mustache off his lip. "Where'd Daddy sit?" he asked, breaking open a biscuit to slather with butter.

With her fork, Kitty pointed to the empty table near the front of the restaurant. "Right over there, and I sat right where I'm sitting now."

"And you decided to stay all because of one look at Daddy. Très romantique," Vivienne crooned as she nibbled on a piece of crispy bacon. As she had before, she'd hung onto every word of the narration. She was deeply affected by learning how her papa had gifted her mother the money to follow her dream of going to California. She wholeheartedly believed fate had led her mother to meeting Cole Yankton. To her, Yankton had waylaid her mother's journey until precisely the right moment to be in the cattle town café. "Maman, will you take us where you first met Papa when we get back home?"

"I can't take you and Alexandre to that part of the city, Sweetheart, but I'll take you to the fountain where he and I would meet at night."

"Bien," Vivienne murmured, finishing her bacon. Her mind was filled with the romance of moonlit meetings and two flirtatious youths sharing their dreams until she set her eyes on her quiet brother. As Vivienne worriedly gazed at Alexandre, her heart beat faster as she noticed his clenched jaw and rigid posture. She shut her eyes, praying his temper wouldn't spiral out of control.

Alexandre breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. He felt as if his fury would suffocate him. He was angry at Yankton for disrupting his precious mother's plan for a life in San Francisco, and he was angry with his father for stringing her along for so many years. He was angry that the man that had treated her the way she'd deserved had been taken from her too soon. Alexandre thought of Caoimhe and the devastation in her emerald green eyes when he'd hurt her feelings. He couldn't fathom how many times his mother would have had the same look in hers. "It's not romantic at all," he sullenly muttered, pushing his plate away. Alexandre focused on a square of the woven check pattern. "I miss Papa," he murmured.

"Alexandre," Kitty gently placed her hand on top of her son's. "Sweet boy, look at me," she whispered while continually brushing her thumb over his knuckles.

The eleven-year-old sluggishly tilted his head after making sure tears wouldn't spill out of his eyes. He met his mother's gaze and swallowed hard.

The redhead searched his blue eyes until she gained a keen sense of his emotional state. Kitty saw all of her son's grief and anger over the things he couldn't change. "I miss him, too," she softly replied, adding pressure to the strokes over his knuckles as he tensed, struggling with his feelings. Unlike Vivienne, Alexandre rarely openly remembered his papa.

"Papa knew how to love you."

"He certainly did, Alexandre."

"Papa never hurt you like Daddy."

"We've talked about this. No man is perfect…not even your papa. You can be equally upset with me. I stayed with your daddy for all those years because I wanted to. I was fine with how it was until I wasn't. It was my choice to stay and to leave Dodge. I just wanted you to see where it all started."

"But…"

"You and Vivienne wouldn't be here if we hadn't noticed each other that day, Alexandre," she said softly, clasping his fingers in a comforting squeeze. A thankful smile covered her lips as her son relaxed after a few moments. She pushed his plate toward him, sipping her coffee while he took a bite of ham.

As Kitty finished her second cup of coffee, the twins finished their breakfast plates. She turned her head while she gathered her reticule, lightly clucking her tongue at how Louie Pheeters swaggered into the establishment. "Joe," she called, "bring Louie a plate of ham and eggs, please." She put money on the table, leaving a generous tip for the waiter as the tipsy man tottered to the table.

"Miss Kitty!" Louie plucked his hat from head, bowing as gracefully as the whiskey would allow. "I thank you." He straightened, winking at the younger redhead. "Your mother's always been the kindest woman in Dodge, Miss Vivienne. Good morning, Alexandre," he nodded to the boy. He dropped into an empty chair, crooking his finger at the older redhead, beckoning her to lean closer. Louie glimpsed at the boy and girl before lowering his voice, "Maybe you should have another cup of coffee, Miss Kitty. Burke and Halligan are talkin' outside. Just sayin' awful things."

"Thank you for the warning, Louie," she replied, looking at her children. "You two stay here with Mr. Pheeters for a minute." Kitty stood to her feet, putting her hand on her son's shoulder as he scooted his chair back. "Stay, Alexandre. I'll be just fine," she assured while gathering her reticule and parasol. The intrigued redhead moved to the entrance, eavesdropping on the discussion about her personal life.

"Well, the oldest boy looks just like the marshal. He's tall like him, too," Nathan Burke remarked as he looked across the street toward the Dodge House. The snoop had made sure to stay on that side of the street on his walks to the post office or the café. He'd attempted to strike up conversation with the woman that had traveled with the Dillons. Burke hadn't figured out if she was a maid or a nanny, but she'd paid him no mind. His attempt had granted him a good look at the two little girls with blatantly different fathers.

Halligan wrinkled his dark brows. "Dillon left close to six years ago. The boy can't be his, Burke."

"But he doesn't look like the other boy. The two smack in the middle are darker and don't have blue eyes. They must be like their pa."

"Must be," Halligan agreed, relaxing against a column. "I wonder what he did for a living."

"Doc Chapman knew him," Burke revealed, propping himself against the other side of the column.

"He did?"

Slowly, Burke nodded his head. "He was French and was murdered." He glanced at his buddy, continuing since he had Halligan's complete attention. "What he did for a living couldn't have been honest. Look how rich they are. I mean, he had to be involved in shady dealings to be that rich and killed."

"Well, well, well…what have we here?! The all-male grapevine," Kitty heatedly hummed, stepping onto the boardwalk to circle the pair, critically looking the gossiping men up and down. "I see some things never change, you small minded idiots."

"M-m-Miss Kitty," Halligan stammered, his small eyes darting to and from the freight agent and furious woman. "We…Burke…"

As the spike of the lavish parasol slammed into the hardwood, both men flinched.

"How dare you talk about my children's lineage or my deceased husband! Not that it's any of your business but since you are dying to know…I'll tell you. He was a law abiding, loving husband and father who was shot in a public park in front of our children. I hope you feel real good about your nosy selves. You make me sick!"

Matt Dillon had never brought the love of his life to Spring Creek without the worry of being called back into town. His belly was full of cold chicken, apple pie, and champagne, but his head was filled with gnawing thoughts. He hadn't thought of a way for Vivienne to gift the Turners a wagonload of supplies without his softhearted daughter getting hurt. He couldn't stop the townsfolk from spreading rumors. He closed his eyes, wishing he was brave enough to tell his wife that he wanted to leave Kansas. He'd missed the untamed west and the wide-open prairie, but the grassland hadn't been the same when he'd taken his sons for a ride. Nothing was the same as it had been before.

As the soft sunlight filtered through the grove of trees, Matt felt her shiver against him and drew her closer, pressing his lips to her damp waves. "Cold?"

"A bit," Kitty answered, pulling the blanket higher on their naked bodies while resting her head on his chest. She'd forgotten how exhilarating a dip in a creek could be and how cold a body could be afterward. The redhead tilted her head, studying him while snuggling into his warmth. She debated on sharing her feelings with him. Kitty was overwhelmed by watching one of the best men she'd ever known slowly die and knowing her children's yearning for home grew more and more each day. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she was miserable. She'd noticed the modest, yet pleased smile on his mouth when a person would tell him he was missed as the U.S. marshal. She wouldn't ruin his return to Dodge City. After all, Matt had bent to her in ways she'd never imagined since he'd married her.

"Honey, maybe we should," he murmured, his suggestion to leave disappearing on his lips as the fierce crash of her lips against his silenced him. Matt gripped her thigh as her leg draped over his middle. Groaning, he gathered her more tightly, pulling her body to rest on top of him. The full length and weight of her tender body against his fueled his arousal. He twisted his mouth harder over hers, sliding and stroking, searching for a deeper taste of her. "Kitty," he growled as she wrenched her lips away.

"Sois patient, maréchal," she huskily whispered, sitting up while smoothing her hands over the muscled expanse of his chest. Kitty bit into her lip as his hand cupped beneath the globe of her breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple. She leaned forward, allowing the heat of his mouth to enclose over the tip of her breast, moaning as he swirled the sensitive peak with his tongue. With every caress of his skillful ministrations, she craved the fullness of him.

Matt focused on the grace of her abundantly curved body as she positioned herself, sucking in a ragged breath at her touch, gripping and stroking his length. His eyes flicked downward as she lifted her hips. He shut his eyes, believing there was absolutely nothing in the world that felt as good as the sensation of her slowly lowering herself onto his hardness. Her movements sent him deeper into pleasure.

She dug her nails into his flesh as her hips undulated, taking in more of him little by little. His moans were low and guttural as she rocked her hips, allowing him deeper access inside of her. She groaned as his fingers dug into her, holding and balancing her while matching her thrusts.

Sweat slicked their skin as the intensity of their joining grew furious.

Her nails scored deeper into his skin. Kitty threw her head back as her orgasm rose inside of her, crashing over her and stealing her breath. She leaned down to find his mouth, searing his lips with a heated kiss.

He moaned into her mouth, her name trailing off into a groan as he thrust inside her one last time.

Kitty gasped as his release triggered another less intense climax for her. She swept her fevered lips over his neck, feeling his pulse throbbing beneath her lips. She listened to their mingled panting while resting her head against his chest.

In front of the old newspaper office, a gangly twelve-year-old stepped off the boardwalk and onto the compacted earth of the street. He lifted his head, staring at the schoolyard. He hurriedly walked across the street and opened the closed gate, spying the trio of redheads and two boys. He strolled to the steps of the Dodge City Community School, surveying the boys occupying the steps. He guessed the older boy was his age, and the other was a few years younger. "Howdy. I'm Benjamin Keith Lavery," he greeted with a nervous smile while hooking his thumbs into the suspenders of his overalls, hoping they'd socialize with him.

Alexandre stood, extending his hand for a shake. He introduced himself and reclaimed his spot on the third step while the newcomer shook Luc's hand.

The brunette, blue-eyed boy sat down as Alexandre scooted over. He thought Broussard was a funny middle name. "Why you got the same middle name?"

From the top step, Luc stifled his snicker but shook his head as he stared at the back of Benjamin's curly head. "It's our last name. We have two."

"Oh," Benjamin mumbled, squinting in the afternoon sun. "I only know folks with one last name. I come here every day while my mama works. I ain't ever seen nobody here since school ended. I went for a week then my mama decided I'd just start fresh. Those your sisters?"

"Yes," Alexandre answered, pointing and naming his siblings.

"I ain't got any brothers and sisters. You twelve like me?" Benjamin asked.

"I'm eleven. Luc's eight."

"Oh, you're tall for eleven. Your papa must be tall. Mine is. Is your papa tall?"

Alexandre nodded his head, glancing over his shoulder at his unusually quiet brother. "He was tall."

Benjamin arched a brow. "Was?"

"Our papa died when we were young."

"I'm sorry. Mine's still alive. I don't know where he is. I never met 'im. He left when I was a baby. He's a dumb, small-time crook. That's what my mama's told me."

Alexandre shifted on the wooden step, unsure of how to respond to the intimate information from his new acquaintance. He smoothed his hand over his thigh, glancing at his younger sisters on the see-saw. He noticed an older boy launching himself over the white picket-fence.

"You live here?"

"New Orleans," Luc answered.

"I ain't ever been there. My mama and me have been back in town for a month. She worked at The Long Branch before. Miss Hannah's been real nice to me and mama."

"The Long Branch?" the oldest Broussard-Dillon's voice lilted with surprise while he watched two more boys jump over the fence.

"You know it? Is your mama a whore, too?"

Alexandre jerked his head, croaking, "What?"

Luc cleared his throat. "Our maman isn't a whore," he declared but had no idea what the word meant.

Benjamin knitted his eyebrows, turning his upper body to gape at Luc. "Maman?"

"It's French for mama," the eight-year-old explained with a subtle roll of his brown eyes. He didn't think anyone in Kansas had met a person with French blood in their veins. "Our maman owned The Long Branch," he proudly proclaimed.

Benjamin leapt to his feet, goggle-eyed and open-mouthed by the revelation. "Miss Kitty? Your mama's Miss Kitty Russell?"

Luc nodded, surprised the older boy was able to be quiet for more than a minute. "That's Maman, but she's Kathleen Broussard-Dillon now. How do you know our maman?"

"Well, I don't know her myself, but my mama, April, knew her."

Before Luc could ask another question, frenzied shouting hit their ears. Alexandre turned his head and jumped to his feet, leaping off the stairs. He jogged to the side of the playground, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him. "Luc, take Quatre and Lark," he instructed, gently pushing his distraught little sisters to Luc. Alexandre charged into the handful of boys to aide his twin.

"Heavens to Betsy!" Benjamin Lavery exclaimed, seeing a whir of dust and a glimpse of a petite auburn-haired girl giving Leo Burton the business as the pair rolled on the ground. He didn't know how she'd managed to get the upper hand over the stocky thirteen-year-old, but she firmly had it, straddling Leo's stomach while landing solid punches to the bully's face. He winced as his new friend took an elbow to his eye in his efforts to stop the brawl.

Alexandre staggered, holding his hand over his eye. "Vivi!" he shouted, stumbling backward into the fence. He hadn't seen the clenched fist coming toward his jaw.

"No fair!" Benjamin rumbled, witnessing the sucker punch and another of Leo's cohorts latching onto the girl's long braid. The underhanded move allowed Leo to sock his female opponent in the jaw. Benjamin's temper surged. He dove, hooking the boy around his waist, tussling with him. He briefly grinned at Alexandre before both teamed together to take care of Leo's allies.

"Merde," Luc muttered under his breath, scrubbing his hand over his face while leaving his sisters on the schoolhouse steps. The boy knew how a vicious fight could end. He dodged the chaos on his short sprint to the schoolmarm's residence. He burst through the door, hollering for his uncle to come outside.

"Henri Luc, you don't come into a house that way!" Delia admonished, setting her teacup on the saucer. She'd finally settled Noah since the infant didn't care to take a bottle. "He usually knows better," the maid spoke to the dark blonde schoolteacher, Miss Bradford, as Festus jangled from the spare bedroom where he'd been repairing a window.

"Luc, what's got into you?" the hillman wondered aloud.

"Fight! Vivi's fighting!"

Festus stared at his dark-haired nephew in disbelief. "Luc, you know better than to tell a lie. Miss Vivi wouldn't fight nobody."

"I'm not lying, Uncle Festus!" he proclaimed, glancing at the fight from the doorway while Delia and Miss Bradford peered out the lace curtains.

"Vivienne is fighting!" Delia announced. "So is Alexandre," she sighed, disliking how the trip had made the children act in unusual ways.

Festus nearly knocked his nephew down as he ran out of the small house, barreling into the bedlam. He recognized each of the boys except for one, but he reminded him of someone he couldn't place. Festus strongly gripped the brown-haired, blue-eyed boy's arm to stop him from punching Owen Nelson. He latched onto the back of Alexandre's shirt, yanking the youngster off Abbott Harmon. "That's enough now! You two go on home!" he barked to Abbott and Owen, watching the boys launch themselves over the fence and hop on the back of an old plow horse.

With a hefty sigh, the hillman walked over to the hostile redhead and her adversary. He smirked, observing the whimpering boy. Cora Burton's youngest son had his hands covering his face as he begged and cried. He knew Leo must have said something to invoke the eleven-year-old's wrath.

"Ta gueule, plouc!" Vivienne yelled, tiredly slamming her hands onto the boy's chest.

"Miss Vivi, he's had enough," Festus declared, gently dropping his hand on her shoulder. "Honey, leave 'im, s'il vous plaît," he inelegantly whispered the French.

Vivienne relented, letting her uncle help her to her feet. She stared down at the stranger. "Don't you ever speak to me or my sisters again!" she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest while he scrambled to his feet. Vivienne didn't take her eyes off him until he was on the plow horse with his friends. She then took her uncle's offered hand.

"Boys, get the girls to Delia and tell her we're a-goin' back to the Dodge House," Festus instructed as he led Vivienne away. He squeezed his niece's hand. "You sure got on 'im like ugly on a ape."

Vivienne sniffled, stopping to look up at her uncle. "He…he said…" she stammered and took a breath.

"You ain't gotta tell me a thing."

"He said awful things to Quatre."

"I knowed he deserved it," Festus assured, scooping her into his arms as she dissolved into tears. He rubbed her back as she curled into him, burying her face into his neck. "It's alright now, Miss Vivi," he comforted, feeling her trembling and her hot tears against his skin.

"Though be but little, she is fierce!" Doc quoted Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream as he pressed an antiseptic soaked cloth onto his granddaughter's numerous cuts and scrapes from her scuffle with Leo Burton. He'd remembered when Leonard Wesley Burton had been born. He guessed the infant had weighed a whopping ten pounds at birth. The thirteen-year-old was still an intimidating size, but he'd been no match for a riled redhead.

Vivienne hissed from the sting and shifted on the edge of the eiderdown mattress. Her uncle had told her grandfather about how she'd fought and won, but she hadn't shared the cause to either man. "That hurts," she grumbled as her grandfather tilted her head to examine her sore jaw.

"It ought to. You're not used to gettin' a fat fist to your jaw, Vivienne Serena."

"Well, his friend pulled my hair, and that's when he hit me," she sighed, lowering her gaze to focus on the chain of his pocket watch. "Leo shouldn't have said what he said."

"What did he say? What started it all?"

"Leo hurt Quatre's feelings, Pépère. He came out of nowhere with his friends…started teasing her for having two fathers. He told her that Lark wasn't her sister. Only her half-sister. He called her stupid when she argued. She told him that a person couldn't be a half anything, and he pushed her. He pushed a five-year-old, Pépère!"

"Vivi, it's a sad thing, but he's mostly heard his mother's ignorant talk and has seen how his father treats people. That's not an excuse for him," he tactfully added as her rosy lips pouted. He finished cleaning her scraped knee. "Young lady, I applaud you for defending your sister, but you can't go around getting into fights. It's not ladylike at all."

She heaved a sigh and nodded her head, running her fingers along the top rail of the brass footboard. "I won't fight boys if we ever leave Dodge City. Pépère, we don't belong here," she whispered, lifting her head to meet his gaze.

The tears in his granddaughter's eyes broke his heart. He comfortingly patted her hand. He needed to talk to her parents.