He hadn't been able to ignore the gnawing nagging in his gut since he'd left his wife alone at the farmhouse, but she'd insisted on him taking the children to fish and swim at the creek after the funeral. Matt sensed there was more misfortune brewing than his youngest daughter's sunburned face. He passed through the garden gate, reminding himself to oil the squeaky hinge. His brow arched as he heard the clang of pots and pans, but the sound of his wife's screams sent him running. He drew his gun and bolted into the house, abruptly stopping, baffled by the sight before him. He observed Kitty marching in circles, banging on a cooking pot with a long-handled spoon while screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Matt!" Kitty shrieked as she caught sight of him. She dropped the pot and spoon in her hands. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He stared at his wife, holstering his revolver since there wasn't any danger. "Kitty, what the hell? I thought…" he shook his head. "What's all the racket for?"

"Well," she stammered, glancing at Noah on his blanket. Her son happily chewed on the antler of the deer Ma Smalley had crocheted years ago, oblivious to all the ways his mother had made a fool of herself. As soon as her family had left, Kitty had set to work, hollering the baby's name, slamming every cabinet, banging on pots and pans, and anything else she could think of. She swallowed hard, avoiding her husband's inquisitive gaze. "I was playin' a game with Noah."

Matt furrowed his brow, settling his hands on his belt with confusion all over his handsome features. "What kind of game? Honey, are you tryin' to make him deaf?" he joked. He was at a loss when she collapsed onto the hardwood, breaking into sobs. Matt stepped over the muslin blanket and sat on floor, pulling the shattered redhead onto his lap. He sighed as she rolled off him, but he heaved her upper body onto his thighs. "Kitty," he softly spoke, swiping her hair from her face.

"It's my fault," she cried, tucking her face into his thigh. "What have I done? It's all my fault."

"What? You're not making any sense." He gently rubbed her back. "Will you please sit up and look at me? I'll make whatever's wrong better, Honey."

His words caused her to choke on her sobs. She sat up and wiped her hand over her face, repeatedly shaking her head while drawing her knees to her chest. "You can't, Matt. You just can't make it better."

"Let me try." He scooted closer to her, draping his arm around her as he pressed his lips to her tussled tresses. "Please, let me try, Kitty," he implored.

She cried harder, turning her face upward to meet his concerned eyes. "He can't hear."

"Who can't hear?"

Shakily, she answered, "Noah."

"Honey, Noah can hear."

"No, Matt. He can't."

"Since when?"

"Since he was born…I think."

Matt bit down on the inside of his cheek, staring at his son. "You're wrong, Kitty."

"I'm not wrong."

"I would know if my son can't hear."

"I thought I would, too, but I didn't realize it until today," she whispered, resting her hand on his bicep. "Noah didn't hear the gunshots at Sam's funeral. He didn't hear me screaming or banging on those pots and pans," Kitty sighed, knowing she'd be hoarse from all the yelling she'd done.

The word 'no' rumbled deeply from his chest. He pushed himself off the floor and observed his son use the settee cushion to pull himself up to stand. Noah was strong and healthy. He thought of the autumn morning Noah had been born. While southerly winds blew threatening weather over Louisiana before Monday's sunrise, Octavia had announced the baby was a boy. Matt had been shocked, especially since he'd been so certain his last child would be a girl. He inhaled deeply, releasing his apprehensive lungful. "Noah." He swallowed hard since the infant didn't turn his head to look at him. "Noah," he repeated louder, fiercely clinging to the overwhelming pride he'd felt that November morning.

She closed her eyes, unable to witness her husband's despair. Kitty pulled her knees into her chest and listened to his voice grow louder and louder while her tears flowed freely down her face.

"Dammit, Noah!" the desperate father yelled in frustration, stomping his heavy boot. "You have to—" he gasped as the seventh-month-old looked at him with a grin on his face. Noah clapped his hands, landing on his bottom to hastily crawl to the giant. "Kitty! He heard me!" Matt picked Noah up, gratefully kissing his chubby cheeks. "Son, you heard me. Didn't you?"

Kitty dolefully shook her head. "He didn't, Matt. He felt the vibration of your boot. I could get his attention if I slammed my hands on the floor. Matt, our son is deaf."

"No, Kitty. He can't be. He's not," he disputed, dodging Noah's attempts to grab his nose.

"He is, Matt. Think about it. He's never had trouble sleepin'. You said yourself a train could come through the house, and he'd sleep through it. He doesn't react to Lark's tantrums. He's never paid any attention to Vivi playing the piano. He's only startled when he's not expecting to be touched. All the mornings I've fed him and Josie's come in for cuddles…she's bumped him climbing into bed or kissed him, and it's startled him. He hasn't ever heard her say, "Bonjour, frère.'" She lowered her head as his expression changed, knowing all the dreams and visions he had for Noah were vanishing with each passing second. "I'm sorry, Matt."

He stopped scraping his foot against the wooden floor, jerking his head toward her. "What are you sorry for?"

"It's my fault. Something must have gone wrong inside of me."

"No, Honey," he softly rumbled, marching over to her. Matt bent slightly, gingerly pulling her from the floor. "I won't allow you blaming yourself. I won't have it at all."

Kitty breathed out the breath she'd been holding, soothed that he didn't blame her for their son's flaw. She put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. "Alright," she murmured, smiling through her tears as Noah's fingers brushed her cheek.


As she eased onto the exam table, the redhead was surprised to see the few changes John Chapman had made to the office. The physician had his plaques on the walls, but everything else was just the same as when the lodgings had belonged to Doc Adams. Kitty took a breath, recalling when she'd first met the medical man in New Orleans. He was the same as he was twelve years ago, except for being a little heavier around his middle. She kissed the top of Noah's head while he curiously took in his surroundings. "No, Baby," she murmured as he reached for the instrument in Chapman's hand. At Noah's second reach, Kitty lowered his arm. "What's that?"

"A tuning fork."

"What for?" she asked, glancing at her husband sitting at the doctor's desk.

"From what you've told me, Noah needs a hearing test. He will be the youngest gentleman I've performed the Weber and Rinne tests on, but it'll help me determine how profound his hearing loss may be." Unlike most of his patients, Noah was too young to communicate with him.

"Doc, like I told you…I don't think he can hear at all."

He understood her uncertainty as she stared at the tool. "All I'm gonna do is strike the tuning fork and place it on his forehead then it'll go on his ears."

Matt stood and lowered himself next to his wife, lacing his fingers with hers. "He won't hurt him. We'll find out for certain how much Noah can or can't hear, Honey."

As the physician hit the tuning fork on his elbow, Matt kept his eyes concentrated on the man's face. He doubted the accuracy of the test since he realized Chapman was scrutinizing the infant's facial expressions. Matt scrubbed his hand over his jaw and turned his head, meeting his wife's guilt-ridden eyes. "Don't, Kitty," he whispered, holding onto her hand tighter.

She drew in a breath, focusing her eyes on Noah. She couldn't stop blaming herself. For the first half hour, Chapman had peppered her with questions about her pregnancy and any illnesses she may have had. Matt had been asked questions but not nearly as intrusive as hers had been. Kitty lifted her eyes to Chapman. "Well?"

"He's a fine boy," John complimented, putting away the tuning forks. He lifted the boy out of his mother's arms and touched Noah's ear. "There are times when there's an uncertainty of the words that need to be spoken," he said, observing the infant persistently tug on his red silk tie until the material was completely untucked from his vest. "You like red. Just like your father," he winked at the big man. "I can't tell you the exact cause behind Noah's profound hearing loss. Perhaps I could tell you a hundred years from now, but I know that God decided to make him this way." Chapman watched the retired marshal wrap an arm around his wife and continued, "I want to make it clear that there is no cure for deafness. I've known many that believed pouring bear fat or hog lard into the ear would do the trick. It does not. You'll do more harm to him."

"What do we do, Doc?" Matt asked.

"You love him just like you have been. You give him the best life possible."

Matt swallowed hard, wrestling with unbearable doubt. He didn't see how he could give his youngest son a good life. All he could foresee were looks of pity and all the challenges Noah would face. "I need some air," he proclaimed, releasing his wife's hand while slipping off the leather cushion. He took his Stetson off the peg.

As the door shut, Kitty sighed heavily with a shake of her head. "I'm sorry, Doc. It's a lot for him."

"No need to apologize for him. I know it's a lot for Matt. It's a boy with the condition," he replied, returning Noah to her waiting arms. "I've seen how proud he is of Alexandre and Luc, especially Alexandre. Sadly, in my experience, the disappointment is slightly less if the child is a girl," he paused, noticing the offended purse of her lips. "I didn't mean to upset you, but fathers expect more of sons. Kathleen, I've known plenty of deaf boys and girls that have grown into productive, thriving members of society. There's no reason why Noah won't be the same."

"I hope so."

"I have to ask…why didn't you ask Galen's opinion?"

She bit into her lip, lightly smoothing her hand over Noah's cowlick. "He didn't believe I should have another baby after Lark. He told me there were too many risks. I didn't want to hear him say to me, 'I told you so, Kitty.'"

"You did nothing wrong," Chapman firmly stated, noticing the distinct lines of worry on the redhead's forehead. "You had no serious maladies while carrying him. Noah hasn't been ill. As I said, God decided to make him deaf."

"I don't understand why."

He reached out to tenderly squeeze her shoulder, clearing his throat. "There's a purpose for it that we don't know. I never understood why Henri Broussard chose me, of all the physicians in New Orleans, to be the doctor for his expectant wife, but I've comprehended more and more over the years, especially now. I wouldn't have met Galen. He and I wouldn't have made the arrangement to trade places. I wouldn't be here in Dodge City now to tell you that your child is deaf. I don't know when you'll understand the reason for Noah being unable to hear, but accept that there is one."

"Doc, how…" she wavered, unsure of how to ask all the questions buzzing in her mind.

John moved to his desk, sitting down. "Kathleen, you want to know how you're going to communicate with your child. At first, it'll be a struggle. He may come up with his own gestures to tell you when he's a bit older."

"Oh," she murmured, thinking of Jean-Joseph Martin and the Louisiana Institute for the Deaf and Dumb. Like her middle son, she took offense to the name of the school.

"Let him learn. I believe in manualism rather than oralism."

"Oralism?"

"Oralism is teaching the deaf to read lips and speak."

"Speak," the mother scoffed, arching a skeptical brow. "How can a person learn to speak if they can't hear?"

"Exactly, Kathleen. Manualism will serve him better. Sign language will be a vital part of Noah's identity as he gets older. Send him to a place where he'll be taught that. The best schools for the deaf are in the North."

Kitty held her son tighter against her. "I'm not sending him away," she fiercely rumbled. "I won't do it."

"It was merely a suggestion, Kathleen," Chapman placated. "You have more options than most. You have the means to do what you believe is best for him. Hire a teacher. Have someone come into your home to teach all of you sign language."

"I've got a lot to learn."

"You do, but I have every confidence that you and Matt will do what's best. If you decide to hire a tutor, I know just the person."

"Who?"

"My daughter."

"Your daughter?" she gasped. She'd never known that he had a child, but she remembered Henri had told her that the physician lived apart from his wife for years.

"Laurel was deafened by fever after her first birthday. My wife came from Connecticut. When it was time, she and Laurel moved to Hartford for Laurel to attend the very first school for the deaf. Laurel graduated from Gallaudet University in May. She usually spends her summers with me, but she decided to stay in Washington to find work."

"Please, put me in contact with her, and tell me all you believe I should know," Kitty requested.

Chapman smiled, delighted that the redhead wouldn't be like most parents of deaf children he'd known. "Did you know American Sign Language is derived from Parisian sign language?" He eased from his chair and walked to the small stove, setting about making a pot of coffee for the conversation he knew would take hours.


Her warm, velvety singing normally sent his heart aflutter, but tonight's serenading was a sharpshooter, striking him dead center. With a pained sigh, the giant lowered himself onto the bed and took off his boots. Slowly, he rose to strip off his clothes and settled his body on top of the summer quilt, closing his eyes while trying to shut out his wife's singing. "Why are you singing to him?" Matt snapped, instantly regretting his outburst as her voice fractured on the last line of the song.

Keeping her focus on Noah's sleepy eyes and handsome face, Kitty murmured, "I always sing to him."

Matt muttered an apology as he pushed himself to sit, resting his back against the brass spindles. He needed to apologize for much more. He couldn't tally all the mistakes he'd made since Chapman had examined his son. He'd walked out of the office and had gone straight to the livery stable for a horse. He'd ridden out of town, hoping miles on the prairie would help his mind make sense of his son's misfortune. It hadn't. Matt scrubbed his hand over his face, wishing he could wake up, and it would have all been a nightmare.

"Which part? Walking out of Chapman's? Missing supper? Worrying the children?"

He shamefully lowered his head, unable to look at her.

"All of it then," she decided. "I want to tell the children soon. We can tell them on the train in a few days." Her only business left in Kansas was settling Sam's mortgage with Bodkin then she could fulfil his wish of giving the farmhouse to April Lavery after a few necessary repairs. She knitted her brows at her husband's silence. "Would you prefer to tell them at The Oaks?"

"No. I'm not ready to tell people."

"People? Matt, they're his brothers and sisters."

"I want to take Noah to another doctor. Maybe Doc should look at him."

Kitty audibly exhaled. "Another doctor will tell us the same thing. Noah's not gonna hear in a day or two. Not even a year from now. Our son is deaf."

"Chapman could be wrong." He stared at the nursing infant and bit his bottom lip while he gently fingered Noah's earlobe.

She spoke his name barely above a whisper, melding her blue eyes into his sorrowful orbs. "You're grievin' him, and he's still right here."

"Kitty, I'm not."

"You are, and your son's still right here. Just as perfect as the day he was born." She shifted Noah in her embrace as he unlatched from her breast.

"But, Honey…"

"No, 'but, Honey'," she smoothly scolded, fixing her nightgown. Her heart swelled as Noah's hand tenderly curled around her cheek. She touched her lips to his forehead, lovingly gazing into his blue eyes. "He's still Noah James Dillon. He's our baby boy that completed our family."

"I don't know if I can be what he needs me to be, Kitty," Matt confessed.

"Matt, I'm not gonna let you fall into that dark hole you've been trying to fall into. We're gonna take one day at a time. Right now, we're gonna enjoy Noah just like we have. Maybe a little more," she whispered, tenderly stroking her son's fingers. "He's only small for such a little while. We have so much to look forward to with him. His first steps. He's gonna be walking before we know it, Matt. He's strong like you."

He blew out a breath, concentrating on how the littlest Dillon wouldn't have one milestone like his siblings. In several months, Noah wouldn't speak his first words. Matt would never know if the boy would say "dada" like Josephine and Lark had.

Kitty inched closer to him, cupping his jaw to turn his face toward her. "As far as Noah's concerned, his world is perfect. He doesn't know any different. I'm going to be his fiercest advocate and greatest supporter. Are you gonna be that with me or not?" she asked, passing the baby to him. At the end of the day, Noah loved to stretch his whole body out on his daddy's chest before drifting to sleep.

Matt chewed his bottom lip, letting his wife's impassioned words soak into him. Without meeting her gaze, he lifted Noah off his chest and gingerly settled him onto hers. "I need time."