This fic is intended for mature readers due to the vivid depiction of a consensual adult relationship. The setting is First Season, post-“The Preacher”, screenplay by John Dunkel, story by John Meston, original airdate June 16, 1956. The locations/events in this fanfiction bear absolutely no resemblance to actual Kansas geography or meteorological activity.
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“So, now that you're a big, important land owner, Kitty Russell, you still gonna' want to spend time with a lowly civil servant like me?” Marshal Dillon grinned slyly but kept his eyes carefully on the trail ahead.
“Oh, Matt…” Kitty chided good-naturedly as she glanced at him riding his buckskin horse beside her. Her smooth brow wrinkled when she caught sight of the greenish yellow bruise still visible on Matt’s jaw, courtesy of one very large bully, prize fighter Sam Keeler. Matt had been forced to give the boxer a taste of his own medicine, not once but twice, but thankfully, Matt had finally run him and his slick promoter Frank Humbert out of town for good.
Kitty sighed heavily, contemplating the danger Matt faced daily as a U.S. Marshal. They’d discussed that very subject just a few days ago in the Long Branch, but Matt seemed to be quite content risking his life to protect others. But she did hope that he had more than just a stolid interest in her as a citizen of Dodge at stake as his reason for accompanying her on this trip.
The early spring sunshine warmed her face while the gentle, rhythmic sway of her horse’s gait made her a little sleepy as they headed across the prairie for the small town of Cimarron, Kansas, a day’s ride ahead.
“Well, I just thought that since you’re a rich woman…”
“I am not rich, Matt Dillon. You stop that.” She squinted her eyes at him and laughed. “It’s a small ranch, you know that.”
“I know, I know. I’m just teasin’ ya’.” He shot a look her way. “I’m happy for you, Kitty. You deserve it.”
“Thank you, Matt. And thanks for coming with me. But you really didn’t have to, you know.” The gentle breeze blew her riding habit veil in her face and she brushed it over her shoulder, hoping that the bright morning sunshine was not making too awful many freckles pop out on her pale skin. There were definite drawbacks to being a redhead.
“I know you’re a big girl, Kitty. But there’s no way I was going to let you ride all the way to Cimarron by yourself. It’s just not safe.”
“I can take care of my—“
“I know you can, Kitty, but I don’t want you to have to take care of yourself. You shouldn’t have to. There’s all kinds of lawless trash wandering around these parts. I’d never forgive myself if something were to happen to you.” He suddenly ducked his head and studiously examined the scarred leather reins in his hands.
Truth be told, Matt was a little nervous this trip. He had a crawling feeling, like someone was watching his every move. He was probably just imagining things, but Matt had learned that you can never be too careful.
Kitty’s heart fluttered in her chest. Matt Dillon was a man of few words, so she was taken aback at his admission that he cared for her.
She murmured, “I appreciate that, Matt. You’re a good friend.”
He cleared his throat noisily and changed the subject. “What’s the name of the man you’re meeting in Cimarron?” Matt’s eyes continually scanned the surrounding terrain, especially areas with trees or bushes where a man could hide. He wanted this trip to be uneventful.
“My uncle’s executor is Irving Hepley. He’s supposed to meet me at the hotel this evening.” Kitty felt so strange saying that word aloud: “uncle.” Until two weeks ago, she hadn’t even realized that he’d existed. She couldn’t get used to the idea of having family, and it made her heart ache so that she’d lost Solomon V. Pierce before she’d ever found him.
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“Kitty, I brought you something. It looks important.”
Two weeks ago today, she’d been sitting at a table in the Long Branch, talking with a couple of young cowboys fresh off the trail, their hard-earned money burning holes in their pockets. Eager faces shaved, hair slicked back with fragrant tonic water, they were, thankfully, recently bathed and wearing newly purchased clothing from the mercantile. Kitty was wondering exactly how much money she could wrangle out of these two greenhorns when Matt strode in with a large, battered envelope that’d come for her in the mail.
“Excuse me, boys,” she’d apologized with a sweet smile as she rose to sit at a table in back with Matt, trying to ignore their crestfallen expressions. She’d mourned the loss of badly-needed income, but at the same time, was thankful not to have to go upstairs with those two and be forced to earn that money on her back or even up against the wall. She had felt their lustful gazes following her as she walked away with a relieved sigh.
Matt had quickly pulled out a chair for her, looking as concerned as she at the sight of the official-looking package he’d laid on the table in front of her. “What do you think it could be?” she’d asked as she smoothed the short satin skirt of her flounced working dress.
“You’ll never know if you don’t open it,” he’d said in a low voice, scowling across the room at the hangdog expressions of the thwarted cowboys.
“Hepley & Trimble, Attorneys-at-Law,” she’d read aloud.
“Go ahead. Open it,” Matt had urged her.
She’d taken a deep breath before ripping into the fat envelope. Matt had watched her face carefully, observing her confusion as she’d flipped through a thick sheaf of important-looking documents. Then she’d unfolded what seemed to be a letter, handwritten in a shaky elderly person’s scrawl. She’d read silently, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears, and Matt’s stomach lurched. “Kitty?” he’d asked anxiously. “What is it?”
Gathering up the pile of papers, she quickly stood. “’Scuse me, Matt. I need to—“ Her voice broke and she took a fortifying breath. “I’ll talk to you later…” Then she’d hurried away to her room, leaving behind only the soft scent of her perfume.
The cowboys across the room had smirked at him, but he hadn’t given a damn. All he had needed to know was if Kitty was alright. He’d taken the stairs two at a time and pecked at her door. “Kitty, can I come in?”
Silence.
“Kitty, please…”
The latch had clicked and the door cracked open as she’d hastily backhanded tears from her flushed cheeks.
“What is it? You can tell me,” he’d urged as he closed the door behind him.
She’d sat on edge of her bed and sniffled, gently smoothing the letter on her lap. Matt had pulled a chair up in front of her and waited patiently. In a tentative voice, she began to read aloud:
April 5
To my niece Miss Kathleen Russell,
Dodge City, Kansas
Until yesterday, dear girl, I did not realize that you even existed. It is hard to believe that we have lived such a short distance apart for several years now without meeting before. But yesterday, I did finally meet you, and I was completely thunderstruck. Oh, you did not know who I was, for I was too taken aback to reveal my identity to you. I was simply one of your many customers at the Long Branch, and you were kind and courteous to this old man as he rested a while before his journey on the stage back home. Your good heart and sweet disposition, not to mention your remarkable beauty, were enough to make me feel as though I’d been transported back in time, and that Océane Kathleen Arcenaux Pierce, my dearly departed wife, was once again sitting across from me. You are your aunt’s spitting image, my dear, and when you shared with me the names of your family and your hometown, I knew that you could be none other than my very own niece.
I have seen a doctor in your town, and he regretfully assures me that I do not have long to live. My heart is weak, and I grow more tired every day, but I am more than ready to be reunited with my dear wife. My sweet Océane and I were not blessed with children, although I have been blessed with a modest ranch that I wish to pass down to you. You may do with it as you choose. Live on it or sell it. That is up to you. I only wish for you to be happy and free from that sort of life that both my wife and my dear mother were both forced to live at one time. This is my legacy to you.
Your loving uncle,
Solomon V. Pierce
Matt had watched with sorrow the devastated look in Kitty’s eyes. Regret for the family she had found and then lost again in one single letter had exuded from her features as she had carefully folded the letter in her lap and hung her head. Matt had scooted to the bed beside her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. She had leaned her head against his chest without a sound, but he had felt her hot tears wetting his shirtfront as she cried her silent lament for the family she had never known.
tbc
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