“Come in, Matt,” a sleep-husky voice called, because Kitty knew his familiar knock by heart.
She was sitting up in bed, using her uninjured side to help raise herself, when he treaded softly into the shadowy room. Setting the tray on her nightstand, he quickly lit a lamp and blew out the match. Cautiously, uneasily, he jammed his hands in his pockets and asked, “How are you feeling, Kitty?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Fine.”
His heart sank because in his experience, “fine” was not a good omen signifying the onset of a productive conversation. He figured she must still be mad.
“Sit down, Matt. I’m not hungry right now.” He must have appeared hesitant because she added in a gentle tone, “Please.”
Kitty picked distractedly at a loose thread on her quilt. She kept her dark-shadowed eyes cast downward, and Matt couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Perching gingerly on the opposite edge of the bed, he was careful not to touch her because of what Doc had shared with him. Not for the first time, he felt angry at what Jude Bonner had done to her, had done to them, with his barbaric, violent crime. He longed to enfold her in his arms and comfort her, but he couldn’t. Bonner had taken that away from them.
Her next words were subdued and sorrowful and most definitely not what he was expecting from her. “I’m sorry, Matt. I’m sorry I got upset with you earlier. I...I don’t know what got into me...”
Matt sighed, removing his hat and hanging it on the bedpost. “You don’t have to apologize, Kitty. I think I understand.”
“I...really...don’t know what’s the matter with me, Matt. It frightens me. I know that it’s you touching me and not those men, but I just...panic.” Her voice was small and hollow as she finished, “I don’t know why.”
Matt’s mouth was a thin, angry line as he listened.
She said in a whisper, glancing up at him for just a second, “Do you hate me, Matt? For what happened? I would have stopped it if I could have...”
Matt reached out to clutch her shoulders and pull her to him, but then he remembered. His touch frightened her. Sent her into a panic. Matt’s hands fell uselessly into his lap. “No, honey. I’m not mad at you.” Looking away, he swallowed the bitter bile in his throat as he thought of what Jude Bonner had done to his sweet girl, and what Bonner had taken from them both. “Kitty, if I could, I’d march down to that jailhouse and put a bullet between Bonner’s eyes right this minute. He doesn’t deserve to live.”
“Please, Matt, don’t even think about that.” Kitty looked alarmed. “They’d put you in jail then. Promise me...please promise me you won’t?”
He released a big breath, scrubbing a hand over his frustrated features. “Only if you’ll promise me to stop blaming yourself for what that bastard and his pack of animals did, Kitty. They’re the ones to blame, not you.”
“But, Matt, what if I can’t ever...I mean...” She shook her head and her face crumpled. “I’m scared. I don’t like feeling like this. What if you can never touch me again?” Then her voice broke, and she began sobbing broken-heartedly, burying her face in the pillow.
Matt’s eyes burned with unshed tears at the sound of her grief and fear. Gingerly he lay on his side on the opposite side of the bed, facing her, being careful not to touch her. He murmured, “Kitty, it’ll be alright, honey, don’t cry. Doc says it’ll just take time. And I’ve got all the time in the world.”
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“Don’t you dare touch me, you filthy son-of-a...”
“Whoowee, Red, you got a mouth on you! Come ‘ere, little gal. Let me see what else you got.”
Unrelenting powerful arms holding her down, clutching her hair, no hope of escape. Lifting her skirts, silken underthings ripped, brutally torn from her body. Please no, please stop, you can’t do this...
All the while they cruelly hit, kick, touch her intimately, taking turns, mercilessly forcing themselves between her legs until she bleeds while sharp pains sear her insides and she is calling, whispering, praying, “Matt, where are you? Please help me...”
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In the heavy, humid darkness of nighttime, Kitty cried out from the bed beside him, plaintively wailing his name, pleading, “Where are you?”
Groggily, he roused straight up from a deep, dreamless sleep, answering, “I’m right here, honey! I’m right here.”
He gathered her in his embrace but she desperately struggled against him, growling fiercely, “No, don’t you touch me!” Wrenching herself from his arms, she crouched in a corner of the bed, her nightgown and hair soaked with sweat, a wildly frightened look in her eyes that shocked him and eerily reminded him of a hunter’s prey.
He held out his hands in supplication and spoke in a soothing voice. “Kitty, it’s me, Matt. It’s me, honey. It was just a bad dream.”
And then, in an instant, the hunted look was gone. He realized she could see him now, and not the monster in her nightmare.
Again he softly soothed, “It’s me. See? It was just a dream...”
Her eyes clouded over and then in a stricken voice she whispered, “No, it wasn’t just a dream...” And she began to keen mournfully, the desolate sound making his hair stand on end and his eyes flood with tears. But this time, she let him surround her with his arms.
He was thankful, not just for her, but because he desperately needed to hold her close to him as well. He let her cry on and on, rocking her while tears streaked down his own furrowed, sunburned cheeks and he repeated, over and over, “I’m so sorry, Kitty. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you this time. I’m so sorry, honey.”
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Matt hauled one last bucket of water up the stairs, pausing at the top to mop the sweat from his forehead with his shirtsleeve. Every day since she’d returned to her rooms from Doc’s office, Kitty had asked Matt to bring her fresh water to fill her tub. No sponge baths from a wash basin would do. She’d look at him with those pleading blue eyes and he couldn’t say no. She couldn’t get clean, she’d attempt to explain to him, refusing to meet his eyes. “I feel so...” She’d rub her temples distractedly, then finish in a hushed tone, mortification evident in her expression, “...so dirty, Matt. Please, won’t you do this for me?” And of course there’s nothing she could ask of him that he would refuse, not now. Not when he still felt everything that had happened to her was all his fault. Not when she was hurting so.
So every day he’d dutifully hauled water up the stairs so she could have her bath and maybe a little peace and relaxation in the bargain. Matt closed her bedroom door behind him and headed for the washroom, the heavy water bucket gripped tightly in one hand. He’d taken several steps inside before he glanced up to see her standing in the middle of the room, naked, preparing to step gingerly into the tub.
His breath caught in his throat and he felt as though he’d been punched in the gut because up until now she had refused to let him see her, to witness the injuries the dog soldiers had wrought upon her tender body. There was hardly an area of her porcelain skin that was not mottled black and purple with deep, unsightly bruises or abrasions, especially, he noticed with a sick stomach, her inner thighs and buttocks. The angry bullet wound in her side was testament to the physical suffering she had been through. But it was the expression on her stricken face as he gazed upon her private shame that broke his heart. He looked squarely into her eyes and asked softly, “Kitty, do you want me to leave? I’m sorry I busted in on you like that. I’m just not used to having to...”
“No, Matt...” She swallowed hard and answered, “You’re not used to having to knock.” And then she held out a hand to him. Her voice shook as she attempted to sound nonchalant, as if Matt saw her looking this battered and vulnerable every day. “Help me in?”
He set the bucket down and carefully, gently held her hands while she stepped into the bathtub, trying so hard not to look at the damage they’d done to her beautiful body. Tried not to imagine each blow, each vicious stroke that had made the telltale marks on her skin. She sank gratefully down, down, ducking her head beneath the water for a long time, and he realized he was holding his breath, too. Then she came back up, gasping for air and raking her wet hair out of her face. Finally she hugged her knees to her chest and shivered in spite of the warmth of the water. She wouldn’t look at him.
Matt asked quietly, “Are you okay?”
Casting an uncertain look over her shoulder at him, she responded in an apprehensive voice, “Are you?”
He grabbed the bucket he’d just hauled upstairs and emptied it into the tub, thinking to himself all the while. Then he squatted next to her and stated softly yet matter-of-factly, “Kitty, you’ll heal.” He handed her a sponge and her favorite lavender-scented soap and added, his voice thick with emotion, “And no matter what, honey, you’ll always be the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on, you hear?” He stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “You’ll always be my girl, and no one can ever change that.”
He gave her back her privacy, striding out the door and closing it quietly behind him. Hot tears rolled down her wet cheeks as she chuckled softly to herself, thinking that she hadn’t been called a girl in years, but she sure counted herself lucky to be Matt Dillon’s girl.
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It had been six weeks. Six weeks exactly since that awful afternoon when Kitty Russell’s world was turned upside down. When she was stripped of her dignity and transformed into a helpless victim with no rights, not even the control of her own body. She was still angry. But today she was also very afraid. Her monthly courses had not come as usual and her skin went cold and clammy with utter dread. What if she was carrying a child?
Doc said he would be able to tell at six weeks. Sharing her awful news with Matt, they had whispered their anxious conversation deep into the uncertain, sticky summer night. What to do? Wait until Doc can tell for sure. Wait until six weeks. Weeks of waiting and worrying, trepidation gnawing at her belly where a baby might be growing inside her. The baby of a killer. A dog soldier. Maybe Jude Bonner himself. She shivered at the very idea of a child of his growing inside her, sharing her blood and the very air that she breathed.
What would she do if it were true? In the darkness, lying side by side facing each other on her bed, Matt had held her hand and assured her that everything would be fine. He would stand by her side no matter what happened. She looked into his earnest blue eyes and tried very hard to believe him.
But today the waiting was over at last and Doc would examine her to find out for sure. It was the middle of the night and Matt had sneaked her down her back stairs and over to Doc’s where she could be examined comfortably. Sitting in his outer room, Kitty gripped Matt’s hand so tightly he thought she’d cut off his circulation. But she was welcoming his touch again today and that was something to be thankful for, and Matt tried to hold onto that hopeful thought in the midst of his anxiety for her.
Doc shuffled out, his face creased with worry, too, as he reached out an arm for her. “You stay here, Matt. I promise I’ll take good care of her.” He looked into her face when she stood before him and murmured with conviction, “Young lady, whatever we find out today, we’ll work through this together, you understand? You are not alone in this.”
Mutely nodding, overcome at the kindness of those she loved most, she followed Doc into his examining room with a reluctant, backward glance over her shoulder at Matt. He sat, twisting his hat in his hands, furious that Jude Bonner had possibly invaded her body and her life yet again. He thought of Bonner sitting in a jail cell in Hays City awaiting execution, and wished that he could execute the man with his bare hands. When would this nightmare ever end?
After an interminable length of time in which Matt rose, restlessly pacing the small room over and over, and finally perching himself on the edge of his seat again, Doc emerged with Kitty, fully dressed, behind him. She had tears in her eyes and Matt’s stomach lurched. She whispered, “I think I need to sit down,” and suddenly sank down as though her knees had failed her. Doc and Matt both grabbed an elbow and eased her into a chair.
Matt put an arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay, Kitty? Doc, what’s the verdict?” he asked fretfully, looking from one to the other.
Kitty smiled through her tears and choked out, “It’s okay, Matt. Doc says I’m not pregnant.”
Doc repeated, “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
tbc
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