A Time to Heal, Chapter 6 "Counting Blessings"

This story contains plot elements from the Season 11 episode of Gunsmoke entitled “Seven Hours to Dawn” written by Clyde Ware, original air date September 18, 1965.  Directed by Vincent McEveety. 

Festus silently set the breakfast tray on the table in Kitty’s room and tiptoed over to where Doc sat, sleepily nodding off in a chair.  “Doc!” he hissed.

Doc threw his hands in the air with a start.  “Wha…what?”  He shook his head and wearily rubbed a hand over his face.  “Doggonnit, Festus…  You scared me half to death!  Keep it down, will ya’?  You’ll wake everybody up.”

Festus finally noticed Miss Kitty curled up on the chaise, slumbering soundly, her unbound copper red tresses gleaming riotously in the slanting morning sunlight.  Her shoulders were wrapped in a shawl with a quilt draped across her lap, girlishly unpainted, softly-freckled face flushed with sleep but peaceful.  Last night’s tray of half-eaten supper from Delmonico’s sat forgotten on the bureau.

Doc explained in a whisper, “I promised Kitty I’d sit up with Matt if she’d take some sleeping powders and get a little rest.”  He grimaced and shook his head, muttering, “This whole confounded situation has really taken the wind out of her sails.”

Festus nodded and quietly agreed, “I knowed it, Doc, since Miss Kitty ain’t been actin’ like herself a’tall.”

“Well, Festus, Kitty was injured, too.  She had to fight off that no-good bastard Barens not once, but twice!”

Festus’s expression grew hard.  “Whatta’ you mean, Doc?”

“She got banged up pretty bad, Festus.”  Doc finished darkly, “You just can’t see her injuries…”

Festus’s  eyes crinkled with concern.  “Is she gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine, but it’s going to take a lot of rest and consideration on our parts for her to recover fully.”  Doc scrubbed tiredly at his rheumy eyes.   “She’s been through a lot, Festus.”

“Well, Doc, is there somethin’ I kin do?”

“You’re doin’ it right now, coming here to check on Matt and Kitty…”  He added, “…and bringing them breakfast.  That’s just what they needed.”  Doc rose stiffly from his chair.

“Now, Doc, you kin just head on back to your office and get some rest your own self.  I’ll be glad to set a spell with Matthew.”

“Alright, Festus, I’ll take you up on that offer.  I’m gettin’ too old for this…”  Doc placed his battered hat over his thick, wiry gray hair.

“Now, Doc, I weren’t gonna say a thing about yer age…  I’m bein’ considerate-like on account of Matthew and Miss Kitty here.”  His eyebrows reached toward his hairline.  “Whatcha’ think about that?”

“Thanks a lot,” he answered, shaking his head.  “I appreciate that.”  Doc headed for his bag and measured out another dose of powerful pain killer in a glass.  “If Matt wakes up in terrible pain again, and I don’t doubt that he won’t, you can give him this, alright?”

“I got ‘er, Doc.  Give ‘im this to kill the pain.  Will do!”

“You tell Sam to come get me if you need anything.”

“Don’t you fret none a’tall.  I’ll take care of everthing, you just wait and see.  You ain’t got a thing to worry your head about none…”

Festus opened the door for Doc, who stood contemplating his friend’s words.  “No, Festus, I don’t think I will worry.  I’m sure you’ll take care of things just fine, just like when you tricked those thieves into staying in Dodge until the soldiers arrived on the train.”

Festus’s jaw dropped.  Doc winked and departed, whistling softly, a twinkle in his eye.

Festus gave a tiny, surprised, “Hmmph!” and shuffled over to check on Matthew.  He busied himself straightening Matt’s covers, clucking like a mother hen, and gently felt his friend’s forehead like he imagined Doc would do, to check him for fever.  When Matt made a noise in his sleep and turned his head, Festus quickly hot-footed it back from the bed and decided it might be the best course of action to just let Matthew rest peaceful-like. 

Festus puttered over and sat down gingerly in one of Miss Kitty’s fancy chairs, where his eyes lit on the chair’s owner still sleeping snug as a bug in the chaise next to him.  She surely was a sight for sore eyes, that Miss Kitty Russell.  She was as purty as an April sunrise with her dazzling red hair and bright blue eyes.  Festus would be mighty appreciative if he had a smart, looksome woman like her waiting for him at the end of a hard day’s work.  Matthew was a lucky feller indeed. 

When he recollected back, was it only two days past?...it pained him mightily to think of the pure heartache in her sweet face when she had thought poor Matthew was dead.  It purt near broke his own heart clean in two.  He’d meant it when he’d knelt before her and swore to bring those killers to justice, even if it took him till the end of his days.  He’d do anything for Miss Kitty.  She and Matthew and even old Doc were probably the best friends he’d ever had in all his born days.  They was good people. 

Buried deep in his woolgathering, he hadn’t noticed two drowsy, sapphire eyes slowly flutter open.  “Festus?”  Kitty’s sleep-scratchy voice quietly called.

Festus sprang up, hat in hand.  “Mornin’, Miss Kitty.  Sorry iffin’ I woke ya’.  I’m a’relievin’ Doc fer a while whilst he goes and gets hisself some shuteye.”

Kitty pulled herself slowly up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and tugged her shawl more tightly around her thin nightgown.  “When did he leave?”

“Oh, he ain’t been gone long a’tall.  Not more’n ten minutes or thereabouts.  Why, you was a’sleepin’ like a baby.”  He smiled as she covered a yawn.  “I didn’t wanna wake you up, you looked so peaceful-like.  You need all the rest you can get, Miss Kitty.  Doc says you plumb been through the wringer.”

“Oh, he does, does he?” One dark eyebrow shot up and she shook her head.  “What did he tell you, exactly?”

Festus fiddled with his hat brim as he perched once again on the edge of the chair beside her.  “Oh, not a lot, Miss Kitty.  He said you was bothered by that Barens feller.”  Festus squinted as he met her eyes evenly and softly added, “He said you was hurt purty bad.” 

Festus suddenly noticed faint bruises on Kitty’s neck where it met her shoulder.  She followed his gaze and hastily shifted her shawl to cover the marks.

“I’ll be all right, Festus,” she said dismissively as she tucked her sleep-tousled hair behind an ear.

“I know you will, Miss Kitty.  I just want ya’ to know iffin’ there’s anything I kin do fer ya, you jest let old Festus know, alright?”

Her eyes softened as she remembered Festus’s solemn declaration at her feet the night of the raid.  Festus had been as torn up about Matt’s supposed death as she had been, she believed.  Kitty cleared her throat and asserted, “Doc says you were the one who got the raiders caught.”  She looked into his eyes.  “He says you tricked them into believing there was gold coming in on the seven o’clock train, when it was really full of soldiers.”

His mouth turned up at the corners a tiny bit as he hastened to say, “Oh, ‘pshaw, Miss Kitty.  It weren’t nothin’.  Anybody coulda’ outsmarted them good-fer-nothin’ rascals.  Why, old Matthew woulda’ done it hisself if he’d a not been feelin’ so poorly.”

Kitty adjusted the quilt on her lap and sighed, then reached across and took Festus’s rough hand and looked him straight in the eye.  “Festus, this whole town owes you a debt of gratitude for saving their belongings and gettin’ those outlaws caught by their own greed.” 

He looked down at his lap and replied, “Aw, Miss Kitty, you don’t hafta’…”

“Don’t tell me what I have to do, Festus Haggen.” She squeezed his hand harder and added, “I appreciate everything you said to me that…awful night…”  Her voice caught in her throat.  “…and all that you did for Matt, too.  You’re a true friend and a good man, Festus.”

Kitty leaned over and kissed his stubbly cheek as his eyes took on a look of pure wonderment.

“Now, Festus, I think it’s time you left so that I can get dressed.  Is that breakfast you brought?”  She tucked a wayward red curl behind her ear again and said, “I’m starving, and I bet Matt will be , too.  I’ll make sure he eats and that he knows you were the one who brought it to him.”

Festus stood wordlessly and grinned.  Kitty rose next to him and impulsively wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, tears stinging her eyes at the utter devotion and thoughtfulness of this rough-hewn hill man. 

“Aww, Miss Kitty,” he effused as he awkwardly patted her back.

She reluctantly let him go and wound her wrap tightly around her, then walked Festus to the door. 

At last, he managed to promise quietly, “I’ll come back later and check on ya’ both, Miss Kitty.  If there’s anything a’tall I kin do fer ya’, all’s ya’ gotta do is holler.”

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“Kitty?”  Matt’s hoarse voice was weak as a kitten’s. 

“I’m right here, Matt.”  She hurriedly rose from the chair she’d placed at his bedside and laid a cool hand on his pale cheek.  “How are you feeling?”

“You really wanna’ know?” he managed to joke softly.

Raking the hair off his damp forehead, Kitty worriedly asked, “Are you hurting?  Doc left you some more medicine.”

“Yeah, Kitty,” he grimaced as he tried to shift his body.  “It’s pretty bad.”

“I’ll give you Doc’s medicine, and then you think you can eat a little?”

“Aw, Kitty, I’m not really hungry.”

She cajoled, “But you’ve got to eat to keep your strength up, and Festus brought it by this morning just for you.”

“Festus, huh…?”  He made a face.  “It’s not possum, is it?”

“No,” she laughed.  “Bacon and eggs.  I had some already.  And there’s broth if you don’t think you can handle the regular fare.”

“Broth would be good.”

“Can you sit up a little?”  She stacked the pillows and helped him raise his head and shoulders a bit, her heart twisting in her chest as he grunted in pain.  “Take your medicine first,” she instructed gently as she held the glass of laudanum to his mouth.  He frowned at the bitter taste but quickly swallowed it down.  Kitty placed a napkin under his chin and carefully placed a spoonful of warm broth to his dry, cracked lips.

He drank it and looked up at her questioningly, his discomfort etching deep lines around his eyes.  “Have you seen Doc today?”

She gave him another spoonful of broth and answered, “Doc sat up with you last night, Matt.  He gave me something to help me sleep, and we both stayed right here with you.”

Squinting meaningfully at her, he asked, “You two okay?”

“Yes, Matt, he explained things to me last night.”  She sighed and wiped a drop of soup from his chin.  “Doc told me that he didn’t have the opportunity to let me know that you were still alive.  There was always someone around who could have hurt you.”  Her stomach lurched at the thought of Doc operating on Matt in her dark cellar, lying alone afterward with no one to care for him while Doc sat guard over her at Ma Smalley’s.

“So you’re not upset with him anymore?”

“No, Matt, everything’s fine.”  She gave him a reassuring smile as she fed him another bite.  “Honest.”

“Good.”

Kitty added lightly, “Festus sure turned out to be the big hero in all this business.”

Matt chuckled, “You can say that again.”  Then he coughed shallowly, holding his bandaged side.

Kitty added softly, “Doc and Festus are pretty good friends to have around, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re right.”  He sighed.  “How much more of this are you going to make me eat, Kitty?”

“Two more bites.”

“Yes, ma’am…”

When he was done, she laid the bowl aside and gently blotted his lips with the napkin.  Kitty wound her fingers through his thick hair and leaned over to kiss his cheek, appreciatively inhaling his familiar scent, unutterably thankful to have him by her side, bullet wounds or no.  Her large blue eyes misted with tears.

Matt’s eyelids fluttered as he murmured groggily, “What’s the matter, honey?”

“Not a thing, Matt…” She took his hand and stroked it gently as he neared sleep.  “I’m just so thankful you’re still here with me, Cowboy.”

“Me too, sweetheart…”

Kitty quietly held his big hand in hers until tranquil, healing sleep claimed him once more.

To be continued…

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A Time to Heal, Chapter 7 "Healing Hands"

This story contains plot elements from the Season 11 episode of Gunsmoke entitled “Seven Hours to Dawn” written by Clyde Ware, original air date September 18, 1965.  Directed by Vincent McEveety. 

“He smells like a horse, Doc,” Kitty entreated.  “He’s gotta have a real bath if he’s gonna’ stay in my bed.”  A lone, manicured eyebrow crept upward to emphasize her point.

“Well, Kitty, I don’t see why not.  His wounds are healing very nicely.  I’ve never seen anybody in my life who heals as fast as Matt Dillon…” 

“Hmph...” Kitty observed wryly.  “It’s a good thing…”

Doc scratched his head under the edge of his hat and screwed up his face in thought.  “He’ll need some help getting into the tub though.  He’s been flat on his back for four days and is still medicated to boot.  I’ll get Festus up here to help.  You ask Sam to fill the tub.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, and headed downstairs to locate her bartender.

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“Lean forward, Cowboy.”

Matt groaned appreciatively as she vigorously scrubbed his broad, muscled back.  “How one man can get so dirty just lying in bed is beyond me,” she teased. 

“Beats me,” he grinned at her.  “Whoa, take it easy there, Kitty.”  His breath came in a hiss, “I think one of Gore’s men pounded me there pretty good.” 

“Sorry, Matt,” she apologized, gently kissing the spot on his arm that had been tender.  “That better?”

“The only way you can make it better is if you head a bit north…” he breathed and moved closer, capturing her lips in his own.  “Mmm…” he hummed.  “I’ve missed you…”

She pulled away in surprise.  “Missed me?  I’ve been right here the entire time.”

“Yeah, but not, you know…  Here.”  He leaned back and smiled suggestively. 

She dunked the soapy washcloth back in the water.  “Matt, you’ve been hurt bad.  How could you be thinking about…”

“Oh, I could be flat on my back…on my deathbed…and thinking of you, Kitty.”  

She emptied a pitcher of clear water over his clean, soapy hair, threading her fingers admiringly through his thick, wet curls.  “Matt, you realize it’s only been four days since we…” 

“Kitty, sometimes four days can seem like a whole lot longer to a man.”  He scrubbed his hands over his face before waggling his eyebrows roguishly at her.

“Apparently so,” she chuckled.  She slicked her hands over his shoulders and arms, enjoying the feel of his bare wet skin against hers.  “How are you feeling today?  Are Doc’s powders helping the pain?  I’m so glad you’re not taking that laudanum anymore.”

“How could I not be feeling wonderful with the first-rate care I’m getting around here?”  Her eyes sparkled at his words, and he leaned towards her for a soft peck on her inviting lips.  “I’ve got the world’s finest nurse…”  His kiss deepened and it was her turn to moan in appreciation.  He pulled her closer and crushed her voluptuous breasts to his dripping chest, sweeping his hot tongue into her slick mouth.

“Mmmm…” she hummed and then pulled back.  “Wait a minute…” she said breathlessly.

“What?”

“Doc will kill me.  He said no funny business.”

Matt smiled crookedly and answered, “I assure you I find nothing funny about this situation in the least…”  He reached for her again.

“No, Matt, seriously!  You wanna bust some stitches?  I’m telling you, Doc would kill me.”  She raised her eyebrows at Matt.  “I nearly died when he gave me that particular doctor’s order.”

Matt snorted. 

“It’s not funny, Matt.  You should have Doc lecture you about your private affairs sometime.”  Kitty looked down at her dress.  “Aw, now look at that.  I’m soaking wet…”

Matt stretched his arms and laced his hands behind his head.  “You could take it off.”  He winked at her.

She stood and started unbuttoning the front of her gown while Matt grinned enormously.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Mister.  I’m just taking the dress off so I don’t ruin it.” She draped the damp garment across a chair to dry and approached him in her cotton petticoat and corset, putting her hands on her hips.  “Now lean back, and let me finish.”

Matt’s expression turned to one of consternation. 

“What?” She frowned at him when he didn’t answer.  “What’s the matter, Matt?”

“What happened to you, Kitty?”

Her mouth dropped open as soon as she realized what she had done.  She’d been hiding her bruises from Barens' attacks very well these past four days, but now she’d gone and let the cat out of the bag.  She knelt down beside the tub and sighed.  “Now, Matt, you were hurt so badly.  I didn’t want to worry you with a few little bruises.  I’m alright, really.”

“Where did you get those bruises on your arms?  What happened to you?” he repeated sternly, but then took her hand in his and sighed, “Please.  Tell me, honey.”

“I guess I got into it with one of Gore’s men.”

He looked at her wordlessly, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“Twice.”  She self-consciously tucked a wayward red curl behind her ear.

“Which one, Kitty?”

“Now, Matt, I’m pretty sure he got what he deserved.”  She looked down at her hands and picked at a hangnail.  “It was Barens.”  Kitty’s face turned hard.  “Doc said he was shot.  Killed.”

“Well, good, dammit.”  Matt’s frown deepened.  “ What the hell did he do to you?”

“Nothing, Matt.  Why, Doc charged in and knocked the tar out of him!”

“Doc?  Really?  Why didn’t he tell me…?”

“You’ve not exactly been yourself for the last few days, Matt.”

“Yeah, you’re right…”  Squinting  earnestly at her,  Matt took her chin in his hand and pulled her face close to his.  “You promise me he didn’t…”

“I promise,” she breathed.  “Nothing a little paint and powder won’t cover.”  She kissed his mouth lightly.  “Unless I go getting undressed in front of people…”

“You’d better not be getting undressed for anybody but me, sweet girl.”  He pulled her lush bottom lip into his warm mouth. 

“I won’t…  Promise…  Cross…my…heart…” she mumbled into his lips.  Matt’s hands strayed to her soft breast and she pulled away again.   Kitty warned, “Mattt…”  He sighed and sat back reluctantly.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she said firmly.  “I’ll go get Doc and Festus to help…”

“No, I think I can handle it, Kitty.  Besides…” Matt grunted, slowly and stiffly pulling himself up out of the water as he held onto her shoulder for balance.  He grinned sheepishly, and she was met eye to eye with his reason for not wanting his friends to help him out of the tub.  “I don’t think Doc and Festus can help me with this.”

“Oh,” she murmured.  “Is that a gun you’re pointing at me, Marshal, or are you just glad to see me?”

“Very funny.”  He tugged her up beside him and enveloped her in a dripping, man-sized hug.  “Oh, what you do to me, woman.”

“Me?  Why, Marshal, I did no such…”

He smothered any further reply by sliding his hungry lips over hers in a hot kiss that lasted until she could no longer breathe.

She gasped, “Wait…” 

“What now?”

“We’ve got to get you dried off.”

“Really, Kitty?  I’ve got other things in mind.”

“No, Matt.  What if Doc comes back to check on you?  And Festus…”

She grabbed a towel and tried not to smile at his obvious disappointment as she began drying his broad chest, taking great care around his bullet wounds and bruises.

“Hold out your arms,” she ordered, rubbing his smooth, warm skin, fragrant with the clean smell of soap.

“Now turn around.”  She swept the towel over his well-defined shoulders, down his strong back, to the firm, round backside she loved so well.  Matt Dillon cut a fine figure of a man, if she did say so herself.  She walked back around to face him and got on her knees.  He groaned involuntarily.

“Matt…”

“I know, honey.  I know…”

“Stitches, remember?”

“But I don’t have any stitches in my…”

“Very funny.”  She bit her lip as she rubbed the soft towel across the firm evidence of his desire.

“Good golly, Kitty, you’re torturin’ me.”

“Sorry.”

She dried his long legs, her silky unbound hair brushing against his sex, and he sucked in a breath.

“Baby, I don’t think I can stand up much longer.  You’re killin’ me.”  He gave her an apologetic grin.  “Just remember, I’m not quite myself yet.”

She threw the towel on a chair and pulled him by the hand into the bedroom where she turned the quilt back.  “I changed those dirty sheets while you were in the tub.  Under the covers, Cowboy,” she ordered.

“Only if you come with me.”  He gave her a small, hopeful smile.

She placed a delicate finger on her lips, pretending to weigh her options, until he unceremoniously pulled her down on the bed.

She protested, “Hey, watch it!  I think you’re definitely getting your strength back, big man.”

He rolled on top of her and breathed into her ear, “Only if I get to use it on you, honey.”

“Be careful, Matt.  Don’t overdo it.”  Suddenly she froze and looked at him questioningly.  “Is the door locked?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled as he nibbled on her neck.

“You’re under the influence of pain killers.  You wouldn’t care if Jesse James himself came walking through that door.”

“Nope,” he said as he worked his way up to her ear.  “I sure wouldn’t.”

“Well, I do.”  She wriggled out from under him and walked to the door, giving him a wide-eyed “I told you so” look when the door proved to be unlocked.

“Matt Dillon, you have got to settle yourself down,” she said reprovingly, hands on hips, as she returned to the bedside.  “You need to rest.  You don’t need to be fooling…”

Matt sat up and swung his legs around to the floor, one foot planted on either side of her.  Being confronted by that much naked male skin proved to be Kitty’s undoing.   She groaned as Matt pulled her tightly against him and kissed her deeply, his strong hands caressing her bottom, then sliding eagerly between her legs.  Suddenly, she gasped in pain and broke the kiss, shying away from his caresses.

“What’s the matter, Kitty?”

“Nothing, Matt.”

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?”  His tone was anxious and his eyes clouded with unhappy realization.  “You didn’t just get into a tussle with Gore’s man, did you?”

She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes filling with tears.  Her voice was no more than a whisper.  “No, Matt.”  She wrapped her arms protectively around her waist.  “He tried…”  She took a deep breath.  “He tried to rape me.” 

“He didn’t…?”

“No, Matt, he didn’t.  I told you, Doc hit him and got him off me.”  She sighed.  “He just hurt me a little is all.  I’m a little sore.”

“Let me see, Kitty.” 

“It’s really nothing…” she protested.

He took her chin in his hands and looked directly into her eyes.  “Kitty, you don’t have to be brave for me.  I don’t want you to try and hide anything from me, you hear?”

Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she choked back a sob as he gently unwound her arms from her body.  Matt slowly pulled at her corset laces and loosened her stays to expose her bruises, too many to number.  He turned her slowly and kissed them one by one, on her shoulders, back, arms and breasts.  He untied her petticoat and drawers, pulling them slowly down to the floor to find more angry yellow-green discolorations.  “Oh, sweetheart…” he breathed. 

He laid her back on the bed, hovering over her to kiss her injured thighs tenderly.   He laid his head on her stomach and stroked her legs while she cried softly, her fingers tangling in his hair.   He murmured quietly against her belly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

“It’s okay, Matt.” she whispered.  “I’d say you were considerably worse off than me.”  She gave a crooked smile.  “Besides, Doc took pretty good care of me.”

“I owe Doc one,” Matt muttered darkly.

Her blue eyes softened as they stared into the distance.  “Yeah, I need to tell Doc how much I appreciate what he did for me.”’

Matt kissed her soft belly and reached over to pat the pillow next to his.  They slid under the covers together and lay blissfully skin to skin.  Sliding a knee between his warm thighs, Kitty gently kissed his lips and nestled against his chest, adding quietly, “But…you’re here now, Cowboy, and that’s what counts.”

End.

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A Time to Heal, Chapter 5 "Explanations"

This story contains plot elements and a tiny bit of dialogue from the Season 11 episode of Gunsmoke entitled “Seven Hours to Dawn” written by Clyde Ware, original air date September 18, 1965.  Directed by Vincent McEveety. 

It was dark by the time Doc knocked on Kitty’s door an hour later, balancing a heavy tray of food in one hand.  When no one answered, he turned the knob and slipped quietly inside the heavily shadowed room, lit only by a small oil lamp on the bedside table.  The flickering glow barely illuminated Matt as he slept tranquilly, his steady, even breaths reassuring to Doc’s practiced ears. 

He gingerly set the supper that he’d carried from Delmonico’s onto a small table and waited for his aged eyes to adjust to the dim light.  He finally glimpsed Kitty dressed in a diaphanous nightgown, seated in a chair by the window in a patch of pale moonlight; his breath caught in his throat at her fragile loveliness.  She was barefooted, knees drawn up to her chin, staring vacantly out of the window.  The bewitching hair tumbling down her back in vibrant waves contrasted starkly against her pale, luminous skin even in the silvery blue light of the moon, and he thought for a moment she could very well be a fairy queen straight out of his well-worn books of knights and castles and far away kingdoms.  Ah, to be a young man again…     

“Kitty?” Doc called softly, reluctant to break the silent, shimmery spell.

Her gaze never wavered from the window, sapphire blue eyes liquid in the eerie illumination.

Doc quietly stepped up behind her.  “Kitty…” he began and touched her hand.  “Kitty, you’re as cold as ice.  Let me get you something…”

He found her shawl lying on the back of the settee and quickly wrapped it around her shoulders.  She looked up at him with a start, finally taking notice that he was in the room.  Then he shuffled over to the bureau and poured her a sizeable glass of good strong whiskey, which he was sure would take the chill out of her blood.  He poured himself one as well, and pulled a chair up next to his friend, handing her the amber glass of liquid warmth.

She held it with both hands and drank deeply.  “Thanks, Doc,” she murmured, so quietly he could barely hear her.  She drained the glass, absently wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  Doc took the empty glass from her and set it on the table, returning to his place beside her.  He pulled his chair closer and peered at her queerly blank expression.  At last she sighed deeply and spoke in a faraway voice.

“I wanted to die, Doc.”  She wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “I really did.”

“Kitty, honey…”  Doc’s voice was strained as he struggled to respond, “I know how awful hard this has been on you…”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Doc?”  She turned to him with a pained expression, and he swore he could feel his heart breaking right in two.  Her tear-filled eyes beseechingly searched his own. “Why didn’t you tell me Matt was alive?”

“I couldn’t…” he faltered and, frustrated, swiped a hand over his mustache.  “I didn’t know!”  He looked intently at her.  “I swear, I didn’t know if he was still alive or not.  Not until Festus and I left you and went to check on him at Percy Crump’s!”  His eyes cast upward, searching for the words to explain to her.  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up.  I didn’t want you hurt twice…”

“You didn’t know?” she repeated, confused.  Kitty hugged her knees tightly.

“I didn’t know for sure, Kitty.  His heart was barely beating there in the street after they’d shot him.  Festus couldn’t even hear his heartbeat!  If I’d let on Matt was still alive, they’d have killed him, then and there!  When I left you in your room, I didn’t know what I’d find at Percy’s.  I very well may have found a corpse.”

A strangled sound escaped Kitty’s lips at his blunt statement, and Doc quickly put his arm around her shoulders.  “I’m sorry, Kitty.  I’m so sorry about this whole dadgum mess.  By the time I got the bullets out of Matt and thought he might actually pull through, I never had a chance to tell you.  That good-for-nothing Barens wouldn’t let you out of his sight long enough for me to let you know at that point...”

When he’d left Matt in the Long Branch cellar the night of the raid, Doc had promised him, “I wanna go get Kitty and take her over to Ma Smalley’s…I’m not gonna leave her for a minute.”  Doc had fully planned on giving her the extraordinary news about Matt’s “greatly exaggerated demise” then.

But when he’d entered Kitty’s room, he was enraged to find Barens, fly open, standing behind Kitty with one hand gripping her mouth and the other hand fumbling under her skirts.  She was struggling with all her might, clawing at his face and hands, but the villain had a sheer strength advantage over her.

Doc dropped his bag to the floor and snarled at him, “Get your filthy hands off of her!” 

Barens ignored him and continued to tear at Kitty’s clothing, so Doc elbowed him hard in the kidney.  Barens let go with a frustrated groan, and Doc pulled Kitty into his arms, desperately asking, “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, Doc,” she gasped, but laid her head on his shoulder, trembling violently.  He held her tightly, patting her back and dragging her further from the man who was determined to have her, one way or another.

“I’m taking her to Ma Smalley’s to get some rest,” Doc hoarsely growled at Barens, who was bent at the waist, holding his side.  “You keep away from her, you hear?”

“You don’t tell me what to do, old man,” Barens hissed.  “What if I want to go with you, huh?”

“Don’t you touch her,” Doc warned menacingly.  “I swear, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

Barens laughed.  “You?  I don’t think so, you old codger.”  He straightened up and glared at Doc.  “Come on, she wanted it…”

Doc lunged at the man, but Kitty desperately held onto his arm, pulling him back, “No, Doc!”  She stepped between them, putting her hands on his chest, and pleaded, “I can’t lose you, too!”  She latched eyes with him.  “Please, Doc, let it go...”

Doc straightened his coat and blew out an infuriated breath, “Come on, Kitty.  You need rest.  I’ll take you to Ma’s and give you something to help you sleep.”

“And I’ll go with you,” Barens added threateningly.  “I’ll see if this Ma Smalley has anything to contribute to the ‘cause’.”  He laughed.  “Let’s go.”

Doc had wrapped a protective arm around Kitty’s waist and held her close as they skirted Barens and walked out the door. 

At Ma’s, Barens had never left them alone, not for one minute.  He’d hovered at the bedroom door, watching as Doc finally gave Kitty some powders to help her sleep.  At least Doc could give her a few hours’ rest and peace from this living hell.  Doc had refused to leave her.  He sat beside Kitty on the bed, holding her hand until she quietly drifted off, tears silently trailing from the outer corners of her strained eyes.  After a while, when Barens saw that Doc was indeed not going to leave his charge, he’d lost interest and left to see what he could get of value out of Ma.

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“Kitty, honey, you slept through the night.  I stayed with you, just like I promised Matt.  I sat in Ma’s parlor while you slept just to make sure that filthy bastard didn’t come back.  And then I woke you the next morning after shots were fired and it was all over.  That was the first opportunity I’d had to tell you.  I took you straight to Matt, sweetheart.”

Kitty laid her head on Doc’s shoulder, wetting his shirtfront with her mute tears.  He patted her back comfortingly, letting her cry as his own eyes filled at her remembered pain.  This had been a long, hard day for Kathleen Russell.

To be continued…

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A Time to Heal, Chapter 4 "Differences"

This story contains plot elements from the Season 11 episode of Gunsmoke entitled “Seven Hours to Dawn” written by Clyde Ware, original air date September 18, 1965.  Directed by Vincent McEveety. 

Doc slipped quietly through the door after he knocked twice and no one answered.  Spying two still forms under the covers, he hesitated a moment, but then tiptoed around to Matt’s side of the bed to give his patient a quick examination.  Matt’s pulse was steady and his temperature was normal.  No sign of fever, thank heavens.  Doc’s mouth turned up at the corners when he noticed Matt’s large hand possessively holding Kitty’s smaller one between them on the bed, his fingers laced in hers.  If Doc were twenty years younger, he’d have given Matt Dillon a run for his money for the chance to be the one holding Kitty Russell’s hand…

Glancing over at the beautiful redhead lying peacefully beside Matt, he was struck by how young she looked with her hair down, soft curls escaping from the blue satin ribbon holding it.  Without her usual paint, he could see those charming little freckles sprinkled across her nose and chest and the sweet, rosy flush of sleep on her cheeks.  He shook his head in consternation at the thought of what she’d been through these last horrifying hours. 

Doc tiptoed back toward the bureau where he placed his bag, and froze in alarm when a floorboard squeaked loudly.  When he heard no signs of stirring from the bed, he dug carefully through his medical supplies.  Precisely measuring out an additional dose of laudanum into a glass, he scratched a quick note to Kitty on a scrap of paper to give it to Matt when he awoke. 

Intent upon leaving the two to sleep in peace, he turned from the bureau to find Kitty sitting up in bed watching him silently.  She gently extricated her hand from Matt’s embrace, slid quietly out from under the covers and walked toward him. 

“Goin’ somewhere, Doc?” she murmured.

“Well, Kitty,” Doc whispered.  “I left you this laudanum for Matt when he wakes up.  He’s got four bullet holes in him, and he’s gonna need something to ease the pain for a few days.”

Kitty winced at his words, and Doc put his hand on her arm.  “I think he’s gonna be just fine, Kitty.  We just need to keep him in bed for a while.  I know he doesn’t like taking pain medication, but at least it will make him stay put until he mends.”

Kitty pulled her arm from Doc’s grasp, looking away, and answered, “I know, Doc.  He’ll pull through alright.”

Doc sighed regretfully and began, “Kitty, I know you’re upset with me…”

“Doc, I don’t wanna’ talk about it…”

“No, I just need to explain…”

Just then, they heard a muffled groan, and Doc and Kitty both hurried to Matt’s bedside.

“Matt, how’re you feeling?” Doc asked, turning Matt’s head so that he could see the wound on his temple.

“Like hell…” Matt said through gritted teeth. 

Kitty rushed to get the dose of laudanum, looking anxiously to Doc who nodded his head at her. 

Doc cajoled, “Now, Matt, I know you don’t usually like to take pain medication but…”

“Shut up, Doc, and give it to me.”

“Alright!  No arguments from you, huh?  That’s good,” he chuckled.  “That’s very good.”

Matt grimaced as he swallowed the bitter liquid Kitty held for him.

“Well, Matt, since you’re going to be down for the count for a while longer, I think I’ll go get some supper.  Kitty, you want me to bring you something?”

“No, thanks, Doc.  I’ll just…”

“Nonsense.  You and Matt both have to eat.  You’ve got to keep your strength up.”  Doc turned, brooking no further argument.  “Get some rest, both of you, and I’ll be back later with something to eat.”

With that, Doc nodded and closed the door firmly behind him.

Matt grunted and tried in vain to get comfortable.  Kitty sat carefully beside him on the bed and adjusted his pillows until he eased back and sighed. 

“Just lie still and the medicine should start working soon,” Kitty whispered as she soothingly stroked the warm, bare skin of his arm.

Matt’s voice was quiet.  “What was all that business about, Kitty?”

“What ‘business’?”

“Between you and Doc…  I heard you arguing.”

“Nothing, Matt.”

“You told him you didn’t want to talk about it.  What didn’t you want to talk about?”

“Matt, really…”

“Kitty, tell me.  Why are you upset at Doc?”  Matt coughed and held his bandaged side.  “Does it have something to do with what you said to him this morning after I shot Mace Gore?”  His blue eyes seem to penetrate her but his pained voice was no more than a whisper.  “Did you really think I was dead?”

Kitty’s eyes welled as she fought to steady her voice.  “Matt, let’s talk about this when you’re feeling better.”

Moving stiffly, Matt grasped Kitty’s hand and held it tightly.  “Honey, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”  His lips brushed her fingers as he said hoarsely, “But, you know, whatever Doc did to make you mad, whatever he had to do, I think he probably did it for a good reason.” 

Kitty bit her lip as she smiled gratefully at Matt, her vision a blur through her unshed tears.

Matt’s blue eyes were half-closed as the laudanum took hold of him.  He tugged Kitty closer and closer, until her lips met his for a sweet and gentle kiss.  Then he determinedly pulled her down on the bed next to him and said drowsily, “Doc would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, Kitty.  He loves you dearly.”

She lay on her side as close to his body as she could get without hurting him, hot tears splashing soundlessly from her eyes onto the white cotton sheet.  She started to answer him, but then she saw that he was sleeping peacefully, his pain thankfully forgotten.   

To be continued…

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A Time to Heal, Chapter 3 "Rest..."

This story contains plot elements from the Season 11 episode of Gunsmoke entitled “Seven Hours to Dawn” written by Clyde Ware, original air date September 18, 1965.  Directed by Vincent McEveety. 

For the second time today Kitty was startled from a deep sleep by the sound of knocking.  This time she lay soaking in bathwater that had long since grown cold.  Dammit, she must’ve fallen asleep in the tub. 

Doc called anxiously to her through the bathroom door, “Kitty, are you okay in there?”

She sat up, scrubbing her face with wet hands, and answered tersely, “I’m fine.  I’ll be out in a bit.”  She rose from the tub, grabbing her towel as she shivered with cold, and scrubbed her dripping skin dry as quickly as possible. 

Kitty donned a simple blue dress, dashed a comb through her tousled hair and tied it back with a satin ribbon.  No time for paint today.  She’d been away from Matt’s side for too long already.  She hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the tub, but her exhausted body must’ve had its own ideas.

“Kitty, you look like a new woman,” Doc declared when she reentered the bedroom. 

Festus stood, hat in hand, and asked, “You feelin’ better, Miss Kitty?  Matthew here’s been sawin’ logs the whole entire time you was gone.  You didn’t miss nothin’, honest Injun’.”

“Thanks, gentlemen.  I’m feelin’ more like myself.”  She returned to her chair close by Matt’s bedside and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.  “You two can leave now.  We’ll be fine.”

“Are you positive, Miss Kitty?  Me and Doc kin keep you comp’ny…”

“No, thanks, Festus.  I’d rather be alone right now.  It’s been a long day.”

Festus’s brows raised in surprise at Doc, but the two took their cue from their friend.  “Come on, Festus.  Let’s give Kitty some peace and quiet.”  Doc put on his hat, grabbed his bag and added, “I’ll be back later to check on Matt.  If you need anything, just tell Sam and he can get word to us.”  Doc’s piercing gaze made Kitty look away.  “Are you sure you’re gonna’ be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, Doc.  You go ahead and get yourself some rest.  You had a busy night. ”

The two men shuffled out the door, shooting quick backward glances her way, and Kitty sank back into her chair, heaving a weary sigh when she heard the latch close at last.  She tiredly pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a nagging headache coming on, then rose to check on Matt. 

Gently placing a hand on his forehead to check for fever, she let her fingers linger, reveling in the warmth of his skin, so different from what she’d been imagining only a few hours earlier when she’d thought Matt was…dead.  Gone forever.   She shivered involuntarily and closed her eyes, as if doing so would block the nightmare images overrunning her imagination.  But he’s alive, she reminded herself for the hundredth time.  Alive. 

She took his big hand in hers to reassure herself and placed a feather-light kiss on his fingers.  Gazing at his right thumb, she spied the scar where he’d badly burned his finger once frying fish over a fire for a picnic they’d had by the river three…no, four years ago?  Had it really been that long?  She’d insisted he cool his burned hand in the river, and they’d both ended up soaking wet.  Their clothes took forever to dry, draped over bushes in the sun, but neither of them had really minded…

She noticed a telltale chewed fingernail, a bad habit she’d nearly broken him of, but evidently he still did it occasionally when she wasn’t around to catch him.   There was also dried blood under his nails.  She shuddered at the thought.  She would be sure and get that taken care of during his next bath.

Suddenly Matt’s fingers tightened in a weak grip on her wrist and tugged her nearer.  She was struck as always by the sight of his beautiful crystal blue eyes which seemed capable of seeing clear down inside her.  Today, though, his eyes were creased with pain, piercing her heart clean though.  His usual strong, confident voice was hoarse and weak, and she leaned close to hear him as she ran her fingers through his dark, tangled curls.  She heard him whisper, “Lay down…”  He pulled her closer to the bed.  “Rest...”

She kissed his forehead lightly, then slipped under the covers with him, taking care not to jostle his battered body, and lay down beside him.  His fingers tightened around her own, and he gave a quiet sigh, his eyes quickly drifting closed as she stroked his hand.  He was asleep again in an instant.  She lay on her side, watching him sleep for a very long time, until she felt herself drifting off with the comforting sound of Matt’s soft breathing in her ears, reassuring her own battered heart.

To be continued…

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A Time to Heal, Chapter 2 "Battered Bodies, Broken Hearts"

This story contains plot elements from the Season 11 episode of Gunsmoke entitled “Seven Hours to Dawn” written by Clyde Ware, original air date September 18, 1965.  Directed by Vincent McEveety. 

Kitty startled awake to the sound of knocking.  At first, she didn’t remember where she was…  Ma Smalley’s?  Matt…  Her throat constricted at the memory.  But then she sat up, her chest flooding with relief at the sight of Matt sprawled on her bed, the quilt rising and falling steadily with each breath he took.  She’d fallen asleep in a chair next to the bed, pillowing her tousled head on her folded arms next to him.  She needed to be near him, but didn’t wish to disturb his rest.

The insistent knocking began again.  Hastily rubbing sleep from her eyes, she called out, “Just a minute!”  Blood circulation slowly came back to her cramped legs as she walked unsteadily to the door.  Cracking it, she saw Doc and Festus peering cautiously at her.  She threw it open and murmured quietly, “Come in,” as she placed her hands on her hips and arched her back tiredly.  “He’s still sleeping like a log.”

Doc pulled the covers back from his torso as Festus worriedly looked on.  Finding a steady pulse, Doc began peeling away the bandages to examine his handiwork.  Kitty watched warily from a distance as Doc commented, “Looks mighty good...  The wounds are starting to heal nicely.”  Doc touched the bullet crease on Matt’s temple.  “No sign of infection...yet.”   He glanced back at Kitty over his glasses.  “I’d like to get some hot water and soap and clean him up some more.  The conditions I operated under last night weren’t ideal.”

She wordlessly pursed her lips and went to heat water.

Festus watched the door close behind her and whispered, “Doc?  Is somethin’ the matter with Miss Kitty?”

Doc hissed back, “What do you mean, ‘is somethin’ the matter?’  Of course, somethin’ is the matter.  Matt was shot several times.  He nearly died!  Don’t you think she’s got a perfect right to be upset?”

Festus squinted at Doc and replied, “Well, Doc, I knowed that.  Miss Kitty is always pure upset when Matthew gets hurt, but she ain’t never acted like this afore.  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s plumb mad at us.”

“Now, Festus, you’ve got to understand.  Kitty’s a woman.  And women get their feelins’ hurt sometimes and we don’t even know what for.”  Doc scrubbed a hand over his mustache and sadly added, “But, Festus, Kitty’s been through an awful lot this time.  She thought Matt was dead.  You understand that?  She thought she’d lost him for good.”

A glimmer of understanding began to dawn in Festus’s eyes as he removed his hat and looked down at his injured friend.  “Yeah, Doc, I sure do.”

“And I don’t mind tellin’ you that I feel somewhat responsible.”

“Now, Doc, it weren’t yer fault…”  The door opened and Festus quickly amended, “Doc, I think you did a purty fair job patchin’ up ol’ Matthew here, don’t you think, Miss Kitty?”

Kitty set a wash basin, soap and towel on the nightstand and replied, “Yeah, Festus, Doc always patches Matt up real fine.  Doc, you mind if I do this?”  She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“No…”  Doc quickly replied, “No, Kitty, not at all.  I’m sure Matt would rather get a bath from a pretty girl than an old coot like me.”

Festus jumped in, “Now you heared him say it, Miss Kitty.  I didn’t call ‘im an old coot.  He done it his own self.”

Kitty’s mouth mutinously turned up at one corner as she rolled her eyes and said, “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’ve got a Marshal to clean up.”

They stepped back as she sat next to Matt on the bed and rinsed a washcloth in warm water.  Gently cleaning his wounds with soap, she murmured “Shhhh…” when he grimaced in his sleep and stirred.

 

His eyes fluttered open, struggled to focus, then lit on her face.  “Kitty?”  His voice was ragged with 

sleep and pain.

“Yes, Matt?”  She lay the washcloth aside and took his big, rough hand in hers.

“You okay?”

“Yes, Matt, I’m just fine.  But you’re not…”  She looked back anxiously.  “Doc, can you give him something?”

“Of course…just a minute.  I brought some laudanum with me.”

Doc dug in his black leather bag for a bottle of the strong pain killer.  He handed her the medicine in a glass and Festus hurried to help Matt sit up a bit as Kitty held it to his lips.  Matt coughed as he swallowed it down without protest.  Kitty knew Matt was hurting bad if he was taking pain medication so readily.  She wiped a drip from his bottom lip with her thumb and Festus helped him settle back on the pillow comfortably.  

His whispered “Thanks,” was nearly inaudible as his eyes drifted closed again.  He gave a shuddering sigh as Kitty continued bathing his pale skin, running the warm soapy washcloth carefully over his face, arms and chest.  He was asleep again before she had dried him with a soft towel.  Kitty leaned over and gave Matt a lingering kiss on the forehead before she remembered Doc and Festus were standing quietly nearby. 

     

Ruefully, she looked their way as they pretended to examine their fingernails.  But as she began gathering up the bath items, she had to smother a yawn.

Doc cajoled, “Kitty, you’re exhausted.  I can tell by the look in your eyes.  You need to go back to Ma Smalley’s and get some rest.”

“No, Doc, I don’t want to leave him.”

Festus joined in, “Now, Miss Kitty, what good are you gonna’ be to Matthew if you don’t take keer of yer ownself.  We kin shore sit with ‘im fer a spell whilst you go and git yerself some shut-eye.” 

Kitty’s tone was adamant, “No.”  Her breath hitched in her chest before she could continue, “I thought I’d lost him.  I can’t…”  Her voice broke and she quickly turned to the window.

Doc intervened, “Now, Kitty, look here…  I’ll tell you what.  I’ve still got to bandage Matt back up.  Festus and I will stay right here with him while you just go in the other room and get freshened up.” 

Festus chortled, “Why shore, Miss Kitty.  Ladies needs a little time to theirselves.  You cain’t be here with Matthew ever minute of the dadgum day.”

“But, I…”

Doc chided good naturedly, “Look at you, young lady!  You’re wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday.”

“Fine,” she answered with her back still to them.

Festus’s eyebrows raised a notch in surprise toward Doc.  They both stepped back as she soundlessly stalked around the room, gathering fresh clothing.  She stopped with her hand on the bathroom door and gave one last hesitant look at Matt’s sleeping form before she bustled into the next room.  Maybe after she’d had a bath and didn’t look a fright, things would look better to her.

To be continued…                                          

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A Time to Heal, Chapter 1 "Beating Heart"

This story contains plot elements from the Season 11 episode of Gunsmoke entitled “Seven Hours to Dawn” written by Clyde Ware, original air date September 18, 1965.  Directed by Vincent McEveety. 

Alive.  Her heart thudded hard in her chest, in time to the word ceaselessly whirling in her mind, like a desperately prayerful chant:  Alive.  Alive.  Alive.  He’s still alive.

 

She fought to keep control of her raw emotions as she buried her face in his warm neck, inhaling his familiar scent, desperately kissing his scratchy face, trembling arms clutching tightly, hands caressing and touching him again and yet again to prove to herself…is it really true? 

How could this be?  She had spent the last few hours in absolute hell, believing Matt Dillon was dead, shot down like an animal in the street by Mace Gore’s men.  Tortured by mental images of Matt’s body growing ever colder, covered in blackening blood and riddled with bullet holes, blanketed by a shroud and lying alone, unseeing and unseen…  The very thought of him over at Percy Crump’s place…  She’d finally taken the proffered dose of Doc’s bitter medicine and sobbed herself quietly into oblivion. 

The next thing she knew, she was awakened by gunshots from somewhere outside the window of her bedroom at Ma Smalley’s.   She’d stiffly dragged herself out of bed, still wearing her clothes from the night before, and splashed some cold water on her face, willing herself to face the torturous day that lay ahead.  Her first day without Matt. 

A few minutes later, Doc had knocked urgently at her door and wordlessly taken her by the arm back to the Long Branch.  Back to Matt.  Matt was alive.  Alive. 

Now, heedless of Doc waiting quietly across the saloon, she hastily brushed away a mutinous tear that slipped down her cheek and gently touched her lips to her lover’s, once, twice, three times… Thrilling to the feel of his breath in her mouth, his taste on her lips, and that look in his weary eyes that spoke volumes from his heart.  Although Matt Dillon had traditionally been a man of few words, Kitty Russell had always been able to interpret his glances fluently.  

Coming to her senses at last, she quickly called over her shoulder to Doc, “Help me get him upstairs…”

Doc shouted through the swinging doors where Festus was organizing the redistribution of the townspeople's belongings, “Festus, come back here and give us a hand!”

 As she supported Matt, preventing his battered, exhausted body from falling out of the chair, Kitty quickly pressed her fingers over her mouth and choked back a sob.  Matt Dillon was alive.

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Festus blew out an enormous breath as he stepped back from Miss Kitty’s bed where Matt Dillon now lay sprawled.  “Pheww!  Doc, I didn’t know if we was gonna’ make it er not!” 

Doc took out a handkerchief and mopped his perspiring brow, looking down at the big man they’d barely managed to half-drag up the stairs to Kitty’s room.  Kitty was hurriedly unbuttoning the lawman’s shirt and pulling off his boots. 

The act of hauling himself up the cellar stairs earlier following a severe beating plus four bullet wounds and then having a shootout with the outlaw Mace Gore had pretty much done in Marshal Matt Dillon.  He’d nearly been dead weight as Festus and Doc had struggled to get him up the Long Branch stairs to the second floor and into bed.

“You two gonna’ help me out here or not?”  Kitty was shooting them a stern look over her shoulder where she’d managed to get his pants unbuttoned but was at a standstill due to the fact that the big man was out cold. 

“Oh!”  Festus jumped to help.  “Yes, ma’am, Miss Kitty.  I sure am sorry.  You jest step back and ol’ Doc and me’ll take care of this fer ya’.”

The two men grunted as they shifted his lanky bulk while Kitty struggled to remove his bloodied garments, marked with telltale bullet holes that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.  Then she slowly pulled the covers over his bandaged body, the sight tying knots in her insides, and said in a quiet voice, “He’s had a hard day.  I’ll clean him up tomorrow.” 

Doc took the lawman’s pulse as Kitty busied herself putting Matt’s boots under the edge of the bed and folding his clothing into a neat pile.  Doc murmured, “Yes, what he needs now is a lot of rest, Kitty.  And you’re just the person to keep an eye on him and see that he gets it.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, but instead walked to the window and looked out onto the street, her posture stiff and straight.

Festus volunteered, “We’ll let Matthew rest now, Miss Kitty.  But we’ll be back directly to check on ‘im, alright?”

“And I’ll…”  Doc cleared his throat.  “I’ll change his bandages when he wakes up…”

Kitty didn’t answer but continued staring silently out the window as Matt softly snored on her bed. The familiar sound was comforting to her battered soul.  Doc tugged Festus’s sleeve toward the door. 

 

Only when she heard the latch snick closed behind them did she turn again and look at the man lying so pale and still under her covers.  Tears streamed silently down her face as she walked to the bedside and leaned over him, this man she had come so close to losing this time…whom she had actually believed she had lost forever.  Leaning over, she carefully placed her ear over his broad chest so as not to disturb his healing slumber.  She listened to the comforting sound of his big heart beating out the word again and again: alive.

To be continued…

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Making Up Is Hard To Do (An ATC for "The Way It Is")

This story contains plot and dialogue from the Season 8 episode of Gunsmoke entitled “The Way It Is” written by Kathleen Hite, original air date December 1, 1962.  Directed by Harry Harris, Jr.  Due to the vivid depiction of a consensual adult relationship, it is intended for mature readers only.

Ad Bellum squinted angrily at an unnerved, frightened Kitty Russell as they stood arguing in the nearly deserted Long Branch Saloon.  He hotly demanded, “I think the Marshal’s got a right to know!”  Ad shifted his glare to Matt Dillon and declared, “Kitty belongs to me now!  And I’m ready to go.”

Matt calmly countered, “She hasn’t told me that yet.” 

“Then tell him, Kitty, tell him!” Bellum furiously spat.  “It’s somethin’ he’s just gonna have to face.  I took his girl!”

Kitty’s eyes desperately shot to Matt who tried to reason with the insistent, infuriated man.  “Bellum, maybe you and I had better sit down and have a little talk.”

Ad Bellum was having none of it.  Punching Matt solidly in the jaw, he forcefully grabbed Kitty by both arms. “Let’s go!” 

She desperately struggled as the large, powerful man dragged her toward the door, remembering his earlier chilling promise to kill her. 

“Let go of me!” she cried and backhanded him hard across the face.  This only served to infuriate the violently possessive man even more.  He got a choke hold around Kitty’s slender neck.

Matt quickly launched his fist at Ad’s face, connecting and knocking him against the saloon’s swinging doors.  Matt pushed Kitty to safety behind him.

Bellum snarled, “I’m gonna kill you both,” and drew his gun to fire toward the couple.

But Matt drew faster and fired first, his bullet reaching its mark.  Bellum was like an angry, dangerous, wounded animal.  In spite of being hit, Ad relentlessly aimed his gun at Matt and Kitty.  Matt had no choice but to fire once more, fatally wounding him this time, his body crashing through the doors of the saloon.

After checking Bellum’s body, Matt looked anxiously back at Kitty who stood, simply stunned, with her arms wrapped protectively around her waist.  He stepped close and said gently, “I’m sorry, Kitty.”

She finally spoke haltingly, trying to make sense of it all.  “Ad was… two men.  He could be so kind and gentle…and …and he could make a woman feel like such a woman.”  Her face twisted in regret.  “You just saw the other one.”  She turned away from Matt and faced the bar, but he followed.

“I’ll take care of things here, Kitty, and I’ll be back later.”  He looked at Sam in shared, quiet concern, and Sam, in turn, glanced worriedly at an obviously troubled Kitty.  She didn’t answer, but stared into space.

Matt continued, “Maybe we can have supper tonight or somethin’.”

Kitty finally nodded.

He headed for the door but she called wistfully after him, “Matt…”  He turned to look back at her. 

Her eyes, full of regret, sorrow, relief, and maybe something more, searched his face.  “I…Matt,” she stumbled. “I…”

“I know, Kitty….  I’ll see you later.”  He pushed thought the door as she and Sam looked after him.

Sam gently smiled and admitted, “I’m sure glad he’s back.”

She swallowed hard, unable to respond.

Sam added gratefully, “He’s an awful good man to have around, Miss Kitty.”

Finally returning his kindly gaze, she gave a small, secretive smile, replying, “He’s the best.”  Then she gathered her skirts and climbed the staircase to her room to change her torn dress.  Matt would return, and Kitty wanted to be ready for him.

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“Now, Kitty, don’t go gettin’ yourself all upset now, you hear?  You know that Matt can’t help it that he was pulled away suddenly,” Doc cajoled soothingly as he patted her arm.  He couldn’t help but notice that her sapphire eyes had filled with unshed tears when he and Chester were the ones who had met Kitty at the Long Branch, dressed to the nines and waiting expectantly for Matt.

Attempting to console her, Chester clarified, “Miss Kitty, Mr. Dillon sent me specifically to find you and take you to a nice dinner at Delmonico’s.  He was purty upset that those rapscallion Meacham brothers chose this very evening to cause such a fuss over to the Parker homestead.”  Chester scratched his head and added, “I shoulda’ gone my own self to help ‘im out, but he insisted that I come take care of you, since you was probably upset over that Ad Bedlam fella and all…”

Kitty glared at him, and he seemed to wilt a bit under the force of her gaze.

Doc fumed, “Dadblasted, Chester, don’t you dare get her all worked up again!  I thought I told you not to mention…”  Doc took off his hat and whacked Chester on the arm with it.  “Leave it to you…”

Kitty interjected, “Boys…”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“No, you don’t ever mean to…”

Kitty tried again to be heard over the ruckus, “Doc…”

“Now, Doc, you cain’t blame this on me.  I wasn’t the one to go and take up with that…”

Doc bellowed indignantly, “Chester!”

Kitty bit her bottom lip and held her chin up.  She said in a tight voice, “Thank you, boys, but I think I’ll take a rain check on that supper.”

“Oh, Kitty, honey, come on now…”

“No, Doc, I…”  The words caught in her throat.  “I really don’t think I’d be such good company tonight.”  Disappointment welled in her chest and threatened to spill hotly from her liquid eyes.

“Now, Miss Kitty, I didn’t mean anything by what I said.”  Chester had the decency to look shamefaced as he hooked his thumbs in his belt and looked down at his scuffed boots.  “I’m sorry.  I wish you’d just come on and go with us…”

“No thanks, Chester.  I know you didn’t mean any harm.”  She cleared her throat and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “But I’m not really hungry and I need to close out my books.  I’ll maybe just grab a bite to eat later.”

“Are you sure, Kitty?”  Doc took her hand anxiously.  “You sure you won’t change your mind and go with us?”

“I’m sure, Doc.  You go on without me.  I’ll be fine.”  She smiled bravely, patted Doc on the arm and waded through the crowded Long Branch towards her office door.

ljljljljlj

“You’re lookin’ mighty pretty tonight, Kitty.”

It was late, and she looked over her shoulder from the roll-top desk where she was bent over her figures, delicately holding pince-nez spectacles at the end of a gold chain around her neck.  The tall, broad-shouldered Marshal stood admiring the view from her inner office door. 

It was about time.  She’d worn this damn dress just for him.  Mighty pretty, huh?  “Is that so?” she answered drily as she dropped her pencil onto the ledger and turned her body gracefully in the chair to face him.  She was dressed in green silk tonight, the color he most liked her to wear.  The dress had been special-made for yet another social occasion he’d missed, sweet little Lily Parker’s wedding, because duty called, as usual.  Off-the-shoulder, displaying her bountiful charms to advantage, but still ladylike, just the way Marshal Dillon liked.  He appreciated his presents beautifully-wrapped, but maybe that’s because he took so much pleasure in the unwrapping, she thought wryly. 

He remained standing in the doorway, hat in hand, as he apologized, “Kitty, I’m awful sorry about supper tonight…”

“Yeah, well, so am I,” she sighed, picking an imaginary piece of lint off her skirt.

“Come on, Kitty, you know I wanted to take you to…”

“Matt, you always want to take me, but you seldom actually do.”  One delicately arched brow punctuated her statement.

She heard the snick of the door as he quietly closed it behind him, muffling the raucous sounds of the barroom patrons, talking, laughing, arguing, clinking glasses…encircling Matt and Kitty in relative seclusion.

Impatiently, he defended himself, “Kitty, what was I supposed to do?  I’m the Marshal.  It’s my job to…”

“I know, Matt, I know.  I just get so tired of always taking a backseat to your job,” she said resignedly.

“I don’t have a choice, Kitty.”

“Don’t you?”  She knew she was being unfair, but it hurt so, always taking second place to his badge, wondering if she’d forever be his mistress of convenience and nothing more.

“You know damn well I don’t have a choice.  What in tarnation do you want me to do?  Let the spoilers run rampant?  Think about how Dodge used to be, before the law came to town.  Is that what you want?”

“No, Matt, I just wish…”

“I’ve tried to explain it to you, Kitty.  It’s my job.  That’s just the way it is…”

“Matt, you’ve got to understand my point of view.  I just get so tired of…”

“Tired?”  Matt’s anger flared.  “Are you tired of me now, Kitty?  Is that why you took up with that Bellum fella’?”

“No!”  She stood and faced him, arms crossed, exasperation flashing in her blue eyes.  “How can you bring him up now?” 

“Come on, Kitty, tell me the truth.  You said he made you feel like a woman.”  He challenged her in a low voice as he hung his hat on the rack, “Did you kiss him?”

She quickly looked away from his penetrating stare, unable to answer.  She heard the key turning in the latch as he locked the office door behind him, and she swallowed hard. 

He sidled closer to her and spoke quietly.  “That’s what I was afraid of.”  His eyes narrowed as they slowly raked over her body, making her feel undressed.  “So he made you feel like a woman, huh?” he said accusingly. 

“Did he kiss you like this?”  His arm quickly wrapped around her small waist, the force of his scorching kiss arching her back.  His devouring lips plundered hers, his tongue savaged her mouth, his teeth nipped at her lips until they tingled.  She couldn’t breathe, and she felt her knees would give way any second.  His fingers tangled in her hair, copper red curls falling from their restraints.

He felt her lean hard against him for support and he broke their fevered kiss at last.  Pulling back, he scrutinized her hooded eyes, drunken with desire.  “Did he, Kitty?  Did he kiss you like that?” 

She couldn’t answer, her breathing ragged, her limbs shaken by the force of his frenzied passion.

“Did you let him touch you, Kitty?” Matt growled.

She began to wordlessly shake her head, but he slipped determinedly behind her, his breath hot in her ear.  “Did he touch you like this?”  His hand easily slid down the front of her low-cut dress and beneath her lacy corset to cup one heaving breast.  It was a perfect fit for his large hand, and she moaned quietly while his nails scraped against her peach-soft skin as he kneaded and crushed her flesh in his.  His probing fingers found her nipple and squeezed it until she moaned longingly in response, unable to move, unable to speak.

She’d never seen this side of Matt before, the jealous lover, her hot-blooded champion.  His scorching touch, his ravenous hunger for her produced a warmth, a longing ache that slowly spread throughout her pulsating center until she felt herself dripping with overwhelming desire. 

Matt spun her around and grasped her face roughly between his hands, “Did you make love to him, Kitty?  I need to know.  Did you?”

Before she could answer, he’d grabbed her waist and bent her over the cluttered desk.  Stray papers and pencils and ledgers scattered as she steadied herself for his feverish onslaught.  She felt him lift the back of her skirts and shut her eyes as his powerful hands ripped at her delicate underthings, letting them fall to the floor.  She felt him push her feet apart, spreading her legs wide to accept him as he unbuttoned his pants to unsheathe the throbbing proof of his desire for her. 

She sucked in a breath as she felt his large fingers slide inside her heated, glistening opening, and she cried out in surprise.  His deep, expressive voice rumbled in her ear, “Did you let him taste you, Kitty?” as he withdrew and savored her honeyed essence on his own fingers.

“No!” she cried at last.  “I didn’t.  I swear!”

“Did he do this to you?”  With that, his hot hardness penetrated her from behind.  She gasped at the sudden entry, but she was so wet with desire that he moved easily within her velvety quivering muscles. 

“Did you let him touch you here, Kitty?”  He reached around underneath her skirts and found her most sensitive, aching spot.  With the fingers of one hand, he roughly pinched and massaged it, all the while his muscular body pounded into her from behind.  She wailed in absolute surrender to the fiery sensations overtaking her body.  Quickly, he placed his free hand over her lush mouth to muffle her impassioned cries and prevent them from reaching the unsuspecting bar patrons outside her office walls.  Oh, if they only knew what the lovely Miss Kitty Russell was doing now… 

He felt her walls tense around him rhythmically as she gave a final sob, stifled by his large hand.  The sensation sent him over the edge as well, and he came hotly inside of her, spilling his seed with a guttural cry that he muffled by biting down on the delicate, soft flesh of his lover’s sweetly exposed shoulder.  He bent closer and molded his body to hers, whispering in her ear, “Could he make you come like that, sweetheart?” 

He felt her body go limp over the desk, and she looked back at him through mussed red tresses, saying quietly, “I would never have let him touch me like that, Matt Dillon.  I belong to you.” 

He collapsed into the desk chair and pulled her into his lap, brushing the fiery loose strands of hair out of her eyes. 

“You mean that?”  His hand snaked under the folds of her dress and he threaded his fingers possessively through her damp red curls as she shuddered out a breath.

“Of course I mean it,” She attempted to sound cross, but it was difficult with his warm, stroking fingers under her dress.  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Alright, alright.” He held up a hand in surrender.  “I’m sorry.”  He blew out a big breath and repeated, 

“I’m sorry, Kitty.  For everything.”

She rubbed at the tender spot on her shoulder where he’d bitten her.  “Dammit, Matt, that’s gonna’ leave a mark.  I’m gonna’ have to wear high-necked dresses for a week!”

Inhaling his masculine scent and tasting the salt of his sweat, she playfully bit him back on the soft skin of his neck.

“Hey!  You wildcat!”

The hand under her skirts slid around to hold her firm, bare bottom, and she snuggled deeper into his lap.  He murmured in her ear, “You’re my sweet girl, Kitty.”  He could’ve sworn he heard her purr in contentment.

He kissed her ear and asked, “Did you eat supper?”

“No, I was too busy pouting.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starved...”  One corner of her mouth turned up in a crooked smile as she invited, “Supper in my room, Cowboy?”

He kissed her, long and slow and deep, and breathed into her mouth, “I wouldn’t miss it, honey…”

end.