She’d just meant to take a short little nap, but evidently they’d both slept through the afternoon and the night. She reluctantly slipped out from under the warm covers, quick as a wink, and hot-footed it to the hearth to check her clothes. Sigh. Still slightly damp, but good enough to wear for now. She silently placed more wood on the fading embers and thought to herself that maybe she’d dig around later and see if there were any clothes left behind by the poor woman who’d lived here such a short while ago. She dressed hurriedly in front of the fireplace, glancing over her shoulder from time to time making sure that Matt was still sleeping peacefully. Her brow wrinkled slightly. She could swear he had the tiniest of smiles on his face right now. Hmph.
First things first. After she’d visited the outhouse around back of the cabin, she carried a water bucket she’d found in the house out to the well. Tugging on the rope first to make sure it wasn’t rotten, Kitty let the well bucket drop and listened in satisfaction as it splashed when it hit bottom. The rusted pulley squeaked in protest as she pulled on the rope to haul the bucket up and set it on the edge of the stone well. Yesterday, tied to a tree in the middle of a flood, she’d never thought she’d want to see a drop of water again. But suddenly, she realized she was awfully thirsty, and she used the dipper to drink her fill of the cold, fresh clear liquid before she carried it inside the house.
Finding a dented coffeepot and some coffee that she sniffed and deemed usable, she put the pot on the fire to boil. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she was hungry as a bear. Kitty diligently searched until she happily found a small store of home-canned vegetables and fruits that still looked good. Opening a jar, she found a fork and dug right in. Sweet, tender, delicious peaches. Juice ran down her chin, and she wiped it carelessly with her sleeve. She poured steaming coffee into a tin mug and then perched beside Matt on the bed.
“Wake up, Matt,” she said through a mouthful of fruit.
“Mmm…?”
“Matt, you need to eat. I found food.” She enthusiastically stuck another bite into her mouth.
“Not hungry,” he grumbled, laying his arm protectively over his eyes to block the sun’s painful rays. “Stomach hurts…”
“But you’ve got to eat,” she entreated. “You’ll never feel better if you don’t get some food in you. Here…” She offered her fork with a dripping, juicy peach on the end. Then she raised her eyebrow at him and waited.
Matt grunted and wearily opened his mouth, so she carefully thrust the syrupy fruit between his lips before he could change his mind. He chewed slowly and swallowed while she took another bite. She managed to get several more bites down him along with some hot coffee before he complained, “Can’t eat any more, Kitty. Stomach’s cramping.”
She popped the last precious bite from the jar into her mouth and clucked like a mother hen. “You need to go out back, Matt? Come on, I’ll walk with you. I don’t want you passing out in the outhouse.”
“Kitty…” he protested.
“I’m not kidding. All those blows you took to your head, Matt… You’re staggering around like a drunk.” She stood, laying the empty jar and fork aside, then held out her hand. “Come on, let’s go.”
He just sat and looked at her.
She put her hands on her hips. “What now?”
“Could you give me my clothes first?”
“Oh!” She quickly handed him his union suit only and he gave her another look. She retorted, “Well, there’s not any use in you getting completely dressed when you’re going right back to bed.”
He gave a long-suffering sigh and waited again. She mumbled, “Sorry” and turned her back while he slipped it on. Smothering a smile when she turned back round, she gently put her arm round his waist. Men’s underwear wasn’t the most attractive of garments, she had to admit. Not by a longshot. But thankfully Matt managed to get his outhouse business done without incident while Kitty waited within shouting distance.
Safely back in their little cabin, Kitty pulled the bedcovers back and helped him sit down slowly, then surveyed his battered appearance. “Matt, we’ve got to get you cleaned up. All those cuts and scrapes…”
“Aw, do we have to?”
“Yes, Matt, I didn’t come all this way through fights and storms and…floods!” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “…just to have you die on me from an infected cut.” She pouted prettily and he blew out a big breath. He was beaten. He grimaced and grudgingly allowed her to pull his union suit off his shoulders, down his arms to his waist, and he lay back silently, arm draped over his eyes again, whether from pain or embarrassment, she wasn’t sure. Then she went to draw more water from the well to heat in the big iron kettle by the fireplace.
He was asleep again by the time she had her washbasin, soap and cloth ready. She eased down on the edge of the bed and looked him over. Poor Matt. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the damage Sam Keeler had done to him. Soaping her washcloth, she gently cleaned his cuts and abrasions. She held her breath every time he winced a little as the soap stung his skin. Rinsing her cloth in the warm water, she washed the rest of his rugged, handsome face and neck, biting her lip whenever he grunted in pain. She smoothed the threadbare old washcloth over his broad chest and long, muscular arms, then his big calloused hands, holding them a little bit longer than necessary.
When she pulled the bedcovers back further, her stomach lurched as she saw the large, ugly, mottled bruise on his right side, obviously the source of his abdominal pain. Keeler had really done a number on Matt. Her faded cloth traced ever so gently over his skin so as not to hurt him any further. His breathing was so soft and measured, she couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she grasped the worn bedcovers in trembling hands and pulled them back all the way. Once again, Matt’s impressive length was obvious beneath his straining underwear. Her belly burned as she hopefully wondered if she was the cause of that. She set down her washcloth and worked the thin, worn material of his old union suit down over his narrow hips and lean, well-muscled legs. The sight of him made her mouth go dry. She tried to clear her head by taking another deep breath, then took up her washcloth and tended to his needs. Matt had taken care of her out on the prairie; now it was her turn to take care of him when he needed it.
When he was as sweet-smelling and clean as she could get him, she pulled the covers up over his glistening, naked body. She leaned over him, caressing his stubbly cheek softly with her fingertips, and hesitated a moment before brushing a feather-light kiss on his forehead. Then Kitty sat soundlessly in the rocking chair in front of the crackling fireplace and watched Matt Dillon sleep, listening to his soft breathing, wishing she could do something more to help him feel better.
tbc
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