Set Fire to the Rain, Ch. 6 "Kitty's Ride"

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 air date June 16, 1956. This fanfiction was written with absolutely no regard whatsoever to actual Kansas topography, geography or meteorological activity.

Kitty stood in the driving rain, adrenaline rushing through her veins, over the body of Sam Keeler, rifle trembling in her hands as she slowly lowered it.  Eyes wide open, breathing raggedly, she stared at Matt in disbelief.  She'd killed a man.

Matt's voice was but a hoarse whisper as he raised his head from the sodden ground to wearily look at her.  "Get his gun."

Kitty stared at Matt like he was crazy.

His reply: "You can never be too careful."  After the effort of talking, Matt collapsed back once more onto the rushing flow of muddy water that was coursing over the packed soil, down the ridge to the river.

Kitty didn't want to touch Keeler.  She used Matt's rifle butt to knock the Derringer from his grip and jumped back when it fell to the soggy ground.  Not only was Keeler shot, but so were her nerves.  She had to hold it together for Matt.  She had to somehow get him upriver for medical help.  

She reached down and gingerly picked up the small gun that had once belonged to that beast of a prizefighter and stepped away from him as quickly as possible.  Kitty kept expecting him to reach out and grab her ankle.  She kept telling herself that was impossible.  Because she had killed him.  The thought made her stomach churn.

She stuck the small gun in the pocket of Matt's slicker that billowed voluminously around her small form and hurried to the marshal's side.

"Oh, Matt!" she breathed.  She wanting to touch him but was afraid she would hurt him.  His mouth and nose were bleeding and there was a cut on his cheek, but it was hard to tell because it was all mixed with mud and rain streaming over his face.  Instead she pulled off the slicker and laid it over his torso, an effort in futility since he was already soaked to the bone.

"Matt, we've gotta' get you to a doctor."

Matt grimaced at her.

She asked, "How far do you think we are from Cimarron?"

"A few miles," he muttered.  "Kitty, it's pouring down rain."

"With no signs of letting up!  Matt, we need to get you to a doctor now.  You're hurt bad."

"You ride on to Cimarron without me and bring back help."

"I am not going to leave you here by yourself, Matt Dillon!"

"Kitty, I don't think you have a choice."

"Well, do you think you can ride?  If it's only a few miles…"

He struggled to sit up.  "I don't know."

She wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and helped him as best she could, grunting with the effort.  He gasped and held his left side, but remained sitting upright.  "So far, so good," he wheezed.

"You stay here.  I'll go get the horses," she instructed.  She sloshed through the puddles, carrying Matt's rifle to replace in the saddle boot, and found not two, but three mounts, obviously Keeler's mode of transportation for following them over the prairie.  It was a rented horse, from Moss Grimmick's stable.  Kitty grabbed the reins of all three horses and led them to where Matt was sitting under the oak.

"Let me help you up."  Kitty leaned over and let him put an arm over her shoulders and gritted her teeth.  It was painful to watch Matt and hear him groan in pain as he dragged himself to his feet.  He was forced to lean heavily on her for support.  He managed to get his foot in Buck's stirrup, but she had to shove mightily on his backside to help push his body onto the horse.  He gasped at the effort, and bent over double, nearly falling off the other side.

"Matt!" she exclaimed, running round the horse to catch him.  She grabbed his shoulder and pushed to equalize him.

"I don't think I can hold myself up, Kitty," he huffed, holding his side.

She threw his slicker over his shoulders and stood thinking in the cold, stinging rain.  Then, decisively, she hoisted her weighty, sodden skirts above her knees.  "Scoot back," she instructed.

"Back?" he asked.

"Scoot back," she repeated firmly.  "I'm coming up."  She placed her foot in the other stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn and awkwardly hauled herself up in front of him.  It was uncomfortable with her skirts hiked up past her knees, and not very ladylike sitting astride his saddle, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

"Kitty…" Matt's voice was weak as a kitten's.

"Don't you say a word, Matt Dillon."  She shot a dangerous look back at him.  "Wrap your arms around me."

He tentatively put his arms around her slim waist, but she grasped his hands firmly and wrapped them tighter.   He gave a little grunt of surprise.

"Hold on to me, Matt.  I won't break," she insisted.  "We don't have that far to go."  And with that she urged the horse on gently with her knees, at a slow walk, so as not to jostle Matt's injuries.

"What about the other two horses, Kitty?"

"We'll come back for them.  Right now I'm worried about you."  She hugged his arms reassuringly as the horse reluctantly moved forward through the storm.  

They rode on through the torrential rainfall for a mile until Kitty could feel Matt's strength waning.  She turned her head and murmured to him, "Lean on me, Matt.  I'm stronger than I look."

"Kitty…" he whispered, but then she felt him place a little of his weight gratefully against her back.  She could feel his body shivering with pain and cold and exhaustion.  A half mile later, he was sagging, and he rested his cheek on her shoulder.  Kitty's stomach clenched with worry for her companion.  She had to get him to safety.

Suddenly, the horse shied.  It was dark now, so she couldn't see well with the storm clouds shadowing the moon.  But then she heard it, a faint rumbling, in the distance, coming from upriver.  As Buck nickered in alarm, the hair on the back of Kitty's neck stood on end.  Something was wrong.  She just wasn't sure what.  The rumbling got louder.  She could feel the reverberations in the air around them.   Her mind was racing—a train, a herd of buffalo…what the hell was it?

"Matt…"  She shrugged her shoulder to wake him.  "Matt, wake up!  Something's coming.  I feel it."

Matt sat up with a great effort and peered blearily into the darkness.  The thundering, roiling sound was upon them in a flash.  A wall of water four feet high churning down the river channel overcame their horse and swirled around them in the deep blackness of the night.

tbc

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