Set Fire to the Rain, Ch. 8 "Shelter"

Matt dropped to his knees on the saturated prairie earth, clutching his abdomen, where cold-blooded Sam Keeler's fists had pounded his internal organs so ruthlessly. "Can't do it, Kitty," he said breathlessly. "Hurts…bad… Need to rest…a minute."

Kitty's heart sank. She knew Matt must be in excruciating pain to admit that he could go no farther. She crouched down and put her arms around his chest to help him ease down and lie back slowly.

She took a deep breath, frowning thoughtfully, "Matt, I've gotta' go."

"Go?" he asked, eyes closed against the sun, even though the sky was still cloudy. His head pounded and his vision was blurred. Made him nauseous to even open his eyes for very long.

"You know, Matt…" she said abashedly. She emphasized the word, "Go."

"Oh!" he quietly exclaimed, his cheeks blushing pale pink.

"I'll be over in that clump of trees. Um, what about you?" she questioned with her hands on her hips.

"Me?"

"Matt, I know you must have to go, too. Do you think you could manage…" Her voice rose higher. "…without me? While I'm gone?" Her cheeks turned pink as well, and Matt kept his eyes closed against the onslaught of both the painful daylight and the embarrassment of the moment.

"Yeah, Kitty, just help me sit up."

She hauled him to a sitting position again and headed for the privacy of the trees, throwing over her shoulder, "You're sure you'll be alright?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he muttered, thinking things had gotten pretty bad the day he couldn't take a piss by himself.

Kitty picked her way through the bushes, finding a spot where she could hike her skirts and relieve herself, but she could still keep an eye on Matt in the distance. She'd seen plenty of men in her lifetime, and what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. She hoped he could manage without passing out cold again.

She sighed at the blessed relief of emptying her full bladder at long last and was pulling up her cold, wet pantaloons with some difficulty over wet skin when she heard a noise behind her. Whirling around and dropping her skirts, she laughed when she spied Buck, happily munching on the bush where she'd just peed. He was covered in mud, weeds and slimy river vegetation hanging off his saddle, plus his bridle was completely missing.

"Come `ere, boy," she cooed, inching toward him, her heart in her throat. They would be able to ride him to the nearby homestead so that Matt could get some desperately needed rest. Then she might be able to ride for a doctor. Buck took a tentative few steps toward her, favoring his left front foot. Kitty's heart sank. He'd been injured.

She sighed heavily, but wondered at the same time if Matt might still be able to ride him. The homestead couldn't be too far away at this point, and they could take it slowly, both for the horse's sake and for Matt's.

Kitty drawled soothingly, "Come `ere now, sweet Buck…" and put her hand on the buckskin's forehead, stroking him and whispering nonsense syllables into his ear.

They still possessed the rope they'd used to lash themselves to the tree, but she didn't know how she was going to lead the horse back to Matt to begin with. Cold water trickling uncomfortably down her legs from her soaked skirts reminded her of all the sodden petticoats she was wearing. She hiked her skirts for the second time and unfastened a white cotton petticoat, letting the dripping article of lace-trimmed clothing drop heavily to the ground. She stepped out of it and talked gently to Buck as she wrapped it around his neck, holding the two ends together to use as a collar. Urging him with sweet tones and leading him with his makeshift petticoat halter, she had soon gotten the horse back to Matt's location.

Matt squinted from his supine position and managed to look hopeful.

She smiled, "You manage okay?"

"Yes, Kitty…"

"Looky here what I found in the bushes."

"I see that."

"He's limping a little, Matt, but I think if we walk slow, he can make it. How much farther, do you think?"

"Not even a mile."

She grabbed the length of rope from the ground and thrust it at Matt. "We need a halter."

He slowly and carefully reached for the rope, clutching his side the whole time. His voice was a strained whisper, "I kinda like the lacey one you got there."

"Very funny."

Matt quickly tied a makeshift halter which she slipped over Buck's head, then instructed, "Get on, Cowboy."

She was alarmed that Matt appeared to be getting weaker all the time. She had to help hoist his foot into the stirrup, and it took every ounce of her strength to help boost his heavy body atop the horse. His face was white as a sheet and he was unable to sit up straight.

She took the rope halter in her hand and asked, "Which direction?"

He hissed through his teeth and held his side for a moment before he could raise his finger and point wordlessly to a copse of trees in the near distance.

"We'll take it slow, I promise," she said in a low, soothing voice. "Just hang on for a little bit longer."

Kitty unhurriedly led Buck toward the trees, but the farther they rode, the lower Matt's body drooped over Buck's neck, until his head was lying pillowed on Kitty's damp petticoat. As she shivered with the cold and wet and glanced over her shoulder from time to time at Matt's pain-ravaged face, it frightened Kitty to think of what was going to happen to them if they did not find shelter soon. She didn't even know if Matt was conscious or not at this point.

Just then, they made it around the trees Matt had pointed out to her earlier, and there stood the most beautiful sight she'd beheld in quite a while, a tiny one-room homestead and barn in the middle of the Kansas prairie.

tbc

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