THANKS FOR ALL THE WONDERFUL YEARS

An ATC for "The Jailer," Season 12

Matt pulled the wagon he had borrowed from Ben Stone off the narrow dirt road and into a small thicket of trees. The steady rolling of the wheels had lulled an exhausted Kitty into a troubled sleep against his side nearly an hour earlier, but now she stirred within the comforting circle of his left arm and mumbled into his shirt, "We home already?"

"No…Cat Tail Creek." He hesitated. "If I promise to have you back in town tomorrow morning in time to check in those supplies, will you stay with me tonight…here, I mean…on the creek bank?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No…not really. It's just that after two days locked in that little shed, I kind of like the idea of sleeping out here in the open with my lady in my arms. But if you don't want to…" His voice drifted off as one long index finger stroked the moss green fabric covering her left breast.

He felt her smile against his chest.

"You make it awfully difficult for your lady to say no. Of course, I'll stay with you. It's been a long time since we've slept under the stars."

"Too long," he murmured as he climbed down from the wagon, unhitched the farm horse from the front and Buck from the back and led them into the tall grass under the trees. Securing the reins to some low bushes, he returned to the wagon and lifted Kitty down from the high seat. He hoisted his saddle and bedroll from the wagon bed and, by the light of the full moon, led her toward the sound of the rippling creek.

Choosing a level spot under a gnarled cottonwood, he threw the big saddle on the ground for a pillow, stretched out his long frame and gathered Kitty into his arms. "You've hardly said a word, Kit. Are you sure you're all right?

Her voice was flat. "I killed her, Matt."

"I'm sorry you had to be a part of any of that, but you saved my life, you know."

She spoke again. "I…I killed a woman."

"She wasn't a woman, Kitty. She was a crazed, deranged animal—almost feral. You did what had to be done and you're exhausted; let's get some sleep."

"No. I…I close my eyes and I see her…first with the gun pointed at you and then just lying there on the ground…dead."

She began to tremble in his arms, and he pulled her closer. "Don't do this to yourself, Kitty. Second guessing doesn't help. Trust me on this, honey."

"Still, it's a terrible thing to kill someone. How do you ever get used to it?"

He brushed her lips with his own. "Who says I do?" He tucked the worn blanket around them both and buried his face in her tumbled curls.

******

Kitty had no idea if she had been asleep for minutes or hours when she was awakened by Matt's big body shaking beneath hers.

"Don't hurt her! Please don't hurt her." His usually rich voice was choked and strange.

She pushed herself up from his chest and squinted into the darkness. He was still asleep, eyes squeezed tight. Shaking his shoulder she called, "Matt, Matt…wake up."

"No…no…don't hurt her! Oh, God, please…"

She gently slapped his face. "Matt! It's Kitty. You need to wake up. You're having a bad dream."

"Kit…don't. No!"

He shot up with a start, knocking her backwards onto the ground. Chest heaving, he reached for her. "Kitty! I didn't…are you all right?"

"I'm fine—a little startled, but otherwise unharmed. That must have been some dream you were having."

He edged back against the trunk of the big cottonwood and pushed out a bracing breath. "Yeah."

She settled next to him. "Want to tell me about it?" She laced her fingers into his curls and rubbed her smooth cheek against his scratchy one, giving him time. Thinking she detected a slight flinch when she touched his head, she asked, "You didn't get hurt back there did you, Matt?"

Arms still quivering, he pulled her into his lap. "No, I didn't get hurt." He was calmer now, his breathing more even.

She remained quiet, waiting for him to go on.

And then, as she knew they would, the words tumbled out, muffled against her neck. "But I was scared, Kitty, so damned scared. I wasn't afraid of being hanged, but they…they were going to force you to watch. I didn't want you to…to see that. And I was sure once I was dead, they would…would kill you, too." He shuddered again and stopped. "And there would be nothing I could do about it—no way I could help you."

"Shhh. It's all right. We're both safe—we're fine."

"This time maybe, but next…"

"Don't think about that now, Matt. Go back to sleep."

******

They lay in silence, each pretending to be asleep. Finally, Matt's voice drifted into the darkness. "Did you mean what you said back there?"

She shifted against his chest. "About what?"

"About all the wonderful years. I mean, I know they've been great for me, but I wonder just how good they've been for you."

"Matt, how can you say that?" Her arms tightened around him. "Of course, they've been wonderful—magnificent—years. How can you think otherwise?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't seem right, somehow. I get all the…the pleasure and you get all the worry."

She laughed. "You're kidding, right? You think I haven't gotten pleasure out of being with you?"

He felt his face growing warm. "Well, yeah, I guess some, but…you've gotten an awful lot of pain and heartache, too.

She lifted her head from his chest so she could see his face in the moonlight. "I'm not sure I can make you understand this, Matt, but a little while ago, you thanked me for saving your life. And maybe I did, but it wasn't just your life I was saving. I was saving my own life, too, because you are my life, Cowboy. And it did occur to me that after they hanged you, they would most likely kill me, but..." She brushed her lips against his brow. "But I was all right with that. If anything happens to you, I don't want to live anyway—not without you."

"You should have esca…"

"Let me finish. Yes, there have been a few bad times, but there have been so many more good ones. Before…well, before I met you, there were bad times, lots of them, and not very many good ones. So as I see it, Matt, my life—my wonderful life—began the day I met you."

His big hand caressed her back. "Still, you should have left when you had the chance."

Not certain if he was referring to leaving the Stone farm two nights before, or Dodge—and him—eleven years before, she hugged him closer and answered carefully, "I couldn't leave you alone in that wretched place, Matt. In fact, I couldn't leave you at all—not ever."

"It shouldn't be like that, Kitty. You should move on...should have moved on a long time ago...to someone who can take care of you, someone who can protect you."

She sighed at his diffidence. "Matt, I already have someone who protects me and takes care of me. And who loves me, too. Why on earth would I want anyone else?"

"Kitty..." he began and stopped, silently praying that would always be enough.

******

What seemed an eternity later, Matt whispered. "You can't sleep, either? Maybe stopping here wasn't such a good idea."

"No, it's nice out here, and I wouldn't be able to sleep no matter where we were. I know I've killed before, but it's…somehow it's different this time."

"Because she's a woman?"

She nodded against his chest.

"Men don't have a monopoly on going bad, Kitty."

"I know that, but still… How do you live with it—all the fighting and killing, I mean?"

He hesitated. "Kitty…You know I started out as a deputy down in Coffeyville. I was pretty handy with a gun, but for a long time Adam Kimbro didn't let me anywhere near danger. Then one day he took a prisoner to Wichita and left me in charge. That's the day the Fulton Five robbed the Coffeyville Bank—killed the teller and two customers. I shot at 'em as they rode away—killed two. One was Ivy Cantler. Heard of her?"

Kitty shook her head.

"She was secretly married to Bronley Fulton and was allegedly the brains of the whole operation. Point is…the first person I ever killed was a woman. I'll tell you, I didn't feel very good about it, Kit, no matter she was on every "WANTED" poster across three states."

She rubbed soft fingers along his jaw. "Oh, Matt, that must have been horrible for you—you were just a kid then."

"Yeah, well. I didn't forget it for a long time, kept wondering what I could have done different. Then there was the war, and I was forced to kill men…young boys really…simply because they had the bad luck to be born in the wrong part of the country. At least now I can take some small satisfaction from the fact that the men I have to gun down are outlaws— men who determined their own fate when they made the choice not to live within the law. I guess that's how I live with it…and with myself. And there's you, of course."

"Me?"

"You. I…I couldn't do my job without you, Kitty. You're the…the one good and beautiful thing in this evil, ugly world I live in. When I'm out on the trail, I…I think about you. I…sometimes I want—need—your arms around me so much I can feel them…can smell your hair, feel your softness. You're always there for me, Kitty, even when you're not really there."

His voice faltered, and she tugged at his big frame until they were lying face to face, heart to heart and soul to soul. The moonlight reflected the raw emotion in his blue eyes as he drew her tight against his body. "I'll try to help you with this, honey, same as you always help me."

"I'll be all right, Cowboy; everything will be all right."

Wrapped in each other's arms, they slept at last.

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