Carrying two cups of coffee from the stove, Kitty stopped by the table where Matt was still unconscious, and for a moment she observed the steady rise and fall of his chest; but he had yet to even stir and it worried her. She walked a few more steps to the desk, and handed a mug to Doc, who was sitting in the chair. He gratefully took the cup from her and sipped at it, although he knew damned well it wasn't the smartest thing he could do for his ulcer. She sat next to him, and sipped her own. Adams continued to stare at the man lying on the table, as if that could somehow make Matt better, but the concern lining Doc's face was more than evident to anyone watching.

Her voice was soft, "You're worried."

He didn't look at her, but took another sip of coffee. "Yeah," was all he said.

"Shouldn't he be awake by now?"

He shrugged. "Matt lost a lot of blood, Kitty, I'd expect him to stay unconscious for awhile."

"Then what has you so tied up in knots?" He shrugged again, taking another sip of his coffee. "Matt's a strong man, Doc. Dr. Collins said any other man would have died long before you and Festus got here. He's a doctor and he said so."

The fact that she was trying to convince herself so strongly that Matt was going to be all right tore at his heart, for he couldn't promise her that it would be so. "Matt had to wait a long time with that bullet in him, and his lung compromised; it weakened him somethin' terrible, Kitty. I've done everything I can, and now..." His voice trailed off, unwilling to say anymore.

She set her mug down on the desk and brushed her fingers through the curls on the back of his head. "And you don't know how it's going to turn out."

"That's right, I don't."

"And it's scaring the hell out of you because you can't control this any more than you could the Waters twins, Cory Rogers or Lucy."

His voice was vulnerable, "But this time it's Matt...I just don't think I could live with it if-"

"-That's enough. Nothing's gonna happen to him. He's gonna pull through this, Doc." Tears filled her eyes. "He has everything to live for, and he knows it. And I don't want to hear anything more about Matt dyin'!"

Adams looked away sharply, and Kitty realized that it had just been his exhaustion and fear talking, and she felt guilty that she yelled at him. She rose then, and stood behind his chair, gently squeezing the taunt muscles in his shoulders.

"Why don't you take a rest, Doc? I can sit with Matt." She looked over at Haggen, who was sound asleep in a chair. "Or Festus can if he doesn't sleep through everything."

Adams glanced over at the deputy. "That poor ol' boy practically killed himself gettin' to Cimarron and back, I'm not surprised he's asleep."

"And he's not the only one who needs it, according to Dr. Collins."

He felt himself relax slightly in response to the gentle attention she was giving him, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Dr. Collins is a young whelp doctor; who are you going to believe: me, an experienced physician, or him, a mere babe in the woods?"

"Him, since you accepted the cup of coffee I offered you. You know damned well you shouldn't drink it."

"Well if ya knew that, why'd ya offer me any?"

"To see if I could trust you, which I can't!" She felt his muscles letting go of tension with each stroke of her hand. "You're just a cranky ol' bear, ya know..."

"Hmph...and don't you ferget it!" Her hands moved up to his neck, and then her fingers tugged at the ends of his curls, and he could feel his eyelids becoming heavy with the pull of sleep. "Bet you thought you were gonna soft-soap me, didn'tcha..."

"Seems to be workin' okay, curly."

His voice sounded sleepy, "I need a haircut, don't I?"

"And a shave, but first, you need some sleep." A grin pulled at her lips. "Or maybe I'll just cut your hair and shave you while you're asleep..."

He pulled away from her then, glaring. "Not on your life! I'd come out lookin' like I'd been scalped by Indians, and probably with a crooked mustache ta boot. You just stay away from me with anything sharp, Mrs. Lovett..."

She laughed at that, leaned in, and kissed the side of his head. "You'd have no mustache at all if it were up to me, handsome."

The voice from the table was stronger than expected, and its annoyance was clear,"How're the sick supposed to get any sleep around here with the two of you carryin' on?"

Adams grinned widely, and responded, "It don't seem to be botherin' Festus none, Mr. Marshal..."

Doc and Kitty moved to the table, Adams checking Matt's pulse, and Kitty taking his hand in hers.

Dillon grinned slightly. "Glad you made it back, Doc."

Adams brushed a soft hand through the marshal's hair. "Me too, Matt." He held his hand over Dillon's brow, checking for fever, but there was none. "How do you feel?"

"Tired and weak. Say, this hurts a lot...what'd you dig that bullet out with, a shovel?"

But instead of playful fire, Doc's voice was soft and caring, "It's gonna be like that awhile, my boy; it was awful close."

Dillon looked at the redhead standing next to him, tears in her eyes, her hand holding his tightly. He nodded toward Adams. "Ya had him goin' pretty good there for awhile..."

She nodded. "I learned how to get Doc's goat from the best." She kissed his hand. "You scared me, cowboy."

He grinned at her, squeezing her hand. "Didn't sound like it listenin' to the two of you just now..."

"I had to do somethin' to keep Doc from feelin' sorry for himself..."

Adams pat Dillon's shoulder. "Don't you believe it, Matt. I wasn't worried 'bout you at all..."

"Uh-huh." Dillon reached up and brushed a tear from Doc's cheek. "I can see that..."

Embarrassed, Doc ran a hand over his face and pat Matt's shoulder again. "I'm gonna get a breath of air fer a minute..."

He headed toward the door, and Kitty leaned in to Matt, tenderly kissing his mouth. "Welcome back, Matt."

He kissed her harder. "If I'd known it was gonna be this kind of reception, I would've come around earlier..."

Exhausted, his eyes fluttered closed, and Kitty kissed his forehead, gently adjusting the blanket covering him. She looked toward the door, and saw Doc milling on the landing.

Louie yelled up to the old man. "How's the marshal, Doc?"

Thinking he had been alone, Doc wiped the tears from his face on his sleeve, before looking down at Pheeters. "He's gonna be just fine, Louie. Just fine..."

"Doc?"

"Yeah?"

"Are ya stayin' in Dodge now?"

He didn't answer immediately, and then felt her hand on his shoulder.

"He's stayin' Louie. Believe me, he's stayin'..."

Smiling for the first time in days, Louie Pheeters said, "I think that calls for a drink at the Longbranch. Whaddya say Miss Kitty? Doc?"

"We'll be along in a few minutes, Louie," Doc answered. He turned to her, his features soft with emotion. "Now just who do you think you are, answerin' a question like that fer me?"

Her lips curled into a smile. "Well, even though I heard you were two-timin' me, I think it'll be me who's gonna support ya in your old age, in that rockin' chair you're always talkin' about." His eyes rushed with moisture, and she brushed it away. "It wasn't the same ol' Dodge without you, Doc." She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him softly on the lips. "Now come on, handsome, if we don't get down there, Louie'll drink up all the whiskey in town!"

"I could use a good drink of whiskey."

"Oh no you don't. Louie and I are havin' the whiskey. You're havin' a glass of milk!"

She moved quickly down the stairs, and he chased after her. "Hey! Don't you go tellin' me what I can and cannot have. Yer just as bad as that deputy marshal asleep in my office! None of you are gonna prescribe to me...bunch of unruly children is what ya are..."

Dr. Collins smiled as he watched Doc Adams trying to catch up to Kitty, chastising her all the way to the Longbranch. He stepped up onto the stage, gripping only his black medical bag in his hand.

"Going out West, doctor?"

"Not sure yet, driver, but I hear there's a need for doctors in those parts..."

"That there is, sir, that there is!"

Goodbyes had never been a part of his make-up, and he hoped someday they'd forgive him; yet as the Denver stage pulled out of the one-horse town called Dodge, Dr. Hannibal Collins smiled. It was an unsophisticated dustbowl filled with sodbusters, drunken cowboys and illiterates: but he had been forever changed by the people he had known there.

The End