The West Wind

A Gunsmoke Story

By Amanda (MAHC)

“O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being.

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Pestilence-stricken multitudes.”

Percy Bysshe Shelley

“Ode to the West Wind”

1819

Epilogue: Fair Winds

POV: Matt

Spoilers: None

Rating: T+

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters (but I wish I did).

Matt Dillon shifted on the hard seat of the stagecoach, knowing from experience that he wouldn’t find a more comfortable position, but giving it a shot anyway. Winter had ensconced itself firmly into the air, biting at his bones. From the tight expressions of his fellow passengers, he could tell he wasn’t the only victim of the weather. Tugging the collar of his coat higher, he crossed his arms over his chest and accepted that he would just be cold until they reached Dodge. It was certainly not the first time.

Prospects of how he would get warm again made the wait more bearable. And this time he wasn’t nursing broken ribs. This time, nothing would stand in the way of their reunion. Not if he could help it.

“Sierra Cimarron.”

The marshal looked up to find the woman who had boarded at Wichita looking at him, her once-clean traveling suit chalked with the dust of the trail, just like the rest of them. She might have been thirty; she might have been fifty. He couldn’t decide if life had been pretty good to her or pretty bad.

Sierra Cimarron? Surely not.

“Matt Dillon,” he returned simply.

The woman’s brow rose. “Matt Dillon? Marshal Matt Dillon?”

Damn.

Matt sighed wearily. “That’s right.”

“My, my. I never figured I’d – well, I read about you in the Saint Louis Post-Dispatch. Of course I’d heard about you before – and I should have recognized you, certainly. ‘Shoulders broad, chest wide. A veritable giant,’ I believe was the description.”

He pressed his lips together and tolerated the stares the other two passengers now cutting to him. Her eyes moved over Matt from boots to Stetson, and he shifted, his discomfort having nothing to do with the hard seat.

“That article surely was right,” she noted boldly. “You are mighty tall, Marshal – and those shoulders are broad.” Before he could think of a response, she continued eagerly, “Tell me, is Dodge really as wild as they say?”

“Once was,” Matt allowed. “Can still be at times.”

“I’ll just bet!”

He gave her a tight smile. “You headed to Dodge?”

“Well, I was headed to Pueblo to visit my sister.”

Good, Matt thought, then felt guilty. “I wish you safe travel.”

“Of course,” she amended, “I just might linger a few days in your fair city.” Her hand reached out as if she might place it on his knee. With a feeling that was disturbingly familiar, he crossed his left leg over his right, smoothly avoiding her uninvited and unwelcome touch, and wondered if he should have stayed in Wichita one more day.

When the stage pulled into Dodge two hours later, he practically leaped from the coach, eager not only to see Kitty, but also to escape the fawning admiration of Miss Sierra Cimarron, who had been ogling him the entire time. His legs cramped from keeping them as far away from her wandering hands as possible.

“Aren’t you going to help me down, Marshal?” she asked, perched expectantly at the door of the stage.

He cringed, but ever courteous, turned and extended his hand for her to take, which she did – after letting her fingers caress down his forearm first.

“Uh, Miss Cimarron – “

Just as she lighted on the ground, he raised his head to look into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Desire jolted through him, and he reined it in for proper appearances. But those eyes didn’t belong to the woman who now pouted slightly as she lost his attention. They belonged to the woman who had his attention. Completely.

A fine eyebrow arched upward, a mixture of joy and irritation flashing across her lovely face. Despite that, he grinned at her, not caring who saw.

“Welcome home, Matt.” Kitty gave him her customary public greeting, but her eyes promised much more when she offered him her private welcome back.

“Good to be home, Kitty,” he answered, as usual, fighting to control his body’s immediate reaction to her presence.

At the pointed throat clearing by Sierra, he tugged his lower lip between his teeth and said, “Uh, Miss Cimarron, this is Kitty Russell. Kitty, this is Sierra Cimarron. We met – “ He sighed, then finished, “On the stage.”

“You do have a knack, don’t you, Marshal?” Kitty observed wryly. He winced.

“Miss Russell,” Sierra greeted formally. “It is Miss Russell?”

Here we go again, he thought and braced himself, feeling Kitty tense. Experience – recent and painful experience – prompted quick action. Matt slid an arm around Kitty’s back and pulled her against him, making his motion deliberate and clear. With a courteous but firm tone, he said pointedly, “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Cimarron.”

Sudden comprehension widened the other woman’s eyes. For a moment, she shifted her gaze between Matt and Kitty, but then, just as suddenly, a rueful smile curved her lips, and she arched a brow. “I see. You know, I told the Marshal that I had read about him in the Saint Louis Post-Dispatch. I believe perhaps I read about you, as well, Miss Russell.” She gave Kitty a nod that conveyed defeat and admiration all at once. It was returned with the cunning smile of a woman secure with her man.

Matt felt her arm reach around his waist snugly. Relieved, and eager to run while his pony was in the lead, he touched the brim of his hat in farewell to Sierra Cimarron, vowing that next time he boarded a stage he’d make sure there were no windy women on the passenger list.

“It was still a pleasure, Marshal,” Sierra told him, her sigh more than a little regretful. “I’ll tell my sister about meeting you when I get to Pueblo. She’ll be thrilled.”

“Good luck to you, Miss Cimarron.”

“To both of you,” she returned, more graciously than Matt had expected, before she turned back to the driver. “Just leave my bags up there,” she instructed, disappointment weighing down her tone.

Alone with Kitty – or at least mostly alone – he resisted the urge to swing her into his arms and press her hard against him, compromising by keeping his arm around her as they stepped onto the boardwalk. They walked a few feet in silence; then he looked down at her to find those beautiful eyes on him and that sensuous mouth smiling toward him.

“What?” he asked.

“Nicely done, Cowboy. I think you should get some kind of reward for that.”

Reward? His heart pounded at bit harder at the prospect. “How about you buy me some lunch?” he asked, in a vain attempt at nonchalance, knowing that he was very close to embarrassing himself. If she moved her hand a bit lower –

But she shook her head slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”

“No? But you said I should get a reward – “

“See,” she said, “I wasn’t thinking about – food.”

“No?” he asked hoarsely, swallowing hard at the insinuation in her tone.

“Uh uh. You have in mind any other – reward?”

His body throbbed in anticipation, and he let the fire burn through his gaze. “Yes,” he murmured, voice deep and husky. “Yes, I think I do.”

He thought for a moment she might leap on him right there in the street, but she just squeezed him hard and urged him forward. “What are we waiting for?”

Absolutely nothing, he decided.

He wasn’t sure how long he had slept, not too long, he hoped, wondering if anyone had tried to find him while he indulged in the pleasures of Kitty’s embrace. Her head rested against his shoulder, her hair tickled his cheek, and he felt a swell of emotion at his good fortune. He would not have dreamed 13 years before that he would have someone like Kitty in his life, would not have even thought he would still have a life. When he was brutally honest with himself, he knew he wasn’t fair to Kitty. What he told Solana Satterfield was true. The woman of a lawman lived in constant worry, constant fear, and he had told himself numerous times that Kitty would be better off without that – which meant without him. But as strong as Matt Dillon was, he didn’t have the strength to push her away – even for her own good. He needed her. Independent, self-sufficient Matt Dillon needed her – more than he had ever needed anyone else in his life. But the thought of what she had been prepared to sacrifice for him tore at his heart – and at his conscience.

A sigh lifted her chest, and he smiled, admiring the lovely view. “You awake?”

“Mmm.”

“Kitty?”

“I’m awake, Cowboy.”

“I probably should go.”

“So soon?”

“We’ve been here all afternoon.”

“Mmm.”

“Kitty?”

“Mmm?”

“There’s something we need to talk about.”

Abruptly, her body stiffened and she propped on an elbow and regarded him with those amazing blue eyes for a moment. “What?”

He didn’t remember much about those few days after Joe Kendall came back, but he had seen enough in Kitty’s eyes to know it had been a near thing.

“It’s about what you said to Doc when – “

Her fiery waves danced as she shook her head and straightened so that she sat cross-legged next to him. “We don’t need to talk about that.”

“We do,” he insisted, sitting as well, his hands gripping her shoulders both to support her and to keep from crushing her to him. “We both know that something like this could happen again.”

“Matt – “

“It’s not going to change things to ignore it.” Lifting her chin with his thumb and forefinger, he held her gaze. “I want you to promise me you won’t give up your freedom, your life, if I’m – if I end up like you and Doc thought – ”

“Matt Dillon,” she snapped, “don’t you dare ask me to let you die – or to abandon you if – ”

“Kitty – to live like that – I’d rather – “ He gritted his teeth at the thought of what might have been – what might still be. “There are things worse than death. I don’t want you to be tied down with me if – “

“Matt, how could you think – Oh, Matt, I couldn’t leave you like that.” Tears streaked her face now, and he felt guilty for bringing up the subject. “You’d need someone to take care of you, someone who – who knows you, who loves you.”

He ran a hand down her arm in comfort and said softly, “Kitty, it won’t matter. If I’m – if I’m in that condition, I won’t know if it’s you or someone else taking care of me.”

Softly, with absolute conviction, she said, “I’ll know.”

The love and deep promise in her eyes stole his breath. When he got it back, he pulled her against him with a surge of emotion so fierce he thought he might actually pass out from the sensation. She clung to him, and he felt warm tears trail down his chest. Fighting back his own tears, he swallowed once, then again, in a vain attempt to form some adequate response to her declaration, deciding that the best thing he could do was just hold her. Finally, when he had gathered the ragged edges of control together enough to speak, he made an effort to share with her – really for the first time – how very deeply he felt. Oh, he’d told her he loved her before. He’d certainly shown her, physically, many, many times. But he was, admittedly, a man who kept a tight hold on his feelings. Unaccustomed to letting them go, he struggled for the right words.

“Kitty, I – surely you know that I – “

Automatically, she started to interrupt, to save him the discomfort of confession, but he placed a long finger over her lips and shook his head.

“I love you,” he told her, allowing the extent of his emotions to color his tone with richness and truth. “I love you so very, very much.”

This time, it was he who stole her breath. Tears streamed down her cheeks again as she fell into his arms, and he cradled her against him. After several minutes, her body relaxed, and he became aware of how close he was to being completely overcome by the moment. Swallowing, he searched desperately for some topic, some diversion to bring them back to a state he could control, a state that didn’t threaten to undo him.

“Kitty, about before – uh, earlier. I mean, when we – well, I hope I wasn’t too – rough,” he apologized hoarsely, praying that she understood his motive. “I know how you like it slow and easy – “

Kitty sat, regarded him for a long moment, wiping her eyes dry. He let his gaze hold hers, asking her to let him have this moment. Finally, she smiled gently, her fingers touching his lips. “I like it lots of ways, Cowboy.” He knew that, too. “Did I sound like I was complaining?”

Relief lightened his features, lifted his brow. “Well, now that you mention it, those moans didn’t sound like you were in pain – “

Her fingers trailed sensuously over his chin and down his chest. “The only pain is when I want you so badly that – well, when you walk through the doors of the Long Branch and nail me with those baby blue eyes – let’s just say I have a hard time controlling myself.”

“Yeah?” he asked, her steamy confession making it difficult to keep the touch of satisfaction from his voice and impossible to keep the swell of arousal from another area.

“Yeah. A real hard time.” She threw a leg over his pelvis and wiggled seductively against him, encouraging his reawakening desire. “And since we’re speaking of hard – “

“Kitty!” he gasped as she let her hand trail past his abdomen to sheathe his revived erection.

“So hard,” she murmured, her voice husky, her gentle grip sliding down the iron shaft, then up again.

Matt wondered vaguely if a heart – or anything else – could pump so hard it exploded. Certainly there was some powerful explosion awaiting him. Intense pleasure flooded his body as his neck arched, and his head snapped back against the pillow. “Oh, Red, that feels good, but you’d – you’d better stop now.”

But she didn’t stop. In fact, she eased down his long frame to replace her fingers with something warmer and softer – and wetter. He couldn’t keep the groan from his throat as the moisture from her tongue cooled on his enflamed flesh.

“Kitty!”

Just when he was about to surrender to her seduction, she moved over him, spreading her thighs so that he was poised at her entrance.

Another groan pushed past his lips as her snug heat enveloped him, squeezed him, and he surged within her again. Grasping her hips, he rolled so that she lay beneath him, moving into her with slow, deliberate strokes, the relief of his earlier climax granting him more control, despite her torment. Her delicious moans rewarded him and inspired his movements to grow even more measured, teasing her by pausing just at her entrance, then inching back in with agonizing leisure. He felt her writhe beneath him, arch up in an effort to make him move faster, harder, but he held strong, taking her to the edge again and again, then remaining still just as she was perched to go over. After a while, he was drenched in sweat and trembling with the effort to draw it out, to build up her need until she cried out to him. But he was beginning to wonder who would cry out to whom first.

Finally, her voice deep with desperate passion, her body arching madly beneath his, she pleaded, “Matt, please!”

And so he had mercy on her – and on himself as well since she wasn’t the only one barely hanging on at this point. With a relieved grunt, he thrust forward, swinging into a firm, steady rhythm that drew gasps from both of them. Kitty’s legs wrapped around his back as she pushed against him, her fingernails biting into his shoulders, her cries inflaming him, ripping away the last of his control.

“I love you, Kitty,” he whispered, his eruption imminent, burning between his legs.

With a ragged groan, he felt the powerful waves break over his body, felt his hot release rush through him to punch hard and deep within her, again and again, welcomed by her own eager contractions. She bucked against him, and he kept coming, certain he had no more to give, yet giving still. Finally, when his arms could no longer support him, he collapsed on top of her, breath heaving, chest pounding, groin still throbbing inside her with the lingering sensations. Barely able to make a coherent sentence, he murmured his love to her again, brushed his lips across a lovely, damp breast, and used the last of his strength to withdraw and fall to her side.

Outside the warm confines of Kitty Russell’s bedroom in the Long Branch, the citizens of Dodge carried on as usual, secure in the knowledge that they were protected by the most dedicated lawman in Kansas – perhaps the entire country. A lawman who was – to quote a reliable source – honest, brave, noble, compassionate, tough, unbending, and fearless. A lawman who was as protective of the law as he was of a certain redheaded saloon owner that everyone knew about but very few talked about. A lawman who decided as he lay, warm and sated, in the arms of that redheaded saloon owner that one day – if the winds blew fair for him – someone else would be protecting the law, and Kitty Russell would have her own, dedicated protector to share with no one else – not even Dodge City.

END