Kitty Russell pushed her way through the swinging doors of the Long Branch saloon and stepped inside and sought out her loyal bartender and friend.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Miss Kitty?"

"I'm going to be in my room for a little while." The redheaded saloon owner took a look around the nearly empty saloon and then arched an eyebrow in mock skepticism and asked, "Will you be able to take care of things while I'm gone?"

A smile played around the corners of Kitty's mouth, but she kept a straight face as Sam answered just as seriously in his deep, comforting voice, "I think I'll be able to manage." He winked at her, and she lost her composure, laughing, her deep blue eyes sparkling in the mid-afternoon light.

"Thank you, Sam."

"Don't even mention it, Miss Kitty."

Kitty left him then, heading up the stairs. No one noticed, but as she neared the top she let her right hand trail up the banister, and her slowed until she was almost stationary. The smile that had so quickly come to her face while talking to Sam faltered, and a moment later she grabbed her plain, brown skirts up in both hands and hurried up the last few steps and down the balcony to her room at the end—her pace just short of jogging.

Reaching her bedroom, Kitty quickly entered, shutting the door behind her as fast as she could.

The handle was digging into the small of her back, but she didn't care. Or maybe she just didn't notice. For a full minute she stood there, letting the door support her weight, breathing harder than was normal, and blinking rapidly in an effort to stop the tears that had suddenly sprung into her eyes as she was mounting the staircase.

But it didn't work.

The tears threatened to fall harder and faster, and Kitty bit her lower lip in order to prevent any sounds from escaping her throat.

That didn't work either.

Clapping trembling hands over her mouth, she finally let herself go and slid down the door to the floor, shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. Wrapping one arm around her knees she just sat there, rocking back and forth. She knew the dam had broken, and God only knew when it would be able to build itself up again.

Kitty Russell did not cry. Kitty Russell never cried. Miss Kitty, the proud owner of the Long Branch, the best saloon in Dodge City, never showed weakness. But as Kitty sat there—sobs tearing through her body, eye makeup running down her face, and her usually perfectly pinned up hair falling from its constraints—even she had to admit that while Miss Kitty Russell never cried, sometimes Kathleen Russell did.

More often than Kitty would care to acknowledge, it seemed as if Kathleen Russell was merely a memory—but she was still there.

When she listened to Festus when he needed someone to confide in or stood up for him when Doc was in a particularly bad mood or took care of him when he was sick or injured, Kathleen was still there.

When she helped Doc deliver someone's baby or listened as he gave her advice or let him hold her when she needed a father's comfort, Kathleen was still there.

And when she gave Matt support with the touch of her hand on his or he looked at her with that tender look in his eyes or when they made love, Kathleen Russell was still there.

She was never completely Kitty when she cried, because Kitty was only ever strong, independent, a force to be reckoned with. Those traits meant that no one and nothing could hurt her, and she had to be that way so that she could control the chaos that reigned nightly at the Long Branch and, more importantly, so that she would not shut down and shut out the world whenever Matt was injured or in danger or she hadn't heard from him in over a week's time.

This afternoon though, Matt had gotten back to Dodge after a short three day trip, he had not been in any danger, he was safe and sound. And yet here she was: Kathleen Russell, sobs finally subsiding as she lay down and quietly cried herself to sleep on the hardwood floor of her bedroom.

Kitty slowly regained consciousness, her mind fighting through the fog and disoriented state she found herself in. She blinked her eyes deliberately as she tried to remember how she came to be laying on her bedroom floor, and then moved to push herself into a sitting position. Groaning as she did so, Kitty sat against the wall, stretching her limbs and rolling her neck in an effort to banish the horrid crick in her neck she had acquired from her awkward sleeping arrangements.

With a start, Kitty's whole day and the events leading up to where she now was came back to her, and she surged to her feet.

"Ohhh…." Swaying dangerously, she squeezed her eyes shut until the blood made its way back into her head. But as soon as it did, she was off pacing.

Why did she let Matt affect her so much? He was barely gone half a week, and just a short conversation with him upon his return—to assure herself of his well-being—was enough to set off her frustratingly unpredictable emotions. She had handled worse, hadn't she?

A freckled hand angrily shoved her untidy flaming curls out of her face.

Hadn't he been gone for months on occasion without word? Hadn't he said that this trip had proved no threat or difficulty? Hadn't Matt easily brushed off any concerns she might have had? But just because things had gone so well this time did not mean that they always had or always would, and sometimes it just all became too much. She had kept it all hidden far too deeply and for far too long this time around.

Damn Matt and his confidence and his job! And damn her emotions!

Kitty reached for the flower vase on the stand by her bed—unfortunately, her terrible temper was more than just a small part of Kathleen as well—but, right as she raised it behind her head, the sounds of shattering glass and barking laughter from beneath her in the saloon broke through her mood.

Almost hesitantly, Kitty set the vase back down where it belonged—the flowers occupying it had managed to stay intact—and looked out her window. The sun's sinking position in the sky told her that she had been in her room for more than the "little while" she had promised Sam. The evening crowd was on its way in.

Forcing her heart rate to slow down, Kitty began to think about going back downstairs. A quick glance in her full length mirror told her she could use a long, hot bath—she felt like she looked—but she would have to settle for fixing her hair and reapplying makeup. And one of her fancier dresses would do wonders to help improve her mood.

First, Kitty walked to the basin of clean water on her dresser and splashed the cool water on her face, washing away the streaks of makeup on her cheeks and the dried tear tracks. Matt couldn't help the demands of his job most of the time, and she knew the confidence and sometimes flippant way he discounted the dangers he faced helped him deal with the pressure he felt and the horrors he saw, whether real or in his nightmares.

Sitting down at her dressing table, Kitty carefully applied fresh makeup to her eyes, cheeks, and lips, and pinned her curls back in place. Matt did what he did because that was who he was, and, if she was being honest with herself, she loved that part of him—his ingrained loyalty, commitment, passion, sense of duty.

Kitty crossed to her wardrobe and selected the blue satin dress with black lace trimmings. She loved the way it made her feel—beautiful and confident—and how it brought out the deep blue in her eyes, and, she thought with an amused smirk, Matt certainly wouldn't mind it either. Maybe in the future if she paid a little more attention to her emotions they would not betray her so badly.

Finally, standing in front of her full length mirror Kitty surveyed her appearance. Miraculously, the sleep she had gotten had erased any signs that she had been crying from her eyes, and fresh makeup had erased any other tells from her face. Her hair was once again in place, and the deep blue dress definitely played up her eyes and offset her flawless creamy skin perfectly. The sound of laughter once again reached her ears and brought a smile to her face.

She was ready to face the world again, and no one was the wiser.

A brief lull in the consistent chaos that was just again starting for the evening was all that indicated the return of her presence as she made her way to the stairs. Most of the men in the Long Branch every night truly adored her, but she only ever commanded complete silence with her mere presence when her temper flared. Laughing to herself, Kitty knew that was how it should be.

Descending the stairs, one hand on the railing, her entire countenance lit up even further as her gaze landed on the three men she loved most in the world, sitting at a green felt covered table near the foot of the stairs.

They all stood up, smiling at her, as she came up to them. "Howdy, Doc, Festus," and in spite of the inner turmoil that had controlled her afternoon—or quite possibly because of that turmoil—Kitty's smile grew, her eyes sparkled a bit more brightly, and she could practically feel her heart expanding with love inside her chest, "Matt."