Saloon Owner's Homily

I don't own these characters. I just like to spend time with them. No other profits to be had.

SOHSOHSOHSOHSOHSOHSOH

AN: I owe my sister thanks and much love for helping me with the title on this as well as helping me settle a couple of things in the creation of it. I have to also give you all fair warning. I am not a preacher, but I did get a little preachy in this. As always, no one's forcing you to read it.

Kitty Russell was a strong woman. She'd been forced by life to be strong. Abandoned by her father, orphaned by her mother, raised in saloons around rough men and rougher circumstances, she'd had to. She'd learned to deal cards, entertain men, and put up with all sorts of degradations just to survive.

She'd had her wrist broken once as well as her heart but both had healed and Kitty had picked herself and moved on without becoming hard or bitter. Even the insults tossed at her by the 'respectable' people in town hadn't, for the most part, been able to dampen her spirit or her smile.

Until now.

Kitty had put up with a lot in her life but her willingness to do so was about to end and there were going to be some people in Dodge that weren't going to be very happy.

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The whole thing started on a sunny Friday afternoon. Weaver Mills, a portly farmer of 160 acres of prime land just north of town had just sold his year's crop and made himself a healthy profit. Enough so that he was able to pay his creditors, pay off his farm, put a little money in the bank, buy a supply of his favorite pipe tobacco and buy drinks all around at the Long Branch.

Now, Mills was not one to drink excessively and had not been known to step out of his regular character upon the few times he did imbibe. But this particular day was different. Perhaps it was the amount of liquor he'd consumed or maybe the knowledge that for the first time in his life, he was completely out of debt. What ever the reason, Weaver Mills was not the mild mannered farmer he'd always been before.

He'd just downed his sixth glass of whiskey and going for his seventh when his eye happened to fall upon none other than the beautiful owner of the very saloon he was standing in, Kitty Russell. Now Mills was a happily… well, a married man and he was no stranger to Dodge. He knew about the red head and the Marshal as well as the fact that she was off limits to her customers. But whiskey in a whipped man who was out of his wife's glaring eyeshot did something to him.

When Kitty came near him, on her way to her office, he boldly stepped forth. "I wanna dance, Kitty." He declared.

Kitty swept his overweight frame with an amused and yet irritated glance. "I don't." She nodded curtly and tried to step past him but he wasn't drunk enough to be so easily dodged.

"No!" He stepped again in her path. "I said, I wanna dance!"

Jenny Dobbs, one of Kitty's best girls, saw the angry flash of her boss' blue eyes and quickly moved forward. "Mr. Mills? I'll dance with you. I'm a really good dancer." She offered up her most dazzling smile.

Mills slowly turned his eyes in her direction, pausing a beat until his drink addled mind caught up with his vision. But the girl was not the one he wanted. Pushing her aside, he returned his attention to Kitty. "I want you." His speech was slurred but clear enough to make it clear what he wanted.

"And I said NO!" Kitty glared at the farmer and again tried to move past him.

But old Weaver Mills was just a bit too drunk and, despite his girth, a bit too quick to allow her to escape. Reaching out, he grabbed her right arm and forcefully pulled her against him.

Just then, the saloon doors swung open and in marched of the most feared citizens of Dodge City and the surrounding territory. "WEAVER MILLS!"

Weaver froze, his expression one of abject terror and he quickly released his hold on Kitty, practically shoving her away from him. He was drunk, but not so drunk as not to know that he was now in serious trouble.

"Uh…. Hi, honey." He attempted a smile as he turned to face his wife of 32 years, Mabel.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Mabel, in her most bellicose voice growled.

Weaver, sickly smile in place, was trying to think of what to say to keep his wife from beating him to death with her broom. But it soon became apparent she wasn't looking at him. She aimed her glower directly at Kitty. "Weaver is my man, you harlot. You keep your hands off him."

"Me?" Kitty was amused, outraged and absolutely gobsmacked at the implication that she would be after the decrepit old farmer. But she had no desire to fight over Weaver Mills, especially since she didn't much care for the man. "Look, Mrs. Mills." Kitty sighed with a shake of her head. "Your husband is drunk. Why don't you just take him home and sober him up. Okay?"

"Oh, I'll take him home alright." Mabel sneered. "I don't want him anywhere near your clutches." She grabbed a hold of Weaver's arm. "But don't think this is over. You can't just go around trying to steal husbands and get away with it. I'll show you what happens to scarlet women like you."

Kitty looked to the ceiling with a weary sigh as the rotund woman pulled her equally robust husband un-protesting out of the saloon.

Sam looked over at his boss. "Takes all kinds, doesn't it, Miss Kitty."

Kitty shook her head with a half laugh. "Yeah, well, I would be really happy with a few less of that kind." She looked around the saloon before nodding to Sam. "I'm going on into my office and get the books done. Call me if you need me."

"Alright, Miss Kitty." Sam agreed.

Deciding to put Weaver and Mabel Mills out of her mind, Kitty went to her office, sat down and began her work. She didn't realize at the time that Mabel wasn't so willing to forget.

TBC