She had had more to drink than was customary, and she was feeling it. What she wanted was not to feel. "Sam, another whiskey," Kitty ordered, as she looked over her books.
Sam, failing to hide his look of concern, poured her another. "Miss Kitty, would you like me to get you some hardboiled eggs? What about a glass of water?" Sam asked. Grasping his gentle attempt to slow her down, she flashed him a knowing grin, then gave a curt nod of assent. He was only looking out for her, after all.
It wasn't like Matt to be gone this long without a word. She was worried, she realized, taking another sip of her fourth whiskey of the night. Sam dropped her off something to nibble on while Kitty watched her girls work the room. When one of her newer girls, Estelle, raised herself from her seat to saunter up the stairs of The Long Branch to her room with a gentleman's hand on the small of her back, Kitty perceived the other reason she was missing Matt Dillon…and it irked her. "If I haven't heard from him by next week, he'd better be dead," she grumbled under her breath, because if he isn't, he will be," she finished. Just at that moment, she felt a gentle squeeze of her upper arm and her newest girl pulled up a chair next to her. If she hadn't been so beautiful, Kitty would never have hired her. Now that she had seen her work, she truly appreciated the terrible mistake she had almost made. Nothing the girl had actually done had provoked Kitty's ire, it was simply the girl's unfortunate name that bothered her.
"Hello, Cara," she said with a smile.
"Kitty," Cara answered, beaming.
She really was beautiful, Kitty noted. Men had even fewer qualms than usual with buying drinks whenever Cara Stewart was around. She was perhaps 20 years old, but came with a wealth of quiet experience that belied her years, putting her clients at ease with her infectious laughter, gregarious nature, and genuine smile. She even occasionally entertained men upstairs, when she was of a mind to. Cara reminded Kitty of herself when she was her age. Being that Kitty was now 26, she considered herself an old hat at the saloon trade. She no longer entertained in her room, not since she became the proprietress of The Long Branch, and especially not since her 'arrangement' with Matt. Kitty huffed and took another sip of whiskey. She'd been at it for a while, she could tell. The whiskey was creating a slow burning sensation in her throat and belly.
"Kitty, if you'd don't mind me saying so, isn't it a little early for you to be so far into that bottle of rye?" Cara asked quietly, a look of companionable concern on her face. Kitty regarded her with something between disbelief and disdain. She looked her in the eyes, sizing her up, and after a moment or two was satisfied that Cara wasn't being judgmental and hadn't meant her any disrespect. Nodding slightly, Kitty took another sip of her whiskey, never taking her eyes from Cara's. She was about Kitty's height and build, but with creamy, porcelain skin, and none of the freckles that Kitty so hated about her own complexion. Cara's eyes were a greenish-blue, framed by dark, perfectly arched brows. Her raven-colored tresses were pinned back in up-swept waves that shone in the lantern light. Smiling back at Kitty, Cara levelled her green-blue gaze at her sapphire one. She looked like skinny-dipping in a spring-fed pool on a moonlit night, thought Kitty. Closing her eyes, Kitty rubbed her temples.
"Cara, shouldn't you be entertaining some of these nice gentlemen?" Kitty prodded, slowly motioning toward the saloon populace.
"Of course, Miss Kitty," she answered dutifully. "It's just…," Cara continued, "you aren't yourself tonight," she finished, her neatly arched brows furrowed. Cara's pointed shift to formality had not gone unnoticed.
"Oh? And just who I am tonight, if I'm not myself?" Kitty asked, half-aggravated, half-amused.
"It's like you're waiting for something or someone. You keep looking at the door," Cara ventured.
Caught off guard by her forthrightness and seemingly sincere concern, Kitty shut down. Pitching her a shrewd glance, Kitty took aim and fired.
"Cara, I pay you to do a job here. While it is kind of you to check on me, I'd prefer if you spent your time doing what it is that I pay you to do," Kitty spat. She'd been nasty and she'd regretted her words the moment they'd left her mouth.
Cara nodded in assent, eyes downcast. When she looked up again the sparkle had left her eyes, its departure transforming them to deep green. Her beautiful mouth, painted crimson, had turned down at the corners almost imperceptibly. Biting her full bottom lip delicately, Cara strode out onto the parlor floor. It was only a matter of minutes before she had captured the entirety of The Long Branch in her thrall, excepting the men who had regular girls. Cara had been working for Kitty for nearly three weeks, arriving not long after Matt had left for Hayes City, and from day one it had been a pleasure to watch her work the room. She resolved to apologize to the girl when the saloon closed its doors for the night. It wasn't Cara's fault that she was in such a foul mood and she knew that she shouldn't have taken it out on her. Yet, Matt's prolonged absence had her on edge in a way that it never had before. He always tried to send word, but this time he hadn't, and it bothered her more than she cared to admit.
"Sam…another," Kitty ordered, watching Cara talk with four men at once. Smiling here, touching an arm there, Cara made them all simultaneously feel special. She was good, Kitty mused, very good. Her training seemed much more extensive than what Wichita should have been able to offer her. Also, there was something so familiar about Cara's mannerisms, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was. Kitty nursed her water as she tried and failed again to put her finger on just what it was that was so familiar about her. She resolved to ask her more about her prior experience when she got the chance. That was when it happened.
"I asked her first, Jed!" shouted a man Kitty had never met before, taking Cara's arm roughly into his hand.
"Let 'er go, Bill!" shouted Jed, taking Cara's other arm into his own hand.
Kitty rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, sighing before downing her remaining whiskey and rising unceremoniously from her table.
"Boys, there's enough to go around, I can assure you," Kitty cajoled as she walked up, winking amicably at the quarrelling men.
"But Miss Kitty, I asked her first, and he won't turn her loose," Jed offered.
"That true, Bill?" Kitty asked, having caught his name from the heated argument. Cocking her head to the side, she regarded him with her hands on her hips. She cut quite the figure in her deep blue dress, her glossy red hair and elaborate hairpins glinting in the lantern light.
"It's a load of nonsense, Miss Kitty!" Bill asserted. "Cara told me yesterday that she'd see me tonight."
"Cara?" Kitty asked, eyebrows raised, her scarlet lips arranged in a smirk for the ages.
"Miss Kitty, I did tell Bill that I'd entertain him tonight," Cara revealed.
"There. Then, it's settled," said Kitty. "Jed, there are several other lovely ladies here who could keep you company tonight if you're of a mind," Kitty declared with a smile. Bill pulled at Cara, but Jed wouldn't relinquish his hold on her right arm.
"But Miss Kitty, Bill said he's gonna pay for the rest of her evening just for spite," Jed sulked.
"Well, if you two can't come to an agreement like men and let her go, I suppose I'll have to send her up to her room alone tonight. Cara has already told us who her night was promised to," Kitty finished, having lost her patience. She'd had her fill of grown men acting like petulant boys. When neither man moved to release the girl, Kitty stalked closer.
"Turn her loose," she commanded slowly in a tone of deadly calm, staring each man down in turn with a look that silently dared them to defy her edict. Slowly, both Jed and Bill released Cara from their grip, which at one point had been so tight that there were now bruises on her pale arms. Kitty didn't miss a trick, shooting them both contemptuous looks as she seethed with anger.
"Cara, come on," Kitty coaxed with authority, reaching a delicate hand out to the girl. Cara flashed her an appreciative smile and, taking her proffered hand, allowed herself to be led up the staircase to the landing, safely away from the ruckus below.
"Cara, honey, I'm sorry I had to do that," said Kitty as she unlocked her own bedroom door. "I know you agreed to spend the evening with Bill, but judging from the marks already left on your wrists I think it might be best if you turn in early tonight." Opening the door for Cara, Kitty followed her in, locking the door behind them and lighting the lamp on her dresser and nightstand before she continued. "Under different circumstances, I'd send you to your own room, but there are still several hours before we close tonight and I want to be sure that the building is clear before I send you to your room alone," Kitty concluded wisely.
"Thank you, Kitty," said Cara, rubbing the bruises on her wrists gingerly, and looking away as her eyes filled with unshed tears. Seeing her distress, Kitty once again remembered how unkindly she had treated her earlier in the evening.
"Cara…I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I…I didn't mean it. You guessed right," Kitty revealed, her brows knitted in concern as she took in Cara's countenance. Looking down and passing her tongue over her teeth, she added, "You hit the nail on the head and I didn't like it, I didn't like it one bit." Cara tried out a smile, to which Kitty responded in kind. "Have a nightcap with me?" Kitty offered. "We might as well. We'll be stuck in here until we close for the night."
Wiping her eyes, Cara responded, "I can think of nothing I'd like more than to hide out in your room until the coast is clear." Regarding Kitty through long lashes she smirked, and casting her trepidation aside, sauntered over to her. Cara's black trimmed dress of deep purple swished as she walked. A moment later, Kitty was relieved of one glass of whiskey. Eyeing her over the rim of her newly procured glass, Cara took a deep swig of her rye and pensively bit her lower lip.
"Kitty, can I ask you something?" she ventured.
"I suppose you can," Kitty answered playfully, with her trademark smirk.
"Are you drunk?" she asked.
"I suppose that I am," she laughed. It was a low chuckle that Cara found pleasing to the ear. Kitty's sapphire eyes sparkled mischievously in the lamp light. "Do you think the boys downstairs could tell?" Kitty questioned.
"Not a chance," Cara assured with a genuine smile. "Without the marshal here to protect them, they were afraid for their lives going up against the likes of you!" she added, with a throaty chuckle. Kitty tried to return her laughter, but it was half-hearted. Cara had unknowingly struck another chord.
"Why don't you take men upstairs anymore?" Cara asked matter-of-factly, taking another sip of her whiskey, and eyeing Kitty intently over the top of her glass. Kitty paused for a moment before giving her reply.
"I don't need to," she revealed. "When you own the outfit you have more say in who you spend your time with," she quipped with a wink. It was an honest answer that fell short of divulging anything about her relationship with Matt Dillon. After all, their arrangement fell short of a typical relationship in most ways, excepting the mutual affection.
"They still talk about you, you know," Cara offered with a knowing grin.
"Oh, do they now?" Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow. She had to admit that she was intrigued. It had been a long while since she heard anyone mention her past as one of the Long Branch girls in a way that wasn't derisive. Getting comfortable, Cara took off her shoes, hiked her dress, and crossed her legs Indian style on Kitty's bed, while Kitty pulled up the chair where she normally hung the clothing she planned to wear to work later that night.
"They say you were the best Dodge had ever seen," Cara continued, smiling. Kitty found herself fixated on the girl's full lips as she related the deliciously naughty escapades recounted to her by her various patrons. Kitty remembered some of the more interesting scenarios, though most of them had been long forgotten. Once painted a rich carmine, the rim of her whiskey glass had worn Cara's lip color down to a muted rose. Kitty decided that it was becoming.
"Well, that was a long time ago," Kitty mused aloud. "They have new interests now," she added, nodding meaningfully in Cara's direction.
"Not so long ago, Kitty," Cara corrected. "There are some even now who would take you over me if they had the chance," she said with a smirk.
"I very much doubt that," Kitty scoffed, "though I appreciate your saying so."
"Oh, Kitty, you can't be serious? Out here on the dull prairie you're like…," Cara struggled to make a comparison, brow furrowed, "like…I don't know…like a tiger lily growing in the muck and dust."
"And how's that exactly?" Kitty asked, a smile of amusement spreading across her gorgeous face. She'd seen tiger lilies before. They were most often a burnt orange, speckled with dark beauty marks. Flattered, she decided that she liked the comparison.
"Familiar, but…," Cara fumbled, "…still exotic and wild." Struggling to put her thoughts into words, Cara went quiet. After only a moment she continued, "You're a scarlet sunset in a winter sky and these boys know it," she finished.
Surprised by Cara's words, but not displeased, Kitty felt the beginnings of a small blush spreading across her cheeks. Taking a pensive sip of her whiskey, Kitty favored the girl with a genuine smile.
"Keep that up, Cara, and I might start to get the wrong idea," Kitty teased.
"…or the right one," Cara corrected boldly, her blue-green eyes surveying Kitty as she bit her bottom lip.
Kitty chuckled openly and Cara laughed. It was a clear, pleasant, but unruly laugh that tumbled over itself like falling water. Kitty decided in that moment that she liked the girl, despite her name.
"Cara, help me out of this contraption, would you?" she asked. "I think I need to turn in for the night. My head is swimming."
Rising from the bed, Cara made her way over the chair where Kitty sat. She gently helped her get to her feet and walked her to her own bed, their skirts swishing against each other. Perching Kitty on the edge of her bed, Cara slowly, carefully began to unbutton, unfasten, and untie the various articles of clothing holding Kitty Russell in place, tethering her to this world. As each piece of armor was removed, Kitty felt lighter, but not happier. She stared off into space, an air of sadness settling upon her visage. Her eyes had gone a midnight blue so dark that Cara would have thought they were brown if she hadn't known better. She swallowed hard. This woman was too beautiful, too kind, too intelligent, and still too young to be this miserable. When she'd peeled off every layer, until only her underclothes remained, she deposited Kitty's garments across the chair back. Returning to the edge of the bed, she turned Kitty so that her back was angled toward the lamp on the nightstand. Content that she would both be able to reach and see well enough to remove her hairpins, Cara set to work, casually hiking her dress in order to straddle one of Kitty's pale thighs as she began to gently unpin the flickering embers that comprised her hair by lantern light. Taking Kitty's hair down would have been easier from behind, but there wouldn't have been sufficient light from one side, and she would have blocked the light with her body from the other, Cara reasoned. She needed to be close enough to reach behind Kitty without obstructing the light in the room. Pin by pin, her hair spilled softly over her lightly freckled shoulders in deep copper waves. She was what most men would have described as beautiful in her riding clothes during the day, just as she was a vision in her dance-hall dresses at night, but what she was right now, in the privacy of her bedroom by lantern light, was nothing short of absolutely stunning. Cara's breath caught in her throat as she realized she'd never seen a more beautiful woman. Her fingers began to tremble as she continued to unpin Kitty's long hair, though she consciously slid each loosened pin curl languidly across Kitty's back and shoulders, purposefully tickling and caressing her bare skin. It was how she'd been taught to do this all those years ago. It was as relaxing as it was titillating, she realized, Kitty's soft tresses sliding between her fingers. The last time she had done this for a madam had been when she was but a girl. She remembered having had a distinct desire to please, but that was the only type of desire she'd felt. She was still a bit young to have enjoyed giving herself to men then, though it wasn't that she hadn't yet lain with any. She'd been sold to the highest bidder at eleven years old. Most had considered it a kindness for the madam to have waited that long, but she had always looked out for Cara in her way. She had been the closest thing that Cara had had to a mother, and helping her get ready for bed each night was one of the few duties that she remembered fondly as part of her preparation for life in a brothel.
As a woman performing the same act for another woman, a strikingly beautiful woman nearly her own age, it felt different somehow. Kitty was a madam in her own right, but she had been just like Cara once. They would have understood one another. Cara regarded Kitty covertly, as she continued her work. She would have looked about the same, Cara deduced, as she allowed herself to ruminate on what Kitty would have been like during her years as a saloon girl. Her added years would have filled her out, though, Cara decided, giving her the slightly more rounded curves and womanly softness which Cara still somewhat lacked. Sliding each flaming tendril across Kitty's bare skin as it fell, she moved on to the next pin. It was only when she'd nearly finished that she'd realized Kitty had been staring up at her intently and for some time. She eyed her with such intensity in her deep blue eyes that it was nearly disconcerting. It was almost as if she'd never seen Cara before and was trying to catalogue everything about her in case she never saw her again. All at once, Cara became acutely aware of the fact that she was straddling her manager's thigh alone in her room after a whiskey nightcap, and having undressed her down to her underthings. The smoldering wildfire of her locks finally loosed from their confines, Cara's mouth went dry. Her eyes locked with Kitty's for mere seconds, spanning what felt like an eternity. She was overcome by a confusing, elicit feeling that burned low in her core, causing her heart to beat nearly out of her chest. As she moved to pull away, taking the final hairpin with her, Kitty deftly caught her wrist. It startled Cara and she winced in slight pain. She wanted to run, but she didn't dare move a muscle. Realizing she was hurting her, Kitty loosened her grip with an apologetic expression. She had forgotten the girl's bruises in her eagerness to uncover the truth.
"Cara…you didn't learn this in Wichita," Kitty declared astutely. "Where did you come from? I mean, where were you trained to be a saloon girl?" Kitty felt excited and anxious, believing in her heart that she already knew the answer.
"I worked in Wichita for a few years," Cara stammered. "Before that, I worked in four or five saloons across Texas," she added, "but I guess I learned the trade proper in New Orleans," she revealed, "at the Gilded Lily." She stood a little straighter, her own thick, black mane beginning to fall from its pins, delicately framing the look of uncertainty on her exquisite face.