One

That day early in March had started out warm, ripe with the promise of spring but sometime during the afternoon the wind had shifted blowing in bitter cold air from the North. The temperatures had dropped steadily until it was clear winter had returned or perhaps in reality, it had never really left. This was the kind of damp cold that cut to the bone. One sought comfort from most any source, be that man or man-made.

Kitty Russell was no different, she pulled her floral shawl closer around her shoulders and shivered. The ledger books and money box sat in front of her, waiting for her to tally the day's profit, but she ignored them. Instead she stared down at the whiskey glass in her hand swirling the liquid around just a mite. She sighed and winced involuntarily, knowing this drink would provide her only solace for the long night ahead.

As a matter of formality Sam asked, "Hasn't been a customer for the last half-hour, alright if I close up Miss Kitty?"

She heard the click of the lock, just before she answered, "Fine Sam."

She finished her drink in the semi-darkness. She let melancholy take hold as it always did the first night Matt was away. This would be the hardest one to get through alone when the pain of his absence was most acute and the realty of a lonely week ahead too absolute. She didn't shed tears for the heartache, what good were they when there was no one around to see them. With a steady hand she poured another drink hoping to dull the sting of loneliness.

The bottle was paid for she cynically reminded herself, thanks to a couple of cowpokes who had sat with her for a while earlier in the evening. She'd thought they looked familiar and had asked them if they'd met before. The pair had assured her they were new to town. They were clean and friendly, a balm to her spirit, complimenting her on her beauty and charm. She'd been sorry to see them go. With a smile the larger of the men had promised they'd return 'real soon'.

She took a long drink, noting the quality of the product was not up to her usual standards but taking pleasure in the burn of the whiskey as it traveled down her throat.

With Sam gone, she was alone in the Long Branch. This time of year there was no need for live-in help. The two girls who worked for her shared a room at Ma Smalley's. When Matt was in town she found this a convenient arrangement, but on a night like this it made the loneliness all the more unpalatable.

She poured the last drop of liquid from the bottle to her glass. Outside the wind continued it's punishment of buildings and trees. The LONG BRANCH sign which hung in front of the saloon creaked and groaned against its hinges threatening to break free of its hold. A tree limb was beating against a side window as though it were begging to come in from the cold. The thought made her chuckle. The sound of her laugh echoed eerily through the empty building.

By the time she decided to leave her solitary table the room was spinning. She was surprised for she didn't think she'd consumed that much of the amber colored liquor. "Good." She thought, "At least I'll sleep tonight." She closed the lid on her money box and set it atop the ledger books. The routine of this daily ceremony proved comforting and tedious at the same time.

She swayed as she made her way to the office, catching herself on the bar for support. Closing her eyes tightly she tried to fight off the dizziness. She inhaled deeply in effort to calm her panicking heart, while she wondered what was wrong with her. She forced herself to move forward, but the few steps to the office seemed like an insurmountable distance as she tried to navigate a straight line. Thank heaven she'd left a lamp burning in the little room. She followed it's beam as a ship follows a light house beacon on stormy seas.

A peculiar sensation traveled down her spine forcing a shudder through her body. Even in this altered state her senses warned her she was not alone. "Who's there?" she slurred. No answer. She forced her defiant tongue to obey her command. "Who's there?" she said again. This time stronger and clearer. As if in reply the light went out from the lamp and the room was enveloped by darkness.

Her head collided with something hard, the collision brining a razor sharp pain as she crashed to the floor. The tin cash box clattered to the ground next to her, the contents spilling out around her. The pain at first was too intense for her to move and she lay motionless. There were noises, strange muffled sounds that seemed to alternate in volume and frequency. A myriad of colors flashed before her closed eyes. There were voices and she forced herself to concentrate on the words.

"Light a match. Turn up the lamp."

"She dead?"

"Will be if she ain't already. Drank the rest of that bottle, she did."

A hand rough and calloused touched her face, "Shame too, such a pretty gal." The hand moved down her neck to rest on her breast. "Hearts still beatin', but won't be fer long." The hand lingered there, "Damn shame, I ain't been with a woman in ten years and the first I lay hands on is a dead one."

"More the shame Dillon ain't around. I had my mind fixed on pay back."

"We got us other concerns, we ain't got time for Dillon. Believe me that big man lives and breaths in this woman. Her dead is payback Fargo."

"It ain't payback enough. Not for what he done to me, I mean to see him burning in hell. I will too, mark my word. He's a dead man."

The thought of Matt in danger stirred her senses. She fought frantically to gain control of her body and master the all consuming pain, but her labors were in vain. It was as thought she were already dead. Her struggle changed course as breathing became more difficult. She heard gasping sounds and realized they were coming from her lungs. There was a roar in her head that grew louder like a steam engine bearing down upon her. She wanted to scream, but she had no voice. Then, finally, blessedly there was nothing.

GS GS GS

Sam had been fifty paces from his home when he'd realized he'd forgotten to lock the back door of the Long Branch. It was something he did routinely every night but this evening he'd been in a hurry to get home.

He cursed the cold and pulled the collar of his wool coat tighter around his neck. Sleet had started falling making the footing treacherous. Only a fool would be out on a night like this he told himself, and almost turned around to head back home. But, his sense of duty to Miss Kitty was strong. He wouldn't sleep he knew if there was the slightest chance she could be in danger.

He pulled out his key at the front door but held back surprised that a light still burned within. Not wanting to alarm his employer, he rapped on the door and called our, "Miss Kitty it's me Sam." He waited a moment and tried again. Deciding she must have gone to bed with the lamp still burning downstairs, he used his key. Once inside he glanced around the large saloon room as its shadows danced to the tune of the flame burning in the kerosene office lamp. He smiled, she must have fallen asleep at her desk again. Still not wanting to frighten her, he called out once more, "Miss Kitty, it's me Sam. I've come to lock the back door."

He thought he heard a sound coming from the office, or maybe it was the wind but he moved forward to investigate.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. "Miss Kitty?" he cried. "Miss Kitty." He fell to his knees at her side. A large gash over her left eye was bleeding freely staining the small oriental rug that decorated the office floor. The old barkeep's hand hovered over her a moment before his fingers settled around her wrist. "My God." he mourned. "She's dead."