Kitty watched the miles fly by as the train sped to St. Louis, but her thoughts remained in Dodge, to be exact, on one particular person in Dodge. With each passing mile her regret at the way she'd left Matt grew. More than anyone she knew the dangers of his job. What if while she was away he was wounded or worse? She'd left him with a cool stare and words that, while not harsh, held not a modicum of warmth. What if that was his last memory of her? What if? She quickly cut off that line of thinking. It wouldn't happen. Matt would be alive and well when she got back. Then she'd explain that she wasn't mad at him, not really, there were just things she had to do. She let out a sigh. It all started when Matt told her he couldn't take her to the sociable, as planned. Two years ago she'd been thrown into a tailspin when Matt backed out of a sociable because of work. That time it had been the last straw in a string of disappointments. It was a difficult time, but after all was said and done, she and they regained their equilibrium. This was different. This time she understood why Matt had to go. Jerry Kramer was an evil, vicious man who had to be stopped. She'd even managed a smile, though a weak one, when Matt told her he'd arranged for Doc and Festus to take her to the sociable. After giving it some thought, she even decided that going with Festus and Doc could be fun. It was not the same as going with Matt, far from it, but her two good friends would show her a good time and this was the biggest sociable of the year.
On the morning of the party she was in the Long Branch having coffee and thinking about what dress to wear, when Doc walked in looking guilty and embarrassed.
"Morning Doc. Let me guess, you have something to say that you think I won't like?"
"We'll Kitty, I don't much like it myself." He rubbed his mustache. "I've been very much looking forward to tonight's sociable, especially since that lawman of yours made it possible for me to be one of your escorts."
"But you can't go. Is that it, Doc?"
"Well, Jimmy Smythe's dad is here saying the little boy is coughing a lot. It might be nothing, but I'd better go check. With them living so far, there is no way I'll be back much before midnight. Kitty, I…"
"Oh Doc, don't say another word. Get going, a boy needs your help. Festus and I will have a good time."
Doc left with a smile. She took another sip of coffee. In truth going with the good-hearted hill man could turn out to be fun. Festus knew how to have a good time. However, without Doc around to ensure promptness, it might be best to find Festus and let him know exactly what time they should leave for the party.
She stepped outside and spotted him immediately, arms piled high with boxes, walking with a sweet-faced brunette. The look on Festus' face explained why he'd been keeping his boots polished and hair slicked back for the past 10 days. Her name was Cassie Wilson, and she'd moved in with her aunt and uncle a little over a week ago to look for seamstress work.
Festus set the boxes down in the back of Cassie's wagon.
"Thank you Festus, and thank you for all the other times you've carried things and opened heavy doors for me." She giggled, "It's almost like you appear by magic."
"Aw now." He rolled back on his heels and blushed with pleasure, "Thar ain't no need ta be thankin me."
"Well, I am grateful. You know Festus, tonight is the sociable that everyone's been talking about. I'm going with my aunt and uncle. Will I see you there?"
Festus nodded energetically, "Ya surely will. I'll be with a couple a friends. I'll look fur ya."
Cassie drove off with a smile and Festus whistled as he walked away. Kitty shook her head. Things had suddenly changed again. If as planned, Festus and Doc had taken her to the sociable, it would look like one thing. Festus escorting her alone would look like something else entirely, particularly to someone new in town like Cassie Wilson. She'd get the wrong idea, especially because Festus had already told her he was going with a couple of friends. If he showed up with an attractive woman, an explanation would be – well – complicated.
She went after Festus and followed him into the marshal's office.
"Howdy, Miss Kitty. Ah, didn't see ya was behin me."
"Hello Festus, you seem to be in a good mood."
"Better 'n a hog in mud, Miss Kitty." He grinned, "What can ah do for ya?"
"Nothing Festus, I just wanted you to know that I won't need you to take me to the sociable tonight?"
"Ya, mean ya wanna go with jus Doc?" He looked genuinely perplexed.
She realized he hadn't heard that Doc had gone out of town, and decided not to mention it. "No Festus, it's just that I have a headache, so I won't be going at all."
"It's early, Miss Kitty. Betcha Doc can give ya sum powders or sumthin ta fix ya up fur later."
"Thanks Festus, but it's a bad one so I won't be going. You have a good time."
She turned and left knowing she'd done the right thing for Festus. Now he could go alone and be attentive to Cassie, dance with her, bring her food, maybe even take her home.
As she walked, disappointment swelled inside of her. Damn she wanted to go to that sociable, but women are not men, and a woman doesn't go to a sociable by herself. If she walked in alone she'd be a topic of conversation and surrounded by whispers, catty looks and curious stares. That was no way to have a good time. Why where there so many damn rules for women? It wasn't right. She was her own person, ran her own business, made her own decisions and paid her own expenses.
That night she tried to convince herself that an evening alone, reading and relaxing, would be wonderful. It wasn't. She felt gloomy and uneasy. She tried to read - first a book, then a magazine, then a newspaper but her mind kept wandering. Her eyes came to rest on a brightly colored piece of mail sticking up out of the trash. It was addressed to: The Current Owner of the Long Branch Saloon, Dodge City, Kansas. She'd barely looked at it before tossing it out. Now, out of boredom, restlessness and mild curiosity she plucked it from the trash. On the outside were big letters, WASO, and in smaller type - western association of saloon owners. She unfolded the fancy paper and read:
Are you serious about your business?
Are you serious about finding the best suppliers around?
Are you serious about making your saloon one of finest in the country?
If the answer is yes, you are a true professional - a real businessman who should attend the WASO convention in St. Louis.
It is a triennial (once every 3 years) event that you can't miss. Every SHREWD and SERIOUS saloon owner will be there trading ideas and meeting quality vendors of everything from beer to pianos.
She set the ad down on her table. Her former partner, Bill Pence, had gone to those conventions. Personally she'd never given WASO a thought. Maybe it was about time she did. True, the ad assumed that serious professionals were men, but she was as good at business as any man, and as serious about it too.
So here she was riding the train to St. Louis to prove it.
TBC