Four
She was usually up by the time Sam came in to open the Long Branch for the day. He was not alarmed when he arrived to work and she didn't come downstairs to say good morning. Considering all she had been through; Sam assumed she needed a little extra rest. When Doc stopped by around ten that morning to check on her - and she still wasn't up -they decided to investigate. The door was locked, but Sam had a key. The two men cautiously walked in. The smell of liquor hung in the air of the enclosed room leaving little doubt what Kitty had done the night before. They found her on the bed curled around an empty bottle. Her hair was disheveled and her nightgown soiled. Trying to hide his alarm, Doc sat down beside her and gently patted her shoulder. "Kitty, don't do this to yourself."
"Go away Doc. Leave me alone - just leave me be," she moaned.
He swiped at his moustache and tried a different approach, "Come on Kitty, let's go have some breakfast. You get dressed and prettied up and I'll wait for you downstairs."
"No thanks, Doc. I've had my breakfast. It looks like I've got lunch and dinner here, too. So just go away. I'm not worth the bother. Just hand me another bottle before you leave."
"I'll do nothing of the kind, young lady! I've got too much time invested in making you healthy again to watch you throw it all away. Now get a hold of yourself!" Doc ordered sternly.
"Oh, go away." She got up shakily, pushing past the old man, to stagger to the side table where she found another flask. "I've got all the friends I need right in these little bottles -so just go away." She took a long drink and then stared at him defiantly.
Doc's eyes narrowed, knowing he was powerless to stop her downward spiral. "Alright - maybe you need this. Get it out of your system! I'll stop by later," he said.
"Don't bother. When I need you ... I'll let you know," she slurred.
Adams was shaken by what he'd seen. To his recollection, Kitty had never abused alcohol. She was a good drinker and could hold her own. As a saloon girl it had been a prerequisite for success. However, he had never known her to drink for the sole purpose of getting drunk. But now, just as Matt had feared she was out of control and Doc was afraid to think what she might do next.
Two more days passed before she finally surfaced from her binge. She awoke with a dry mouth and pounding head. Struggling to her feet, she made her way painfully to the mirror. The looking glass was full - length and ornately hand carved, having come all the way from St. Louis soon after she purchased the Long Branch. Studying her likeness in the mirror the first thing in the morning was an old habit, acquired from years of making a living on her beauty, and she'd always considered her reflection an ally.
Today, Kitty Russell stared in horror at the image she saw looking back at her. The face was of a woman hard and used. What had happened to her beautiful features and figure? She was reminded of an old prostitute she had known in New Orleans in her youth. "Looks like you've come full circle, Kitty," she said out loud. "Bonner had you pegged after all." The weight of depression settled upon her. She walked across the room to her dressing table, whiskey bottle still in hand. There she picked up the picture of a young Matt and Kitty. How simple things were then. Suddenly the contrast between the young beauty and the woman she had become filled her with a fierce rage. She spun around and hurled the bottle at the fancy mirror in a blind fury, shattering the glass.
Kitty remained in her room, but she didn't drink. The bottle she'd thrown at the mirror lay fractured and broken, shattered like her spirit. She kept searching for her heart, but Bonner had taken that and everything else she had to fight with. He had taken her self-respect, her dignity, and her honor. Like a discarded vessel she was empty.
There was a knock on her door. "Miss Kitty? I've brought your breakfast and the morning mail," Sam said through the closed door. Everyday the bartender had dutifully brought a tray up, and placed it before her door, and every night for the past three days, he had taken the tray back downstairs with the contents barely touched.
Only when she was sure Sam had gone did she open the door. She squatted down to study the contents of the tray. The smell of steak and eggs made her stomach churn, but she found the aroma of the coffee stimulating. She took the cup and grabbed the mail and went back into her rooms.
Amid the correspondence and business invoices was a parcel wrapped in paper and tied with string.
She undid the binding and ripped away the brown paper to reveal a well-worn journal, the pages were yellowed with age. A note dropped to the floor. Kitty bent to pick it up. In a strong masculine hand she read,
"Dear Miss Russell,
I recently found this diary among my wife's personal possessions. I thought her words might be of some comfort to you, for she endured a similar ordeal to your own. I want you to know that Mrs. Brooker found peace again, and I feel she would surely want me to share this journal with you.
Sincerely,
Judge Caleb T. Brooker"
Kitty blinked hard, and pushed the hair out of her eyes as she sat on the floor by her bed and opened the worn book. The words jumped off of the pages and into her heart.
January 3rd
Caleb gave me this journal as a Christmas gift. This is the first day I've had the heart to open it up and take pen to paper. It's been nearly three months since my rescue and seven months since I was taken so cruelly away. Sometimes, I try to remember what my life was like before that time. But those memories have faded so fast from my thoughts that they remain in my mind shadowed as a ghostly image.
I am so alone in this world; there is no one I can talk to. There is no one who can understand. Caleb has no idea how I feel, and thinks that just by saying everything is all right it is.
January 10th
I spend most of my day in what used to be our guest room. Now it is my room, for the thought of sharing a bed with Caleb fills me with such fear that I can not see straight.
Just getting dressed is an effort, getting undressed is worse for it reminds me of the atrocities I endured. I find myself sleeping (although I do not sleep) in the same clothes I wore throughout the day, just to avoid witnessing my own nakedness. I fear for my sanity.
January 15th
I have lost all control over my life and my emotions. I do not recognize myself. Is this what it's like to lose one's mind? I want to scream at him, at everyone, at me and yet I cannot. I pace the confines of my room as a caged animal.
February 2nd
If only the nightmares would go away. But, they are always there, even in my wakeful hours, the dreams haunt my conscious thought. I live in fear. I wish to God they had killed me, for death would be far friendlier than this life they have sentenced me to.
February 5th
I so want the comfort of my husband's embrace. I am not so far gone that I have completely forgotten what it was like before this happened, although it seems a different lifetime, one lived by someone other than myself. Dear Caleb deserves so much better than what I've become. I see the pity in his eyes, I hear it in his voice and I push him further and further away for I would not have him know the darkness of my soul.
February 24th
I actually thought I was getting better, until something happened to remind me. What a fool I was to think I could return to any sort of normal existence. I feel nothing now, save for the pain and the panic. I can't live like this.
March 3rd
I want to cry. I want to be able to let go of this memory, but I cannot. I need release from this pain. I want hope. I long for peace. I want to forget … perhaps what I really want is death.
March 15th
I consider death quite often now. I even think of ways to accomplish the task. That dark void of death would be a welcome release. And, my dear Caleb could go on with his life, and not be sentenced to the bounds of our marital union.
April 9th
I see the sadness in his eyes and know it is my fault. I have pushed him away, to see if he would go, but he will not leave. He says he loves me, he says he will help me through this ... but how can we get through this?
April 14th
My life feels like a puzzle with all the pieces spread out over the table, all a jumble. How can I ever fit the pieces back together and what of those pieces irretrievable lost forever? The picture can never be whole.
April 21st
I laughed at a silly story Caleb told me, and for a brief moment I forgot to be afraid. The cloud lifted and I saw sunlight. It was just a flicker in time, but it felt so good, so right. Then, the storm settled back in on me and all was dark and bleak.
May 1st
Today was a good day. It seems like I am having more good days of late. We took a walk...just after the rain stopped...the smell of the freshly mowed hay mingled with the lilac blossoms, and it was so beautiful. I was happy, happy to be alive and happy to be with Caleb. I am finding hope and perhaps tomorrow will be another good day.
Kitty closed the journal and clutched it to her breast. The pain of Sarah Brooker mirrored her own. If Sarah had been able to overcome the same anguish, could she? Kitty's eyes stared ahead, as if trying to fix on the image of a future filled again with hope and love.