RUMOR HAS IT 7

(Buy the rumor, sell the fact...BOB WISNER, Farmer's Digest, 1976)

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The third edition of the Dodge City News was lying on the bar top when Kitty made her way downstairs the next morning. For several moments she thought about just tossing the paper without even looking inside. But finally, she decided to go ahead and read today's version of the poisoned pen letter and see what more he had accused her of.

What she read surprised and dismayed her.

Rumor Has It

For the last couple of days, I have reported on the activities of a certain lady here in Dodge. Many people have shown a great deal of interest in those reports with some suggesting other well-known people in town that they would also be interested in hearing about.

So, in an effort to satisfy my readers, I went on a small tour of this fine city and the surrounding countryside to see what I could see. And, Dear Reader, I saw a great deal. From the shop keeper whose finger may have rested a little heavily on the scales to the northern rancher who claims grazing rights on land perhaps not his.

Now, please, do not misunderstand me. I am not saying these things to cause strife among the citizens of Dodge and I most certainly am not accusing anyone of malfeasance in their day to day dealings. I am simply reporting things that I have seen as I rambled around the town.

Like the gentleman who spends copious amounts of time behind a desk, signing one sheet of paper after another and making huge sums of money without really working. I am certain that if asked, this gray haired, portly gentleman would tell you that he works quite diligently for the very large amount of money he takes in. But is it his money? Or is it the money that the poor men and women in this area labored hard to obtain only to be forced to give it up to a man, who with a stroke of his pen, can claim it as his due? Does he have the right to deprive these people of their hard earned wages, simply because in a moment of weakness, they had been forced to sign a piece of paper in order to obtain enough money to survive?

I have heard reports that it is the latter.

But that is a question, I will leave to you dear reader, as it is beyond my capability and my right to decide. I am simply a humble observer of this town and its people. The man I spoke of committed no wrong doing while under my gaze. He simply went about his business as do so many other citizens of this town.

Just like I will continue to go about my business of watching and reporting.

Your Editor,
Herman Mason.

Kitty shook her head in disgust. Now the newspaper man was saying that Woody Lathrop tipped the scales, Jake Worth was claiming land not his and Mr. Bodkin was cheating the people who came to him for loans. Of course, once again, he had used no names and had offered nothing in the way of proof that could be refuted. He was simply acting as an observer and noting what he saw.

Or at lest that would be his defense.

But to Kitty's way of thinking, he was the worst kind of coward. Hiding behind the guise of observer, he was using that as a way of skewering any and everyone without worry about being called on it. She doubted he would have the nerve to stand face to face with those he was 'watching' and actually say those things about them in person.

Throwing the paper away, as she knew she should've done in the first place, Kitty shook her head and went into her office to work, deciding, for the time being at least, to ignore the hateful man and his hateful words about her and all of the other people he was "observing'.

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Matt strode down the boardwalk towards the jail, his mind on the articles he'd read and the woman they had so upset. Though rumors and gossip about Kitty Russell were nothing new, and for the most part ignored by her, these were of a more personal nature and seemed to have no purpose other than to cause her grief.

It was true, of course, that Kitty loved Doc, but not as a lover. Kitty loved him as a father. The man had been her confidant and protector and source of advice many, many times over the years. He had listened when she was burdened and simply needed an ear and consoled when no one else could or would.

Of course, Matt wasn't stupid. He knew how her behavior with Doc could look to others, given they were willing to bend their mind to it. And it was easy to do. All one had to do was look at a certain set of circumstances, envision something bad and it would be there. Just the same as though wishing to find the good, he supposed, but there were fewer of those kinds of people.

People wanting to believe that Kitty was having an affair with Doc, could find ample proof simply by twisting around a few facts. Doc and Kitty had gone on fishing trips and picnics and a couple of business trips and more than once he had visited her bedroom alone.

But those trips and picnics had been as friends, or more closely, father and daughter. Had Matt been in town or able to travel at will, they probably wouldn't have happened at all, at least not as often. And the many times Doc was in her room, was as her physician, not as her lover.

But, as was usually the case, people seemed always more willing to believe the bad about someone, rather than the good. Especially the second little editor's note implying that Kitty sold more than whiskey in her establishment. She hadn't taken a man upstairs, other than Matt, since the day, or night that was, that they had first come together. Of that, Matt was certain.

But because she ran a saloon, and she did have girls who were willing, given the right circumstances, she was painted with the same brush as any other woman of ill repute, despite all of the good she had done for the town over the years. She was branded and those articles had done nothing but make it worse for her.

Shaking his head at the injustice of the thing, Matt completed his journey to the jail building and stepped inside to find that his day just got considerably worse than he even envisioned.

TBC