ELEVEN

Kitty's words

I hadn't slept much for each worried toss and turn I took was met by an ache or pain of body and soul resulting from my meeting with Matt Dillon. I'd known him less than two years in Dodge City, in that time I'd let down my guard only marginally. Life had taught me to trust no man completely and to leave nothing except gambling to chance. Even that life law was modified by the edict of cheat when winning is an absolute necessity.

That night, in the space of a heartbeat I had found myself with the weight of his body pressing intimately over mine, locked in a fiery kiss. Even the remembrance brought jolts of aftershocks as powerful as the initial tremor. I gave myself a mental shake. Matt Dillon was all badge, I'd know it from the beginning, he'd made no bones about his intentions. "I'm not a marrying man," he'd say, "it wouldn't be fair, not to the woman I asked to be my wife, and not to the job." I knew the power of the badge would pull mightily on him and I doubted I could balance the weight. I resolved to keep my heart to myself and my head to clear thinking. My life depended on it. Still it was hard to ignore what the mere thought of him did to my senses.

Rest had finally won out just as the sun was beginning its rise along the eastern horizon. I'd managed a few hours of sleep by the time Ferd began banging on my door. "Puss, get your God-damned ass outa that bed."

I cursed him back as I pulled the covers tighter around my tender body. "Go away you bastard, leave me alone."

I had pushed him too far, "I ain't takin this from the likes of you." With a sudden slam, he crashed into the door, splintering the rough-hewn wood leaving only broken framework shielding me from him. Like a charging bull; Kutz plowed through the shattered boards, he took the two steps to my bed and yanked me from the covers. With unchained fury he began beating me, as the lowest coward beats a woman, where no one will see his mark. I screamed at the horror of this act, using the flat of his hand he slapped me silencing my cry with enough force to throw me to the floor. I cowered, as the madman closed in on me. His hand was raised ready to continue the beating but something made him stop. He spit on the floor and then at me, "You owe me, you hear puss, you owe me. I don't know where the hell you were last night, but it sure weren't here working fer me. Now get your ass up off that floor, and get dressed, before I change my mind and cut that face of yours up so bad no man will ever want you again." He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper articulating each word with lethal precision, "Don't never doubt that I will too if I catch you cheating me outa another night's wage." He turned and left the room his boot steps drumming a cadence on the floorboards.

There are few men I've ever hated as much as Ferdinand Kutz. I knew without a doubt, if I didn't get out of Rubicon soon, I'd be charged with another murder and this time I'd be guilty.

When the sound of the outer hall door slam had reached my ears I pulled myself to my feet. The movement brought a jolt in my ribs so sharp I couldn't catch my breath. I closed my eyes willing myself to relax thus releasing the grip the pain had on me. I shuffled to the old table above which hung my mirror and upon which sat my water basin and pitcher. There was enough daylight filtering through the muslin curtains to study my image in the looking glass. I sought evidence of the bartender's attack. A red fan was spreading across my left cheek in the shape of Kutz's hand. I dipped my washrag into the cold water, which had sat overnight in the basin, and applied the cloth to my face; it took some of the sting from the hurt. The outer hall door opened and closed again and I prepared myself for another assault, my fingers wrapped around the handle of the pitcher, for in battle you take your weapons where you find them. I kept my eyes on the mirror and focused on the doorway's reflection

"God's Holy Socks, what the hell happened here?"

I almost smiled with relief at the sound of Flossie's voice and did at the pretty picture her reflection showed. The smile had no more than lifted my lips before a wave of dizziness rushed over me and I suddenly felt as weak as a newborn calf. My legs wobbled unsteadily and I let go of the pitcher and braced my hands on the table for support. Flossie's eyes were opened wide as she picked up her skirts and gingerly stepped over the splintered remains of my door. "Sweetie, what are you doing still here?" she noticed my cheek and disheveled appearance, and hurried to me, "Who did this to you?" Wrapping a caring arm around my waist she led to my cot, where we both sat down.

I covered my face with my hands but Flossie pulled them away, "Kitty." She asked gently, "Who did this?"

My mouth was dry and the word stuck in my throat for a time before I was able to say it, "Ferd."

"Why?"

"Flossie, he's hated me from the moment he set eyes on me. He hates the fact I haven't knuckled under to him. It seems he thinks I was holding out on him last night." I ran my hand over my reddened cheek, "This was just his way of making sure he got a part of the action."

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd gotten out of here like you were going to, what went wrong?"

"Matt Dillon. I never made it out of town; Matt was looking for me and he found me. He convinced me to go back to Dodge with him. He said he's got some unfinished business here in Rubicon to take care of first."

Her voice showed her worry, "You said there's a hangman's noose waiting for you back in Dodge City."

I nodded.

"But you're still going back with Dillon."

"He promised he wouldn't let them hang me."

"Kitty Russell, after all this time, don't you know enough never to trust a man, much less a lawman?"

Unconsciously I ran my fingers under the collar of my nightgown until they came in contact with the onyx locket, it struck me then, how solid the pendant but how fragile the chain. "Flossie, sometimes you just don't have a choice. I'll abide by Matt Dillon's wishes for now, but that doesn't mean I won't be keeping my bags packed ready to get out of Rubicon the minute I think things are turning sour."

(Matt's words)

The table in Mrs. Sasse's kitchen was filled with her boarders when I came down the stairs the next morning. Teacher Yolanda Boman bid me a good day and introduced me to the other residents.

"Good Morning to you Deputy," the widow said, turning from the stove with a platter of steaming pancakes. "Breakfast is always served in the kitchen, and supper in the dining room, of course you are on your own for the noon day meal."

"Yes ma'am, I remember." I replied already eyeing a table laden with plates and bowls of hot smoked ham, freshly baked bread and strawberry preserves.

"Sit down, sit down. A big strapping youth like you ... you must be famished."

"Yes ma'am." I wasted no time on talk but set myself right to task. I'd finished my first plateful and was in the process of filling up the second when Gabe stuck his head in the kitchen doorway.

"Matthew lad, it's to work I'm expecting you, not filling your gullet on the Widow Sasse's uncommon good cooking skills."

"Saint's preserve us, Gabriel Maxwell you just hush now, he's a growing boy, let him eat."

Gabe winked in the direction of the table before turning to the attractive widow, "Looks to me like he's growed enough."

I made a move to stand up, but Mrs. Sasse stepped forward to place a firm hand on my shoulder.

"You just stay put, don't pay no never mind to that ol' scallywag."

The Sheriff's eyes twinkled with roguish good humor, "Pardon me Ma'am for being ungentlemanly but that be like the pot calling the kettle black."

"Gabriel Maxwell, your mother certainly picked the wrong name for you, if the Holy Mother had been visited by you with the grand news, she'd a chosen to remain childless!"

"I can't say the same of you my dear, your Ma came up with the perfect handle for you."

Her hands flew to her hips in righteous indignation, "Well, I never!"

"Oh yes you have, but that is beside the point, It was the middle of your name I was speaking of and not the beginning." He picked up the previous night's bottle still sitting on the sideboard and gave the woeful contents a shake.

The widow's face turned to an angry scowl as she grabbed the kitchen broom and swung it threateningly in the direction of the lawman. "Sheriff if you don't get your loathsome carcass out of my kitchen this very instant, I'll sweep you out like I would any prairie dirt littering my floor."

Gabe chuckled, tipped his hat and turned in my direction, "I'll be waiting for you on the front porch deputy, don't be taking too long."

I folded the pancake on my plate in half, picked it up, took a quick gulp of my coffee and made an exit, "Thank you ma'am." I said, "Mighty good breakfast, mighty good."

Her face was red and she was still flustered but she composed herself enough to say, "Supper's at six. If no one is up when you get in tonight, the key is under the door mat."

I slapped my hat on my head and adjusted it a mite, "Yes ma'am." I replied as I hurried out the door.

Maxwell met me at the porch steps. "Widow cooks a fine breakfast, don't she?" he said.

I nodded, finishing off the pancake and wishing I had more. "Say," I asked, "I'm curious, what is the Widow's first name."

"Vir-GIN-ia." he answered.

I thought for a moment and then smiled.

The same fella I'd seen playing cards at the Trails End was waiting for us at the Sheriff's office. He sat with his hat tipped back on his head, a cigar clenched between his teeth and his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't say anything as we walked in, only nodded his head in greeting.

"Good morning to you Parmly Harris. Have you met my new deputy?" Gabe asked the man.

The rancher squinted his eyes and studied me for a moment before taking the stogie from his mouth, "Heard about him Gabe, but I ain't had no formal howdy-do."

I held out a hand to the other man, "Matt, Matt Adams."

"Adams huh?" He looked from me to Gabe.

"It's what they be calling a coincidence Parm, now, what can I do for you today, or is this a social call?"

Harris stuck the cigar back in his mouth and took a couple last puffs and then tossed the stump to the floor and ground it to ashes with the heel of his boot. "Damn it, I'm your friend, you know that, but I got something that needs saying. Gabe, there's a lot of talk going on. Folks are mighty upset, the Schaefer's were well thought of, Bob and the ol' woman. It seems to most, me included, you're not doing a dang thing about what happened out there at the Crossing."

"Ain't my place Parm, if it was injuns then it's to the soldiers from Fort McCoy. My responsibility is to this town and the people of Rubicon. "

"Hell Gabe, you know it was Spencer's doing. Folks want to know what's it gonna take for you to do something? Who's gonna get killed or burned out next? I got me two little girls, what if it's my place they hit next?"

Gabe took off his hat and threw it on the desk, "Calm down Parm, you know as well as I do, if I'm not around Spencer will ride into Rubicon, and it'll be his for the taking, it's happened before. I'm thinking with this here new deputy to look after things, maybe I can afford to take a ride out to the Black Mesa country, see if I can't track down, Verdon ..."

He was shorter than Gabe by a good four inches but he stood up and moved directly in front of the lawman, "Then what Gabe? Talk ain't gonna do it. It's time to take a stand, or it won't matter no how, cause there won't be no Rubicon to protect."