By the time she heard the bullet she was already lying on the ground in mind-numbing pain. Lying on her back, staring up at the sky in shock, she thought someone had speared her in the outer upper right thigh with a red-hot poker.
Suddenly, the bright blue sky was blotted out by a figure standing over her holding a still-smoking six-shooter.
"Well, Kitty, I've been wanting to do that for a very long time. I could see your distain for me when I came to the Long Branch last month looking for the Marshal…YOUR Marshal!" The beautiful slim young blonde's blue eyes were icy as she glared down at her victim.
"I've been waiting to get you alone out here. I knew eventually your morning ride would take you this way. You were too busy gawking at the sky to see me following you. I bet your MATT doesn't approve of your habit of riding alone!" she snapped as she put her revolver back in its holster. "NOW I can leave DODGE and disappear from this whole rotten country forever!"
Kitty blinked and tried to sit up, but the burning pain only worsened and she fell back. She knew she had to stop the bleeding as she felt the wetness spread across her thigh. Doc had trained her well in assisting him with such wounds after she had needed to help the first time Matt was shot.
"Belle. What good does my death do you? If you help me get back to town and to Doc's, I'll say it was an accident." The young red-haired woman had managed to prop herself up on her left elbow and was pressing her riding skirt material tightly against the sickening hole in her leg with her right hand.
"Your man killed MY man, miserable unfaithful worm that he was. And now my own younger sister won't even speak to me! I want Matt Dillon to suffer, and this is even better than harming HIM!"
Belle Ainsley had left Dodge with an outlaw three years ago. When she had reappeared in town a month ago, claiming Jess Crider had gagged and bound her to take her against her will, and that now everyone thought she was a 'bad' woman, Kitty had been skeptical:
"Matt, he didn't keep her tied up and gagged for THREE YEARS!" she had sarcastically sniffed.
And Kitty, an astute "reader" of people, had been right. It turned out that Belle had only come back to Dodge to help hide her wanted outlaw boyfriend Jess at her father's ranch before they could safely leave together.
The plan was ruined when Belle's younger seventeen-year-old sister Phyllis had fallen for Jess, and tried to run away with him. Phyllis had been bitter against Belle for three years, being left alone to work for their widowed father.
When Belle found out about her sister and Jess, she had told Matt where to find the pair, and the Marshal had been forced to shoot the outlaw. As much as Belle hated Jess Crider for his betrayal, she also still loved him. Now she had her revenge for his killing.
Belle turned on her heel and headed back towards her horse hidden in the trees as Kitty watched in dismay.
"WAIT! At least leave me some water! Please, Belle!" Kitty had slumped back down to the ground, lying on her left side, left arm stretched out under her head. Her own horse, Magnolia, had bolted at the explosive gunshot and was already racing across the ground towards its safe stall at Moss' stable. Kitty had stopped to stretch her legs and enjoy the fresh, clean air of the empty prairie, never suspecting that Belle was hidden in the small grove of trees.
The blonde woman wearing her small black cowboy hat at a rakish angle had reached her horse. Turning her head back towards the wounded young woman, she paused in thought, then pulled a bottle of whiskey from her saddlebag. With a smirking smile on her face, she strode back towards Kitty, stood over her, and poured the liquid onto the helpless woman's outstretched hand, dropping the empty bottle on her bloody skirt. As the dismayed woman looked up at her in stunned disbelief, Belle gave her a vicious kick in the head with her booted foot, then went back to her horse and rode away.
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The middle-aged woman was loudly singing as she slowly drove her old wagon down a barely visible path through the long prairie grass. She had a battered hat over her gray-streaked brown hair, and a well-worn, fringed leather jacket over a man's checked shirt, a long, faded black skirt, and dusty tan boots. Known as "Bottle Sally," she picked up household and farm items discarded by west-bound travelers, and in particular, collected empty bottles for resale. As the wagon rattled along, the bottles in back rolled around and clinked together.
"Well, ol' Worthless," Sally said to her beloved mule, "is that there a bottle way over yonder?" The scavenger squinted towards the small copse of trees off to her right, and the glint of glass atop a lump in the grass.
It was only one bottle, and might even be broken, but every few cents made a difference. The rough woman turned her mule and headed towards the reflection, starting to sing again in an off-key, happy voice. As she got closer, the lump under the bottle took on the shape of a woman's body, and the singing slowly trailed off. Pulling up as close as she could, Sally hopped down and stood looking down at the unconscious woman at her feet.
"Oh, you poor little thing!" Sally murmured as she saw the blood in the red hair of the beautiful pale young woman, and then the blood-soaked skirt over her right upper leg. An empty whiskey bottle resting in the folds of the skirt caught and reflected the bright sunlight.
The older woman pulled up Kitty's skirt, inspected the still-oozing wound, then ripped a strip from her own soft, plaid shirt and wrapped it tightly over the gunshot injury. Lean and strong, Sally pulled the limp woman over to the back of her wagon, lowered the back gate and leaned Kitty against it. Climbing in, she pulled her up into the bed, pushing the rolling bottles aside.
"Whew! THERE! Sorry I can't make ya any more comfy, Honey," she said as she swiped an arm across her perspiring brow. She had taken off her leather jacket, rolled it up, and put it under Kitty's lolling head.
"Let's git ya back to my place and see if we can help ya any." The long-time scavenger climbed up into the driver's seat, picked up the reins, and paused, glancing over to where Kitty had been lying.
"Ah, heck!" Jumping down, she trotted over, picked up the empty whiskey bottle, then hurried back to her wagon. Once back in her seat, she carefully put the bottle down in the bed, smiled, and clicked her tongue at her mule.
'Come on now Worthless, my girl!"
The old wagon rattled away towards home.