Sam had been squatting down behind the bar stacking clean whiskey glasses on the lower shelf. The second he heard Kitty's cry, he had stood up, dashed around the end of the bar and over to Craig. At the last second, the big man pulled his punch just a little before hitting the drunken cowboy who had hurt his dear friend. Even so, the lean man had been propelled backwards with enough force to break off the top of a table he skidded across, and then shatter two chairs he crashed into.
"Miss Kitty, are you hurt bad?" Before Craig's body had hit the floor, Sam had his hands on her shoulders and was lifting her to a standing position. "Where'd he hit you? Can you walk?" His intense dark eyes scanned her beautiful face, noting a few tears pooled in her large blue eyes.
"I'm fine. He just took me by surprise. Please just get him out of here. And thank you, Sam." She smiled up at him and waited until he had gone over to the cowboy sprawled on the floor before limping slowly over to the far end of the bar. She leaned both arms there in relief.
The big bartender roughly pulled Johnny Craig to his feet and dragged him outside to his horse at the hitching rail out front. As he shoved the groggy man up into the saddle, Craig's buddy, Bill Lloyd, rode up.
"You take this drunk outta here, Bill, and don't come back unless you're both sober! And make sure he understands that if he ever even touches Miss Kitty again, I just might KILL him!" Sam turned on his heel and stomped back into the saloon as Lloyd took his friend's horse's reins and led him away.
"Miss Kitty? Can I get you a drink?" he asked as he eyed her with concern.
"No, but thank you Sam. I sure could use a fresh pot of coffee, though, and would you mind bringing my ledger and pens and inks over here? I've been sitting too long, so I think I'll work over here for a while."
Sam brought her bookkeeping items over, and after getting fresh coffee and a cup for her, he waited until she had opened the ledger before slipping out the back door towards Doc's.
Kitty sighed as she once again dipped a pen into the bottle of red ink. "One table, two chairs," she wrote in the growing column of debits. Taking a sip of coffee a few minutes later, she flinched as she heard a loud yell from the kitchen, followed by young Brian Stephens flying through the kitchen door, holding a large cast iron frying pan trailing flames and thick black smoke. The wide-eyed boy raced through the bat-wing doors just as Doc was shuffling in, and the older man's head whirled, following the flaming pan's route to where it was flung into the horse trough out front.
"I'll take care of it, Miss Kitty!" Sam called as he came running out of the kitchen. He had just returned to the saloon by the alley entrance and had seen the new young swamper/janitor pour coal oil onto an egg frying in the hot skillet. His warning shout died in his throat as the oil immediately erupted in smoky black flames. Sam had told his new employee to help himself to some lunch, but had never thought that the boy would do more than make a sandwich.
Shaking his head, Doc rubbed his mustache and continued on over to where Kitty was standing, entering "One large, cast iron frying pan" in red ink in the debit column of the ledger. She looked up at her old friend and gave him a crooked half-smile.
"Hello, Doc. Come have some coffee with me. How are you?"
"Thanks, I will, but the question is, how are YOU? I heard that Johnny Craig hit you." His sharp blue-gray eyes scanned her carefully as he set his medical bag down on the bar.
Kitty glared at Sam as he came back in with his arm around the shoulders of the weeping, frightened young swamper. Her head bartender felt her eyes on him and quickened his pace, leading his charge back into the kitchen.
"Hmmm…I think I know how you HEARD! All right. I'll tell you, but this definitely falls under doctor-patient privileged information!" she said firmly, as Doc nodded and leaned a little closer. "I went out riding early yesterday morning…alone…" She saw the frown on his face, but continued. "And she threw me and well, I landed on something that a plaster won't cover! Drunken Johnny Craig sneaked up on me and smacked me there. And that's all I'm going to say!" Her face was red as she leaned down into the coffee cup she held with both hands.
"Harrumph." Doc cleared his throat and swiped a hand across his mouth as he thought. "Well, Kitty, that type of injury takes time, especially if the coccyx…tailbone…is injured, and maybe some soaking in your tub might help." He glanced over at all of the red entries in the open ledger on the bar, and saw how she rubbed her temples without thinking. "Honey, you also would benefit from some time off, but no more riding alone!"
As Kitty and Doc companionably sipped their coffee, Sam worked at the opposite end of the bar, checking his supplies for the upcoming busy evening.
"Pst! Pst! Mr. Sam!"
The big barkeep looked over at the bat-wing doors and saw Billy Hughes' face peeking in. Billy was a slight, fifteen-year-old boy, with shabby clothes, straggly dark hair, and an irresistible chipped-tooth grin. The oldest of five children, he was always looking for ways to earn money to help his parents feed his four young sisters.
Sam went over to the doors and followed the boy out to the boardwalk. "What is it, Billy? I ain't got any work for you until tomorrow morning. You come back then." Kitty was firm about not allowing anyone younger than sixteen to work inside the Long Branch, but Sam always found some outside chores or errands for Billy.
The boy's grubby right hand shot out and grabbed Sam's sleeve. "No, Mr. Sam! That ain't why I'm here! The Marshal give me a quarter to give you this note." He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and thrust it towards him.
Sam took the paper, read it, chuckled, and put it in a pocket of his gold and black brocade vest. "Billy, come with me." He led the curious boy around to the back stairs of the saloon. "Wait here. I'll be right back," Sam said before he went up the stairs and into Kitty's room. He came back grinning, putting his keys back into his pants pocket, and carrying an item in his left hand. "Take this with you and tell Mr. Dillon that I'll make sure everything is set, in say, ten minutes or so." He handed the wide-eyed boy a quarter and shook his head as the youngster took off at a run for the Marshal's office. Billy's mind was whirling with thoughts of the bread and milk he could now buy for Tess, Jeanie, Patty, and little Maude. Still smiling, Sam went back up the stairs and headed down the hall to Gladys Vine's room. A few minutes later, he was happily going down the back stairs again and entered the saloon by the back door. He slipped back out to the bar and resumed checking the supplies, whistling softly.
"What's gotten into Sam? He looks like a cat that swallowed a canary!" Doc asked Kitty, who was also watching Sam with a smile curving her lips. "HEY SAM! What are you grinning about down there?" Doc called with a laugh in his voice.
Still smiling broadly, the big bartender held a whiskey glass up to the light, squinted at it, then carefully rubbed a water spot with his towel. "I just feel GOOD, Doc! Ain't you ever just felt good all over?"
Doc looked down in thought, rubbed his stubbled chin and smiled. "Yes, Sam, I have. I truly have."