San Francisco
Sitting across from Dr. Joanne Miller in the corner table of the Cliff House, Kitty squinted at the black board menu posted overhead. She liked the way the specials were listed. Maybe she'd try a drink-of-the-day special at the Long Branch. It could catch on with travelers.
"Do you know what you want to order, Kitty?"
The redhead shook her head. "I'm not used to seeing so many different kinds of sea food. Maybe you should order for both of us. You know what's good and besides, everyone here treats you like family. They even put this foot stool near my chair, so I could raise my swollen ankle."
A smile lit Joanne's 40 year old face, making her seem almost girlish. "In a way they are family to me. I've doctored most everyone who works here, delivered their babies, treated their relatives and friends. They know I give my best, no matter how much a person can pay, or if they can pay at all. So, they save this table in the back and treat me well." She signaled a waiter with a smile. "Hello Jimmy, we'll both have my usual, and an extra order of clams." The doctor leaned back in her seat. The fatigue of a long, hard day started showing in her face. "So Kitty, what brings you to San Francisco? You say it's your first time here, and you're traveling alone."
"I guess it's a trip that's been a long time coming." Kitty gave a short laugh. "About 19 years ago, I was traveling the country to seek my fame and fortune, as they say. I had no real destination, but San Francisco was strong in the back of my mind." She shrugged, "I got as far as Dodge City, Kansas, and there I stayed. So, I guess I'm completing a trip that I started a long time ago."
"Was he worth it?"
Kitty's eyes widened in surprise. Joanne chuckled, "You must have been all of 18 or 19 back then, and had no intention of staying in Dodge. So, my best guess is that you met a man there. My question is blunt, I admit, but was he worth it?"
Kitty laughed, "Truth is, I decided to stay when I saw him, before I even met him. And yes, it was worth it - it IS worth it. Matt and I are still a couple."
The doctor glanced at Kitty's hand to confirm what she'd noted earlier – no wedding ring. Kitty self consciously laced her fingers together, "We're not married." She waited for words of surprise, shock, confusion even sympathy. Instead the doctor smiled gently. "Amazing. Together for so many years without the legal force of a marriage license, the social pressure of public vows, the sharing of money interests, the bonds of raising children. A lot of couples need that glue to hold them together, especially when times get tough. But you and this man stay together without any of that. That's quite special."
"I-I guess I never looked at it that way, but you are right, what Matt and I share is very special. I do want marriage and children some day, but only with Matt. I've learned that many times in many ways." Kitty glanced at Joanne's bare ring-finger, not for the first time. "What about you?"
The doctor stiffened. Kitty lifted a hand. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me."
"Not at all. I started the conversation." Joanne took a sip of water. "I was engaged to be married once, quite a number of years ago. I fell head over heels in love with a man named Edward Charles Fairweather III. His wealth and background as the name suggests. The wedding date was set, ballroom rented, menu selected and guests arriving from as far as away as London. Then Eddie and I had a conversation we should have had months earlier. Almost by accident, the topic of my career came up. Turns out, Eddie assumed that upon marriage, I'd give up my work and devote myself entirely to overseeing a home and having babies. He was shocked to learn that I intended to continue practicing medicine. There was no compromise, so I called off the wedding. It was something of a San Francisco scandal at the time." Joanne lowered her voice. "Quite soon after, Edward married someone else. A demure, waif-like girl from a wealthy, well place family." Joanne shrugged, her face unreadable. "Unfortunately she's grown demanding, unpleasant, spoiled and quite fat. Every merchant around has felt the sting of her tongue lashing. However, she and Edward have a fine house, a maid and three children, so conventional wisdom would say, they will live happily ever after."
The women were quiet for a very long moment. Kitty picked up her water glass. "I say we drink to us, two unconventional women."
"Wait." Joanne lifted a hand. "This calls for a bottle of wine." She signaled the waiter. He hurried over and filled two glasses with a robust, red wine. "Dr. Miller, the owner says the wine is on the house, please enjoy." He left the bottle and hurried off.
The women toasted to themselves and drained their glasses. Joanne poured them another. "So Kitty, since you are still with this man, Matt, and you love him, why are you traveling alone?"
Kitty took another long sip of wine. "Funny, since I started this trip I've been trying hard to not think about Matt, but you making me feel like talking about him. Maybe because I think you'll understand." She leaned forward. "Matt is Matt Dillon a United States Marshal. He's good at job, some say the best ever. A few months ago he was wounded – it was bad, and in his gun arm. He…
Dodge City
Clasping the tops of the batwing doors, Matt peered into the Long Branch. He scanned the room for a flash of red hair before remembering Kitty wasn't there, and wouldn't be for a while. His eyes rested on Ash Drake, standing at the bar, a shot of whiskey in front of him. The gunslinger's easy slouch, medium frame and brown hair, made his looks unremarkable – almost. But like a coiled snake or a lounging cougar, an aura of danger surrounded him. Matt strode over and stood two feet away from the gunman. "Hello Drake." Ash calmly looked up, "I knew the law would be by. That's the way it is in Dodge." He nodded behind him. "Dillon, meet my kid brother Billy. He's been east gettin' proper schooling – an educated young man." Matt nodded at the younger, blond version of Ash, sipping froth from the head of a beer. He turned his attention back to the gunman. "You here on business, Ash?"
The gunslinger shrugged, "I heard you got wounded pretty bad, Dillon, in your gun-arm."
"Wounds heal Drake, we both know that."
Ash shrugged again. He lifted his shot glass, chugged back his whiskey, and with one swift movement flung the glass in the lawman's direction. Matt's right hand flew up. He caught the shot-glass mid-air, and squeezed his fingers tightly around it, hiding the pain that shot up his arm. He held the glass up. "You dropped this. Good thing I caught it. The Long Branch charges for breakage." He set the glass down on the bar and slid it over to Ash. "I don't like trouble in my town Drake, remember that."
He turned and left. His right hand was throbbing, he needed to get to his room, to soak it in cold water. In the morning he'd have a talk with Doc about blabbing to Festus about his gun arm. Festus wasn't know for keeping things to himself. And damn, he had to get back to practicing his right hand draw. Throwing that glass was Ash Drake's little test. He was up to something.
TBC