Kitty

Voice filled with the shock of recognition, Kitty repeated, "Will. Will Stambridge." Her brain didn't want to accept what her eyes were telling her. The charming, self possessed, self aware, well-dressed man who'd courted her 6 months ago was here, in a warehouse basement, handcuffed to a metal pipe, bruised, beaten and disheveled. "Th-those men look like ordinary b-businessmen or bankers. W-why would they keep you locked down here. W-what happened?"

Will offered his most charming smile through cracked and swollen lips. "That is quite a disagreeable story. Let's discuss something more pleasant. Kitty you are looking lovely as usual. Life must be treating you well. What brings you to St. Louis?"

Thrown by Will's attempt at normalcy, Kitty rubbed her hand across her forehead. "I'm here with Matt, on that vacation we'd planned for so long." She scanned his face. " I- I have a handkerchief here in my purse. If I can find some water, I'll clean those scrapes and cuts." She looked around and spotted the pitcher on the small table across the room.

"Ah yes, here with your marshal." His voice was flat.

Kitty pulled open her drawstring purse and found a cotton handkerchief. The water pitcher felt mostly full, so she dipped the cloth inside while still trying to get a hold of herself. Part of her brain was still insisting she must be asleep and dreaming. She blinked a couple of time, resisted the urge to pinch herself, and crossed the room to Will. "Hold still. You don't want these cuts to get infected."

He was going to tell her not to bother, but knew there was no point, so he lifted his face to allow her to wipe the dried blood from his lips, and clean his cuts and scrapes. "Kitty do you remember the last dinner we had together?"

"Of course." She rang the handkerchief out, and gently dabbed caked dirt from his scraped forehead."

"It was the one and only time you invited me up to your place. I don't know if you'd already decided to turn me down, and frankly I don't want to know. But I'll tell you when I realized you were going to say no. It was on that very night, in the marshal's office. That deputy, Festus, said I was accused of murder. He said he had no choice – he had to lock me up. It would be up to Dillon, when he got back, to sort the whole thing out." Will's voice grew soft. "Kitty, you looked straight at me and nodded, as if to say – go ahead, get in the cell, don't worry, Matt will be back soon and he'll make everything all right." A wry smile tugged at Will's swollen lips. "Right then, in your eyes, I saw what you felt for Dillon. In that instant I knew how deep it went – the trust, the love, the ties to the heart. That's when I knew I didn't have a chance with you."

Kitty listened without comment, and spread her handkerchief out to dry. "I think that's the best I can do." Will slid down to sit on the floor, and leaned against the wall as best he could, with his wrist held to the metal pipe. He grew pensive. "When we were thrown together, you and I, you were angry with Dillon, furious. That's how you came to give me a second look - and a third, maybe even a fourth. As for me, I was weary of life, my life, and every day I spent with you, every hour, made me see how much I wanted a change, a fresh start, a different kind of life. You made everything seem possible. Still, when I look back I have to wonder - Kitty, how long do you think I would have lasted as a farmer on a run down farm, toiling from dawn to dusk in stained and sweaty overalls? Never mind rebuilding a long neglected house and barn. How long?"

"Not too long, would be my honest guess." Kitty shrugged, "And I have trouble picturing myself a farmer's wife, with everything that goes along with that."

"Well - if we'd married you might have kept the Long Branch, or maybe sold it. Either way you would have had some money, and when I lost steam on farming or failed at it, we could have lived off you, but not for long. Being supported by a woman would not sit well with me. I would have gone back to traveling, gun-arm for sale. Can you picture yourself a gunslinger's wife?"

Even in the dim light, Kitty could see the bitterness in Will's smile. "Will, dirt farming and gunslinging are not the only ways to make a living. There's a whole lot in between. What were your plans when you left Dodge? You never told me." She sat down beside him. The floor was dusty and cold. She pushed her skirt beneath her, and tucked her feet in for warmth. "Where did you go, after Dodge?"

He didn't answer. KItty's very nearness overwhelmed him. When he left Dodge City he thought he'd never see her again, this woman he'd fallen for hard and fast, right when he needed to find something in life that mattered. Silence filled the basement. She glanced over at him, he was staring straight ahead. "Will, we may as well talk to pass the time. I have a feeling we'll be stuck here until Matt realizes I'm missing and comes looking."

Stambridge snorted a laugh "Great, I'm destined to be rescued a second time by Marshal Matt Dillon." He let out a heavy sigh. "So, you want to know what happened after Dodge." He closed his eyes for a moment and looked as defeated as he felt. "I left Dodge City, with the taste of your sweet lips on mine. A kiss that was filled with affection and gratitude and kindness, but most of all finality. There was nothing I could say or do, or offer you, that would make you change your mind. Lord knows I tried when we talked earlier that morning. At least you sent me off with a kiss that told me you were glad we met. So, off I went, knowing I couldn't have you, but believing I could change my life. Some things are harder than we think." He fell silent and she didn't push.

Matt

Dodging people left and right, Matt rushed down Washington Street trying not to be late for lunch with Kitty. He'd lingered at the police station longer than intended, and left with a promise to Mike that he'd keep thinking about the case. A strange case indeed. The 18 year old sons of 3 prominent St. Louis men go missing all at once. The men loudly demand action, and breath down Mike's neck. But then stop, as if they don't care anymore. Maybe the fathers got a ransom note with a warning not to bring in the law. Maybe the sons committed a crime and ran off, and their fathers don't want them found. Or maybe something else. The pieces weren't coming together.

Matt looked up and saw the words, Century Club, on a door in fancy gold letters. Breathless, he hurried inside and looked at the clock on the wall. 1:01. Just one minute late, but Kitty was probably waiting.

"Can I help you sir?" A maitre d' with slicked back hair walked over carrying a notepad, and wearing a practiced smile.

"Yes, thanks. A reservation for two under the name Russell. The lady is probably here already."

The maitre d' lifted his monocle, and examined a page on his pad. "Your party has not yet arrived, but I'll take you to your table. Right this way." He led Matt to an intimate table-for-two in a corner of the room, and offered a slight bow. "I'll bring the rest of your party to join you, as soon as she arrives."

"Thank you." Matt took a seat. "She'll be here any second."

St. Louis Sovereign Bank – Bank VP's Office

Inside his spacious office, Carl looked across his mahogany desk at his best friends, Jasper and Adam. The three of them had been through a lot together. Losing young, beloved wives, being left with baby boys, helping each other raise those boys. They were all one big family.

Adam finished the story of the good looking redhead who suddenly appeared on Empire Street, and how he and Jasper locked her in the basement with Stambridge. Silence hung in the air. Carl opened the bottom draw of his desk, and pulled out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. He filled the glass and drained it in one gulp. He wasn't much of a drinking man, particularly on weekday afternoons, but there is an exception to everything. He shook his head. "Friends, we knew the law wouldn't punish Stambridge for what he did to our sons, so we had to do it ourselves. We had the perfect plan. Capture him, and make him suffer until our sons were avenged and could rest in peace. It didn't matter how long it took. Men like Stambridge are loners. No one would miss him or come looking. Then, when we were were finished with him, we'd simply set him free in some small town - no money, no gun – just the filthy clothes on his back. He'd be a beat-up, half crippled pauper begging for bread. My friends, we had the perfect plan BUT NOW you tell me that you managed to trap a woman down there with Stambridge. An attractive, well dressed woman. Let me tell you something friends, whoever she is, I guarantee she'll be missed and someone will come looking. Damn it – you two have made a mess of things."

Jasper Wellington bristled. He was unused to being spoken to that way. "Carl, you weren't there. There was no way around what happened. That woman was pushy and insistent, she wasn't giving up. The question is, what do we do with her." He leaned forward, grabbed the whiskey and took a slug right from the bottle. "If we let her go, she'll go right to the police, and we'll be the ones in trouble for kidnapping Stambridge."

Adam filled a glass from a water pitcher with shaky hands, and slowly drank it down. "So what if she goes to the police. We'll just move Stambridge to different location. When she leads the police to the warehouse basement it will be empty. They'll think she's crazy or made it up."

Jasper and Carl exchanged looks. Jasper shook his head, "That's risky. She saw us. If she describes us to the police, they'll figure out who we are."

"But will they believe her, Jasper?" Adam sat up straighter. "We are reputable men, and like I said, if she leads them to an empty basement, they might think she's just a hysterical woman. Carl, what do you think?"

Carl rubbed his eyes. "Letting her go is risky. Problem is, not letting her go is risky too. People will come looking for her." He let out a sigh. "I don't think she'll be found right away, so let's go about our day and take some time to consider options. I hate to think we might have to hurt her, after all we're not common criminals."

Matt

A young, skinny waiter scurried over to Matt's table, set down a bread basket and refilled the water glass. "Sir, can I get you a drink while you wait for your party? Wine or brandy perhaps?

"Thank you, no. Water is fine." Matt glanced at the clock. 1:30. It was unlike Kitty to be a half hour late, but surely there was a good reason. She could have lost track of time in a fascinating store, or a slow sales person could be holding her up. Eyes on the clock, Matt watched the second-hand tick by. His jaw clenched, and his gut twisted. Something was wrong. He jumped to his feet and strode over to the maitre d'. "The lady I've been waiting for might not be coming, but can I leave a note, in case she shows up?" The maitre d' hesitated. Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar.

"Yes sir, of course. I'm glad to be of service. Here's a piece of paper and a pen." Matt wrote quickly: Kitty if you get here, sorry I didn't wait. Meet me in our hotel room. Matt. He folded the note, handed it over and hurried out the door.

Outside, people were rushing by, going about their business. Matt hesitated. He had no real plan of action. It was the busiest part of the city, and stores, shops, restaurants and businesses lined the streets in every direction. There seemed no point in randomly going in and out of stores trying to find Kitty. Besides she might have gone back to their hotel for any number of reasons – to drop off packages, recover from a headache, take a nap. Maybe she simply lost track of time. He headed down Washington Street towards the hotel, but with a mind filled with distracted thoughts, he veered off the busy street onto a quiet one. Part way down the block, he realized his mistake. There was nothing here but an ill-tended walkway, and the back of a large building. This was certainly not the way to his hotel. He looked up at the street sign – Empire St. Odd name for a rundown, deserted spot. With a shake of his head, he glanced around and berated himself for wasting time by taking a wrong turn. He retraced his steps and picked up the pace. The hotel was just a few blocks away. His heart hoped Kitty would be there. His gut told him she would't be.

TBC