The Next Morning – Meade

Owen Kramer stood outside his corral contentedly watching his two scrawny horses munch on oats. They'd have meat on their bones and frisk in their bodies before long. He rubbed his hands together. It was going to be a full day of hard work - farming, painting and repairs, and he was looking forward to every minute of it.

"Owen, Owen." He turned and saw Peggy hurrying towards him, the breeze blowing her hair off her delicate features made her seem girlish. He reached out, lifted her by the waist and twirled her around. She giggled and gently pushed him away. "Now, stop that, I am a respectable mother of three." Owen grinned and whispered in her ear. Maybe we should make you a mother of four. We're young enough, and wouldn't it be grand to have a baby around."

Peggy shook hear head with a laugh. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." She stroked his cheek and grew serious. "Right now, I have to tell you something. Marshall Dillon stopped by yesterday."

"Oh – from Dodge City. He knew Kitty didn't he? Did you take him to visit the grave?"

"He didn't come to see the grave. He has questions about Kitty, and he'll be back today to get answers from you. Owen, Petey repeated what we told him – that the money for his eye operation was left to us by Kitty. I saw the marshal's face. Somehow he knew it wasn't true, so I sent Petey inside and told the marshal that the boy was confused about the money, and we were using our savings to pay for the operation."

"You did fine, and when Marshal Dillon comes today I'll welcome him and tell him the truth. You and Kitty went for a ride one evening, and she never made it back. Then I'll take him to the burial place, so he can pay his respects."

"Owen, it might not be that simple." Peggy frowned and bit her lower lip. "The marshal and Kitty meant something to each other. I know that from little things Kitty said to me in private. He might not let it go so easy."

"Now Peggy, let's not let these worry lines of yours get any deeper." He gently ran a finger across her forehead. "Kitty and this marshal weren't married. He'll pay his respects at the grave, ask his questions and move on."

Dodge

The bright morning sun shone down on the calm, blue waters of Crystal Lake, making it look like a diamond covered blanket. Folks arrived by horseback, mule, buggy and on foot. Stan Wells, and the other saloon owners, clustered together with card dealers, bartenders and sleepy eyed saloon girls wearing shawls to cover bare arms and bursting bosoms. Several feet from them stood the "respectable" church-going women. They'd never actually befriended Kitty Russell, but they knew that she gave to their charities, and sent their men home from her saloon before they did anything too foolish.

Between those two groups, folks mingled – shopkeeps, blacksmiths, dressmakers, ranch hands, farming families and the rest – all come to pay their last respects to Kitty Russell. Reverend Donaldson walked to the front of the unusual collection of people, thinking how nice it would be to see them together at Sunday services. He raised his hands for quiet. "Good morning everyone. We're here to remember, and pay our last respects to Kitty Russell. Over the years, Miss Russell came to my church now and again for weddings, funerals and an occasional baptism, but she wasn't what you'd call a regular church goer. Yet over and over, she graced her community with her generosity of spirit and bigness of heart. Those are qualities the Good Lord teaches and blesses. Qualities we can all learn from and emulate. Now, since I didn't know Miss Russell very well, I'll turn the eulogy over to a man she loved and trusted, Doctor Galen Adams."

Head bowed, Doc moved forward feeling sad and ancient. As he shuffled through the crowd, he couldn't help but mutter. Damn it Matt, I need you here. You should be with us, not off on a hopeless quest that will leave your heart in shreds.

The crowd parted as Doc walked through. He reached the minister, and clasped his hand. "Thank you Reverand Donaldson." The minister offered a nod of encouragement and Doc slowly turned to face the crowd. "Good morning all. I'd like to tell you about the Kitty Russell that I knew...

Meade

Matt's eyes sprang open. It took a moment for him to remember where he was. Meade was too small for a hotel or boarding house, so the old man at the stable sent him to a woman known as the Widow Sullivan. She turned out to be a cheery, old woman who had an extra room that she rented out to the occasional passerby.

He threw on his clothes and glanced a the clock. It was 9:00 am. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so late, but after a blessedly dreamless night, he actually felt rested. The smell of coffee drew him down the hall. Breakfast was included with the 15 cents Mrs. Sullivan charged for the night. It would be a welcome change from hard biscuits and jerky, and it would give him a chance to ask some friendly questions.

"Here you go Marshal Dillon." Mrs. Sullivan piled ham and eggs on a plate, happy to have a man to cook for. "You were asking about the Kramers, weren't you? Fine folks – Peggy is as sweet and kind as they come. Good looking woman too, though the past few years have taken a toll. Owen is a decent man and a hard worker. You won't see him going in and out of saloons. They have three fine boys, nice and polite as the day is long. I'm told the young one is loosing his sight. So sad." The widow filled Matt's cup with steaming coffee and shook her head. "Such fine folks to have such hard luck. The drought of the past few years hit all the farmers in these parts, but Owen and Peggy didn't have what you'd call choice land to start with, so it hit them worse. I don't think they've grown anything but a few carrots and radishes for 2 years, maybe more." Mrs. Sullivan set a plate of hot buttered biscuits on the table. "Help yourself, Marshal. A big man like you needs to eat to sustain himself." Matt took a flakey biscuit from the plate. "I hear things might be turning around – for the Kramers I mean. Yesterday I saw Owen driving a wagon that was full of supplies."

"Now that you mention it, Larry, over at the General Store told me Owen went in yesterday with a lot of cash. He bought food, equipment, feed, even candy for the kids, and he got himself a milk cow. Larry and some others figure that the pretty redhead who visited every now and again, left the Kramers a whole lot of money when she died." Mrs. Sullivan sipped her coffee. "Now that was a sad thing. A beautiful, young woman like that dying so sudden. But – the Good Lord works in mysterious ways. Because of her death, the Kramers have a chance to turn things around. Oh and Larry heard there's enough money to get that little boy a fancy eye operation. Like I said – mysterious ways." Matt nodded and got to his feet. "I'd better be on my way. Thank you for your hospitality."

"Oh Marshal Dillon, I enjoy having a guest to converse with now and again. It usually don't happen very often, but oddly you're my second guest within a few weeks. The other man wore real fancy duds and sported a gold watch, but he wasn't near as friendly as you. Anyways, it was nice meeting you, have safe journeys."

Matt left the tidy Sullivan house and hurried to the stable to pick up his horse. By the time he was in the saddle and heading towards the Kramers' farm, a mix of thoughts were bouncing in his head. Little Petey, Mrs. Sullivan and others in town believed that Kitty left the Kramers a lot of money. That couldn't be true. Peggy realized he know that as soon as Petey said it, so she said the money for the eye operation was from the family's savings. That made no sense. A woman like Peggy wouldn't sit on savings while her family went hungry. There were missing pieces to the puzzle, but one thing was certain, the Kramers' new found money was linked to Kitty in some way.

He turned down the road to the Kramer farm and saw their corral in the distance. Another question tickled the back of his mind. One he was barely aware of. Who was the man in the fancy clothes who stayed at Mrs. Sullivan's? He didn't sound like a type who usually showed up in Meade.

Dodge

In front of the glistening waters of Crystal Lake, Doc finished speaking about the unique beauty and boundless spirit of the woman named Kitty Russell. When he finished, all was silent but for scattered sniffles, quiet sobs and whispered prayers. Doc started to walk off and the blue sky opened up. Thunder roared, lightening flashed and buckets of rain poured down. Folks scattered, and Doc and Festus hurried to get to the dry safety of Doc's buggy.

"Festus, Doc – hold on a minute." Sam Noonan was running towards them, rain dripping from his clothes. "Listen, when I sold the Long Branch inventory, I kept one bottle. The best whiskey in the place. I wanted to use it to toast Miss Kitty, and this seems like a good day to do it. Join me?"

Doc nodded solemnly. Festus looked up at the sky, "Ya know sumthin', this storm cumin' so sudden-like, puts me in mind a Miss Kitty's temper. Could jus' be Miss Kitty's way ta tell us - enuff with the fancy talk, time for a good shot a whiskey."

The three men chuckled. Doc pointed to the buggy, "Get in Sam. Let's get that bottle and have ourselves a toast to Kitty."

Meade

Matt rode onto the Kramer property and spotted a wiry, blond man painting the outside of a shed. The same man he'd seen driving the well stocked wagon. The man heard a horse approach and looked up with a warm smile and a friendly wave. "Hello I'm Owen Kramer. You must be Marshal Mat Dillon. Peggy said you'd be by with some questions. I know the news about Kitty was a terrible blow to everyone who knew her. I want you to know that you, and anyone else who wants to visit her grave, are welcome to stay with my family. And I put no time limit on that." Owen set his paint brush on the ground. "Now, I'll lead you up the hill here, to the gravesite. Take you're time payin' you respects, then we'll go in the house and I'll answer any questions you might have."

Matt took measure of the man. He seemed eager to help and genuinely friendly, but also very nervous."Thank you, please go ahead. I'll follow you up to the grave. Oh and I want to borrow a shovel." Matt said those words before he realized he'd come to a decision.

"A shovel?" Owen's eyes widened.

"That's right." Matt gave a quick nod. "I see one right there in your shed. It will do."

"Marshal, you're not – you – you couldn't be planing to dig up the grave."

"Thank's exactly what I'm planning. I'll grab the shovel as we walk. Lead on."

TBC