Kitty rose earlier than usual, and as she descended the stairs, she watched Taggart wind a waving tendril of Lillian's silky dark hair round his fingers, kiss her honey-colored cheek and whisper in her ear. Although she stiffened a little under his caresses and her smile faded, she looked far from disgusted. More like she'd reluctantly tasted some food new to her, and admitted to herself that she liked it.
If she knew Taggart tricked Chester into taking a long walk on the plains in the blazing sun, Lillian would not sit close with the gambler, smiling and chatting as the two of them sipped coffee the next morning. Unless she proved less kindhearted than Kitty sensed on first meeting her, and Kitty still felt her impression of Lillian as caring was true.
Kitty thought Lillian merely tolerated the man himself, while his fine looks and trim form close to her own graceful figure attracted her. Drawn as she occasionally was to handsome men of considerably worse character than Taggart, Kitty understood. And Lillian was only doing her job as a saloon gal, though as she made clear when hired, she was a lady, no woman of the night, nor had she ever been. Kitty would nonetheless reveal to her the sort of man Taggart really was. A gracious lady like Lillian would likely want to know.
Kitty moved to their table. Lillian smiled at her, and Taggart stood up and tipped his hat. "Morning, Miss Kitty," he said.
"You have breakfast, Lillian?" said Kitty.
"Not yet."
"Come with me to Delmonico's? I'd like some company."
"If you don't mind waiting while I run upstairs and change out of my costume," said Lillian.
"Not at all."
Taggart pulled out Lillian's chair. "I haven't had breakfast, either," he said.
"There's a nice free spread of hardboiled eggs and hot biscuits at the bar, and plenty of coffee," said Kitty.
Taggart watched Lillian go to an upstairs room. "Sit with me while you wait, Miss Kitty?" he said.
"No thanks." Kitty sat at another table.
Taggart stood looking at her. Miss Kitty was Chester's friend, and Marshal Dillon's woman, so folks said. The gambler figured she knew about the trick he played on Chester and was mad on account of it. Not that Taggart blamed her. Had he not burned with jealousy at the thought of Chester taking Miss Lillian to the dance, Taggart guessed he'd be ashamed of himself. He sat at his table and brooded.
Lillian came down moments later in the white lawn dress and matching sunbonnet she'd worn on the walk from her boarding house to the Long Branch. Taggart gazed at her. He had clear russet eyes that keenly reflected his feelings, yet seemed to lack depth. Not the eyes of a gambler, although he made a decent living solely playing cards, perhaps because his reigning emotion appeared to be artifice, like a rooted part of himself. He had nimble fingers and doubtless cheated at cards. Who Taggart was made Lillian pity him.
"Will you be back, Miss Lillian?" he murmured, like he asked aloud without meaning to.
"No," said Kitty. "Lillian was good enough to change to go to breakfast with me, and I won't make her come back here and put on her costume again. You can have the day off with pay, Lillian."
"Why, thank you, Kitty. You are so very kind," said Lillian.
"Well, you deserve it, honey," said Kitty.
Taggart looked crestfallen. Lillian touched her palm to his face and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Russ," she said.
He took her soft gold-brown hand in both of his. "I will think on that kiss 'til I see you again," said Taggart. He rose from his chair as he held Lillian's hand, moved with her and Kitty to the batwings and pushed the door open for them.
Lillian linked her arm through Kitty's as they walked to Delmonico's, and Kitty held her parasol over Lillian's head as well as her own. Lillian was easily affectionate, like it came naturally to her as the normal way to be. None of Kitty's friends in town were that way with her—not Doc or Chester, or even Matt.
Kitty at times nearly forgot her own painstakingly repressed tendency for affection. In a harsh town like Dodge, letting her feelings show was an invitation to hurt a woman in her position.
She saw Matt and Doc in front of Delmonico's just as they saw her and Lillian. "My friends are coming. We can dine with them if you don't mind, Lillian," said Kitty.
"Of course. I'd like to," said Lillian.
"I'll introduce you," Kitty said. Matt and Doc greeted the women.
"Lillian, this is Marshal Dillon and Doc Adams. Matt, Doc, Miss Lillian Temple," said Kitty. More greetings, hat tipping and smiles followed.
"Are you ladies on your way to breakfast?" said Matt.
"We are," said Kitty.
"Join us?" said Doc.
Their table was quiet when the waiter served them coffee and water, took their orders and moved to other diners, as Matt and Doc gazed admiringly at Lillian. She blushed and turned her luminous dark eyes to Kitty.
"Matt, I think Lillian should know what Taggart did to Chester yesterday," said Kitty, and to Lillian, "On account of you seem fond of Taggart, honey."
"Russ is nice-looking. And I feel sorry for him without quite knowing why. I don't know if I'm fond of him or not. I kind of feel I oughtn't like him," said Lillian.
"You have a right to choose who you're fond of, Miss Lillian," said Matt. "But I agree with Kitty. You need to know what sort of man Taggart is."
"Certainly you do," said Doc.
"You all look so sober now," said Lillian. "On a bright summer day. Russ must have done something horrible."
"He did. After he listened in on my plan for you to ask our friend Chester to take you to the dance, Taggart made up a lie about a woman he said wanted Chester to walk and meet her on the prairie. He fell for it and went out in the hot sun on foot, fevered as he is," said Kitty.
"That is horrible," said Lillian. "Russ was jealous, I suppose."
"He wanted to make Chester so sick, he wouldn't recover in time to escort you to the dance," said Matt.
"Somehow I didn't see Russ as that bad," said Lillian. "Designing, maybe. Like gamblers are, you know. But not very bad. He fell in love with me soon as he met me. It's like a sickness in the head, that kind of love. Is Chester much worse?"
"He still has the fever, but he's no worse than when he first came down with it," said Doc. "He was passed out, sinking fast when Marshal Dillon and I found him. Gave him some water and he rallied straightaway. Might've died, we hadn't got to him when we did."
"I haven't met your Chester yet, but he seems a good, pleasant man from what Kitty says. A shame, what Russ did to him," said Lillian.
"Lillian and I planned for her to meet Chester when he's over the fever," said Kitty, "but I think it'd help him if she sees him today. He must be in low spirits after what he's been through."
"He's a little depressed," said Matt.
"Come with me to see him when we finish breakfast, Lillian?" said Kitty.
"I'd like to. I've been curious since we talked about him yesterday," said Lillian.
Doc went to pay calls when they left Delmonico's, while Matt headed to Grimmick's livery to saddle his horse and ride to a nearby farm to check on the occupants. The husband was eighteen years old and his wife sixteen, and hardly a week passed when the neighboring farmer did not show up at the marshal's office to report them shouting and destroying things about the place. The young husband had chopped his lady's carefully tended flower garden to bits with an ax four days ago, and she'd set fire to his Sunday suit in return.
Kitty and Lillian walked together to see Chester. Barefoot, he lay on his bed reading Captives of the Frontier. Doc had told him not to read 'til he mended, as reading with fever hurt the eyes and made the head weak, but a body couldn't sleep the day long unless he was sick enough to perish, which Chester wasn't.
When Miss Kitty came in with a beautiful lady in white like an angel, he was too stunned a moment to move or speak, and his book dropped on the floor. Then he jumped up, the floor rocked under his feet and his head swam, and the women rushed forward and grabbed him as he fell, holding him up between them.
"Miss Kitty. Ma'am. 'Scuse me. Ah'm a mite poorly." The words tumbled of themselves from Chester's mouth as they helped him lie down. Kitty picked up his book and put it on the table.
"That's alright, Chester," said Kitty. "This is Miss Lillian Temple."
"Hello, Chester. I'm sorry you're not feeling well," said Lillian.
"Thank you kindly. Miss Lillian."
Kitty filled the water dipper. "I'll help him drink it," said Lillian, which alarmed and embarrassed Chester.
He sat up, put his feet on the floor and reached for the dipper. As he took it, Lillian's soft slender fingers touched his hand and he looked into her large dark eyes, like deep wells of warm water.
Water splashed on Chester's hand, and Miss Lillian put one hand over his and the other round the dipper. His hand stopped its fever shivers, and he drank all the water while her hands held his hand holding the dipper steady.
"I should oughter asked you an' Miss Kitty to drink first," said Chester.
"Not at all. I'm not a bit thirsty," said Lillian.
"I had two glasses of water at Delmonico's," said Kitty. She and Lillian sat at the table.
"You room here in town, do you, Miss Lillian?" said Chester.
"Yes, but not for long. I am traveling to Oregon to live with my sister and her husband, soon as she writes that my room and all is ready for me to come. My new city wardrobe and such. My brother-in-law's an attorney in Salem, and they move in the best society," said Lillian.
"Well now, that's real nice. Then you're not a working lady," said Chester.
"Oh, I won't be soon. My sister and her husband don't want me to work. They think it wouldn't be proper for folks in their position, you know," Lillian said.
"Lillian's working at the Long Branch while she's in town," said Kitty.
"That won't trouble you, Miss Lillian, hopeful. Miss Kitty's right obligin' to work for, an' Sam, he ain't gonna let the fellers trouble you. An' you'll jest be at the Long Branch a short spell, like you said," Chester said.
"None of the men have taken liberties. The weather makes them sluggish, perhaps. Only one asked me to the dance, and I don't want him to escort me. The men in Dodge spark and chat with me at the Long Branch, but they likely won't be seen dancing with me outside a saloon, much less ask me to be their partner at the dance. My color, you know," said Lillian.
"Don't make me no difference. You're very pretty, Miss Lillian. I'd admire escortin' you to the dance," said Chester.
"Thank you, Chester. I'd like to."
Chester's heart flitted like a hummingbird's wings, and his chest tightened so his breath came fast. The fever swept hot through his belly and chest and pulsed in his head, making him so giddy he felt like shuddering clean out of his skin.
"You best lie down and rest, Chester," said Lillian.
"Oh, don't worry 'bout me, Miss Lillian. I feel wonderful well 'n strong," Chester said softly, his voice tuned higher than usual.
"The fever's making you feel good at the moment, but you're not well yet, Chester. Go on and lie down. Lillian and I will leave now so you can rest," said Kitty.
"You say so, Miss Kitty." Chester lay down and looked from his pillow at Lillian, and the intense soulfulness in his eyes arrested her.
"What is it, Chester?" she said.
"That one feller what asked you to the dance. He's Russ Taggart, ain't he."
"Yes he is," said Lillian.
"Miss Kitty tole you my dream? I dreamed a pretty lady asked me to take her to the dance," said Chester.
"Yes. I am that lady, Chester. I want to go to the dance with you," said Lillian. "Truly I do."
"Chester, I let Taggart listen in when I told Lillian about your dream. I hoped if he had time to get used to the idea, Lillian going with you instead of him, he'd resign himself and not make trouble at the dance. I didn't think he was the type to play that cruel joke on you. I'm sorry," said Kitty.
" 'Twarn't none of it your fault at all, Miss Kitty. That Taggart's sech a trickster, no way of knowin' what he'll do. Onliest thang you an' Miss Lillian done was fix up a nice surprise fer me, an' I'm right grateful. I was mopey after he fooled me an' all, but um happy now. Real happy," said Chester.
Kitty wished Matt would lock Taggart up until the dance was over, but he wouldn't of course. Matt was a scrupulous, merciful lawman, which meant men like Taggart—temperamentally weak, innately adrift, defective in outlook and middling in size and strength—often got off easy or altogether. Desperately taken with Lillian, the gambler spelled trouble to come, Kitty felt sure. Taggart couldn't help it.