A man sure could run on when he went sweet on a woman, a red-haired beauty just come to town and new to the Long Branch, particular. Scarcely more than a stranger to Dodge himself, Matt Dillon listened with wry amusement as the thin man who'd sighted him through the marshal's office window and limped inside asking for a job waxed lyrical on the charms of Miss Kathleen Russell. Intimately familiar with the attractions of such women, Matt found their looks in a fair way pretty at best, their minds like frothy creeks and just as shallow, and their chatter decorative as their flimsy costumes.
The fellow named Chester Goode begged Matt to walk with him and meet Miss Kitty, in the same nervous way he pleaded with the marshal to hire him. Though Chester's drawl and quaint speech distracted Matt from the dark thoughts that often haunted him since the war, the man also mildly annoyed him. Matt suspected he was a mite addled.
Chester slept nights on the prairie at the edge of town. He'd worked as a farm hand and handyman. He needed a shave and bath, new clothes and some meat on his bones, but Matt wanted an assistant he could trust, and he really did not know this man walking at his side to see the red-haired saloon girl.
Muddy from yesterday's spring rain, the Front Street boardwalk teemed with trail hands, peddlers and shoppers, folks headed for the post or bank, the stage or livery, or to Dodge House from the train depot, to the Lady Gay or Long Branch, or just taking the air and a stroll after lunch at Delmonico's. Men made way for Matt so he trod a straight path with barely a hitch in his gait. Watching his surroundings with a keen eye wherever he went, he rarely hurried, so generally avoided colliding with anyone. When he encountered a woman alone or in a man's company, the marshal tipped his hat and stepped aside for the lady and her companion to pass him, and he dodged young'uns lest they plow into his long legs.
Men did not make way for Chester. He threaded his tall slim form nimbly around them, keeping pace with the marshal.
"You think this Miss Russell so pretty and obliging, why d'you want me to meet her. Seems you'd want her all to yourself, Chester," Matt said.
"Aw, wahl, tain't thataway. Miss Kitty's a saloon gal, Mr. Dillon. She's friendly to all what come to the Long Branch, them as know how to treat a woman an' ain't too dirty 'n scruffy leastways. I splash the dust off at the trough so's I'm tolerable. I tole her the new marshal come to town a short spell ago, an' she wants to meet you.
"Here we are." Chester looked over the batwings into the barroom. "She's thar," he said in a hushed tone. "An' she's settin' to herself, playin' patience or somethin' with the cards. Ya see 'er, Mr. Dillon? Git a looksee 'fore yer first greetin'; you kin admire how purty an' sweet she is."
Matt looked over the batwings at the girl, whose head was lowered over her solitary game, her mouth pouting a little in concentration. From yards away at first glance, she was very pretty, her curled hair a rich shade of bright red with a soft radiance.
"Ain't she the purtiest little thing you ever did see?" Chester whispered. Matt pushed through the batwings and headed for the girl's table, Chester at his heels. Kitty Russell looked up and met the marshal's eyes, the color of a cloudless sky with the sun at its peak. She smiled.
Close up, she had an ethereal beauty, like light shone from her milk-white skin. Her sapphire-blue eyes were large, sparkling clear as the gem, warm, smart and penetrating. Her complexion was smooth and stainless, her features perfect, her form slender and graceful.
"Miss Kitty," said Chester, tipping his hat, "this here's Marshal Matt Dillon."
The marshal took off his hat. "Kitty," he said.
Kitty liked tall, strongly built men, and this lawman was perhaps the tallest she'd ever seen, lean yet sturdy, with thick waving curls on his forehead. She thought him handsome, not in a classic Grecian way, but she liked his face at once. She fancied she could look at him with pleasure, sunup to sunup. His steady expression and sure bearing invigorated Kitty, and his very presence made her feel safe.
The marshal also made her feel unaccountably bold, daring even. His first word to her was her pet name, without the honorific Miss. Entirely proper of course, Kitty being who she was. He was a lawman, and not just a town marshal. A U.S. marshal. Kitty's eyes twinkled at him, and spots of pink appeared on her cheeks as her heart gave a slight thrill. She would see how he took this.
"How do you do . . . ." She drew in a shaky little breath. "Matt."
The marshal's brows arced and he smiled big, and Kitty stifled a giggle.
"Buy you a beer?" said Matt.
"Love one."
"You go 'head 'n set, Mr. Dillon. I'll fetch the beers if you give me the dimes," said Chester.
Matt pulled a quarter and a nickel from his pocket. "Buy yourself one after and chat at the bar with Clem a spell, Chester." He'd taken to telling Chester what to do now and then, though Matt wasn't wholly easy about it, as he didn't really have a right. Ordering the fellow just seemed to come natural.
"Yes, sir," said Chester.
Kitty watched him limp to the bar. "He's sweet."
"Sweet on you," said Matt.
"I don't mind." She had the trace of a Southern accent. He wouldn't call her soft-spoken; her voice was just short of forceful, yet womanly without a doubt. Not at all strident.
"He needs a job," said Kitty. "Chester. Bill Pence, he owns this place. He just hired a passel of girls for the spring season. He can't afford a cleanup man right now, or he'd hire Chester."
"Yeah. Chester's been askin' me for a job," said Matt.
"Why not hire him? You must need a deputy," Kitty said.
Matt shook his head. He wasn't given to talking of folks in his acquaintance with others he didn't know well, but this woman he already thought of as Kitty instead of this new Long Branch girl, somehow she was different. He felt like he'd known of her for years, and only now saw her, spoke with her. Though Matt did not easily trust people, Kitty had a direct openness which assured him of her honesty.
"Well, there's Chester's infirmity," said the marshal. "And he's a little placid." Matt would later discover that when Chester riled or grew too distressed, he was anything but placid. "He's not too bright, and he's no fighter. I saw a couple of cowboys teasing him yesterday, pushin' him around and laughing at him. I was ready to help him out when the cowboys saw me and ran off."
"Here he comes with our beers," said Kitty.
"Here we go," Chester sang out, arriving at the table with a beer in each hand. He set a full mug in front of Kitty, then Matt.
"Thank you, Chester," said Kitty. He blushed, beaming like she'd given him a great compliment.
"Well," he said. "Ah'll buy my beer an' chat with Clem. Let you two git ta know each other." Kitty watched him limp back to the bar.
"You could hire him to keep the marshal's office clean and tidy. Doc said when he stopped by to welcome you to town, you'd already mucked the place up," said Kitty.
Matt chuckled. "Doc Adams is quite a character. Good folks, though. He drank two cups of my coffee and said it was swill." The marshal laughed again.
"I think that way about Doc too, Matt, and I just met him. That he's good folks. He tells you straight what he thinks. He said the town council paid Chester to make some little repairs and clean up the jailhouse, did you know?"
"Is that so. He did make nice work there," said Matt. "Alright, I'll hire him, Kitty. But not as deputy."
"Oh . . . . Well, aren't you gonna let 'im know, Matt?" said Kitty.
"Sure. I wanna talk with you, first."
"I do more than talk if you're interested."
"Alright, Kitty." Matt knew from his first close look at her that he wanted her for his girl. "I'm not lookin' down on a woman who works for her living. I've met too many unmarried women and widows who get their money through devious means."
"I don't believe in that," said Kitty. "I take care of myself."
"Beautiful smart woman like you might find better ways of takin' care of herself."
"Not smart enough to be a schoolteacher. I don't have the book-learning, and I'd hate it."
"Can't blame you for that," said the marshal. "I was thinking more of a dress shop. Some in Dodge do good business, and you're turned out prettier than the other girls here, Kitty. Like you put more thought into it. Your costume has more colors. And lace and feathers. And your headdress."
"Thanks, but I won't work hard all day to make one measly dollar," said Kitty. "Unless I have to, which I hope to fate I never do. I wanna own the Long Branch someday, Matt. Bill knows I do, and he's all for it. He means to retire and move East in a few years."
"That's a lot to handle for a woman, owning a saloon," said Matt.
"It's a lot easier than servicing the men who patronize it," said Kitty.
Matt saw she was the kind who made her own decisions. Although he admired independence in a woman, she showed flawed judgment in her choice of a job. He'd never court a lady of the night with the intention of marriage, and even if she gave up her profession, proprietress of a barroom was hardly a respectable occupation for a woman. Kitty could still be his girl, though, if she would. She seemed to like him special.
"If you'll wait here, Kitty, while I tell Chester he has a job, I'd like to see your room. There won't be any servicing to it. I want you to enjoy my company," said Matt.
"I'm sure I will," said Kitty.
Matt's sky-blue eyes glowed warmly at her as he rose from the table and tipped his hat. Naturally of a sober turn of mind at the young age of thirty-two, the war had made him even more so. He felt happiness so rarely that he wondered for a moment what these new feelings were. Strong and sound in his head to begin with, he felt stronger and sounder, his sharp senses more highly attuned. Things were not so hard now, shadowed yet no longer dark. The mere act of moving his muscles took less effort, felt somehow lighter. Things made sense. The badge gave Matt purpose, and Kitty Russell would give him meaning.
Matt leaned on the bar next to Chester. "Did you enjoy your chat with Miss Kitty, Mr. Dillon?"
"Yep," said Matt.
"Ain't she all I said an' more?"
"She is," said Matt.
"Beer, Marshal?" said Clem.
"No thanks, Clem. Chester, I need an assistant if you still need a job," said Matt.
"Oh!" Chester gulped and stared at Matt, his large brown eyes moistening and growing wide.
"You alright?" said Matt.
"He's overcome," Clem explained. "He gets like that sometimes."
"Give him a whiskey, will you, Clem?" Matt dug two dimes from his pocket. So on top of his lame leg, nerves and odd little traits, Chester was tendersome.
Chester took a long swallow of whiskey. "Ah'm no end beholden to you, Mr. Dillon. I'll try my dangdest ta be a big help."
"I know you will, Chester. Afraid I can only pay twenty-five cents a day to start. You can bunk at the office and use the provisions bought from the till."
"Oh, my gracious," Chester quavered, swiping at his eyes.
Matt patted his back. "I cashed the till check this morning. The box is filled with bills and coins. Take what you need for some new clothes and boots and a hat, and a bath and shave. You could use a haircut, too. I'll see ya later. Gonna pass the time with Kitty."
"Yes, sir," said Chester, dazed.
"That's mighty charitable of you, Marshal," said Clem, as Chester limped slowly away. "Think he'll be any help?"
"I think so," said the marshal. He turned and looked a bit anxiously for Kitty's table. She still sat there, but she'd lowered her head to rest on her folded arms on the table, where she'd neatly stacked the cards.
"She's been poorly off and on. She was fine all day 'til just now," said Clem, following Matt's gaze.
Matt moved to the table and pulled out a chair, and Kitty raised her head from her arms. She looked of a sudden tired, her pretty face strained. Her fair skin had lost its glow and taken on a grayish tinge. "This has happened to me before," she said. "At least with my line of work it comes out on its own, so I don't have long to think what to do about it. I'll feel better awhile, then the pain comes in waves 'til it's out. Then I'm sore 'til I mend."
"I'm sorry, Kitty," said Matt.
"Will you walk with me to Doc's, Matt? He knows what to do to make it come faster and ease my pain."
"Alright," said Matt.
"I'll just get my wrap."
"I'll get it," said Matt.
"Thanks. It's on the stand near the side door over there."
The wrap was a bit of silk and lace, suited more for a summer evening than a crisp day in rainy spring. Matt draped the wrap around Kitty's shoulders, pulled back her chair and helped her stand. She leaned on him and he put his arm around her, feeling her ribs. She had a lovely slender figure, not angular at all, but she felt delicate to Matt.
Doc was not in. A light-haired woman about Kitty's size stood at the desk, putting a bottle of port wine and a jar of Dover's powder in a sack. The livery owner Moss Grimmick stood near her.
She turned and smiled as Matt and Kitty came in, and the marshal recollected Chester telling him a nurse worked with Doc, a woman Chester called Miss Lenore, and described as "right pretty an' obligin', with a real sweet face."
Matt saw Chester's fondness for women, especially pretty ones, shortly after meeting him. The marshal saw now that his new assistant also had a discerning eye. He was right about Kitty's beauty, and the fine looks and benevolent expression of this woman, too. Kitty had told Matt her own age as they walked to Doc's. No longer a girl, she was still young at twenty-six.
Miss Lenore was older, fourteen or fifteen years Kitty's senior. She wore her fair hair differently from the fashion of the day, shoulder-length and curled under at the ends, parted on the right side and framing her face in waves. Both slate-blue and gray, her eyes had a soft yet astute light. Matt preferred Kitty's style of beauty, though this lady, as attractive in her own way, seemed at first sight to exude a natural self-possession which Matt suspected Kitty labored to cultivate, and a breadth of perspective that Kitty lacked.
None of which swayed Matt from wanting Kitty as his girl. Looking at Miss Lenore, he felt none of the exalted swirl of sensations, so foreign to his normal self, that had struck him on meeting Kitty, nor any of the complete ease he felt in Kitty's presence.
The nurse moved to put her arms around Kitty, led her out of Matt's embrace and helped her lie on the recliner. Matt took off his hat. "Lenore, that's Marshal Dillon," said Kitty.
Matt nodded. "Miss Lenore."
"Marshal. How do you do."
"Feeling poorly, are you, Miss Kitty?" said Moss.
"I'm afraid so, Moss."
"Sorry to hear it. Miss Lenore give me some Dover's and wine for my pleurisy," said Moss.
"Moss, I don't like to push you out, but Kitty needs to be quiet. I must make her comfortable," said the nurse.
"Oh, surely. Hope you feel better soon, Miss Kitty," said Moss.
"Can you stay with me awhile, Matt?" said Kitty. Her voice sounded tremulous, very young and a little lost. "It's alright if he sees me, Lenore. We were getting to be friendly, like, you know . . . ."
Matt shifted his weight and fiddled with his hat, feeling his face flush hot as he looked at the nurse, expecting her to bow her head in embarrassment. She was a lady after all. She merely took Kitty's hand and stroked her hair, then turned her smile from Kitty to Matt.
"Will you stay, Marshal? You might help her relax," said Lenore. Matt nodded and sat in the desk chair.
"Doc rode out with a farmer's wife. I forget their name. The farmer was butchering a hog and nearly chopped off his foot," said Lenore. "Now what's ailing you, honey," she said to Kitty.
"I started a pregnancy. It's passing out and pains me sharp," said Kitty.
"We'll ease your pain first. You just rest easy, my dear. We will have you on the mend in no time," said Lenore.
"Marshal, there's a flat smooth stone on the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet. Can you put it on the stove, please? We'll wrap it when it's hot and put it over her womb. And that decorative tin next to it? That's dried rue. Put some to boil for a tea if you would. Kitty can drink that and chew the leaves," said the nurse.
She gave Kitty two spoons of laudanum, undressed her down to her pantalets and covered her with a blanket. Kitty sipped the tea made from rue leaves out of a steaming mug full while Lenore pressed the hot stone wrapped in cloth against her stomach. She was chewing the tea leaves when she gave a little gasp, grimaced and grunted, straining.
Matt looked away from her, focusing on the window. He did not so much wish himself removed at the moment from Kitty as he thought he should properly be elsewhere.
"It's out," said Kitty. "You might wanna leave now, Matt."
"Yes, that may be best, Marshal. There's cleanup to do, and I must draw her a hot bath," said Lenore. In one motion, Matt jumped up and put on his hat.
"Such a pleasure meeting you, Marshal. Not many men would have stayed and been a big help like you were. Most would run off directly. Shall I see you again soon?" Lenore asked.
"Sure," said Matt. He had no intention of courting the nurse. He liked Kitty.
As he descended the stairs, Doc walked up and waited for him to reach the bottom. "Matt."
"Doc."
"Sick, are you?" said Doc.
"No, it's Kitty. Miss Lenore took care of her," said Matt.
"Oh, so you met Kitty. She's a pretty little gal, isn't she. You met my lady, too. Miss Lenore Lawrence," said Doc.
"Your lady?" said Matt.
"Soon to be. She just don't know it yet. You know, these high-born ladies take their time deciding to accept a man's attentions," said Doc. "What's wrong with Kitty?"
"She had . . . a pregnancy. She, uh . . . well, Miss Lenore tended her, and Kitty, she—"
"She passed it?" said Doc. "With you up there?"
Matt reddened. "Kitty and Miss Lenore asked me to stay."
"That so?" Doc frowned up at the marshal. "You're quite the ladies' man, ain't you."
"I gotta go, Doc."
"Well, so do I. You wanna start off pretending you're working harder than I am whenever we see each other, I'm not havin' it," said Doc.
Matt grinned and shook his head. "See ya, Doc."
"Oh, I saw Jonas sweeping up out front of his store; he told me you hired Chester," said Doc.
"He seems a trustworthy sort and he needed a job," said Matt.
"You aim to deputize him, do you?" said Doc.
"Nope."
"That's a relief. He'd just get in trouble wearing a badge and gun," said Doc.
"You think so?" said Matt.
"You mean you haven't noticed?" Doc said.
"Well, Doc, I guess I have. I need a man to run errands, clean and tidy the office, and for jailkeepin'. Chester can help with all that."
"He's handy at that sort of thing, and he is a crack shot with a rifle," said Doc. "You know what, Matt? You thrash the stuffin' out of just one of them ruffians been plaguing Chester since he come to Dodge, the rest of 'em will leave him be."
Matt recollected the two cowboys he'd seen roughing up Chester. The marshal's height made him cautious about hitting men middling size or smaller. Broad-shouldered, he threw a hard punch, and held back even when backhanding smaller men. To Matt, a man of six feet with a mid-range build was by no means a big man.
One of the cowboys was a couple inches under six feet with a middling frame. The other was a tall, burly, oafish-looking fellow who laughed like a simpleton. The marshal knew that if he caught the burly one bothering Chester again, Matt could rile enough to hit the lout once with no qualms. One punch should learn that breed of man. Matt hated beating the worst of men; he usually had the upper hand after one swing.
"You're a lawman, right?" said Doc. "You oughtn't mind thrashing some no-count brutes to protect your partner."
"I'll do what's needful to look out for him, Doc."
"I appreciate that. We kinda got to be friends, Chester and me. I couldn't tell you why if you paid me in gold to do it," said Doc. He shook his head. "I sure wish it was that easy to look out for Kitty."
"I know, Doc. And I just met her."
"Smart young woman like Kitty. Durn shame is what it is." Doc shook his head again and clucked his tongue, and Matt wondered at himself, caring for a saloon girl who solicited men. Women in that profession did not live long, more often than not. They either succumbed to disease or murder and generally suffered violation first.
If that happened to Kitty and Matt found out, he'd want to kill the man who did it. Matt knew a man would attack her sometime and he'd face that man down. He just never thought it would happen so soon.