Doc dropped Kitty at Ma Smalley's boarding house, and drove on to the livery. Kitty found Ma in the kitchen washing up from her boarders' breakfast and happy to give her a room for the night. Leaving her bag in the room, Kitty took her reticule and started for Front Street. Bank wouldn't be open yet, but most of the stores would. After a month on the ranch, the quiet town looked crowded and bustling.
Kitty waited her turn at the general store, looking around as she did so, and was just handing her list to the clerk when Wilbur Jonas came out of the back room. "Morning, Mrs. Dillon," he said, twitching the list from the clerk's hands and running his eyes down it. "You want this right away?"
"No, not until tomorrow actually. Our cook will be coming in about noon, and he'll have a longer list for you – and we will want that one as soon as you can put it together. Just thought I would leave this with you now."
"It's going to take some time to put up your cook's list tomorrow, Mrs. Dillon. Friday's a busy day. Wish you'd brought that in with you today."
And why didn't I? Kitty thought to herself. Because I just didn't think, that's why. Didn't plan anything. Just hopped in Doc's buggy and headed off from the ranch. But she smiled warmly at Jonas. "I'm sure you'll manage just fine." She wasn't about to admit that she'd made an error, and she certainly wasn't going to let a storekeeper chastise her. Kitty glanced up at the railroad clock hanging over the counter and figured the bank would be open. She was outside the bank door before she stopped and caught herself . She'd come in for the payroll money, but did she really want to carry that amount of cash around with her for the rest of the day? She needed to stop and do a little thinking before she made another move. It was just at that moment that the bank door opened and Banker Bodkin escorted Polly Mason out of it.
"I'm sorry I can't help you, Mrs. Mason," he was saying, "But that's just not a risk the bank can take." He saw her and tipped his hat. "Did you need to see me, Mrs. Dillon?" Whatever attention he had being paying Polly was gone. She could have been a fly on the wall for all the notice he paid her. Kitty remembered that attitude very well.
"Not at all, Mr. Bodkin. Banking can wait. Mrs. Mason is just the woman I want to see!" She took Polly's arm and began a stroll down the boardwalk away from the bank. She didn't turn around to see what effect this had on the banker, and wouldn't let Polly turn either. "He's just a big bully, Polly," she whispered, "Don't let him see you care."
Polly, a small neatly-dressed woman of middle years, straightened her spine and kept her face forward. "It's nice to see you, Kitty. Yes, he is a bully. And he enjoys it." She tilted up her chin. "Especially with women."
"You want to talk about it, Polly? Or you want me to just mind my own business," Kitty asked.
The woman beside her sighed. "I don't mind talking, Kitty. At least not to you. You used to run a business here in Dodge, and you know what it's like. Come on down to my shop and we'll have a cup of tea."
Thinking to herself that a good glass of whiskey might be a better restorative, Kitty squeezed Polly's arm and they proceeded down the block beyond the hardware store to the small storefront with a sign above the door that said "Dressmaking". A bell tinkled as they went in and two young women who sat sewing in the light from the window both looked up expectantly. Polly shook her head briefly at them and led Kitty back into the kitchen behind the shop.
Polly took off her hat, smoothed the ruffled feather, and set it on a shelf. "Have a seat, Kitty. I'll have this brewed up in no time." Kitty sat at the table and watched as Polly, her lips still tight, moved a kettle onto the stove, took down a china tea pot and cups, and reached into a cupboard for a canister of tea. She boiled over just about the time the kettle did. "It just makes me so mad, Kitty! If I were a man – or even had a husband around – he would have made me that loan at a reasonable rate in a minute flat! But no, he can't trust a woman to handle business matters." She set the teapot just a little more firmly than necessary on the table, and turned back to get cups, sugar, and spoons. Her voice was stern but calm when she sat down across from Kitty and looked her in the eye. "Do you know what that man wanted to charge me? Twelve percent. Twelve percent! That's usury, it is. It says so in the Bible. And I told him that. Which is when he headed me towards the door and decided he couldn't make the loan at any price." She filled both cups and then looked back up, "I shouldn't have said that, should I?"
Kitty shook her head. "No. Likely not. But I do know just how you feel." She sipped her tea. Coffee would have been more to her taste. "Tell me what's happening, Polly. Business bad?"
"No. Just the opposite. The town is growing and I have more business than ever. That's why I've taken on the two girls."
"One of them seems to be growing as well." Kitty commented. Her ready eye had observed that even in passing.
Polly's chin tilted up just a little more. "Actually, both of them are. Lucy worked down at the Texas Trail for a while, but they let her go when the baby began to show. She's a good seamstress, though. Has patience for all the fiddling details – she'll spend all afternoon sewing sequins on a dress one by one. Susan is March Pitcher's daughter. He tossed her out of the house when she told him she was expecting. Told him it wasn't her fault, but he didn't listen. She walked in to town, and Ma Smalley took her in for a night or two and fed her, but didn't really have any work for her. Susan sews a straight seam, but she doesn't know much beyond that. I'm teaching her, though."
"So you've got lots of business, and two employees. What did you want a loan for?"
"Dress goods," Polly replied. "I did the figures, and I could almost double my income if I kept a nice selection of fabric here in the store. As it is, the ladies tell me what they want, and I tell them how many yards they need, and then they have to go down to one of the dry goods stores and pick out their cloth. Did you know there's a forty percent markup on bolts of cloth, Kitty? Mr. Jonas or Mr. Geislinger make more profit on a dress than I do! But you have to order the cloth in quantity – not one or two bolts at a time, but dozens at a time. And the more you order, the cheaper the cost. I had all the numbers ready to show the banker but he wouldn't even look. Said he would loan me $250 at twelve percent but I'd have to give him a mortgage on my shop as security."
Kitty took all that in. She didn't know anything about dressmaking, but she did know about interest. "Seems to me that you could afford that twelve percent – no, now don't start in on me! – seems like you could afford that if you turned around your inventory within a year."
"I probably could. And I might have accepted it, but it's hard, Kitty. I know that Milt Storner next door at the hardware got a similar loan for six percent just last month. He was complaining to me about how high that rate was is how I know. And I figured that at six percent I could make a good profit. But twelve! And just because I'm a woman! I let those words about the Bible out my mouth in anger, and now I'm going to suffer for it. That's all there is to it."
Both ladies drank their tea. Polly asked after Matt and the ranch. Kitty asked what various women would be wearing to the Harvest Social the next week. Finally she put her cup down, and went straight to the point. "Polly, would you let me see your figures on the money you want to borrow?"
"I don't mind you seeing them, Kitty. I think I figured it out right on the penny. A lot of what I do in dressmaking is numbers, and I'm good at it. But I won't take charity from you."
"I wouldn't offer it, Polly. But let me have those papers to look over. I'll come back in tomorrow morning and we can talk. Would you accept a loan at 6% if I like what I see?"
"You're not a banker, Kitty. And what would Matt say? That would be money taken from the ranch!"
"Polly, I was a saloon owner for years before I became a rancher. And I've got money in my own account at Bodkin's Bank that's only earning two percent interest. I'm not promising anything, but let me have the papers. Maybe we can do business. Women's business."
With the dressmaker's sheets of paper rolled tightly inside her reticule, Kitty strolled slowly down the street. Now that she was back in Dodge, it didn't seem like there was anything much she wanted to do. She'd go over to the Long Branch in a bit. Having a chat with Sam and Annie would be pleasant, but she was beginning to realize that what she had been looking for when she took off from Kincaid wasn't really seeing her friends, or shopping in the store. What she had been seeking was what Dodge used to mean to her – business, things to do, people who counted on her. And she wasn't going to find that in Dodge City any more than she had at Kincaid. The night in town that had seemed like a somewhat guilty pleasure out at the ranch now seemed a bit flat. She wished quite suddenly that she'd asked Matt to send one of the hands in for her today instead of tomorrow. And that she'd gotten a list of supplies from Cookie. And maybe a list from Matt as well… She was brooding herself into a decline when two big hands on her waist lifted her up and twirled her around.
"Kitty Russell!" Frank Reardon exclaimed. "Now that's just who I wanted to see walking down Front Street on a Thursday morning."
She smiled and accepted Frank's enthusiastic kiss. What would the town have thought if Matt had greeted her like that during all those cautious years? What would they think of Frank now? But that just widened her smile as she tucked her hand in her friend's arm. "Is it too early for a drink, Marshal? How about you walk me over to the Long Branch?"
"Not on your life, darlin'. You come on over to the office with me and tell me all about how you and Matt are doing. Annie and Sam can have their turn a little later."
The Marshal's office looked much the same. When she thought back on it, Frank's office in Hays when he was sheriff there hadn't been much different either. Although he asked her questions, and even let her answer them, Frank was full of his own news. He'd been Marshal nearly a month now, and was getting to know the locals as well as the larger and the closer-in ranchers – but it would take him years to gain Matt's perspective on the town. "Not much that Festus doesn't know about the Front Street crowd, and he'll tell me if I ask him, but then I have to sift through his stories to see what's what. Doc's a better source, but he can get kind of close-mouthed about things sometimes."
"Like about Susan Pitcher?"
"So you've heard that already, have you? I rode out and had a word with March but it didn't do no good. At least he let me pack up her things and bring them to her. He turfed her out with just the clothes on her back. I tried to get Susan to tell me what happened, but she wouldn't. Likely Doc knows, but he's not talkin'. And if she won't make a complaint…"
Frank shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his previous topic. "Now your Sam is grand one for information. Guess everyone talks to a barkeep. I think he knows every cowpoke that ever stopped into Dodge for a drink, but damn it all, honey, sometimes I just wish I could sit down and have a whole evening with Matt. You think he'll be comin' into town soon?" Frank's brows wrinkled and he looked at her in sudden concern. "What're you doing here by yourself, Kitty? Something wrong?"
She patted his hand where it lay on the table. "Not a thing, Frank. Matt is busy trying to get fencing up on the south line before the first snow. I just came in to pick up the payroll for Saturday, and to visit with folks."
Frank turned his hand to capture hers and held it firmly. "That straight, Kitty?"
She looked him in the eye. "Yes it is. I won't say I'm not lonely out at Kincaid. I've been used to having more to do, but there's nothing wrong." She squeezed his hand. "You just come on out one day next week and have that visit with Matt. It's not so far, and the town should be quiet enough this season to get along without you for half a day."
He looked a little embarrassed at that. "Well, it's not that Kitty. It's, well, it's just that…"
The jailhouse door burst wide and Annie Dillon stood there, hands on her hips. "It's just that folks all felt you and Matt deserved some time alone. I tried to tell Frank you wouldn't mind a little company, but I couldn't get him to drive me out." She flung herself into Kitty's arms with her characteristic flair and kissed her warmly. "I thought I'd explode when I saw you walking down here to the Marshal's office, and I waited as long as I could, but you just have to come on back with me I can't wait any longer. Let Sam mind the bar and Frank keep order – you and I are going to talk!"