eighteen

Slumber was a long time coming that night, for her thinking and emotions were as jumbled and confused as Dillon's. Organized thought fell prey to desire too long held in check. When finally sleep came, it was restless, intermittent and clearly haunted by recently aroused memories of passion.

That next day dawned cooler, with gentle rain drumming lightly on the tin roof of the small cottage. If one had not a care in the world it would have been a good morning to sleep in. Such was not the case for Miss Kitty. Still, she lingered a while under the warm covers to go over the events of the day past and try to make the sense of them, that she'd been unable to the night before. One particular incident was hard to overlook, for her body still tingled at the memory the kiss evoked. Her cheeks flushed with the thought. More than ever she believed Matt would come back to her for she had felt the essence of the man she loved. Still, there was fear that he would never be what he once was, that he would always need her as a child needs a parent. If that were the case, then these feelings she was experiencing were wrong, almost immoral. It was hard to convince her body of that.

She considered too, the revelation that Beaumont's family must somehow be related to the notorious Colonel Barger. Certainly, to her eyes, there was nothing sinister about Beau Davis. She perceived him as a gentleman in the true sense of the word, kind and caring. The man hardly fit the image of one, scheming to overthrow the United States Government. There was however, no denying the disturbing appearance of the two unwanted visitors to Summerhaven, or Sebastian words announcing their arrival that seemed, even to Kitty, cloaked by some mysterious language of double talk.

Had Wilcox chosen this cottage so she and Matt would be in close proximity to Beaumont Davis? Had he anticipated Beau Davis would attempt to strike up a relationship? She'd only spoken to Mr. Wilcox once, but that was enough to realize the covert government commander did nothing without full deliberation of the consequences. The muscles of her neck and shoulders tensed and her head was beginning to ache from the stress. She sat up; tossed the covers to the side, and rose from the bed. Like a cat waking from sleep, she arched her back and then she stretched, drawing her hands high, nearly to the ceiling. Cartilage along her spine creaked and cracked affording a satisfying release from the tension.

As was her practice, the first stop she made each morning was the bedroom mirror. She was not a vain woman, but, she respected the advantage good looks gave her. There was a measure of reassurance to see her pretty face staring back from the looking glass. Picking up the brush she'd brought with her from Dodge, a brush Matt had gifted her with years earlier, she began running it through the tangled red tresses. She frowned, and her brow wrinkled, as tension returned. Undoubtedly , Wilcox was using her as he'd used Matt. She set down the brush and flexed and splayed her fingers. A knot of resentment clenched her stomach. No one used Kitty Russell. `No one', she pledged aloud.

A sense of urgency came over her; she was tired of following orders in someone else's army. It was time to take charge of her troops. Matt was physically healing from his wounds and the squalor of St Vincent 's. In a week's time he would be healthy enough to travel. Between the funds she'd carried with her from Dodge and the cash Wilcox had given her, she had enough money to set them up. The Secret Service, the law and Colonel Barger all wanted Matt, but she needed him more. She had to get him someplace safe, someplace where he could heal and become whole, but where? The Canadian Provinces seemed the likely choice, at least for now. She picked up the brush again and vigorously pulled it through her hair as she started working out a plan. She tried to remember the geography of the North Eastern United States, it seemed to her traveling through Pennsylvania, up to Buffalo, New York and then on to Toronto would be the quickest route to safety. She'd have to find a way to get train schedules and routes with out attracting suspicion. Once they were safe from Wilcox and the Band of Brothers, she would get word to Doc and Festus. The idea was empowering.

From the kitchen she heard Lilly singing. The `ten-day girl', sang much the way she played the piano. The off-key melody grated on Kitty's ears. She sighed. Lilly, well that was a whole other kettle of fish … friend or foe … she couldn't decide. One thing she figured for sure. For the duration of their stay in Davis Port, it was better to keep her under watch, than to dismiss her from sight.

With a fresh sense of purpose, Kitty dressed quickly, donning one of Mrs. Johnston's ensembles, a dark green taffeta skirt, topped by a matching plaid shirtwaist of polished cotton. She opened the topbutton of the neckline and propped up the collar. The style suited her. She gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, with a velvet ribbon and proceeded on to the kitchen.

Matt was sitting at the table holding a cup of Lilly's weak tea in both hands. He was quiet and didn't meet her eyes when she said "Good morning." However, unlike the previous day, he did respond with a flat, "G'mor-ing."

Lilly was at the stove, frying pancakes. She had a plate filled and nodded to Kitty, "Them's ready. You'n Abe kin dig right in on it."

She put three pancakes on Matt's plate, poured some maple syrup over them, and hastily cut them into bite size pieces, before setting the plate in front of him. Then, she did the same for herself. She took a seat at the table across from Dillon.

"Sorry I overslept, thanks for making breakfast, Lilly."

"Weren't no bother … I like cookin' … don't get much chance at it, livin' like I does."

She took a bite of the pancake, found it tasty and said so. To Dillon she asked, "Isn't it good Matt?"

Glossy eyed, he stared at his plate. "Good," was his pithy reply.

"I near fergot." Lilly said, the pitch of her voice elevated by excitement. She dug into her apron pocket, pulled out an envelope and handed it to Kitty. "Musta got slid under the door early this morning."

The envelope was of a fine linen texture, white and smelling of lilac water. The name, "Mrs. Kent" was embellished with flourishes and swirls. Using her butter knife, she broke the wax seal, removed the letter and scanned the contents.

Dearest Miss Kitty,

I do so regret that business forced me to curtail our delightful visit yesterday. I hope I may prevail upon you to overlook my deplorable manners and accept an invitation to return to Summerhaven tomorrow. Grandmother has invited some of her dearest friends and she would love to have you meet them. On a more selfish note, I can think of nothing more pleasurable than to spend time with you. You are becoming very important to me Kitty Cat,

With fondest regards your devoted servant,

Beaumont T. Davis

P.S. Sebastian will pick you up at precisely 3:00 P.M.

Kitty had been sincere when she'd stated the night before; she wanted nothing more to do with Beaumont Davis. She now had a clear vision in focus … to get Matt well enough to escape from Wilcox, the Secret Service and anyone connected to the Band of Brothers. She was not going to allow herself to be sidetracked from that mission, for she believed Matt's life depended on it. She tore the letter in little pieces, and tossed them in the garbage. She glanced at Matt and noticed he was watching her. She gave him a smile and he responded with a slight lift to his lips. "Are you feeling okay?" she queried. His answer was a vacant stare, from unblinking eyes. She moved forward, worry shadowing her countenance. She pressed a hand to his brow, it was cool to the touch and she felt some relief that he wasn't fevered, but still she fretted.

Taking a step forward, Lilly confessed, "I gived him a pill. Not a whole one, just a half … he was getting' rambunctious like when I got him up." A small cloud of guilt passed over Lilly's features, "I figured you wouldn't want him taking a whole pill."

"I don't want him taking those pills at all. I want you to throw the rest away."

"Missy, that's just crazy talk."

"I mean it Lilly, empty your pocket and toss them in the fire."

"Looky here, ain't you noticed how he is after he's been dosed? His mind is together agin … he kin think … he kin feel, when he ain't dosed fer a while … why, he's in the funk - all ornery n' mixed in the head. Ain't you noticed that?"

She couldn't deny the truth to Lilly's words. He did seem to make his greatest strides forward after Lilly had dosed him. "There may be something to what you say." She paused and then conceded, "All right, we'll keep the pills, but, I want you to give them to me. I will decide from here on in, when and if he gets `dosed'."

Lilly dug into her pocket and grudgingly handed the drugs over to Kitty's waiting hand. There were about eight and one-half oblong pressed tablets. "Is that all of them?"

She pulled her pocket inside out, "Yes'm, looky here, if'n you don't believe me."

"I believe you." Kitty answered although there was not complete conviction in her words.

Lilly's nose pointed a degree North; it was her turn to ask a question, "What about that there invite? Why'd you tear it to bits?"

"How did you know it was an invitation?"

Lilly raised her sparse eyebrows, as she added hot water and soapflakes to the dishpan. "What else would it be?"

Kitty glanced again at Matt, still working on eating his pancakes. He was holding his fork with an awkward grip, which didn't allow for the point of the tines to contact the plate. She watched as he chased the last bite around, until he finally managed to spear the morsel. To Lilly, she answered, "It's none of your business, but since I know you won't stop pestering me until I answer it was an invitation, but I have no intention of accepting it."

Lilly rolled her eyes and began scrubbing the frying pan, while muttering something unintelligible under her breath.

Kitty finished her breakfast in silence and then cleared her plate and Matt's, handing them to Lilly to wash. She grabbed a dishrag and wiped down the table and stove. As the ladies worked, Matt remained at the table dozing where he sat, with his head lolling on his chest. When the chores were finished, Kitty sat down beside him and gently rubbed his arm trying to rouse him. After a moment, he looked at her blurry eyed and then promptly fell back to sleep. Kitty gave Lilly an evil look, to which the other woman responded, with a shrug of her shoulders, "Might be some coffee would help."

Kitty was an expert coffee maker. She'd had years of practice, hurriedly sobering up drunken husbands, in the effort to make them appear presentable, for their fastidious church-going wives. It was just one of her many skills as a saloon owner. She brewed a strong pot and sat at the table holding the steaming cup as Matt sipped from it. Without much wait, the caffeine did its job and before long Dillon was moderately aware and attentive.

Lilly stood at the sink, dishtowel tossed over her shoulder and hands on her hips, "You gots him awake, now watcha gonna do with him?"

Kitty sighed and silently echoed Lilly's question. She was a card playing, drink pouring, husband sobering, saloon girl of dubious moral background. She had no training for this sort of task. She forced logic and practicality to her mind. Once she and Matt made their escape, most certainly they would be hunted down, criminals with a bounty on their heads. Despite his great size, Matt would need to blend in to society; there could be nothing unusual to draw untoward attention to them. With a sinking heart she realized it would be impossible to travel with Dillon and not attract notice, he was like a giant bearded four-year old. Her shoulders sloped down and her head followed course as the weight of their situation settled back upon her. Her only recourse was to convince Wilcox that Matt was not improving and ask him to remove them from this situation to safety.

Wilcox had told her they would be under surveillance, but she had seen nothing of the man in the past week. From the corner of her eye she caught Lilly studying her, with a poker face on, if ever she'd seen one. If Kitty had not known better, she would have guessed the ten-day girl had an ace up her sleeve.

Well, this saloon gal had a few tricks of her own too, and she wasn't above cheating to win the hand either. Wilcox wasn't messing with an amateur. She turned to look at Lilly head on. She smiled, and the meaning conveyed was not friendship or camaraderie but the knowledge of a secret revealed. She'd been a card player long enough to know the value of patience. If you stay in the game long enough the joker always turns up.