Just a reminder dear reader, this is a work of fiction. The characters of Baron Von Rothschild and his illegitimate son Alonzo, are no more real than Matt, Kitty, Frankie, Wilcox and the rest of the gang.

thirty-one

"Who and what are you talking about?" Kitty demanded.

"Baron Alfonse Mayer Von Rothschild's illegitimate son, Alonzo … " Charlie started.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

Frankie leaned in. "Okay Kitty, here it is. The Oppenheims, the Mendelssohns, the Rothschilds, are part of a European banking fraternity. The House of Rothschild is the richest, most powerful family in the international banking cartel."

"Their financial instruments circulate the world as stocks, bonds and debts. They have financed monarchies and sovereign governments, wars and revolutions, some believe purposely pitting one side against the other. As early as 1817, the Rothschild brothers, there were five of them, had taken up a Prussian war loan, by the end of that war they were reportedly the richest firm in Europe. By the time Andrew Jackson was President of the United States their banking interests were deeply imbedded in the economy of our country. Jackson fought tooth and nail to prevent the nation from becoming under total control of foreign money. In fact his tombstone declares, "I killed the bank." It is believed they were a force behind the Civil War, and had agents working in the South, twenty years before Fort Sumter, spreading anti-North propaganda. Two Americas each burdened by debt to one bank, could only mean prosperity for the bank."

Frankie glanced at Charlie and Matt before turning her attention back to Kitty. "I won't deny the family has done good in the world, preserving great works of art and contributing to various charitable foundations. However, there is a strong belief, there are factions of the family only interested in domination - complete control of the world market. We believe Alonzo Rothschild is here to see to that end."

"… an illegitimate son can wield that kind of power?"

"Not usually, especially in the world of European hierarchy - but this family plays by their own rules, Alonzo has always been his father's favorite, even though he has three sons born of his legal wife, who also happens to be his cousin. They determine to keep the money in the family by marrying their own."

"You think Alonzo will be at Summerhaven?"

"If our information is correct, yes. A German luxury liner landed in the port of New York yesterday. If we can link the Rothschilds to the Fraternatis, if their money and power is funding the Solutio … "

"I still don't understand … why don't you just start arresting people and throwing them in jail and toss away the key … "

Frankie spoke as one to a child. "Oh Kitty … you really have no idea how powerful these people are."

"I guess not, the more I hear of this, the more confused I become."

Frankie offered an understanding smile, "We have time to talk this out, but, in the meantime, we must consider practical matters. What are you going to wear to this shindig?"

Charlie added, "Our sources have disclosed Mrs. Johnston will be returning home. No doubt, she will be in attendance."

Frankie nodded her head, "So we can't make over any of her gowns …she'd know immediately."

"Yes, she would."

Kitty raised a hand to intervene, "Wait a minute, what makes you so sure I will even get invited to this affair."

Smiling, Frankie replied, "There's nothing Beau likes better than to have the most beautiful woman around to decorate his arm. Before you Kitty, his escort of choice was Elizabeth Adams … a beautiful heiress of a great fortune. Sad for Beaumont, her parents felt it wise to send her on the Grand European Tour, for the next several years. They weren't too happy with a liaison between their daughter and a shop keeper, no matter how successful he is."

Charlie glanced at his pocket watch and then spoke in a hurried voice, "Get me Kitty's measurements. We'll have Mr. Wilcox work on the problem."

The words were barely out of Charlie's mouth, when Frankie had gathered the sewing basket and Kitty's hand and was pulling her into the bedroom. "Have a cup of coffee Charlie, we'll be out in a minute." Yeoman helped himself to the coffee and turned to sit down at the table and talk with Matt, but Dillon was already out the back door and on his way to the river.

Without her beside him, his stride was halting and slightly uneven. He tripped once and nearly fell to the ground. His face held a heavy scowl. He was angry. Angry with Kitty, angry with Frankie, Charlie, Wilcox and anyone else who popped into his mind, but most of all he was angry with himself. Impotence gnawed his psyche. Fear turned the juices of his stomach, she was in over her head; they all were. And he was helpless to defend them.

How could he protect her? He was half the man he used to be. The head injury had robbed him of so much. His thinking process was wrong, at times it almost hurt to concentrate. He was still slow, both mentally and physically. His right side seemed particularly affected. He mimicked the action of a six-shooter in his palm. He shook his head and closed his eyes in helplessness. He lacked the coordination to pull a gun and shoot with accuracy. His gun hand lacked the strength to pull the trigger. Standing in the birch grove he held out his right hand. It shook, and he grabbed with the left to steady the tremor. Again, he attempted to flex his right hand. It seemed reluctant to obey. In frustration, he thrust hands, the strong and the weak into his pants pockets. As a matter of course, his fingers found the badge. The tin star did little to elevate his mood.

Kitty had watched him leave from the bedroom window and followed as soon as Frankie allowed it. He saw her approach, but turned his back to her, squaring his gaze instead on the flowing river. Still, he felt her presence behind him.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked, with one arm hugging a birch tree.

He shook his head and replied with some delay. "No."

"It might help …"

Still not looking at her, he said with a measure of defeat evident in his voice, "Kitty this isn't your fight … you shouldn't be here."

"Matt." She beseeched, and he finally turned to look at her. Even after all these years, there were things he didn't understand about her as well as a history he chose not to acknowledge. She had to make him face her life truths. The tree became her support. "Last night … when you asked, where you would be without me; the answer I gave you was true and without question. Matt Dillon, you would be what you are with or without Kitty Russell. But, as for me – Matt, where would I be without you?" She ran her tongue over her lips and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure that I wouldn't be on the wrong side of the tracks wallowing in a red light district, or in jail somewhere, or shot dead for cheating at poker. Without you in my life … my future wasn't all that bright."

A mallard in flight caught her eye and she followed his path. She sighed before speaking again. "My mother was a good woman, but gullible, some might say a fool, I swore not to be like her from the moment I understood what losing your self to love can do. My father, you remember him, was gambler through and through; he could bluff his way out of most any situation, he was a crook and a coward, but he was a survivor. As for me, what basic sense I had of right and wrong, had been worn away by the day-to-day need to survive with some food in my belly, and a roof over my head. There wasn't much I wouldn't do for a few dollars. That all changed when I met you."

He narrowed his vision to look at her. Kitty took her hand from the birch tree to stand tall. As one baring her soul. She met his eyes full on, aware of her flaws but proud too of the mettle that defined her character. "I am what I am because of you, of who you are and what that badge is. Funny you know, as much as I hate the badge … I love it too. It represents the code you live by, and because of that, it's the code I live by too." With spine straight arrow, she took a step closer to him. The irony hit her, as she understood the words she had read to him that first night in the cottage, now applied to her as well. She reached out to grasp his forearm. Her voice dropped to a melodic alto. "I could not love thee dear so much, loved I not honor more."