Hard Promises to Keep
Author's Note: Many of the women who kept establishments required their girls to maintain certain wardrobe standards both when they were working and when they were out in public. The initial cost could range into the thousands of dollars, rendering the women essentially slaves or indentured servants. While this isn't the case with the Long Branch, it's worth noting. Most were expected to have a basic suitable wardrobe (clean, well mended, fashionable, with dresses suitable for work and for going out in the community) before they even started working, and this certainly would have been the case at Kitty's. Fancy's situation is inspired by this and the song, "Fancy" by Reba McEntire.
All characters are copyright to CBS, I'm just borrowing them.
"You come from a town where
People don't bother saying hello
Unless somebody's born or dies
"And I come from a place where they
Drag your hopes through the mud
Because their own dreams are all dying
"And when we walk down the street
The wind sings our name in rebel songs
The sounds of the night should make us anxious
But it's much too late when the fear is gone"
-- "Promises" performed by Megadeth
Chapter 11
Kitty hadn't quite made it to the mercantile when she heard Sam, her bartender, calling her name. He had just come from the bank and was on his way back to the Long Branch with the cash box. "Good afternoon, Miss Kitty! How's the marshal doing?"
"Hello, Sam," Kitty greeted him warmly. "He's doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances."
A smile creased Sam's craggy features when he heard the wry undertone in Kitty's voice. "He's tired of staying abed, is he?"
She nodded. "It's all I can do to keep him there. Festus is keeping him occupied with a game of checkers. Was there something else, Sam?" she asked, noting his hesitation and the slight frown.
"Miss Kitty, Fancy's waiting in your office and I reckon you ought to talk to her."
"Yes, I suppose I should," Kitty sighed. She allowed a small hint of annoyance to color her voice but was secretly grateful for the distraction. The longer I put off my errands, the less chance I have of running into those gossipy women.
Sam offered her his arm. "I'll walk you back, Miss Kitty."
"Thank you, Sam. I appreciate that."
The woman -- No, thought Kitty with surprise, "girl" would be a more appropriate description -- waiting for her in her office didn't look like a thief; she looked like someone with heavy burdens and a troubled conscience. Kitty tried recalling if she had heard anything from clients about Fancy or if the girl had told her anything about her personal life while working at the Long Branch. She could only remember that she had given her place of origin as Abilene, Texas. Kitty settled into the chair at her desk and gestured toward the other one. "Sit down, Fancy, and tell me what's on your mind. Would you like some coffee?" Without waiting for her to answer, Kitty poured them each a cup from the Blue Willow coffee service. She added a small splash of brandy from the crystal decanter on her desk. "It's cold out today."
Fancy wrapped her hands around her cup and blew on it to cool it before taking a sip. The brandy and the caffeine seemed to lend her courage. "Miss Kitty, I done you wrong," she blurted as the tears trickled down her smooth white cheeks. Rummaging around in the pocket of her worn day dress, she finally came up with a fistful of paper money and coins which she poured onto Kitty's desk. "I brung back what I could but I…I had to use some of it. I'm powerful sorry!"
Speechless, Kitty stared at the money in front of her; there must have been at least twenty dollars there. "Fancy," she said at last, her voice reflecting disappointment, "why did you do this? I pay all my girls well."
She couldn't meet Kitty's eyes. "I knowed you require us girls to dress decent but Miss Kitty…I cain't do that and still feed the young'uns. They's half starved as it is." Fancy hung her head, the dark ringlets curtaining her face so Kitty couldn't see the tears. "I'll understand if'n you don't want me working here no more."
Kitty laid a compassionate hand on the girl's arm. "Fancy," she asked, "exactly how old are you?"
Fancy gulped and sniffled. "I'll be seventeen in the spring, Miss Kitty."
This is partially my fault. I didn't pay attention to her age when I hired her...or she lied about it. "That's a little…young for this work," Kitty said dubiously. "How did you come to be a saloon girl?"
"My ma paid one of the madams in our neighborhood to fix me up pretty. That there satin dress I wore when working was my first and only. Then the two of 'em screened gentlemen callers. The big bidder was a man from New Orleans who wanted me for an entertainment house specializing in young girls." Her voice trembled. "I didn't stay there long. It was an awful place and we never got to keep nothing. The master got careless one night and left my door unlocked. I…I tried to go home but there weren't nothin' left of it and no one around 'cept my younger brother and the baby." She sighed, her eyes misting over. "Ma was dead, had been for several days. I took the young'uns and lit out. Dodge is jest where we landed, is all."
"Well," said Kitty firmly, "you're not going back there." She eyed Fancy's patched dress distastefully and frowned as she recalled the cheap satin dress the girl normally wore to work. "I think, however, we will have to do something about your wardrobe."
Gratitude shone in Fancy's warm brown eyes. "You mean…you're not gonna fire me, Miss Kitty?"
"I should" Kitty tempered her admission with a friendly smile "but I won't. There will be a few changes made, for you own good." She eyed Fancy appraisingly. "I think I have some dresses which might fit you, though they'll need taking in. Where are you and your siblings staying?"
She gestured vaguely in the direction of Rat Hole Alley. "In a shack down yonder. It ain't much but it's all we could afford."
Kitty shook her head. "That won't do at all. I can't let you stay here -- the Long Branch is no place for kids -- but we could get you set up in one of the boarding houses. I'll increase your wages to accommodate those expenses. The other girls may do so if they choose, but I don't want you taking any of the men upstairs. What I'm going to pay you should be sufficient. You'll be selling drinks only, is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Fancy stood and hesitated, hand on the door knob, before blurting out, "I figure, since you're puttin' yerself out fer me an' all, that you have a right to know. He'll be lookin' for me…and he's a bad one."
"You wouldn't be the first girl to work for me who had that problem," Kitty assured her. "Don't you worry, we know how to handle that sort of thing. If your friend shows up, go to Sam. He'll know what to do." Kitty rose and put a motherly arm around Fancy's shoulders. "Take the rest of the day to get those young'uns settled and then come back here this evening so we can get those dresses fitted to you. I'll tell Sam to expect you since I'll be upstairs most of the evening. And from now on," she admonished, "you come to me if you have problems." Kitty pressed a ten dollar coin into Fancy's hand. "Get those boys of yours some decent clothes and something to eat."
When she'd seen Fancy out of the Long Branch, Kitty sought out Sam. He was behind the bar restocking the kegs and bottles. "Everything all right, Miss Kitty?" he asked.
She nodded as she put the remainder of the money back into the cash box. "Call it a misunderstanding, Sam. You won't have to worry about disappearing money." Kitty frowned and lightly touched Sam's arm. "I may have brought more trouble calling at our door though." Kitty told him about Fancy's predicament. "Watch her, Sam, and if anyone suspicious gets close or causes problems, do what you can to protect her. Use the shotgun if it comes to that." She twisted a fold of her dress in her hands. "It's not that I don't have confidence in Festus and Newly but…."
Sam's amber eyes flashed determination. "I understand, Miss Kitty. I'll watch her as if she were my own daughter."
Kitty smiled as she settled the fox fur cape around her shoulders. "Make sure you send her up to see me this evening when she comes in. I've told her it's all right." Her eyes clouded and some of the animation left her lovely face. "I don't think Matt's going to be in any condition to mind. He's usually pretty worn down by evening."
"I'll see to it, Miss Kitty," replied Sam, wishing there were something more he could do to ease his boss' troubles. Sam regarded the marshal highly and, Kitty's cautiously optimistic updates aside, he was worried about him. Kitty had enlisted his help with the big man on several occasions recently when he became too restless or combative for her to handle by herself.
"All right, Sam." Kitty gave his arm a friendly pat. "Now I have simply got to get these errands done. They've been put off long enough as it is."
As luck would have it Widow Pry and some of her cohorts from the church sewing circle, having just that afternoon engaged in a rousing discussion of the evils afflicting their town, were also in the mercantile. Kitty tried retreating back onto the boardwalk but it was too late; they had already seen her. "Good afternoon, Miss Russell," said Widow Pry, her voice cold and accusing.
"Miss Pry," Kitty acknowledged with a tight smile. She turned her back on the cluster of women and handed her list to the store clerk. "Could you take care of these for me?"
Lathrop looked over the paper Kitty had handed him and nodded. "It'll take a while to get all these things together, Miss Kitty. Do you mind waiting?"
Kitty shook her head. "I can pick up the packages tomorrow or you can have them sent over to the Long Branch. Could I look at some of your calicoes?"
"They're over there in the corner," said Lathrop, gesturing to a table of fabric bolts. He gave her a curious look; while Miss Kitty often bought dress materials, calico was not among her favored fabrics.
"How the mighty have fallen. I wasn't aware that a saloon madam would wear something so common as calico," one of the women remarked, just loud enough to be overheard, and someone tittered.
Kitty, directing her response to Lathrop and making an effort to keep a neutral tone in her voice, said, "One of my girls needs a wardrobe and I'm helping her out. Mr. Lathrop, I think three yards each of that rose calico and the white with the buttercups on it ought to do. I'll also need notions to match."
"Shall I add this to your order?" Lathrop asked.
"No, I'm afraid I need this today if it's not too much trouble," Kitty responded.
"I'll have it ready for you in a few minutes," he said, getting out his scissors and measuring stick.
"Kitty Russell," said Widow Pry, "all this charitable behavior and taking care of the marshal won't suddenly make you a respectable citizen." She wagged a bony finger toward Kitty's face. "I know what you are."
"Edsel Pry." Kitty nailed the woman with her gaze. "What I'm doing is none of your concern."
"It becomes our concern when what you're doing impacts the moral atmosphere of this town," spoke up a sallow faced woman with limp, straw colored hair and pale green eyes. Kitty recognized her as Biddy O'Connor, whose husband was a well known rancher with a good business reputation. "I can understand leaving the marshal in your care for a few days, but surely he's strong enough to be tended by someone more…suitable."
"Like your daughter?" a wit in the crowd queried. Biddy could not identify the heckler and so had to content herself with glaring at Kitty.
"Take it up with Doc Adams," Kitty said through gritted teeth. "Though it's none of your business or concern, the marshal is still a very sick man and Doc says he's not to be moved."
"Just how did Marshal Dillon come to be in your chambers in the first place?" sniffed Letitia Williams, whose husband owned one of the upscale general stores which catered to the more gentrified citizens of Dodge.
Kitty stammered, "W…we were having supper."
"Bet I know what the main course was," someone else commented.
"You have no call to say that to me," Kitty retorted. She backed up a few steps and felt her hip connect with the corner of a display containing lamp chimneys. The glassware chimed and clattered in warning. It was all too vivid to be a dream, but Kitty Russell's nightmare had come to life. The women really had cornered her; Kitty couldn't retreat any further without breaking the display and she couldn't push her way through the circle of women in front of her. There were too many of them.
Lathrop, whether because he feared for his merchandise or had a genuine liking for the fiery tempered saloon owner, stepped from behind his counter and tried to intervene. "Now see here, ladies," he said sternly. "I think you'd best either go about your business in a polite, civilized manner or go elsewhere. I'll have no fighting in my shop. Miss Kitty has every bit as much right to shop peaceably as you do, regardless of her…er… personal choices ...and, er...other activities."
Kitty couldn't decide whether or not she should thank him or slap him. She almost laughed. This whole situation is just ridiculous! Damn Doc and his promises, I'm not putting up with this.
"What will you do, Mr. Lathrop?" demanded Widow Pry, her tone sly and smug. "You can't very well call the marshal and I very much doubt that…that rapscallion hill man and that green youngster going around town pretending to be deputies can fulfill his prerogatives."
"Vile woman," Lathrop shouted, shaking his fist, "I've had more'n enough from ya! I ought to take a broom to your backside and the scissors to your lying tongue. You and that bevy of vipers get out of here now!"
Everyone tensely stood their ground, Kitty wishing she could simply disappear. The whole argument might have come to nothing but for one small thing. Biddy squeaked in indignation and turned her wrath on Letitia. "Get off my foot, you heifer!"
"I didn't step on you, Biddy," Letitia returned, acid in her eyes, "at least, not a-purpose. Why, that saloon woman jostled me. Of all the nerve!"
"I most certainly did not," Kitty said hotly. Her temper frayed, she added, "But I'm going to do a good deal more than jostle you if you don't all mind your own business and leave me alone!"
"You won't get away with this," Biddy screeched. "Your precious marshal isn't here to protect you now."
"Get away with what? Buying material to help out a girl? Offering a warm, clean place for someone with pneumonia to get well? I don't need anyone protecting me. In fact, if you don't back away from me this instant, Biddy, you'll be the one needin' protection!"
The sound of Biddy's hand hitting Kitty's cheek echoed in the stunned silence. Kitty took a step back, a disbelieving hand going to her face, as a single glass chimney fell off the display and shattered.
A wicked fire lit the redhead's eyes as she scanned the group, dismissing them as insignificant. Kitty had had enough. "You ever touch me again," she said, enunciating each word carefully with a calm she was far from feeling, "and there won't be enough left of you to feed to the crows."
It was Letitia who grabbed Kitty's wrists in a surprisingly strong grip and manhandled her toward the door. "How dare you threaten her! You got no more'n you deserved. A woman of your persuasion belongs outside, in the streets, with the filthy animals she serves!"
"Now wait a minute," Widow Pry blustered, realizing things had gotten out of hand, "this isn't at all proper. I never meant -- Mr. Lathrop, go find one of those deputies to break this up before someone gets hurt." She didn't need to tell him twice; Lathrop had seen that look in the redheaded saloon owner's eyes once or twice before and it didn't bode well for the recipient. He skittered out the door.
The two men who had helped escalate the argument slipped back out onto the boardwalk unnoticed. "We done what we came for," the tall reedy one said to his shorter companion. "Now we'll step back and see about the marshal." They retreated to a safe distance and watched the events unfold.
Kitty hadn't wanted to resort to violence but no matter how she twisted and pulled she couldn't free herself from Letitia's grip. She stepped hard on the woman's foot and then elbowed her in the ribs. "I said, let me go!" Startled and out of breath, Letitia released Kitty's hands, which she put up just in time to evade another of Biddy's open handed slaps. Biddy made a snatch at Kitty's long hair but missed. Instead, the older woman's nails raked across Kitty's unblemished cheek.
Kitty caught Biddy's bony wrists in a solid grip, "Alright, I've just about had it with you, Biddy. I don't want to hurt you, seeing as how you're older than dirt. But you're leaving me no choice. Have you all lost your minds?! What's wrong with you women?"
"You shouldn't be allowed to breathe the same air as decent folk," Biddy hissed. She pulled Kitty off balance, causing her to release her grip and stumble forward. Biddy skittered quickly to the side, as Letitia hooked her fingers behind the clasp on the little fur cape and pulled it tight around Kitty's neck.
The jangling of spurs on the boardwalk alerted Kitty to Festus' presence. She breathed a sigh of relief as he started wading in and separating combatants. "All right, you blamed she-males quit your fussin' and caterwaulin'. Go on home. You oughrta be ashamed of yerselves, carryin' on like that where folk can see. Lettie, you turn loose a' Miss Kitty right this second!"
"Anything you say, Deputy Haggen." With a malicious grin, Letitia Williams gave the little cape one final yank and shove. The chain clasp broke and Kitty tumbled over backwards into the horse trough. She plunged through the thin film of ice with a splash and began floundering. Her goal achieved, Letitia walked away with her head held high and her nose in the air.
"Miss Kitty, are you all right? Lathrop, help me get 'er out of there!" Kitty's petticoats and skirts were heavy when wet and it took both men, heaving and panting, to help her back onto the board walk.
"I'm all right, boys," Kitty managed through chattering teeth, "just mad as a wet hen clear through! Festus, take me home so I can get out of these wet clothes."
"I…I'm sorry this happened, Miss Kitty," Lathrop offered. "I'll make sure your calicoes are sent over to the Long Branch."
Kitty's smile was tight but genuine. "Thank you, Mr. Lathrop, I appreciate it. Festus, up the back stairs, if you please. I don't feel like explaining this to Sam."
"Well, you're shore gonna have t' 'splain it to ole Matthew," Festus said, his eyes widening in surprise. "Look yonder."
Her eyes automatically followed where Festus pointed. Damn the man! Matt stood unsteadily on the bottom riser clad only in his flannel nightshirt, long john bottoms, and stockings. Kitty's little Derringer looked ridiculous in his large hand but he held it steady. The marshal seemed intent on scanning the street for some perceived danger; he did not, at first, seem to see either his deputy or Kitty. "Matthew Dillon," she exploded, "just what in hell do you think you're doing out here?"
"I...I saw…." He couldn't finish the sentence because a fit of coughing stole his breath away. The Derringer clattered to the boardwalk. "Two men," he finally managed. "Wanted."
"Yer eyes were deceiving ya, Matthew," Festus said gently as he picked up and pocketed the Derringer. He instinctively let his gaze play over the entire Front Street panorama. Seeing no one and nothing that appeared more out of place than the sight of Miss Kitty in dripping wet clothes, the deputy said, "T'weren't no men out there, jest those gossipy she-males and ole Lathrop. Betimes a fever will do that to a man, you know that. Miss Kitty, we oughrta get ole Matthew back inside an' get 'im warmed up afore he does hisself some mischief."
"Come on, Matt," Kitty sighed, putting her arm around his waist, as Festus scrambled to assist from the other side, "back to bed with you."
Matt would have liked to argue with both of them but what little strength he had seemed to have deserted him. He leaned heavily against Kitty and Festus, his vision swimming in and out as the knifelike wind tore through his tortured lungs. Matt concentrated, willing the confused thoughts dancing in his head to coalesce into something solid he could use to make his friends clearly understand. "Kitty…Festus…" he tried again as they were putting him to bed, "I've got to tell you...I saw them... have to get 'em..."
"You don't have to do anything except lay in that bed and rest," Kitty interrupted him. Her hand caressed his cheek, gauging the heat of the fever. "Festus, go get Doc."
"I don't need…Doc," Matt muttered grumpily. "If you'd just listen..."
Kitty handed Festus a couple of coins. "Stop at Delmonico's and get us some dinner while you're out. Broth for Matt, whatever the cook has on the menu tonight will do for the rest of us."
"I'll do 'er, Miss Kitty, don't you fret." The jingling of Festus' spurs faded as he made his way back downstairs, his passage muffled by accumulated snowfall.
Matt groaned. "I can't stand broth, Kitty, you know that." It was a futile protest; he had tried -- and succeeded -- in persuading her to give him solid food only once since he'd taken ill and it was a decision they both had cause to regret.
"Well, it's what you're going to get." She sighed, planted a quick kiss on his forehead and then said, "I've got to get out of these wet clothes. Will you behave?"
In spite of his frustration, a small ironic smile played around the corners of Matt's lips. "Would it do any good to say otherwise?"
"Not really." Her voice, muffled as she wriggled her way out of her wet skirts and petticoats, carried to him from behind the dressing screen. She flung the garments over the screen to dry and then emerged wearing a soft white flannel gown over which she'd thrown a brocaded robe of deep sapphire. She sat down beside him on the bed and took his hand in hers. "How are you, Matt," she asked, searching his eyes, "really?"
"I've felt a whole heap better, Kit," he admitted, "but I still know what I saw." He had the notion both she and Festus were dismissing his observation as fevered ramblings and shook his head in agitation. "Newly's got to know about those wanted men. I…I can't recall where I saw the information on 'em but I know I saw it somewhere."
"Later, Matt," she tried to soothe him, "you'll take care of it later when you're stronger."
"Later may be too late," Matt insisted, his voice rising. "The town…." Another fit of coughing and chills shook him.
"That's why you have deputies, Matt. Let them take care of it until you're well again." Her brow furrowed in a concerned frown as Matt struggled for breath and fought against the shivers which racked him. She eased him up and placed more pillows behind his back, hoping to improve his breathing, then tossed another blanket onto the bed. Kitty fretted about his condition; he hadn't been delusional when she'd left him with Festus. With shaking hands, she began mixing up his medications. Doc couldn't get there soon enough to suit her.
He saw her preparing the laudanum and put his hand on hers. "No more drugs, Kitty," Matt rasped. "I need to talk to Newly. The town, it's in danger…."
She shook her head. Her voice was firm and unyielding. "No, Matt, you don't get your way in this. I need you more than this blamed town and you're not doing a thing for Dodge if you die because of some fool fevered notion generated by your pride." She thrust the glass at him. "Drink it, Matt." He turned his head away, refusing to cooperate. A small part of Kitty's soul rejoiced in that act of defiance, most characteristic of the man she knew and loved, but she couldn't allow him to get away with it when he was still struggling just to breathe. "Matt, please; I've had a horrible day already. I'm worried about you, I've got other concerns on my mind...I said, drink it." In his debilitated state, it didn't take much effort for Kitty to coax the liquid down his throat. Her voice seemed to come to him from far off: "I'm sorry, Matt. Oh, I wish you'd be less stubborn!"
"I…I...know…what I saw. Tell them," Matt mumbled as the laudanum dulled his ability to think. He fought against the effects of the sedative but the effort to do so cost him more energy than he had. Against his will, Matt's eyes closed and he drifted into a light sleep through which a parade of spectral figures marched, dissolving into mist when he tried to grasp them.
Matt awakened when he heard Doc's shuffling footsteps approaching the bed. The cantankerous old physician had a concerned frown on his face which he quickly masked with his customary sour expression. "Just when did you trade your badge for a medical degree?" he grumped. "I'm fairly certain I told you not to step foot out of this room until I said you could. But no, you know better and you just have to go traipsing around outside in your union suit. What happened to your common sense? I'll tell you what happened to it," Doc answered himself as he got his stethoscope out, "you've been hanging around too much with that lay about deputy of yours, that's what!"
"Now Doc," Matt said, trying to placate him, "that's not entirely the case."
"Be quiet," the elderly doctor snapped, "I can't hear a thing with you yammering on like that." Matt grinned unrepentantly and lay quietly while Doc Adams listened and thumped his chest here and there. When Doc looked up and put the stethoscope back in his bag, there was no mischief in his eyes and his expression was serious. "Well, now," he said slowly as he regarded the marshal, "I don't like that. I don't like it at all." Doc dug around in his bag until he came up with a small case of vials. He began mixing up an injection.
Matt stopped Doc short of plunging the needle into the vein. "Not until I know what it is," he said firmly. "I don't want any more laudanum."
"Your lungs are full of fluid, son," Doc explained. "This here will hopefully dry it up some so you can breathe easier." Matt nodded and let the doctor finish what he was doing. "Matt, listen to me and listen to me good. I don't want you up out of this bed for any reason until I say otherwise."
"Doc," Matt protested, "I don't feel that bad."
"Matt." Doc regarded him with a stern, silvery gaze. "I mean it. There's only so much I can do. You have got to do what I say this time with no excuses. Why else have Festus and Newly as your deputies if you don't trust them to protect the town when you can't?" He saw he had touched a nerve with the marshal when Matt winced away from his words. "The weight of the law doesn't have to rest solely upon your shoulders. You can't possibly serve her unless you take care of yourself first." His voice softened and he gave an embarrassed cough. "'sides, there's some folk who would like to have you as marshal in Dodge for a good many years yet. That won't happen if you keep messing around and disobeying your highly capable physician's orders."
"All right," said Matt, "we'll play it your way…for now."
"That's all I ask," Doc said, satisfied. "Now get some rest and eat something if you can. I'll be back to check in on you tomorrow evening."
Down on the street, the two outlaws watched the elderly physician shuffling his way through the snow. The taller of the two turned to the other and said, "That 'bout confirms it." He grinned, revealing crooked tobacco stained teeth. "Dodge is ripe for the picking and there ain't a thing that sickly marshal can do about it."