(7)
It was another ten days before she was considered out of danger. "You have suffered serious injury, dere vas damage to internal organs, and much abdominal bleeding. Fortunately der kinder appears to be unharmed. However, I cannot be certain of dis und for dat reason, I vant you on complete bed rest." Professor Pittlekow ordered.
Although he had not been told the exact circumstances leading to her injury, the Professor was able to piece together a fairly accurate portrait of what had happened. An article had appeared in the paper, which told of the woman who had been in the back room at the time of Kitty's rescue, it detailed some of the events of that evening. The unfortunate woman had died as a result of Reggie's bungled surgical attempts. The New Orleans Times-Picayune had reported, "It was due to the heroics of a prominent New Orleans physician and his servant, that police were able to apprehend Reginald Higgins and his wife Irma. Undoubtedly their swift action saved the life of another unfortunate woman who was waiting her turn under the madman's knife."
"Vhen a voman has suffered loss, as you have with the death of your husband … baby is like burden … dis feeling vill pass und you vill grow to love da child. Soon, another veek or so, you vill feel da baby move, you vill understand it is life growing vithin you, den de love a mutter has for das kind, the child, will be known to you." She didn't have the energy to tell him she'd felt the baby move weeks before. She had nodded her head too tired to explain why she could never love this child. She was realizing life through the eyes of a fatalist, what was to be would be. She had been fighting destiny ever since she was a young child, not now, not anymore, with sad clarity she realized the utter futility of it.
She acknowledged to herself alone that in as much as she had been held hostage by Jude Bonner, she was now and forever more a prisoner of that unholy union. Depression took hold of her, her days spent in the isolation of the South bedroom traveled to night and to day again but she paid little attention to their course. She did as she was told, ate, slept and answered questions with as few words as possible. There was no comfort in memories of the past and no hope in thoughts of the future. She trained her mind not to think, not to feel and to find its sanctuary dwelling in a vacuum.
Thus the cool dreary months of a rainy winter passed. As spring came and the pregnancy progressed she was finally encouraged to get out of bed. After so long a period of inactivity she lacked the strength to do more than walk to the chair by the window seat. It was easier here to lose her self in emptiness. River, sky and the night sounds of Congo Square all carried her as far from reality as she needed to go.
As both friend and physician Chapman recognized the signs, he knew but one antidote for the poison of her despair, but an oath and promise kept him from the cure. Still not a week went by that he didn't ask her, and not a week went by that she didn't reply, "I don't want Matt to know."
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All he had was the letter she had left for him in Sam's keeping. The bartender's instructions were not to give it to Dillon until she'd been gone a week.
He had been furious when he'd come to take her to Delmonico's that day and found she'd already left town on an early morning train. He'd mentioned to Doc, Festus, Newly and Sam that he was, "too old to play games and if that's what she wanted good luck to her." They all recognized his anger as hurt and had tried to remind him this might be for the best, at least until Miss Kitty was able to forget Jude Bonner and the Dog Soldiers.
He'd nodded and took a long drink of beer. He wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve, something Kitty would have frowned upon. "She's a grown woman. She can take care of herself." He said mimicking her words and trying to make himself believe it.
He'd been alone in his office when the bartender had stopped by with the letter. "Miss Kitty wanted you to have this, Marshal."
Dillon had stared at the envelope a moment before he reached for it and took it in his own hand. "When did she give you this?" He wanted to know.
"Right before she left, she made me promise not to give it to you until tonight."
In spite of himself he smiled at the thought of her extracting such a pledge from the bartender. "Thank you Sam." He replied. He turned it over in his hands before setting it down on his desk.
"Can I get you anything Marshal? Can I do anything for you?" Sam asked in an effort to appease his own sense of helplessness.
"Thanks, no." The bartender left leaving the lawman alone to read the letter in private. Before he did, Dillon reached in his lower desk drawer and extracted a bottle of brandy; "Napoleon", Kitty'd called it when she'd given it to him five months earlier. Since then he'd only had a drink or two from the bottle, thinking he'd save it for a time they could enjoy it together. Now he took a moment to read the fancy gilded label, Delpech Fougerat Napoleon Brandy, since 1777. It was a favorite of hers, she'd told him. Kitty was always trying to introduce him to the finer things in life. Pulling out the two small etched glasses that she'd given him with the bottle, he filled each one. He sat at his desk and downed the first before opening the envelope and reading the letter. It was written much more formally than she usually spoke, a habit left over he supposed from her seminary school education during the time she had lived with her mother.
Dear Matt,
Please forgive me for not allowing you to accompany me to the train. Good-byes are hard and in the end serve no purpose but to prolong the pain of leaving. I am aware by pushing you away these last months, keeping you at arms length, I've caused you pain and this is unbearable to me. Please know my leaving has nothing to do with my feelings for you, but is more an effort to understand myself and what has happened to change me so dramatically that I no longer recognize the image when I look in the mirror. Please don't worry about me, or try to find me. My absence is not forever. God willing, I'll come home again. Until then, you shall remain ever close in my heart.
Kitty
His head fell back until it rested against the wall behind his chair. He stared at the ceiling so long his eyes burned. Nothing else he could ever remember was as painful as the loneliness he was suddenly overcome with. It was a long while later that he drank the second glass of Napoleon Brandy.
Doc advised him over and over again, "She needs this time alone Matt, she needs to come to terms with what happened and only then will she be able to come back to us." Dillon agreed with Adams because it provided hope that someday she would return. He prayed `time' would be able to do what he had not. For since October, he had exhausted every means he knew of to make her aware of his feelings. Words of love, so hard for him to speak had become part of his daily vocabulary with her, but all his efforts had only served to increase the estrangement.
He was not a man easily broken, anyone could tell you that. But in all truth it was the love of this woman, which had sustained his strength for so long. Without her he knew he was a weaker man than he'd ever been before. It became a part of his façade to keep this knowledge from gaining public awareness, to go on just as if nothing had happened, just as if the world hadn't opened up and swallowed his reason for living.
Those close to him understood, but were helpless to remedy his loss. They looked on sorrowfully, as each day when he picked up his post he would sift through the envelopes looking for the perfectly flowing slanted script, which might indicate she was coming back. They noticed when the morning stage pulled into town how he'd happen to be standing at the front door of the Marshal's office, watching as the passengers stepped down from the coach. Each day without her, they knew the crack in his heart widened.
The big man became increasingly restless. When she'd been gone two months without a word, he began making inquiries and sending telegrams to friends she'd been known to visit on her travels. He made several attempts to locate Ann Smith the woman she said she was going to help in Chicago, although he'd long ago decided she did not exist. Finally he went through Kitty's room, sorting though her things, vainly trying to find a clue to her desertion. He found no answers, only memories of what had been between the two of them, mementoes she'd kept of their times together.
In early March he was wounded in a bank robbery attempt. A fever set in and for several days his mind was fogged in delirium. He asked for her, and Doc would say, "she's coming soon, you just rest." But she didn't come and in time the fever left, his wound healed and his mind was right again. With uncharacteristic weariness, he put on the burden of his false armor of indifference, and those around him hurt with his pain, but followed his lead and said nothing about the loss.
Sam received no communication from her. His orders from Kitty before she left were to run the business as if she were still there. "I don't know how long I'll be gone, it may be a long time, but I trust you to do the right thing." So he worked the long hours, kept the ledgers and ordered the stock and supplies. Everyone knew something was missing and the saloon became a melancholy place, business was still good, but the patrons were known to sit morosely staring at their beer and listening for the swish of satin and the schoolgirl giggle which could transform to a bawdy laugh with only a little prompting. They missed her beauty, her kindness and her fire. Finally Sam hired a red haired hostess to fill in the gap Miss Kitty had left. It had the opposite effect, for seeing someone trying to take her place made the absence all the more acute.
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Bessie Roniger marked the dates on her calendar as she had with her own pregnancies. She wondered where Kitty was and what was happening to her. She desperately wanted to do something to help. Several times she'd attempted to tell Dillon what she knew. Each time memory of the promise she'd made prevented her from doing so. The pledge of secrecy was a mighty load to bear, it affected her usual happy personality; she snapped at her children and avoided her husband. When her healthy appetite became affected Will Roniger figured she had a serious problem. He demanded to know what was troubling her. It wasn't a surprise to hear it had something to do with Kitty Russell. He had suspected as much. "She'll come home one of these days, don't you worry." He'd told her.
She lowered her head to hide the guilt she felt. She was afraid to tell her husband what she knew, but his gentle coaxing finally drew out the truth. Roniger understood about friendship and promises and the bond, which tied saloon woman and farm wife together in friendship. He put his arms around Bessie, "You have to tell Matt." He said as he kissed the top of her head.
"I know." She admitted with a sob. "But how?"
The May air was filled with the scent of apple blossoms and lilacs, the trees were spring green with fresh life, baby birds and young children chirped with the prospect of a long growing season of warm weather and bounty, but Bessie didn't notice as she stood outside Dillon's office. "You want me to come in with you?" Will asked.
"No," she replied, "but stick close at hand … I'm going to need you when this is over." Her hands were sweating, her heart thumping, her mouth so dry she was sure she wouldn't be able to spit out the words, yet knowing in spite of her promise to keep silent, she could no longer do so.
He was sitting at his desk when she knocked and opened the door. "May I talk to you Marshal?" She asked.
He looked up from his paperwork with surprise at seeing her there. He stood up and walked to her. He towered over her matronly figure, "Mrs. Roniger, Bessie, come in. What can I do for you?"
She swallowed nervously, "I was wondering, have you heard anything from Kitty?"
He winced; it was a flash then gone, resembling the pain from an old war wound after an unexpected jar. He looked away, shaking his head. "No." He glanced back at her with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, "Have you?"
"No."
His body sagged at her response making it all the harder to tell him what she knew. "Marshal, there's something … Kitty made me promise … I should have told you …"
"Here, sit down…" He told her, leading her to the chair by his desk. He wasn't sure he was up to another well meaning conversation about Kitty, but he knew Bessie had been hurt nearly as much as he by her abandonment. "I'll get you a cup of coffee."
"No coffee." she said and her vehemence startled him. She sucked in her courage, aware this was one of the hardest things she would ever have to do, "I know why Kitty left town, I had stopped by to see her the morning before. She'd been feeling poorly and I wanted to drop off some of my tonic for her. She described how she'd been and I told her … I said it sounded … it sounded to me …" Bessie bit her lip and glanced at the door like an outlaw planning to make a run for it.
"Just say it Bessie." Dillon ordered.
"… it sounded like she was going to have a baby." She blurted.
His heart seemed to stop before exploding in his chest. He shook his head trying to clear the bells and whistles, which were suddenly sounding off in his brain. His male mind made a frantic attempt to calculate calendar dates with times of the month and he came up short. They hadn't been together, not that way since three weeks before the Dog Soldiers. So long an absence, had been something he remembered.
Bessie was shaking now, her hands trembled and her lips quivered as she spoke, "She said the baby wasn't yours, she said those … men … animals is more like it … they..."
Dillon's hands balled into fists, the muscles in his neck, shoulders and arms became rigid. "She couldn't tell me?" He asked.
Bessie stood up. "She was afraid to hurt you more."
He was barely in control of his emotions, "So she left town to go through this alone?"
Mrs. Roniger nodded.
His hands fell hard to her shoulders and he gave her a shake. "Bessie, my God! Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"
"She made me promise …" The excuse sounded flimsy even to her own ears, so she repeated it hoping to give it strength. "She made me promise."
"Where is she?" He asked, knowing nothing could keep him from being with her now, knowing she needed him more than ever.
As hard as it was to tell him the reason for Kitty leaving, it was harder still to tell him she had no idea where she was. "I don't know."