Once Matt hurried off to take the Clarks to safety, Kitty left Rita's apartment to go home. The name Peter Brooks was ringing in her ears. Matt seemed sure that Brooks was the one who'd tried to kill Felix even though he couldn't prove it, and she trusted Matt's judgment more than just about anything.

As soon as Kitty got to the Long Branch she asked one of her bartenders to tote hot water upstairs and fill her tub. Submerged in the steamy water, she closed her eyes. Her thoughts drifted to her conversation with Peter. The earrings he showed her were a glimpse of how wealthy he really was. Wealthier than even a very successful businessman could ever hope to be. Why would such a man want to own a store in Dodge, and why would he want to kill a poor little boy?

She mulled it over until the bath water grew tepid. With only questions and no answers she climbed out of the cool water to get ready for work. It was a weekday so the Long Branch wouldn't be packed, but even weekdays usually brought a steady stream of customers. A good thing too, she was reaching the point where she was doing slightly better than breaking even and needed it to continue.

An hour later, face painted, hair just so and wearing an emerald green dress that showed off her best assets, Kitty put on a pair of dangling earrings. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. The image of the earrings Brooks had shown her was fresh in her mind, making her earrings seem garish and cheap. Meeting her own eyes she remembered Panacea Sykes. She'd grown up in Panacea's gambling house after her father abandoned her. Pan had given her a necklace made of paste and colored glass, and was putting it around her neck one evening, "Remember honey, it's the lady that makes the jewelry look good, not the other way around." Kitty smiled at her reflection and went downstairs.

She paused on the bottom step to gauge the tone of the room. It seemed unusually boisterous for a weekday. She was happy for the business, but hoped there'd be no serious trouble, especially with Matt out of town.

Her eyes swept the bar. A group of cowboys who rarely came into the Long Branch caught her attention, especially one known as Crazy Larry.

Two of cowboys started arguing, but to Kitty's ears the words rang hallow and their dispute seemed oddly fake. One threw a glass but missed the other by at least 4 inches. Kitty hurried over to smooth things over, "Come on boys. Let's take it easy." She stopped and frowned. They ignored her and continued to yell insults at each other while frantically throwing glasses against the walls and floor. Three men pulled out guns and starting shooting at the bottles of booze stacked above the bar. Sam ducked as glass rained down upon him and grabbed his rifle from behind the bar. He rose ignoring the flying glass and pointed his rifle, "Put those guns down."

The cowboys froze, all except Crazy Larry. He grinned and continued firing at the bottles as if he was in a shooting gallery. The others laughed and starting shooting again. Kitty quickly ducked into her office and grabbed the pistol Matt had given her for protection. She yelled at the top of her lungs, "Stop it," and fired into the ceiling. This time even Crazy Larry froze.

"Get out of here now. All of you."

Without comment the cowboys holstered their guns, and filed out of the saloon. Once outside they turned the corner and walked down a dark alley. Peter Brooks was waiting in the shadows. He handed each man $10 and walked away.

Kitty and Sam looked around in stunned silence. They'd never seen anything like it. Shattered glass was everywhere and there was not a bottle of whiskey, rye, rum, vodka or anything left intact. A few petrified customers who'd witnessed it all, sat glued to their seats, eyes wide with amazement. They looked so shocked that Kitty almost laughed as she spoke, "Sorry boys, I've got to close and clean up this mess. Come back tomorrow."

The men donned their hats, and with stunned expressions, silently walked out.

Kitty looked at her saloon girls. They were gathered in a clump of disbelief, "Go on ladies. The night's over, but you'll get paid like usual."

With everyone gone but Sam, Kitty took a deep breath, "Sam, we've sure got our work cut out for us. Let's sweep up all this glass and mop up the booze." As they worked Kitty made a mental tally of the number of shot glasses and beer mugs that had to be replaced. She muttered under her breath, "Dozens of new glasses I can't afford." Sam heard her, "Miss Kitty, I've been setting aside money from my salary. I can go a few weeks without getting paid. Really, I can manage just fine."

Kitty smiled at her dear employee, "Oh Sam thank you, but it will be all right. I'm sure I'll figure it out."

As they mopped the floor she started calculating the loss of income from the bottles of liquor that had been destroyed. She decided there was nothing to do but keep the business going and try to make up the loss. "Sam would you mind going down to the storeroom and bringing up bottles to restock the shelves. You know, the usual spread of cheap to pricey.

Kitty was wiping down the counter wondering what had gotten into those crazy cowboys, when Sam returned. She looked up and was surprised to see him empty-handed. Then she realized he was as white as a ghost, "Sam what's wrong?"

"Miss Kitty, I don't know how to tell you this. I-I"

"Sam just say it."

"Well, when all that craziness was going on up here, someone must have gotten into the storeroom. Every bottle is broken. Every last bottle."

Kitty looked at him with disbelief, "Sam, we just got a delivery yesterday. That's more than 3 months of inventory."

Sam looked at Kitty. He'd worked for her for 2 years. After the first day, he knew he'd work for this honest, kind and strong woman as long as she would let him. There were no romantic yearnings, but a deep loyalty and respect. He'd done a lot of things and worked in a lot of places, but nothing made him prouder than working for Kitty Russell.

He saw the devastation in her face and took a step towards her. He wanted to offer comfort with a pat on the back or a squeeze on the arm, but touching her seemed awkward and unnatural. She understood his intent, and looked up with gratitude. "Sam, from what you say we have a lot of cleaning up to do downstairs. Do you have the energy to get it done now?"

He smiled, "You bet." They gathered brooms, mops and rags and went down to the storage room. As they finished cleaning Kitty looked at Sam with determination in her eyes, "Sam, I say we open tomorrow with a big "beer only" sign outside. They didn't shoot through the kegs behind the bar and there were none down here. We're getting our beer delivery the day after tomorrow."

Sam nodded with a grin, "All right Miss Kitty, I'll make those signs as soon as I get here in the morning."

"Thanks Sam. Thank you for everything. I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam left and Kitty climbed the stairs to her rooms. She thought about going to her office to go over her ledgers, but there was no point. There was no magic answer to discover.

As she lay in bed trying to will herself to relax, she wished Matt was beside her. He certainly didn't have the money to get her out of the situation, although she had no doubt that he'd give her every last cent he had. More than anything she needed his comforting presence, his steadiness and his way of making you believe things would be all right.

She went over the events of the evening in her head. If the trouble had been solely in the saloon, she could have believed it was cowboys gone wild. The fact that everything in her storeroom was destroyed pointed to a deeper plan, and Peter Brooks' name came to mind.

TBC