Kitty Russell felt her knees give out. Instantly, she fell upon the hard, frozen soil.
And she made no move to get up. It was too late. She was too tired. Quietly, she accepted the fact that this patch of dirt would be her deathbed. She had been struggling, fighting, surviving in the wilderness for four days now, and the time for surrender had come.
….
It had started out as an uneventful stagecoach journey. She had been so grateful that she was the only passenger on board; it gave her room to stretch her legs, and to spread out all the hat boxes and other items that she had acquired on her trip to St. Louis. Not being very familiar with the route, she did not notice when the stagecoach veered off the road which lead to Hays City. It was only when she realized that the conveyance had stopped, in the middle of nowhere, with no waystation in sight, that she recognized that something was amiss.
A group of men had wrenched the door open and roughly helped her out of the coach, snatching off her rings and necklace and earrings as they did so. She did not protest, thankful that the only piece of jewelry that she actually cared about was hanging from a chain around her neck beneath her blouse, and thus hidden from their notice. After they had stolen the trinkets from her, they paid Kitty no further attention. From the conversations of theirs that she overheard, it became apparent that her stagecoach driver was actually part of a notorious band of outlaws, and had hired himself to the stagecoach company for the sole purpose of robbing it when the time was right. As Kitty's coach was carrying a gold shipment to Hays City, he had driven it far off into the prairie rather than to the original destination. After the criminals had loaded the contents of the strongbox into their saddle bags, they fired several shots into the air, purposely frightening the stage's horses into a gallop. The creatures ran off, taking the coach with them, and disappeared over the horizon. The men had mounted up and ridden off, leaving poor Kitty standing alone in the deserted, cold plain.
Not having the slightest clue of how far off the road the stage had traveled before it was robbed, or in which direction the nearest town could be found, Kitty had begun to walk. And walk. A cold rain fell on the first night of her travels, and made her spirits sink even lower. All the tracks of the stage and of her footprints would be erased. It would be nearly impossible for Matt to trace her, once he found out that she had gone missing.
She soon found herself badly in need of food, and as it was late November, she found herself shivering furiously in the cold. Her feet began to swell and limp, and her dress was torn to shreds by thorns, but she forced herself to keep walking, to keep trying. She had valiantly tried her best until that moment when she had fallen into the soil, still surrounded by nothing but barren wilderness on all sides.
…..
Even as her vision darkened and the physical pain intensified, Kitty embraced the peace which came with the acceptance of her fate. In many ways, she had been very blessed – she had lived a happy life and had made many wonderful friends. She had been given an entire twenty-five years upon earth; how many people had died younger, or suffered longer, than she!
Her only regret was the sadness that she knew her passing would cause those that she left behind – especially Matt. As she closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time, she thought two brief prayers. One was that God would have mercy on her soul. The other was that He would help Matt recover from the pain of losing her.
To Be Continued…