"I know about that woman."
That's what I said to John Crowley. I was escorting him to my office and a jail cell when he stopped and looked back at Kitty standing on the boardwalk across from the Long Branch. She was watching us with those expressive sky-blue eyes that always make me feel like she is seeing into my soul. Dressed in a high-collared, low-cut, pale pink blouse that held her lovely figure like a glove and set off that glorious red hair, her long, deep purple velvet skirt flowed around her as gracefully as tall prairie grass in the wind. I always notice what she wears and how she looks, and despite my rarely remarking on it, she knows I see. She knows that I appreciate the care she takes with her exquisite beauty. And she knows that I know that she does it for me, as well as for herself.
Crowley was a decent man. Yes, he had taken the law in his own hands. He had deliberately followed and killed two of the gang of five bank robbers who had murdered his bank teller brother in Spearville by forcing them into gunfights. As he tracked the remaining gang members to Dodge, Crowley shared a stage with Kitty, and ended up saving her life during an attack by two vicious drunks at a line shack. An unforgettable and immense 'favor.' One that neither she nor I could ever forget. And a debt that caused Kitty to shelter the wounded Crowley in her room after his gunfight in Dodge that killed the third bank robber, also in self-defense.
I was momentarily taken aback by Kitty's confession about hiding Crowley after she plunked the Indian necklace down on my desk. Her 'souvenir' of the harrowing fight with the murderous drunks. 'It's about what counts and what doesn't count,' she had declared, and then had thanked Thad for being such a good friend. The young man had known about Kitty hiding Crowley but had not told, despite his inner turmoil. I could see the torment in her eyes over deceiving me, despite her belief in Crowley's explanation of self-defense over his latest killing. And the way Kitty's lovely face looked so pained when she said, 'Matt. I…uh…I owed him my life!' Any anger or indignation that may have possibly welled up in another man could never have had a chance over my deep gratitude to that man.
So after Crowley had then outgunned the fourth bank robber, and was almost gunned down by the last one, I still had to take Crowley to jail to await trial over his provoked but self-defense shootings. He had methodically avenged his murdered brother at the expense of his own freedom. But, as I said, he was a decent man, and he wanted to ensure that Kitty wasn't implicated as an accomplice for hiding him. I also sensed his attraction to her, mixed with an appreciation for the risk she had taken to repay his favor of saving her life.
Yes, a decent man, but one who had no idea of the depth of understanding between what he probably saw as 'the beautiful saloon owner and the Marshal.' Kitty and I have much more than a deep, physical love. We are best friends as well. Our bond is such that there is no need for words of explanation or excuses. Before Crowley and I entered my office, I glanced back for one more moment, and watched Kitty face her Long Branch home, throw her shoulders back, and resolutely march inside. She knew what she had done, understood why, had shared it with me, and was content.
Kitty and I need no one else to ever explain each other's actions. Yes, I know about that woman!
End.