Slowly opening her eyes, Kitty blinked away the blurriness and was stunned to be looking into the wide-open, unseeing, green eyes of Claude Daigel, only inches away. Flinching back in horror, a wave of pain washed over her, and she heard herself involuntarily moan. "What…what is going on?" She closed her eyes to clear her mind, her head throbbing, and when she opened them again, the young boy still lay near. Kitty was lying in a twisted position on her left side, and as she tried to straighten and push herself up with both hands, sharp pains shot through her, dizziness overwhelmed her, and she lay still again. Everything seemed to hurt at once, and she knew from the strange angle of her left wrist, that it was broken. "That's probably the least of my worries," she thought, as she tentatively moved all of her extremities and was relieved when all obeyed, painful as movement was. "SAM! SAM!" she called as loudly as possible, despite the discomfort it caused her ribs. She sank down into the dirt as swirls of darkness overcame her again.
Rhoda watched from the stair landing, a slight smile of pride and pleasure on her sweet, rosy-cheeked face. Ronny had given her a thumbs up as he knelt by Claude and carefully unpinned the penmanship medal from the narrow chest, and put it and the note in his pocket before running down the alley with the bloody iron rod in his hands.
Five minutes later, big Sam came out of the basement, strong arms loaded down with a barrel of trash, and he whistled softly as he headed for the trash cans at the back of the alley. His preoccupation at making out the next week's liquor order v
anished as he jerked to a halt at the sight of the two bodies lying so still at the foot of the back stairs. "MISS KITTY!" Dropping the barrel, he ran to his beloved boss friend, skidded to his knees in the dirt beside her and gently put his head down against her chest, ear over her heart. Holding his breath, he listened for her heartbeat, exhaled in relief and sat up. As he touched her pale, lovely face, her sky-blue eyes opened, blinked a few times, and focused on the dark, worried eyes in the man's craggy face.
"Sam. Oh, Sam. Thank God! I fell down the back stairs. No…Sam…I was pushed!" She tried to lift her head, and the concerned barkeep gently put his hand on her shoulder and stopped her.
"Now you just lie still, Miss Kitty. I gotta get you over to Doc's and he'll fix you right up!"
"Wait Sam! The boy! Please take care of the boy first!" she pleaded, tears in her eyes as she forced herself to look at Claude's face, frozen in surprise.
"Ain't no help for him now, Miss Kitty," Sam said in a sad voice as he unbuttoned and removed his gold and black floral vest and laid it over the boy's face and chest. Carefully scooping up the injured young woman, he cringed at the involuntary moans that escaped her clenched lips.
Straightening up, he started to stride towards the stairs leading up to the doctor's office when he saw Chester's distinctive limping walk approaching from down the street. "CHESTER! CHESTER! OVER HERE!" the big man bellowed. He paused to impatiently wait for the young assistant to the Marshal, whose gait had increased to a surprising speed.
"SAM! What's wrong with Miss Kitty? Ya takin' her ta Doc's? Wha…"
"CHESTER! Come get Claude Daigel's body and take it over to the mortuary for Doc to look at later," Sam ordered, indicating the small bundle behind him in the alley.
"Uh, oh, well, awright, Sam." Chester was stunned by the sight of Kitty lolling in Sam's arms and the shock of a small, dead boy. As Sam strode off, the young man called after him. "Mister Dillon ain't in town! He's due back from Garden City tonight and should be already on his way!" Turning back to the alley, Chester slowly approached the dead boy whose head and entire upper body were covered by Sam's vest. Kneeling down on his left leg, the tender-hearted man's large dark brown eyes grew moist as he lifted the vest and saw the downy-cheeked face of the boy who would never grow older. "It's awright, young fella," he softly said as he gently patted Claude's thin shoulder. "I'll git ya ta where ya need ta be taken care of afore your poor mama sees ya." Sliding his arms under the boy, he stood up, cradled his precious load against his chest, and walked towards the nearby mortuary. The blood-stained floral vest lay crumpled in the dirt.
Doc had been dozing at his desk over a thick medical journal when he was jarred awake by Sam kicking at his door and yelling, "Doc! Doc! Open the door! It's Miss Kitty!"
"Huh! What! KITTY?! I'm coming, Sam, I'm coming!" The old doctor quickly startled awake, hurried over and opened the door, standing back as the big bartender swept past with the unconscious woman in his arms. "Here! Put her down on the examination table, Sam! Easy now!" he directed, already trying to assess the young woman he loved like a daughter. Worriedly, he noted her unconscious state, pallor, bloody head, and deformed left wrist. As soon as Sam stepped back, Doc flung a clean sheet over Kitty up to her neck and discretely began undressing her. "Sam. Tell me what happened!" he barked.
The barkeep turned away to face the wall as the doctor proceeded. "Doc, I found her out in the dirt in the alley. At first she told me she fell down the back stairs, but then she said she was pushed! And Doc…poor little Claude Daigel was dead right near her. I sure don't know WHAT happened!" Now Sam felt a hot anger like a fire rising up in him, and he clenched his big fists in frustration that anyone could purposely hurt Miss Kitty, as well as a young boy. "I shoulda been there to keep her safe, Doc! I shoulda been there!"
Doc turned his head slightly from his main focus on Kitty. ""SAM! You can't always protect her if you ain't nearby! Now STOP beating yourself up! You brought her here! That's what counts now. You go back and take care of the Long Branch like she expects you to!"
Sam relaxed his hands and sighed. "You're right, Doc. You take care of her." Glancing back once at Kitty's pale face, he took in a deep breath and resolutely left the office, taking each step with a heavy foot and equally heavy heart. He had not forgotten about the poor dead child, but he could only deal with so much grief at a time.
"Doc?" Her voice was faint, but it eased the frown on her dear friend's face as he stopped cutting and easing off Kitty's clothing and looked into those bluest-of-blue eyes he so loved.