5
For the next two days she went about her normal routine, but always weighing on her mind were the physician's words, "For a time, maybe …" The repeating of this phrase gave her courage. She could leave for a time, maybe not forever, but leave Dodge City to do some thinking and get her life back into perspective — leave Dodge and leave the nightmares behind her. Was that possible?
With a heavy heart, Kitty considered her options. She had money, she wasn't wealthy, but had enough to set herself up in style … for a time. She had friends in St. Louis, acquaintances in Chicago, her father — a man she barely knew, in Louisiana, but the one place she kept coming back to was San Francisco.
Years earlier, before Matt Dillon, before Dodge, she'd lived in San Francisco. A run in with the law had forced her to leave town hastily. In those days she'd been employed by the notorious Emperor's Gold Gambling Palace. House dealers were forced to win at all costs. Young Kitty Russell knew how to cheat at cards. She did it well, but not quite well enough.
When she arrived in Dodge she had little more than the clothes on her back, change in her purse and chip on her shoulder. She would like to go back and see if the city would treat her differently, now that she was a woman of means. She had to smile at the brilliance of this idea, Matt had told her over the years, that one day he'd 'like to see California'. She would gladly give him the perfect opportunity to do so.
Her friend Claire Hollis had recently moved back to San Francisco and her letters had been glowing with praise. Claire had sold the Nugget. Kitty, who was half owner in the saloon hadn't asked for her share of the profits from the sale. This might prove to be her opportunity to cash in. Kitty sent a telegram and received a reply that Claire had a place for her.
She stopped by Doc's office that afternoon to tell him of her plans. He was at his work table, measuring out a new shipment of medications into little bottles and small packets.
"How soon are you leaving?" He asked, not looking up from his task.
She was matter-of-fact in reply, "I have some loose ends to tie up. I'll go after Matt gets back." She paused, bit her lip nervously and then continued. "I want him to know that my leaving has nothing to do with him, it's something I have to do for myself. Besides, it wouldn't be right not to say good-bye, after all these years."
"That the only reason?"
"Of course, what else would there be?"
He finally looked up, studying her over the rims of his wire framed glasses. "I don't know … unless you're hoping he'll tell you not to go?"
"No Doc. He'd have to give up his badge for me to stay. You and I both know that isn't an option as far as Matt Dillon is concerned."
Yet, secretly she hoped he would. The pragmatic business woman was beguiled by a romantic notion. She imagined what it would be like if he said he was giving up his job. Her heart beat faster at the thought, he would pull her into his arms and proclaim, she was more important to him than the oath he'd pledged to all those years earlier. Oh, it was a lovely image! Perhaps he'd come after her again. He's show up in San Francisco, the badge gone, and declare it was time for a fresh start together.
Her heartache eased as these new daydreams replaced some of her waking anxiety. With new vigor, she contacted another old friend from her early San Francisco years. Hannah Cobb had been after Kitty to sell her the Long Branch for years. Kitty had a different idea in mind, if Hannah was willing to deal. Just as she had been half owner of Clair's 'Nugget', she wanted to sell Hannah an interest in the Long Branch. Kitty Russell wasn't ready to burn bridges.
And then as fate would have it circumstances and destinies changed abruptly. On the last day of the month, Kitty received a letter.
Dear Miss Russell,
At the request of your father, Wayne Russell, I am writing to inform you of his medical condition. In the past few months his health has been in a steady decline. He has asked to see you, to seek your forgiveness and make amends for his past wrongdoings.
He has no wish to be a burden to you; to that end you will find enclosed train fare and money to cover traveling expenses.
I do implore you not to delay in your decision. In my medical opinion he has only a short time to live.
Sincerely,
Hiram Fletcher, M.D.
She passed the letter over to Doc who was standing next to her at the bar drinking his afternoon constitutional. "What do you make of that?"
Adams scanned the page and then looked back at her. She had a wool shawl draped over her shoulders, wool stockings on her feet and fingerless gloves on her hands. She was still cold and had complained that the pot belly stove wasn't putting out as much heat as it used to, "Well, it's not San Francisco, but it's sure to be warmer than Kansas in February." He gave her hand a paternal pat, "He is your father, although I know you've had differences in the past."
She ruefully laughed out loud, "He ran out on my mother when I was a baby and tried to swindle me out of my saloon — differences would be putting it lightly."
"People can change, especially when the end is in sight, but I would suggest, before you do anything it might be a good idea to send a telegram to Dr. Chapman down in New Orleans, see if he knows anything about this Dr. Fletcher."
Dr. Chapman confirmed promptly, Dr. Fletcher was a respected physician and if Miss Kitty had any problems she could come to him while staying in New Orleans.
That same day they received a telegram from Matt. He was In North-Western Texas, waiting out a blizzard. "You going to wire him back and tell him you're leaving for New Orleans?" Doc asked.
She shook her head and sighed heavily, "what good would it do. He needs to keep his wits about him, not worry about things back in Dodge."
In something of a daze, she bought tickets for the 10:00 AM train for the following day and hauled her trunks from the storage room. She felt weighed down by a fateful sense of finality. She took care to pack the personal items that marked her life as a lawman's woman. Truth be told there were precious few reminders; the ring that was his mother's, a handful of photographs — taken at various times during their years together and a stack of letters he'd sent. Each item represented a small link to Dodge and a connection to Matt Dillon.
She did not sleep that night. She felt no compunction to face the nightmare. Instead, she sat at her writing desk and tried to compose a letter that would convey what was in her heart. The words did not come easily and more often than not were lost in the memories of their years together.
She dressed in a dark traveling suit topped by a fur trimmed velvet cloak. On her head, she wore a matching velvet bonnet. Her hair was pulled back with just a few tendrils escaping the severe style. Only powder to disguise her freckles and a trace of lip rouge adored her face. She looked the part of a lady, and few who saw her would guess the facets of her life's story.
There was a crowd of folks to see her off at the train station. An acute sense of grief at the sight of them, robbed her speech. Tears blurred her vision. She walked down the line of friends; Festus, Newly, Burke, Ma Smalley, the Ronigers and others, offering a hug and a kiss to the cheek. When she came to Doc, she handed him the letter. It was then that she stiffened her spine and jutted forth her chin, reminding herself of just who she was. Kitty Russell, hard as nails —the Marshal's woman — always and forever — Matt Dillon's woman. Her voice was quiet, without initial quaver, "Please give this to Matt when he gets back. Tell him …" She was going to say, 'thanks for all the good years.' but, what came out instead was the one phrase, the one word they had both so carefully avoided for twenty years. "Tell him, I love him."
Doc nodded, the truth of her admission not lost on him. He placed the envelope in his pocket. His old rheumy eyes filled with moisture as he kissed her cheek. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. His words were offered as a holy man bestows a benediction, "Be well and be happy and when you're ready - come home to … us."
The train whistle sounded. The conductor stepped up behind her and respectfully tapped her shoulder, "Miss Russell, best board the train now," he said kindly, "It's time to go."