Chapter Sixteen: Final Settlements
N * O * T * E
$80 in 1878 was worth a significant amount - about $1200 in today's money. A average marshal or sheriff 's salary might be $100 a month – although some earned more and some less. A good prostitute might earn twice that and a saloon girl half that. A cowboy or laborer earned $20 to $40 dollars a month. A good saddle might run $40 or more. A horse, anywhere from $40 to $200. A Stetson anywhere from $18 to $35.
E * N * D * * * N * O * T * E
So, as it turned out after all their troubles, the only testimony needed at Spike Marlow's trial was that of Frank Reardon. The jury barely took time to walk out of the room and then file back in. Judge Beck sentenced Marlow to hang in the prison yard at Hays the following Friday. No mention was made of Ellen Sue Neely or the stolen gold.
Frank and Doc spent the evening at the Long Branch with occasional visits from Matt during and between his Friday night rounds, and from Kitty as she spent a busy evening running the barroom. During one of the times when the four of them were briefly together at a back table, Thaddeus Jones and his dark-haired partner walked up. "We're planning to leave tomorrow, Marshal, Miss Kitty," Jones said, "Wanted to say good-bye."
"Where you headed?" Matt asked, rising to shake their hands.
"Think it might be time for us to head back towards Wyoming, Marshal," Jones said.
Matt nodded, then stole a look at Frank, "Sheriff Reardon and I, we had a little talk with Judge Beck before he left, Jones. He happens to know the governor out in Wyoming. Said he'd write him a letter next week letting him know how much help you'd been to us here." Kitty watched as large smiles split both the young men's faces.
"Never hurts to have friends in high places, Marshal." Joshua Smith commented, "We do thank you." And with that they turned and walked away through the batwing doors.
"Looks to me like there's more going on here than it seems," Doc said, swiping a hand across his moustache.
"Could be, Doc," Matt told him, "But sometimes it's better to just leave things like that alone."
OoOoO
Matt came in from his late night rounds as Kitty was getting ready to close. A smile and a questioning look up the stairs got him a nod and a warm invitation from Kitty's eyes. They walked up together after the last lights were out downstairs, and Matt made a move towards Frank's door, but Kitty caught his hand and shook her head, "I think he's busy, Matt. Don't think they'd appreciate the interruption."
Matt grinned at her, "Stella?"
"Nope, Stella was last night." Kitty said smiling broadly, "There was some discussion between Gabby and Mariah about whose turn it was tonight. Not sure how they resolved that, but I'm pretty sure he's not alone."
"Not sure how he manages that, Kitty," Matt said, "But he usually does."
Kitty shrugged, "He's a good-lookin' man, Matt. He's open and friendly, and he's the law. You could do the same if you wanted. I can't think of a girl at any saloon in Dodge who would turn you down. Or," she added with a wicked grin, "Ask you to pay."
"Now Kitty…" Matt began, but stopped as he heard her chuckling.
"Yeah, Matt, I know, I know. You're looking for more than sex and free drinks, but a lot of lawmen aren't. It's one of the ways the law works in a town like this and you know it." She unlocked her door and ushered him in. Matt turned to lock the door behind them. Kitty raised an eyebrow in inquiry, "You get a lot of offers, lawman?"
"Some," he admitted, "But not as many as I used to. The new girls always have to give it a try." Matt paused a moment, "And some of them make up stories."
"Oh, I do know that, Marshal Dillon." Kitty told him, "You'd be amazed at some of the adventures I hear about."
Matt blushed and Kitty laughed. "Matt, I heard those stories from Kate and Olive back when I first started working at the Long Branch, and I'm fairly sure most of them were just that – stories." She looked up at him shrewdly, "Sometimes I think I might be the only saloon girl in Dodge who doesn't brag about having slept with you."
He swung her into his arms and tipped her chin up, "We okay for tonight, Kitty?" Matt asked, dismissing the previous topic with a lack of interest that warmed her. She'd had to turn him down the last several nights, but was eager to have him with her again.
She kissed him in response, letting him know there was more to come. "Pour me a drink, would you, Matt? And make yourself comfortable." Matt hung his hat and gunbelt and pulled off his boots before moving over to pour them both a drink. He knew that while most of her patrons would swear that Kitty had been drinking throughout the evening, and indeed spent a good deal of time with a glass in her hand, that she usually only actually drank with her close friends, and then very little. Kitty had a hard head for liquor, he'd seen her drink drovers and gamblers under the table when the circumstances called for it, but had an even better head for self-preservation. The glass of good whiskey they usually shared before bed was one way they both relaxed and let down the guards that ruled their behavior outside her room. He watched her undress, knowing she didn't mind him watching, and when she came back from the washroom with her face scrubbed clean, he handed her the glass and began taking pins out of her hair.
It didn't take them long that evening to douse the lights and find their way naked into her bed. Matt ran a hand tentatively over the half healed wound slashing across her ribs, but Kitty moved firmly into his arms. "I'll let you know if anything hurts, Matt, but I want you too much to let that get in the way." It was their first time since returning to Dodge from the cabin, and there were injuries, anger, sadness, and fears to be balanced in the way they kissed, and touched, and stroked each other. They took a long time leading up to it, and Matt finally lay facing her, on their sides, one hand lifting her thigh up across his hip to make room for him to enter her and rock slowly, building it for both of them until they couldn't wait or hold off a single moment more.
Usually they talked some, after, but tonight Kitty was quiet. Awkwardly quiet. All the earlier warmth and teasing gone. After a while, Matt got up and lit the lamp and came to sit on the side of the bed. "You want to tell me about it?"
"Yes, I do," she said, "But it's hard to start." He waited. "You're going to freeze out there, Matt. Get back in bed. I'll try not to make this difficult."
He came back under the quilts, and stroked a hand over her hair, "Is it bad?"
"Not for me, Matt. Maybe for you." Kitty shrugged. "No need to build this up, Matt, I told myself I would just ask you straight out, but that seems harder than I thought it would be."
"Look, Kitty, if this is about us…"
"Well it is, Matt, but it's not about you marrying me, if that's what you think," she looked at him shrewdly, seeming to appreciate the diversion, "And that's what you always think, isn't it? You must have had some difficult conversations in the past if it's always the first thing in your mind when a woman says she needs something from you." Matt tried to swallow that but knew he wasn't going to get it down in one piece, so he put it aside to chew on later.
"Matt," Kitty said at last, "You talk a fair bit about dying. You've made it clear from the beginning that you don't expect to live long. And it hurts me when you talk about that, but at the same time, I know you think you're just being realistic, being fair to me in some way."
"I've never lied to you about that, Kitty," he replied, "I know it's hard on you, and I try not to dwell on it, but it's a fact."
"Well, Matt, now it's time for you to take up the other side of that conversation," Kitty said. "Ever since Ellen Sue died three weeks ago, and I had to pack up her whole life into one wooden box and a carpetbag, I've been thinking about what would have happened if it had been me that Marlow killed."
"Kitty, you don't have to…"
"Yes, Matt, I do," she interrupted him, "And I need you to listen. I really need that from you. There's not much I have to say, but I need to know that you'll listen to me, and that if I do die, that you'll take care of things for me." She reached out to touch his face. "Is that too much to ask, Matt?"
"No, Kitty, it's not." Matt's face was somber and his mind was flying back to a campsite in the hills of western New Mexico where he and Frank had broached a similar topic on the day after he turned eighteen. There had been a campfire and a bottle of whiskey, and both had seemed to ease the way into a difficult discussion. Kitty was still lying silent, not looking at him, so he got back up and stirred up the fire in her small stove, added wood and left the door open so they could see the flames. He poured two more drinks and set them on the table then blew out the lamp and went back to the bed. Taking Kitty's hand to draw her up, and picking up one of the quilts as well, Matt settled the two of them on her small sofa – the quilt wrapped around Kitty and her on his lap and in his arms.
"Doesn't need to be hard, Kitty. I can tell you've been thinking about this. Just tell me what you need." He handed her one of the drinks and watched as she sipped it slowly.
"Okay, Matt. Here it is. I wrote a will this week, and Doc has it put away in one of the cubbyholes of that big ol' desk of his. There's just two points to the will – to see that Bill Pence doesn't steal back my half of the business, and to deal with my father. I'm pretty clear on both points, and I think Bill's covered, but I'm not sure about my father. He could contest the will." She set the drink down and turned to face him head on. "I want it clear beyond any doubt that Wayne Russell gets absolutely nothing from me. Not a penny, not a lock of my hair, not a handkerchief with my initials – damn it, Matt, not even the sound of my name on your lips. Nothing. Burn the place down if you have to, but promise me, promise me, that you'll see that happens."
"You going to tell me why, Kitty?" he asked, disturbed by her vehemence.
She shook her head. "Someday I will. Not now. I… I've been asking questions ever since he left here two years ago, but I guess until Ellie died I didn't really want to know the answers, so I didn't ask the right people. Once I did, well, there was a letter came yesterday and another one today. I know now what he did, and I know what I need to do. Can you just take my word for it, cowboy, without an explanation?"
"You know I can, Kitty. You ever want to tell me, you can, but you don't need to." Matt drew a good long breath, "Legal or illegal, outside the law or in it, nothing goes to Wayne Russell. I will not notify him and I will not talk to him if he comes here to find you. That's how it will be. Anything else?"
"Nothing too important. You and Doc read through my papers and notify my people in New Orleans, the friends I'm still in touch with. I want a real grave with a stone and my whole name on it – not Kitty but Kathleen. I want a burying with a preacher – and you tell Doc I said just that if he tries to scare up a priest – just "I am the resurrection and the life" like we did for Ellen Sue." Kitty stopped then, and he felt her relax against him, "And if the Long Branch is still standing, then a round of drinks for the house. That's enough, isn't it? There doesn't need to be more."
"No, there doesn't need to be more, Kitty. I hope I never have to do any of that. I hope you live to be ninety and die with a passel of grandchildren around you, but if it comes to me to do it, I'll see it done right. You have my word."
"That's all I really wanted, Matt. I'm sorry I made such a fuss. We don't need to talk about it again." Kitty picked up what was left of her drink and tossed it off, "Can we go back to bed now?"
"We could…" Matt told her, his hands moving under the quilt to touch her warm, bare skin, "But I thought maybe…" He turned her to straddle him, and kissed her, "If you weren't too cold…"
Kitty's deep throaty laugh pleased him. He knew this was better for them both than trying to move into sleep with that troubled discussion on their minds. "You up for a little something more, cowboy?" she asked.
"Nooo. You kind of scared that out of me, Kitty," he admitted. "But maybe with a little encouragement…" They kissed again and then Kitty's very encouraging hands moved down to find him, and there wasn't much thinking left to do.
Eventually they made it back to the bed, curling together in the darkness and talking with the freedom sated lovers have. "You decided what to do with the reward money, Kitty?" Matt asked. He'd been wanting to know that all week, ever since the officer from Fort Leavenworth had counted out the remaining gold and taken most of it away. He'd left Matt with four hundred and seventy four dollars and had him sign a receipt saying that the reward would be passed over to Miss Kitty Russell of Dodge City, Kansas. The bag of coins was still in his safe at the office.
"What do you think I'm going to do, Matt?" Kitty asked. She'd already made up her mind, but was curious about what he thought.
"I thought maybe you'd buy out Bill Pence." Matt said.
"I did think about it, Matt, but no, I'm not going to do that. Bill and I are getting on better now. I guess I just had to learn to be harder with him – like a real partner – and not keep giving in on things I didn't like the way I did when he was my boss." Matt nodded when he heard that. It made good sense. "I will buy him out, Matt," Kitty went on, "I want the day to come when the Long Branch is mine and I can run it however I want, but, well, I don't feel like that day's here yet."
"So…"
"So you come over after your early rounds Sunday morning, about nine, and you bring Chester with you."
"You know you can't open the saloon that early on a Sunday, Kitty," Matt said.
"Nothing in the law says I can't have a couple of friends over for coffee, is there?" she asked.
"Not that I know of," he agreed. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"Nope. But bring the reward money with you when you come." She wiggled herself back against him, spooning in front of him, both of them damp and a little sticky and not minding at all.
OoOoO
It was Matt's turn guarding Marlow at the jail Saturday night. His prisoner had gone quiet, eating little, commenting less. It was something he saw not infrequently when a man came face to face with his own death, and his own responsibility for that death. Sometimes it bothered him. Occasionally he even tried to talk it out with a particular man, especially the young ones. With Marlow he provided the minimum required and turned his back.
Chester was still snoring when Matt returned from his early morning rounds on Sunday. The town was quiet, the sky was clear, and the rising sun looked like it might give them a warm October day. The morning guard shift was due to change in half an hour, so Matt prodded Chester awake and listened to him yawn and whine while he washed before telling him they were invited over for coffee at the Long Branch in a couple of hours.
"Miss Kitty going to give us breakfast, Mr. Dillon?" Chester asked.
"No, I think she just wants to talk to us about something. She didn't tell me what." Matt said.
"She didn't tell ya?" Chester asked, unbelieving. "I thought Miss Kitty told you most everything, Mr. Dillon."
"Not this time, Chester. Thought you and I'd go over and have some breakfast once the boys get here to look after the prisoner."
Chester yawned prodigiously and agreed that breakfast would be a good idea while pulling on his boots. The thought of an invitation from Miss Kitty even prompted him to a careful combing of his hair.
Kitty had woken early, for her, and heated enough water to make a bath tolerable. Winter was surely coming, and maybe a new and bigger wood stove might be a good investment for part of her share of the reward money. The thought of moving the smaller stove right into the washroom started her humming as she brushed out her wet hair. A glance at the settee where they'd sat, and loved, late into the night put a smile on her lips, but started her thinking about maybe finding another chair, a really big chair, with a high back and lots of padding. A chair big enough for the giant Marshal to actually relax in, maybe with a certain redhead on his lap. Might not be able to find a chair that big, she thought, might have to get Percy to build one.
It was eight thirty by the time she walked down the hall to tap on Frank's door, only to find him just opening it as she approached. A glance into the room gave her a glimpse of Mariah and Gabby curled around each other in the disordered bed. "Frank!" she remonstrated, but he just closed the door behind him with a finger to his lips.
"I might just tell Doc you haven't been getting enough rest," Kitty threatened as they walked down the stairs. She noticed, however, that although he held onto the railing he did put his whole weight on the injured leg.
"You sleep well last night, Kitty?" Frank asked, "Get a lot of sleep, didya?"
Kitty swatted him, and went to make coffee in the little kitchen behind the bar. "You open all the doors you can find Frank, except the front ones. Try and air out this place for once." While the coffee heated, she assembled six cups and saucers on a tray, added spoons and a bowl of sugar, and carried it out to the bar. Matt and Chester had come in through the side alley, and she set them to clearing chairs off the biggest center table, and had to speak firmly to Frank to keep him from helping.
As she came back with the big coffee pot to set on the table, Doc was escorted Ma Smalley in through the back door. Fresh air and a fair amount of early sunshine were beginning to clear away the smell of smoke and whiskey. Somewhat to her surprise, Ma found herself embraced by Kitty and given a firm kiss on the cheek. "Would you pour the coffee, Ma?" she asked, and then, walking back to the table, she held out both hands, cupped together, to Matt Dillon. He placed a bag of coins into them and sat back to see what would happen.
Five pairs of eyes watched Kitty as she poured the bag of coins onto the table and began sorting them. The four silver dollars went in one pile with ten five dollar gold pieces in a stack next to them. Kitty dealt the remaining half eagles out almost like cards into six neat stacks. Matt began to get a bad feeling about what was going on. Chester's eyes got wider and wider as Kitty deftly pushed one stack of coins over to sit in front of each coffee cup. Frank sipped his coffee and watched both her and Matt, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Doc and Ma drank their coffee with carefully assumed indifference.
Kitty took a drink of her coffee and sat watching them all for a bit. Of all the friends she had in the world, these were the closest, and the last three weeks had settled pretty firmly what each of them was willing to do for her. She looked at Chester and remembered his body laying protectively over hers in the center of Front Street as bullets flew. She smiled into Ma's eyes remembering her gentle hands and wise words. Frank's firm arms around her as he told her to take time to cry. Doc's careful stitches and sly scheming - the old army Colt lying next to him as they talked through the dead of night. And Matt. Matt was everything she wanted and everything she had.
"Now the Marshal here's the one who decided that the reward money was coming to me. I'm not sure exactly why he did that, but I agreed to it, and here's how I'm going to spend it." Kitty said, "None of us wanted Spike Marlow to do what he did. None of us wanted Ellen Sue to die. But we've each suffered in our own way for Marlow's presence in Dodge. Money can't make up for that, but sometimes a little money to buy something special can make a person feel good when things are going bad"
Kitty drew a deep breath and let it out, "Here's what we're going to do." She indicated the stack of gold coins still in the center of the table. "That fifty dollars is going for the party we hold here on Christmas Eve. It'll mean more drinks, and more food, and some presents to take around to a few families in Dodge that don't have very much to celebrate with." She accepted their nods of agreement, and moved on. "Those silver dollars will buy a round of drinks for the house next Friday night. Ellen Sue is gone, and Spike will be gone too. One thing doesn't cancel out the other, but it's the best we can do this side of heaven, so we'll raise a glass to Ellie's memory and to the men who brought down her killer."
Kitty saw Chester's face working, and moved on quickly before falling tears embarrassed him. "The rest of the reward, well, we're all going to split that. I've got some ideas for my part that are going to make me a deal more comfortable as winter comes on. Bet you can all think of something you'd like to invest in, and if you can't, well, just save it up for Christmas."
Doc was the first to move. With a studied nod of his head he gathered up the coins in front of him and held his cup over to Kitty for a refill. Ma was next, tumbling the stack of coins into her hand and hefting their weight before dropping them into the reticule she carried. Frank divided up his stack and tucked coins away in various pockets in his pants and vest, sliding one down the side of his boot.
Chester was still counting his out. He had to do it twice, and still seemed hesitant to believe the results. "Miss Kitty, there's eighty dollars here. I aint' never had eighty dollars in my hands all at once in my whole life. I wouldn't know what to do with it."
Kitty reached over and took the top coin from his stack and flipped it at him. Chester caught it neatly in his right hand. "I'll put the rest upstairs in my safe for you, Chester. You just think on it for a while and let me know when you want it."
Chester looked at her in relief, then down at the five dollar gold piece in his hand. "Thank you, Miss Kitty. That's right kind of you." Kitty knew the five dollars would be gone before the week was over, but she hoped that Matt and Doc could talk him into something of more long term value before the rest of the coins followed the first.
Matt reached over for the canvas bag that had held the original hoard of coins and tipped his stack back into it, pulling the drawstring tight. He tucked the bag in his pocket, and Kitty knew it would end up back in the safe at his office. She couldn't imagine what, if anything, he would buy. In Matt's opinion, a man who owned three horses, a saddle, good boots, and several changes of clothes had everything his soul could carry. A few dollars in his vest pocket in small change to buy a drink or a meal or to loan to a friend made life complete. But at least he hadn't refused the divvy. She'd been afraid he would. Kitty felt Matt's eyes on her and looked up fearing to see a sour expression on his face, but found his steel blue eyes warm on hers and accepted the little nod he gave her.
OoOoO
There was only one thing more Kitty needed to do before Spike Marlow was trundled out of town by Frank and Chester the following morning, and she found time to do it as she cooked Frank breakfast that Sunday morning. Frank had declared his intention, despite his lack of good clothes, of heading over to church at eleven, and Doc and Ma had agreed to meet him there. Matt herded Chester out the back door with a look at Kitty that let her know there would be further conversation between them at a later date.
Retiring to the kitchen, Kitty poured Frank more coffee and set about frying eggs and bacon for him. She cut several slices of not-too-fresh bread and fried them next to the eggs. "You not eatin', Kitty?" Frank asked as she brought the plate to where he sat at the small table set against the wall.
"Coffee's usually enough for me," she replied, picking a piece of bacon off his plate and nibbling at it. "I need to talk to you, Frank."
"I'm listenin', Kitty." Frank told her as he began working his way solidly through the full plate.
"This business about you saying things to Matt about me – making like he's not treating me right. That's going to stop, Frank, or you and I will have more than words about it." Kitty told him seriously.
"You going to shoot me maybe?" he asked her around a mouthful of fried bread and bacon.
"No, Frank, I'm not going to shoot you, but don't you even begin to think I won't make you sorry you crossed me." Kitty replied.
They let it set at that while Frank ate. Eventually, his plate empty, he told her, "Kitty, I know things change when one partner takes a woman and the other doesn't. But you need to understand how Matt and I work. Some men, they just don't talk about important things – they only talk about little things. Men like that can come to kill each other over a can of beans because the beans get to standing for something a lot bigger. Matt and me, we've never been like that."
He stopped a while. Waiting, maybe, for Kitty to comment, but she sat silent hearing him out in the way she'd learned to do with Matt. Frank went on, "Matt and I, we got mustered out over in Missouri. Just outside St. Louis. Most of the boys, they set out walking north or east, or to the railroad, or right back into the city to spend their pay. But we two, well we went looking for horses, and we found some, and we argued some, and we spent most of what we had on us to buy two saddle horses and a little jenny mule for supplies. By the end of the day, we'd started west and we just kept goin'. It was a long road, and we had a war behind us. I won't talk to you about the war, Kitty. Can't. Sometimes, not many, I'll find a man I can talk about that with. Now and then, it's Doc. Doc saw more horror than any man could live with and be sane. Matt and I we just lived through what most men did."
Frank regarded her curiously, "Matt still dream about Belle Grove, Kitty?" She looked up at him startled, and nodded her head. It had never occurred to her that anyone else knew about Matt's nightmares. "Nine thousand men died there in one day, Kitty. Nine thousand men. No matter what we do as lawmen, no matter how many outlaws we kill or wound or hang, it can never be like that. God willing, there'll never be battles like that again in this world below." He sighed, "What I'm tryin' to say here is that as we rode west, well, Matt and I each had some things we needed to work out of our minds. Things that needed to move from the front of our thoughts to the back or we weren't going to be able to live with them. So we kind of did that together. He was seventeen that summer. I was nineteen. By the time we got to Arizona around Christmas time, we'd pretty much decided we were going to live to grow up."
"I can't even begin to compete with that, Frank." Kitty told him.
"No competition, Kitty. Never between you and me. I just wanted to let you know how this thing between Matt and I got started. We'd both been raised solid on the Bible, and sometimes it was a lot easier to quote a verse than to say out what we were feeling. Kind of got to be a habit, then it got to be a game. Doc plays it with us sometimes. So when I say something to Matt that sounds like I'm complaining about how he behaves to you, well, I'm just lettin' him know what I see. He knows I don't mean him harm. You need to know that too and not get angry with me."
"All right, Frank." Kitty said, "I'll let this one go. But you have to know that mostly I don't understand what you're tellin' each other unless Doc, well, translates it for me. He did that this week. Sat me down up there in his office and read me the story about David and Jonathan."
Frank's eyes were troubled. "You didn't grow up on the Bible, Kitty? You a heathen?"
But Kitty only laughed, "I grew up Catholic, Frank. I grew up in New Orleans and most everybody I knew was Catholic so it didn't seem odd to me then. I can pray in Latin, long prayers, which I bet you can't, and make an Act of Contrition that will set a priest to crying, but I can't say I ever took it all as serious as people do out here on the plains. And I left all that behind me a long time ago. Mostly."
"Then you get Doc to help you out with the hard parts, Kitty. And you just have to trust me for the rest. Matt and I, it's how we talk. I wouldn't know how to do anything else when there's something I need to say. Wouldn't know where to start."
Kitty sighed and then smiled, "I'm just not used to anyone else loving him, Frank. That might take me a little time."
"How'd you come to figure that, Kitty?" Frank asked.
"I told you Doc read it with me last week, Frank. I may not have been taught it all my life, but I'm a fast learner," and then, slowly, reaching for the words she'd set herself learn as Doc read them, she said, "The soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul."