St. Louis Grand Hotel - Just Before Midnight
The streets were deserted when a cab stopped in front of the St. Louis Grand Hotel. The passenger, a pretty woman in her late 30's, pulled her cloak around her and asked the driver to wait – she wouldn't be gone long.
She entered the lobby and went directly to the front desk. The overnight clerk looked up in surprise. By this hour he thought he be left alone with his book
He set aside The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. "Welcome to the St. Louis Grand, what can I do for you?"
"I have a note for a guest, a Mr. David Miller. He's expecting it and it is important. It's from Judge Hollis. Would you please be sure he gets it?"
The clerk placed the message in a mail cubby, "I will be sure give it to Mr. Miller as soon as I see him. Will there be anything else?"
Claire hesitated. She thought about leaving a note for Kitty, but decided not to. "Thank you, there is nothing else." She walked out to the waiting cab and rode back to her brother's home.
David
David Miller was luxuriating in his oversized bed. This hotel approached providing the kind of comforts he was used to and deserved. The Dodge House, with its lumpy mattress and ugly décor (if it could even be called décor) was barely serviceable, and that inn with the presumptuous innkeeper, was a horror.
He smiled to himself as he pulled a light cotton blanket over his body. Things were humming along splendidly. Running into that friend of Kitty's had been an unexpected blessing. Her brother the judge would surely agree to perform a marriage ceremony early tomorrow. With luck he and Kitty would be married in time to catch the noon train to New York. From there they'd sail for England.
As he thought about Kitty his smile dimmed. She was indeed beautiful and witty, and knew her way around a gambling table, but recent experiences with her independent streak had not pleased him. Once they got to London he'd have more control and would put a stop to that kind of thing. After six months he'd dump her. Maybe being out street would teach her some respect and manners. Who knows, if she turned enough tricks she might be able to save enough to get back to America. That is if she survived the streets of London. One way or the other, he didn't really care.
Doc
Doc opened the mahogany liquor cabinet that was in the corner of the hotel room he was sharing with Matt. The degree of luxury provided by the St. Louis Grand seemed almost silly to him, but he didn't mind having that the well-stocked cabinet at hand. He took out a bottle of whiskey and looked at the label. It was Macallan, a brand that was kept on the very top shelf of the Long Branch, because only the most rare visitor to Dodge could afford it. Of course he suspected that once in a while Kitty had Matt take it down, so that now and then they could share a special drink when they were alone.
Doc poured a generous glass, and made himself comfortable in a big, leather armchair. He was putting his feet up on the footrest when he heard a groan and looked across the room at Matt, asleep in bed. He'd given Matt something to help him sleep, but there was nothing in his medical bag to make his slumber peaceful.
He watched Matt mumble, toss and turn. Shooting that teenager had taken a terrible, terrible toll. Perhaps even enough of a toll to make Matt set the badge aside. Doc sipped his drink. For a while now, he'd wished that Matt would walk away from that badge. It wasn't that he wasn't needed; he was still the best man for the job. It was just that Matt had given enough, too much. He'd carried the weight of too many problems, suffered too many bullet wounds and spent too many nights in the saddle. It was time for Matt to live for himself, himself and Kitty. Yet now, as he watched Matt's uneasy sleep, he hoped with all his heart that Matt didn't resign because of shooting that boy. If he did, it would leave a bitter taste in his mouth for the rest of his life. He wouldn't remember the people he'd saved, helped and kept safe. He would only remember that boy.
Doc finished his drink and got into bed. He and Matt would be up early to watch for Kitty. The hotel clerk wouldn't tell them what room she was in, saying it was against hotel policy, but he did accept a note to give to her. Matt had written: Dear Kitty, Don't worry about the Ronnigers. They are all safe. I'm in the hotel, room 322. I'll watch for you. Matt.
The clerk had promised to give the note to Kitty as soon as she came downstairs in the morning.
Harry & Nigel
Harry was sitting in their hotel room when Nigel walked in carrying two cups of tea from the hotel restaurant. He took a bottle of gin from his pocket and generously poured some into each cup. "American tea is horrible, but a spot of gin makes it bearable."
He handed a cup to Harry, "The clerk wouldn't tell me Kitty Russell's room number so we'll have be up early to wait outside. When she leaves with David we'll follow discretely and grab her at the first opportunity. I know just the place to take her. We can sit tight for 17 days, set her free and then collect our reward from Calvin. I think this is going to work out after all."
Kitty
Too restless to remain in bed, much less sleep, Kitty stood at her hotel room window gazing out onto the empty street. It was past midnight, but her mind was filled with unanswered questions. Why was David so desperate to marry her? Especially since it seemed of late, he liked her less and less. What did Nigel and Harry want with her? What about Matt? Was he really recovering from the stomach wound? Had he found relief from whatever was tearing him apart inside? Did he find her note? She felt trapped, unhappy and confused. Her heart was racing and she was close to tears. Out of nowhere she remembered a game she'd played when she was a little girl and frightened at night.
Her father was often gone for long stretches. When he returned he'd bring her candy, toss her in the air and tell her how pretty she was. He and her mother would tuck her in at night and kiss her cheek. She'd feel happy and safe, but then would hear their loud and angry voices. They had vicious arguments about love, faithlessness, money, and how she was being brought up. Their roaring voices and ugly words terrified her. Days later, once her father was gone again, she'd hear her mother weeping at night. The plaintive sobs scared her as much as the terrible fights. One night, while lying in bed shaking with fright, she convinced herself that if she could count 20 stars in the sky that all would be well. On cloudy nights when she couldn't see stars she'd cry herself to sleep, but on clear nights when the stars were bright she'd count 20 and climb back into bed, somehow believing that things would be all right.
Standing out the window of the St. Louis Grand Hotel, she looked up at the sky. It was slightly overcast but she was able to count 20 stars. She did it twice, being careful not to count the same ones twice. Taking comfort in her childish ritual she went to bed. She could not quite believe that all would be well, but closed her eyes with hope.
TBC