The fourteen-year-old crept into the bedroom. She quieted Murphy as he jumped off the bed and ran towards her. Charlotte set the breakfast tray on the dresser and patted him on the top of his head. "Hey Murph," she whispered and gave him a thick slice of bacon. She heard his chomping as she softly padded through the room, slipping into the closet to find a comfortable dressing gown for Kitty. Her mother had told her that Kitty was choosing comfort over fancy, but all of Kitty's clothing was fancy in Charlotte's opinion. She hummed to herself, closing her eyes and gliding her fingers across the garments. She stopped as she reached the chorus of the song and opened her eyes. "That's the one," she said to herself and pulled a royal blue velvet gown off the hanger. Charlotte touched the rich material and admired the lace edgings. She held it up to her and twirled around the spacious closet.
Kitty opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, debating on how to get out of bed without much of a struggle. She inched to the edge of the mattress and pushed herself up to sit with an unladylike grunt. She hoisted herself up and panted from the effort as she rubbed her swollen belly. Kitty cocked a brow as Murphy launched himself onto the bed, woofed at her and darted into the closet. "Murphy," she mumbled grouchily as he barked. She heard shushing and waddled to her closet, leaning against the doorframe and watching the dog run around in circles after Charlotte. Kitty miraculously held in her laughter as Murphy clamped his teeth onto the edge of the girl's dress.
Charlotte giggled and dropped onto the floor, dodging Murphy's licks to her face as his whole body wiggled. "You're gonna get us in trouble if you wake up Miss Kitty," she spoke to the Irish setter and rubbed his feathered ears.
"Miss Kitty's awake," she informed with a smile plastered on her face. She was happy to finally see Charlotte. The girl had been scarce in the week after Mel Billings shot up the house. Celia had let Kitty know that her daughter was shaken and had a question that she didn't think was her place to answer.
She quickly sprang to her feet, staring at the redhead and fumbling for what to say. Charlie chewed on her bottom lip but dutifully followed when Kitty waved her hand. She nearly collided into her when she stopped to grab the mug of coffee and a piece of bacon. Charlotte trailed behind her and into the parlor. She stood in the doorway and looked over the numerous bottles of perfume.
Kitty lowered herself onto the tufted velvet cushion of the window seat and propped a pillow behind her back. She finished chewing the bacon and sipped her coffee, glancing at Charlotte and patting the spot next to her. Kitty waited for her to sit and observed her nervously fidget. "Charlie, I'm not mad with you for not listening to me that day."
She lifted her head and finally looked Kitty in the eyes. "You're not?
"I couldn't be. You stayed to make sure I was all right. It's good to be there for a friend."
"Pa told me the man was a good for nothing man. A real man wouldn't do a thing like that."
"Your Pa's right, Charlie."
"And he was out of his mind."
"If he had one," Kitty mumbled into her coffee as she drained the contents. She set the empty mug on the sill. "Charlie, I know you must have heard some things and have questions. Ask them."
She poked her finger into the cushion. "I don't want to upset you."
"You won't," Kitty promised. She hoped her bond with Charlie wouldn't change after the talk.
"What," she lingered, meeting Kitty's blue eyes with her brown ones and looking away. She knew the query on her mind couldn't have a decent outcome. She'd asked her father, and she'd noticed the subtle twitch of his eye then he'd referred her to her mother. Her mother had momentarily fumbled but told her to give her a day. Now, she was sitting beside the woman with the answer.
Kitty sighed softly and reached over, encouragingly squeezing the girl's fingers.
"What's a calico queen?" she asked timidly.
The redhead let out a breath. There it was. The question she knew would be asked. Celia had warned her and had given her blessing to respond honestly. She licked her lips and wished she hadn't known what it meant when she was Charlotte's age. "A prostitute," she replied and saw the scrunched brows and puzzled look on the youth's innocent face. "A woman that engages in," Kitty paused and bit into her lip, "relations with a man for payment. Before I owned the Long Branch, that's what I was, Charlie."
Charlotte glanced at her and chewed the inside of her cheek as she absorbed the explanation. Another simple question sprang to her mind. "Why?"
"Charlie, it's what I had to do to survive. Not every girl gets to grow up in a home with a mother and father. My father left when I was a baby," she told her and rested her hand on her belly. "My mother died when I was a girl. I had no one except one of my mother's friends to take me in. One thing led to another and –" The force of Charlotte's hug knocked the wind out of her. She circled her arms around her, returning the embrace.
"Miss Kitty, I'm so sorry," she cried into the cotton sleeve of the nightgown.
"There's no reason to be, Charlie. I can't change my past," Kitty acknowledged. "Charlotte, can you remember something for me?" she asked and smoothed her hand down the length of the girl's locks.
"I can," she assured, tilting her head and looking up at her.
"I always want you to remember that knowing what someone has done and knowing who someone is...are two entirely different things."
"I'll remember," she swore and snuggled into her.
Kitty smiled softly and rested her chin on top of Charlotte's head.
He scrubbed his chin and warmed his hands in front of the roaring fire. His patient didn't care for cold hands. Doc shuffled over to the four-poster bed and began the remainder of the exam, palpating the distended abdomen. A grin snuck onto his face each time he felt a nudge against his palm. "Just fine. That's just fine. Perfect," he crooned, moving his hand lower and delicately pushing inward. "That's the head. He or she's in position."
"Tell me somethin' I don't know, Doc," Kitty retorted.
Doc prickled at the twentysomething's sauciness. He narrowed his spectacled eyes on her. "Kitty, I won't take any sass from you. You haven't let me examine you as much as I should. I won't have it, young lady."
"Doc, don't. You know why."
"Yes, yes," he mumbled and scoured his fingers over his mustache. She'd irrationally thought that if he physically examined her as much as he should have that he'd ultimately find something wrong. He understood her trepidation and had to let her be. Galen Adams had found ways to maneuver around her fear. He'd lost count of how many times he'd pressed Matt for information or peppered Kitty with unassuming questions. Her pregnancy had been healthy and straightforward. "You're the picture of health, Kitty. That baby is coming right along," he told her, holding out his hands and aiding her in sitting up. He gave her a moment to adjust her nightdress and steadied her as she stood.
"Thank you, Curly," she replied and slipped into her wrapper. "Where's Festus? He did come with you?" she inquired and knew the answer as Doc tensely fiddled with his earlobe.
"Yes. I don't know why you sent word for him to come with me. He's downstairs acting like he's never eaten a day in his life. There's probably not a crumb of that rhubarb pie left."
Kitty smirked and pulled her hair out from underneath the garment. "Tell him to come up here."
"What for?"
"Doc, do you have to know everything?"
"Well, no, but I like to."
"You're not gonna know," she returned offhandedly and toddled to the door, opening it for him and sending him out with a luminous smile as he cantankerously bellyached about secrets and Festus. She perched herself on the window bench and waited to her the jingle of spurs. She enthusiastically grinned at the noise. "Come on in, Festus," she called out.
The whiskered hillman beamed at the redhead and treaded further into the room. "Howdy, Miss Kitty. Doc said you wanted to see me."
"I need you to do somethin' for me, Festus."
"Anythin', Miss Kitty."
"Tonight's Matt's last night in Dodge before he stays here all the time and watches over me like a hawk."
"Yessum," he twanged and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his wool herringbone patterned vest. "I'm mighty glad he's takin' the time to be with ya."
"Take him out. Let him blow off steam."
"Foot, Miss Kitty. Matthew ain't gonna get drunk in the Long Branch. He'll bend an elbow now and again, but I ain't ever seen him drunk." He doubted if he could get the U.S. Marshal to kick up his heels. "Have you?" he asked and recognized his blunder. "I reckon you have."
"I have," the redhead replied with a knowing smirk gracing her rosy lips. "Now, Festus," she implored and rose to stand, walking slowly towards him. "Matt needs to let loose," she stated and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Don't you agree?"
"Well," he began, floundering as she sweetly batted her lashes at him and regarded him with those eyes as blue as a midwinter sky.
"I'm sure you can use that Haggen charm on my husband," she added and straightened the badge pinned on his vest.
His cheeks blushed at her acknowledgement of his bloodline's charisma. "Us Haggenses has some charm to us."
"And I'm sure that you still have that moonshine your Aunt Thede gave you."
He bowed his head. "I got the whole dang kit and caboodle of that moonshine, Miss Kitty."
"As clever as you are, Festus, you can figure out the rest on getting him to have a real good time."
"Don't fret none, Miss Kitty. I'll take care of Matthew," he guaranteed.
She smiled at him and pecked him on the cheek. "I appreciate it, Festus. Make sure he gets home all right."
"Of course," he declared. "I'll see you directly. I missed jawin' with ya. Don't fret none at all. I'll get that husband of yours liquored up," he promised with a wink and left the room.
The big man pushed away from his friend and staggered into the foyer. He carelessly threw his Stetson and peered up to the second level of his home. "Woman of the house!" he thundered as he rocked on his heels, dropping the jug of moonshine.
"Golly Bill," Festus murmured in amazement as the hat landed on the newel post. He shook his head and closed the door behind him. He felt like he'd spent an hour getting the inebriated lawman into the house. "Matthew!" he hollered and ran to him. "You gonna wake her up. I reckon it's going on three," he said and flattened his hands on the man's back to keep him upright. He winced as Matt loudly bellowed a second time. "Matthew, you gonna wake Miss Kitty up."
"That's the idea, Festus," Matt slurred and put a boot on the stair.
"Can you make it up there?" he pondered aloud and eyed the man that couldn't handle Aunt Thede's moonshine. "You're stewed to the gills."
"Yep," he answered and gripped the baluster. Matt glanced up the stairway and drew in a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Kathleen Blythe Russell Dillon!"
"Matthew!" Festus censured and clamped his hand over the drunkard's mouth. "Reckon you can be quiet?" Festus inquired and took his hand away after a short nod.
"Kathleen Blythe!" Matt hollered and winked at Festus. "That's her grandmother's name," he shared, plastering a grin as wide as the Rio Grande when she came into view.
Kitty stood on the landing with her hands planted on her hips, amusedly shaking her head at her husband and the man that had continually attempted to quiet him. She cleared her throat and repressed a smile at the way her man fondly stared at her. "That's my name," she responded as he hauled himself up the stairs.
He clumsily shuffled towards his wife. "Kitty," he uttered and looked over her gorgeous face.
Kitty noticed the deeper shade of blue, the tell-tale sign that he was sufficiently drunk.
"That's my name too," she returned with a smirk and looked into his eyes.
"Hi."
She laughed at how he garbled a single-syllable word and patted his chest.
"You're beautiful."
"You're drunk." Kitty dipped her head and turned her attention on Festus. "Festus, stay here for the night," she spoke over the racket of Matt kicking off his boots. "What's left of it," she added sarcastically as Matt slung his arm around her shoulders. "Pick any room."
"Yes, ma'am," Festus replied. "Miss Kitty, you got him? If you do, I'll get Ruth and Buck bedded down."
"Oh, I certainly do got him," she said, arching a brow as her husband released her to lean over the handrail and squint his eyes. She assumed he was seeing double. "C'mon, Cowboy."
Matt stood to his full height and staggered, looking her up and down. He smacked her rear end as she turned, looking sheepish and remorseful after she glared at him. Matt trailed behind her and stripped off his clothing as he followed behind "Aunt Thede knows hooch," he told her and grumbled as his shirt became stuck on his head.
"I can tell. Honey," Kitty groused, noticing his predicament. "Come here," she instructed, grateful he folded his tall body as she yanked the shirt off. "Sleep it off, Matt," she ordered and put more wood on the fire.
Matt unceremoniously flopped onto his side of the bed and shook the whole mattress. He punched his pillow to his liking and stretched out. He felt her shifting around in the blankets as she joined him in bed. "Kathleen," he drawled, staring at the ceiling. "The room's spinnin'," he remarked and waited for her to settle against the headboard.
"I imagine so." She held in a chuckle as he clumsily flattened his palm against the nightstand to steady his world.
He rolled over, sliding his arm over her and resting his head on her chest.
"You're gonna feel real good in the morning," she said softly and threaded her fingers through his waves. "Have a good time?"
"Yeah," he answered and pressed his lips to her skin. "But I missed you," he admitted.
Kitty smiled down at him, stroking her fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. She knew that would lull him to dreamland a little faster. "Tell me all about it, Cowboy," she requested and listened to his fragmented recollection of the night. She was happy her husband had a night free of responsibility and worries. She knew he had needed a break from carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.