Standing just inside the bat-wing doors of her saloon, Kitty Russell ran a hand across her hip to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt. It felt some tighter than it did last time she wore it, just one summer ago. It seems she'd gained a pound or two, or perhaps the steamy air of this damn endless hot spell, made all clothes feel tight, clingy and uncomfortable. With sweat already trickling down her back, she pushed through the doors and headed down the walkway to the General Store, as folks still called it. Two years ago, when Jonas sold the place, it was renamed after the owners, Bullene, Moore and Emery. They doubled its size, tripled its inventory, and added a section for ladies clothes and accessories, equipped with full length mirrors. No matter, folks still called it the general store. Some things change, others never do.

Moving slowly through the sweltering heat, she found herself across the street from the US Marshal's office. She resisted turning her head to look, but her disobedient eyes darted over. A sigh escaped her lips, there they were there, the two butterflies, Loretta and Lizette. Rosy cheeked, lithe, and on brink of womanhood, they were ready and ripe to experience love and romance. From day one of their vacation from boarding school, the two friends had set their sights on a tall, attractive, manly marshal. They spent endless hours fluttering around his office, fixing moon eyes on him at every sighting. Kitty shook her head and watched them fan their lovely, unlined faces, as they hopefully watched Matt's office door. Where had the years gone? Just yesterday those two were little girls dragging rag dolls around town, or young teens sitting awkwardly with their parents at town parties. She slowly tore her eyes away from the smitten young ladies, and made her feet move forward. The two butterflies were not her problem, not really. Matt would think them silly girls. It was just that she wanted no more reminders, that many a woman was drawn to Matt Dillon, and one of them was her problem, her problem indeed. She was a dark-haired, graceful beauty, much more a woman than the two butterflies - Melody Merriweather. Damn even her name conjured up lovely sounds and pleasant times. And, Matt Dillon, the man who'd confided in her for twenty years, had snuck off to meet this Merriweather's train, without so much as a word. Seems he knew her from another time and place, or maybe not. It was impossible to know, which pointed to heart of the matter. She'd barely seen Matt, much less had a conversation, since Miss Merriweather set foot town. Not during the day, and worse yet not at night. The almond eyed beauty had rented the old Johnson cabin, a few miles outside of town, and Matt Dillon kept heading out there like a well-trained homing pigeon.

Walking on, growing hotter, stickier and in a worse mood with every step, Kitty reached General Store and caught her reflection in the window. She stared with a critical eye. Her dress size had changed over the past 20 years, and there were lines around her mouth no amount of cream could smooth away, but Matt had changed too. His body had filled out some, and his hair was streaked with gray. She sighed and shook her head, but as everyone knows, women grow old and men grow distinguished. Out of nowhere tears welled up and washed away all hope that shopping would provide a distraction. Not knowing what else to do, she continued walking. Darn it all, she loved that man with ever fiber of her being, and she was losing him, she could feel it in her bones. She reached the end of the walkway, and was about to cross the street when something shifted deep inside. She pulled up short and bit her bottom lip. No, no, no – this wouldn't do. She was Kitty Russell, the woman who grabbed the reins of her life more than 20 years ago, and drove where she wanted to go. Sure things happened she couldn't control, sometimes terrible, horrible, things. But the diamond-hard kernel of self deep inside had never, ever been crushed. Jude Bonner and his Dog Soldiers had come the closest, with their vicious, brutal attacks. Yet, after all was said and done, her kernel of self held strong. Victimhood didn't suit her then, and it doesn't suit her now. She might be losing Matt Dillon, but not without a fight. She turned on her heels and started towards home, dry-eyed and striding fast, in defiance of the heat. There were next moves to consider. She could drive out to that cabin right now, and confront Melody Merriweather – but no, her argument wasn't with another woman, it was with Matt. He was a man who made his own decisions. Word was he spent the night at Melody's cabin, and came to town just after dawn to do paper work before hurrying back. Tomorrow at dawn, she'd be waiting in his office to force a conversation, make him explain himself, have it out. She'd use today to perfect what to say and how to say it.

Buoyed by her decision she lifted her chin as she walked, and went around a cluster of men gathered outside Delmonico's. The sight of the group make her roll her eyes. Folks thought women where gossips, but it was men that took the prize. The telegraph operator, Barney, was more often than not, at the center of it all. She heard his voice as she went by, with others joining in

"I'm telling you the marshal already knew Miss Merriweather from somewhere else. She sent him a wire saying when she was coming, and where she was staying, and it was a telegram with a real friendly tone. I must say she's quite a looker."

"Still, it's a shame. Miss Kitty and the Marshal – all these years. They always seemed so good together."

"Maybe so, but sometimes a man needs a change. That's just the way nature works. Nothing to be done about it"

"And you saw Melody Merriweather when she came to town, Barney's right, she's quite a beauty. Not that Miss Kitty ain't, it's just…."

Kitty reached the safety of her saloon and pushed through the doors, relieved to be out of the earshot of gossiping men.

TBC