Kitty Russell felt a little lightheaded as she slowly walked
down the Kansas City boardwalk away from the ice cream parlor window. The sight of that sweet little girl eating a
bowlful of creamy, melting peach ice cream had made Kitty’s mouth water and her
stomach cramp painfully, it was so completely empty. She hadn’t eaten since she’d hurriedly left Jefferson
City on the train, using the small amount of money she’d managed to hide from
Cole a little bit at a time in a torn stocking down at the bottom of her squeaky
bureau drawer. Just for a rainy day,
she’d told herself.
That was two days ago.
She was heartsick after catching Cole red-handed betraying her and now
she really had nowhere to go and no money to get there. Suddenly feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, her
vision blurred and she tried to catch herself from falling on the boardwalk
post. Strong arms caught her firmly, and
as she looked up, her vision clearing, she saw a kind gentleman’s face covered
in gray whiskers. He looked like
somebody’s grandfather, she thought woozily, wishing she had a grandfather of
her own to lean on.
“Miss, are you alright?” the man asked worriedly.
“Yes…” Kitty shook
her head to clear it further and protested, “Why, I’m just fine, thank
you. Just got…a little dizzy is all.”
“May I escort you somewhere?
You are so pale, Miss.”
“Oh, no, really…” she stammered. “I’m fine.”
She stood up straight and attempted a smile, thinking ironically to
herself that she had absolutely no place to which he could escort her. “See there?
I’m better now. I thank you very
much for your assistance, though. You’re
very kind.”
The gray-haired gentleman looked doubtfully at her, but when
she firmly said to him, “Good day to you, sir,” he doffed his hat and walked
away, giving a last backward glance over his shoulder as he crossed the deeply
rutted street. Kitty leaned her back
against the post wearily and gathered her strength.
After a few minutes, she pinched her cheeks and bit her lips
to get a bit of color back in them, then walked down the boardwalk a ways until
she came to a raucous, bustling establishment with men spilling outside the
swinging front doors. The men grinned
and eyed her with obvious interest while Kitty steeled her nerves. Straightening her shoulders and holding up
her chin, she walked into the Last Chance Saloon to ask the owner for a
job.
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Kitty sat on her small bed, rubbing her aching feet. A knock sounded on the door frame, as there
was only a thin curtain hanging across the opening to her room. “Come in,” she called wearily.
A peroxided blonde who worked upstairs with her at this
hole-in-the-wall, waterfront saloon sauntered the two whole steps to her
bedside. Calico Stark handed her a
bottle of the cheapest whiskey that owner and bartender Rooster Darling
carried. That’s all Kitty could afford,
working at a shoddy joint like The Melancholy Mermaid. She had
to start looking for a new job, she thought, watching Calico pick at a
hangnail.
“Damnation!” Calico fussed, examining her now-bleeding finger.
Kitty fell back on the bed, arms outstretched, staring at
the water spots on the ceiling.
Calico cajoled, “You’re gonna share that rotgut with me
tonight, ain’t ya? I run out last
night.”
Kitty lifted her head and squinted at Calico. “Can’t you buy your own?”
“You know I owe five more dollars to the doctor for that
‘percedure’ I had last month, Kitty. And
if I ain’t got no whiskey to soak my sponges in tonight, I might just end up
needin’ another ‘percedure’ this month, too.”
Calico frowned meaningfully at her.
Kitty sighed and rubbed her temples, “Sure, honey, you can
have some of mine.” She shook her head
and decided right then that she’d go looking for a new job tomorrow
afternoon. She’d been dead broke when
she had arrived in San Francisco from Kansas City a month ago and snapped up
the first job she found. She was trying
to put as much distance between her and Cole Yankton as she possibly
could. Maybe her broken heart would mend
a little faster in a city that smelled like salt water and sea breezes. If only.
Kitty closed her eyes and Calico sauntered back out to let
her get a little sleep before the evening crowd rolled in. “Thanks, Kitty.”
Kitty yawned. “Don’t
mention it.”
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“Kitty, sweetie, there’s a man here to see ya’.”
She’d just finished up with a paying customer-- the nervous
kid pretty much had peach fuzz instead of whiskers--so she was still getting
cleaned up. Disease was rampant among the
vulnerable girls in her profession, and they had to take care of themselves to
keep from dying way before their time. Kitty dried her hands, dropped her skirts, and
pulled back the curtain. “Calico, you
barely gave me time to…” Her mouth
dropped open.
“Hello, darlin’,” Cole drawled. He awkwardly handed her a bouquet of yellow
daisies and shuffled his feet nervously.
“I missed you.”
Kitty didn’t know what to say. She just clutched the flowers to her chest
and stammered, “H…hello, Cole.”
“Can I come in?”
She looked behind her and gestured, “There’s not much
room. But you can come and sit
down.”
Kitty straightened the mussed
covers and perched primly on her bed while Cole sat gingerly next to her and
removed his hat.
Cole cleared his throat and began uncertainly, “Kitty, I’ve
got somethin’ to say to you.” He gave a
little cough. “I…I was wrong,
Kitty. That girl back in Kansas City didn’t
mean anything to me.”
He took Kitty’s hand as she said, “Cole…”
“No, darlin’, I need to tell you this. I followed you all the way out here from
Missouri just to tell you.”
“Oh…” She was astounded to hear he’d come all the way to
California looking for her. What if…
“I love you, Kitty, and I want you back.” He reached up to caress her cheek with his
palm.
“You want me back?” she posed in a quiet voice.
He leaned closer and she breathed in his old familiar
scent. Touching his lips to hers, he
kissed her gently, murmuring against her mouth, “Please, darlin’…”
Kitty sat back and took a deep breath. She looked him in the eyes. “Cole, you want me back?”
One delicate brow lifted as she unwaveringly proclaimed, “Cole,
you can’t have me back. I don’t think
you really do love me. And I wanna get
out of this place, but not bad enough to go back to the way we were.”
“No, ‘buts’, Cole. I
can’t be with you anymore. I’m a big
girl now, and I can take care of myself.”
She stood and held the curtain open.
“I want you to leave now.”
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Kitty leaned on the long, polished wooden bar, absent-mindedly
staring at a mounted bull’s head behind Maynard where he worked polishing
glasses. Maynard was a burly,
mustachioed bear of a man, a combination bartender/bouncer who helped keep the
peace at the Rusty Spur. The Spur was a
considerably nicer saloon than the last dump she’d worked at, all things
considered. It sure was a different sort
of clientele here in Abilene, but no less rough around the edges. Instead of drunken, salty sailors, the place
was bursting at the seams with intoxicated, dusty cowboys.
The very night Cole Yankton had come to “take Kitty back,”
she had packed her one paltry bag and jumped on the first train out of San
Francisco. She didn’t even tell Calico
Sparks she was leaving, but she did place her small bottle of cheap whiskey and
the wilted bouquet of daisies outside of Calico’s door as a fond farewell. She had no intentions of leaving a trail for
Cole to follow her again.
Kitty had been working in Texas for six months now. Six long months. Abilene was hot and dry. And the boys who came through here were wild,
rough, untamed. Sometimes brutal. Especially when they drank too much. She’d had to call on Maynard for help more
than once. She had the bruises to prove
it.
But that was how she made her living, pleasing men. She couldn’t be too fussy about how she was
treated sometimes. The sheriff of
Abilene turned a blind eye to the young boys’ shenanigans, as he put it. He didn’t want to run them off, so he pretty
much gave them free rein. And Kitty and the other working girls were the
ones who paid the price.
Kitty felt a stare from across the room. She turned to find steely gray eyes
scrutinizing her, making her shiver involuntarily. McCray.
That was his name. He’d been in
here three nights in a row now, and a couple of the other girls had already
been upstairs with him. She hoped she
wasn’t next, but she wouldn’t turn him down just because he made her
nervous. Besides, she needed the money.
McCray took his time walking across the wooden plank floor
to stand beside her, signaling for Maynard to bring him two whiskeys. Only after he had downed his glass in one
stiff movement did he look at her and speak.
“Hey, Red…” He looked her up and
down with his colorless eyes. “I been
watchin’ you.”
“Yeah?” Kitty sipped
her whiskey and added drily, “Is that so?”
“Yeah, that’s so.” He
slid a hand around her waist and pulled her close, whispering in her ear, “You
wanna go upstairs with me?”
She answered back, “That depends.”
“On what?” His hand caressed the small of her back.
McCray laughed long and low.
“You are a pistol, little gal, you sure are.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the
stairs. “Come on, Red. Show me what you got.”
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“I. Said. No.” Kitty repeated through clenched teeth
for the third time.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” McCray retorted, seething with
anger. “You’re a whore, godammit. I paid you.”
“You didn’t pay me to do that. I won’t do it.” She straightened her skirts and hurriedly
rebuttoned her dress.
“Who do you think you are?” he spat at her. “Come ‘ere, Red…”
“No!” She struggled as he gripped her arms and forcibly pulled
her body against his. Kitty stomped his
foot as hard as she could with a well-worn boot heel.
“Oww! Son of a bitch!” McCray pushed her back on the bed and sprang
on top of her, reaching down to pull up her skirts. “Come on, you little whore, gimme some of
that sweet…”
Kitty kneed McCray in the groin and wriggled out from under
him as he bent double. She took the
money he’d laid on her dresser and threw the bills, watching them flutter down
on top of him as he groaned in pain.
Walking to the door, she smoothed her
hair and threw a glance over her shoulder. “I said 'no'. And I meant 'no', dammit.” She stalked out
the door and headed downstairs to have a drink and to ask Maynard to escort the
wayward gentleman out of The Rusty Spur. “I may be a whore,” she thought as she
tossed back her whiskey, “but even a whore’s got her limits.”
tbc
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