The Thoroughbreds 9/2/2012
Chapter 1
Matt turned and left the stagecoach after seeing the Marshal off. He thought it strange that the man should have felt Dodge to be an unfriendly town. To him after all these years it seemed like home. He knew everyone one here mostly by first names, and of course everyone knew him. There were still some folks around who could remember the really wild days of Dodge, on the whole though things were more peaceful now – except of course for that bank robbery a few weeks ago that had robbed him of much of the use in his right arm.
He had been back from his sojourn on the prairie for several days now.
He had realized, while he was gone, how much he missed Kitty when he was not around her. He had thought of retiring from the Marshal's service and going off somewhere, but what could he do? How could he just walk away from this town? He knew he had made it what it was today and he could not just desert it.
Since he had been back he had fallen into the old routine. Walking the length of Front Street several times a day, watching strangers who came into town and keeping an eye out for any face that might be on one of the dozens of wanted posters he received every week. At night he would ride herd on rowdy drifters or sodbusters who had come into town to get drunk at one of Dodge's many saloons, and then make his rounds, checking that all the businesses were locked up tight. After that he would make his way to Kitty's rooms for the sweet nights. Their love making was not as frequent or boisterous as it had been in those early frantic years, now it had become gentle and soft and filled both of them with a special kind of love and tenderness.
"Kitty what would you do if you didn't own this place?" he asked her one night.
"Oh I've thought about it often enough I must admit but I can't come up with a good answer. I think I would like to travel some, see a few of those places I've read about in books."
Matt said nothing. It was a question that had been on his mind for a while now.
"How about you Matt – what would you do without that badge."
"I just don't know, I never thought the question would arise I guess."
The discussion faded as they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.
Next morning Matt headed out with Newly. The Deputy had agreed to accompany Matt for some shooting practice. Matt had been doing all kinds of stretching and strengthening exercises with his arm and wanted to see how he could do now.
They had set up some targets. To begin with Matt had been drawing and aiming with his left hand, he had got reasonably good, but Newly could still out draw him and shoot down more targets than he could.
He took off the left-handed gun belt and replaced it with his old one. The soft familiar feel of the old leather sent mixed feelings through him.
They fired at targets for at least an hour. Matt could tell he was not accurate or fast enough with this hand to be serious competition to any gunslinger that came into town.
"It's improving," said Newly, trying to be encouraging. It saddened him to see how the Marshal he had admired for so long had lost most of the skill he had acquired over the years.
They returned together to Dodge. Every day for the next week Matt went out to practice. Sometimes he would spend two or three hours just drawing and shooting at targets till his arm ached. It began to look as if he had reached a point but could not get any further. He would talk with Newly – maybe a lighter gun than the Army colt he had used all these years might help. It would not be as powerful or as accurate, but maybe he could get back some of his speed with it.
As he rode back into town his arm was throbbing. He no longer wore the sling Doc had made for him but he tucked his hand into his shirt, hoping that resting it that way would help.
Dodge was quiet when he passed along Front Street, no drovers came this way now, mostly just locals coming and going about their regular business.
Kitty saw him ride in and made her way towards the jail.
"How about lunch, Cowboy?"
"Sounds good to me."
They sat eating and she couldn't help but notice that he used mostly his left hand.
"Maybe you have been working your arm too hard," she said, "you've been out there practicing every day for over a week."
"I know. I worry about how good I am now. I just can't get back to where I was before all this happened."
She could see how frustrated he was becoming.
"Why don't you go up and see Doc, you know he told you not to overdo it."
"Maybe I will."
Lunch over he returned to the jail to continue looking through more wanted posters and opening mail that had piled up. It was like Kitty had said a few nights ago, what would he do without that badge? He had no other skills. A lawman was all he had been for over 20 years now.
He was sitting outside the jail watching the street, unconsciously rubbing his aching arm. The distant sound of jangling spurs broke into his reverie, and he realized Festus was approaching. The man pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.
"Sure ain't much going on around town today, Mathew."
Matt didn't have to worry about forming a reply. His deputy was skilled at carrying on a lone conversation, for many minutes at a time, with no the help from anyone else.
"Mathew," and then again "Mathew, you're not listening, I asked if that ol' arm was achin' yer?"
"Er what's that? Oh yes just a little sore today. Nothing much."
Matt's eyes followed Doc as he drove his buggy along Front Street to stop at the livery. Maybe he would go up and see him.
He watched as the elderly doctor walked from the stable to his office. As he started to climb the steps Matt got up from his chair.
"I'll see you later Festus."
TBC