Nothing Can Spoil This Christmas
This would be the best Christmas Eve party yet, Kitty Russell thought. Everything about it was up to her. She was now sole owner of the Long Branch who'd found and recently hired a wonderful head barkeep in Sam Noonan. Although Doctor Adams could very possibly be late, everyone she cared about would be there. Even Chester's brother Magnus had come for a visit. Most importantly Matt Dillon was completely recovered from his recent ordeal and home to celebrate with her. She'd let her own tribulations that began with that mid-October blizzard pass. They didn't signify.
1872 had been a quiet year by Dodge City standards until that fateful early snowstorm that led to the wreck of the Larned stage and the death of everyone aboard except Kitty. Despite serious injury, she recovered sufficiently in mind and body to feel the full impact of what befell Matt because of an overly suspicious lieutenant. He felt certain the local lawman took advantage of the accident to steal the army's money either alone or as part of a conspiracy. Matt, his concern for Kitty predominant, felt it was the army's job to take over and trace the stolen money once he discovered what happened to the vehicle carrying it.
Lieutenant McClendon's zeal, fueled by a distrust of a civilian authority who refused to acknowledge the military's superior standing, succeeded in turning a healthy, respected public servant into someone who'd rather die now than hope he'd survive his sentence in Leavenworth. Only a strong lawyer, a judge not entirely convinced of his guilt and good friends working to find the truth prevented a miscarriage of justice for a man who'd rather die than let the most important person in his life be pitied for her close association with a jailbird. Ultimately, Matt's assistant Chester Goode unearthed the evidence that led to unveiling a conspiracy of which the recent robbery was only a small part. Combined with the efforts of his other staunch supporters, Matt Dillon's conviction was overturned.
Matt's physical wellbeing improved along with his legal status. On Thanksgiving his friends celebrated a joyous, thankful meal with him, which included his recovery from a near fatal combined attack of ague and pneumonia. A week after the holiday his and Kitty's closest friends, Frank Reardon and his future wife Maria, departed for their home in Hays. Sheriff Reardon no longer needed to fill in as acting marshal once November turned to December. Matt's reinstatement, with retroactive pay back to his first day of suspension in mid October, became effective on December 1.
Everything was the way it should be with no regrets. Kitty's former partner Bill Pence and his pregnant wife Laura had left for their new home and business in Pueblo the day Matt's fever broke so they'd be sure to be settled before the baby came. They'd be missed, as would Frank and Maria, but it was a positive change. As if to offset their departure, Magnus Goode rode into town for the first time in six years to spend Christmas with his brother. Matt, Chester and Sam were setting up the seven-foot high tree under Doc and Kitty's supervision when Magnus arrived.
Now everything was in place, including sprigs of mistletoe Kitty had strategically set around the building. The tree was lit. Gaily wrapped presents lay beneath it ready for Santa, this year played by Mr. Bodkin, the banker, to hand out to the children and adults. There would be one for everyone invited. A week earlier Kitty placed a bowl on the long, polished bar for all the regulars to draw the name of the person who'd receive a gift from them. The rest were purchased with funds from the church charity drive, supplemented by her own money, to ensure everyone received something.
In deference to the one night a year when mothers brought their children and men brought their wives, the band, located on the upstairs landing, was playing carols by seven and the only whiskey served until after nine laced the carefully labeled bowl of punch that was set apart from the food and more genteel refreshments. Promptly at 8:30 Bodkin entered through the office door Matt carefully guarded to perform his gift dispensing duties.
"Ho! Ho! Ho! I see my elves got here before me. Let's see who's first," he stated picking up the nearest present.
Soon all the packages were gone except the one for Doc and so was Santa. He disappeared into Kitty's office, this time guarded by Magnus, as the families began to drift out. By the time he emerged dressed as himself, the fountain pen that was his gift in his jacket pocket instead of on Kitty's desk, all those with young children were on their way home. The band began to play a lively dance, led by Sam on his fiddle and Chester on guitar. Fred and Clem slipped behind the counter to dispense whiskey, wine and beer while those not dancing or bellied up to the bar took seats at the tables surrounding the impromptu dance floor. Kitty's girls, who weren't busy dancing, scurried from table to table delivering drinks and other Christmas cheer, including a peck on the cheek if they found themselves under the mistletoe. Matt and Kitty among them.
By midnight it was the turn of courting couples to begin easing their way out into the now cold and no longer cloudless night, although the moon and a few stars were still partially visible. By this time whiskey flowed freely into the celebrants and onto the floor and tables. As two such couples made their way out the glass doors they'd just opened, first one then the other was sent sprawling as a calico cat, followed closely by a lop-eared mostly brown dog, sped between their feet.
"I didn't think I was all that late," Doc having finally got back from delivering a baby at a farm two miles west of town, muttered. "Is everyone alright?" he asked the four youngsters having not seen the cause of their mishap.
While Doc made sure the two couples weren't hurt, the animals raced on, past the remaining celebrants, straight for the tree. Despite gallant efforts to stop them, the cat jumped onto the tree in an effort to escape her pursuer. She was halfway to the star at the top when the dog pushed his full 30 pounds against it. The tree toppled. Quickly, the soberest among those still at the party rushed to set the tree aright and oust the unwanted four-legged guests. Magnus, used to dealing with wildly behaving beasts, soon had hold of the miscreants by the scruff of their necks. He tossed them unceremoniously outside before closing the doors to keep them out, catching sight of Doc barely in time to keep from pushing the older man outside with them. Meanwhile the others inspected the damage.
Nearly all the candles on the underside snuffed out, smothered between the tree branches and floor. While some of the topside candles remained lit, most were blown out by the wind created by the toppling tree and racing strays. However, a few sent sparks flying before they went out. These sparks caught in the spilled whiskey, which burst into flame. Wasting no time, Matt set everyone in the room to smothering the small fires with anything they could find before the flames spread to the point where they'd need a Christmas miracle for the Long Branch to remain standing. He dispatched the fire brigade members already on hand to round up the water wagons and as many men as possible to man them.
Somehow, coats, blankets, even hats smothered every ember before the water wagons appeared. The only damage was singed floorboards that could easily be replaced. The danger was over, but so was the party. Everyone was suddenly exhausted. In all the excitement nobody noticed the absence of their hostess and a certain tall lawman as they gladly filed out to greet a wonderful sight. While they fought to save the Long Branch, the snow had begun to fall, coating the still dark streets of the early Christmas morning with a thin white blanket. Most drifted toward home refreshed by the snow and the cold. Magnus walked with Chester toward his cot in the jailhouse office, leaving Sam and Doc to lock up the saloon.
Matt, as soon as he was certain the fire was under control, took advantage of the turmoil to climb the stairs with Kitty on his arm. They stopped on the landing long enough to ascertain that neither was needed to keep those below working at putting out the burning patches. Once told, the remaining party guests knew to keep at it until no ember remained. Doc, Sam, Chester and Magnus would make sure they didn't stop before then. Turning from the scene below they walked through the curtain, stopping to exchange a kiss under the mistletoe hanging there. Continuing arm in arm toward their goal after that short pause, they didn't stop until they reached her door.
Once Kitty unlocked the door, they stood under the next strategically placed sprig to kiss. This time they lingered, letting the kiss deepen before stepping through and closing the door behind them. A short time later they were by the bed, mistletoe incentives no longer needed. Each gave in to the wonders of their private holiday celebration and the thankfulness they carried over from Thanksgiving.
"Cowboy, I don't smell any smoke, but I think I'd better make sure everything's closed down properly," Kitty sighed, grabbing for her winter robe an hour later. "No need for you to come along."
"I'll join you just in case," Matt replied tucking in his shirt.
All was quiet as they padded shoeless down the stairs in the darkened building. There wasn't much detail they could see in the dim light. Sam, with Doc's help, had done more than expected. Chairs were stacked on the cleared and cleaned tables, the bar was wiped down and the glassware washed. Kitty locked the before party take in the office safe for deposit after the holiday when she closed to set out the final festive touches. Sam had locked the front, office and cellar doors before exiting through the back door and locking that as well. The couple returned upstairs.
"Merry Christmas, Cowboy," Kitty purred as they looked out onto the street at the six inches of snow from her upstairs window in the morning light. "Who could want more, a white Christmas and you and I able to celebrate it together in an intact building."
"Merry Christmas, Kit. It looked bad for a bit last night, but by golly nothing can spoil this Christmas!"