A/N It's been so long since I posted a story that I forgot to include the disclaimer about not owning the characters. I'm just exercising my right to interpret what happened off-camera. Thank you to everyone who's posted a review. I will try to get back to everyone if I can.

Part Three

It's Nice To Be Missed

It had been a long evening and he was making his late rounds before calling it a night. He walked through the dark, alert to every suspicious noise; every scent, familiar and unfamiliar. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he decided it was time to head for the stable that had been his home of late. All the saloons were closed and the little old man his lady wanted him to look out for was probably there or soon would be. He could curl up on the cot next to him or make himself a nice warm bed in the straw. As he passed the place where the people got on and off the stagecoach, he did his best to ignore the large number of human and horse smells and keep to his purpose. He was almost past it when he caught a whiff of something that made him stop in his tracks. It was a lady smell. His lady. He sniffed around and soon picked up the trail where her skirts had brushed the ground.

Eagerly, Pumpkin followed the scent, until he realized it was leading to the building where the big man stayed when he was in town and his lady wasn't. Seeing that it was dark and hearing no sounds inside, he turned to leave and discovered another trail. It didn't take him long to determine that it lead back to his home—his real home. A small amount of light was visible from the one open door. He usually avoided the downstairs when the outer doors were open because the place was full of loud, rough men drinking vile-smelling drinks and smoking. Fights usually broke out, and, as he knew from personal experience, sometimes there was a shooting. Tonight, though, the place was quiet. He sauntered through the doorway as though he had nothing better to do with his time. He was unnoticed by the two people who occupied the place. His lady stood close to the big man who had been the cause of her leaving. His arms were around her, and Pumpkin couldn't see her face. Her head was nestled in the space between the man's neck and shoulder-the same spot where Pumpkin curled up next to her at night. His head angled down toward her and he spoke softly into her ear. He rubbed her back up and down slowly as she nodded her head against his chest. With their arms around each other, they crossed the room, stopped briefly for the man to close and lock the door, then they ascended the stairs together.

The cat was ready to slink up the stairs after them, but something stopped him. Instinctively, he knew that his presence would not be appreciated that night. Holding his orange and white head proudly in the air and waving his tail even higher, he padded behind the bar. There was a stack of bar towels inviting him to curl up and he was soon purring contentedly. At first light he would give the lady-and the man if he was still there-an enthusiastic welcome home, but for the time being it was enough to know she was back. He was patient.

End