Gunsmoke fan-fiction
the
Birthday Stockings
Part II
After Shades of Kimbro
Without Beginning - Without End
littlegreenlake
7
Virgin snow cloaked mud rutted streets. No footstep or wagon wheel had sullied the chastity of winter's pure white cover. Fleecy shiftless flakes, still falling, softened the lines of the cowtown buildings, making saloons, sporting palaces, and jailhouse appear more convivial than they actually were. Matt Dillon stood at the stable door looking out, seeing not, the untouched vista in front of him, but rather, an image, a memory, of another winter dawn, when snow was fresh and the streets were quiet; scarlet caped Kitty, rushing to meet him, cheeks rosy with the cold, red lips smiling, blue eyes shinning. A reality, lost to him now. Steam from each shallow breath he took, wreathed his head. He swallowed hard forcing the image, like the vapors, to vanish in the air.
"You okay Marshal?" Hank asked walking up behind him.
"I'm fine." He lied, for a wounded man can bleed more than blood. He cleared his throat, "Horse earned extra oats for a day or so, can you see that he gets them?"
"Sure thing, Marshal."
He gave a nod, but didn't turn to look at the stable keeper. With straw still clinging to his clothing, he stepped into the street, his footprints in the snow, marking his solitary trail to the jailhouse.
XOXO
Festus was still sleeping and Dillon took small pleasure in entering the office with enough noise to disturb his deputy's slumber. Sometimes, turnabout was fair play.
Groggy eyed, Hagen made a reach for his gun and then seeing it was Matt stopped the action. "Matthew! You shouldn't ought'er sneak up on a feller like that. You're just liable to get your head blowed off before you git a chance to say, howdy." The deputy swung his feet to the floor and reached for his work-worn boots. "You just git into town, did ya?"
Dillon dropped his bedroll and saddlebag on the floor next to the door and then beat the snow from his Stetson, before hanging it on the hat hook, "Got in last night."
"Ya did? Where'd ya bed down?"
"At the livery." He had already moved to his desk and was going through the stacks of mail waiting for him. He shuffled through the envelopes looking for her familiar handwriting, but found nothing.
He put forth an effort to make his voice sound normal. "Anything going on I should know about?"
Hagen shifted nervously, "Town's been quiet, if'n that's what you're a askin'."
"That's part of it." He ran a tongue over his lips, "I, I met Miss Hannah last night."
Festus gave him the squint eye, "Then ya know 'bout Miss Kitty?"
"All I know is she sold the Long Branch and headed to New Orleans to be with her father."
"'That there's about all there is to know. She left a letter with ol'Doc fer ya. Reckon that will tell ya everthin' ya wanna know."
His gut tightened. He turned his back to the deputy. "If that's all that's going on, why don't you take a few days off - starting now."
"Matthew …" Floor boards creaked, he heard Festus make a move toward him. "I just wish …"
Dillon summoned his grit, "You, ah, you go on now, you've earned the time off." He canted his head in Hagen's direction, "Thank you for handling things while I was gone."
Festus hesitated still, studying Dillon. He was as big a man as he'd ever been, yet with Miss Kitty gone his size seemed to shrink in comparison. "If'n that's what ya want."
Matt nodded. He stayed as he was, until he heard the door open and shut and the sound of Hagen's spurs as he hit the boardwalk. Matt sank into his chair, resting his arms on the desk. Scenes of their years together played in his mind; memories with a will of their own. He couldn't have stopped them, had he tried. She'd been ever steadfast, the one thing in his life he could count on. He needed her, hadn't he told her that? Yet, he knew too, what staying had cost her these last few years. He got up and shrugged off his coat, kicked off his boots and laid down on the cot. He fell into a restless sleep that offered no relief from heartache.
While he slept, Festus returned and left again. In his wake, a fresh pot of coffee was brewing on the stove. A plate and knife, a paper sack of hard rolls and a tub of butter, rested on the work table. More from habit than need, Dillon drank the coffee and ate a roll. He felt some better after that. He didn't want to face a town filled with questions on their faces, or worse still, pity. However, he knew, the sooner he did, the better chance he had of moving past this, of achieving some standard of normalcy in his life again. He grabbed clean clothes from the small chest of drawers, he used as a dresser, and headed over to the barber.
A hot bath, a shave and haircut made him feel almost human again. He dodged Molly Halligan and Irene Lathrop on his walk back to the office, not giving the ladies an opportunity to say more than, "Glad to see you back in Dodge, Marshal." He tipped his hat in response, as he walked swiftly past them.
Doc was sitting behind his desk, waiting for him when he got back to the jailhouse. "You look a sight better than I thought you might. Things go alright for you down on the border?"
"Got the job done." He flexed his jaw slightly. The only evidence of grief, was in his eyes.
Adams took a breath, "I saw Festus this morning. I talked with Hank and Miss Hannah too, they all told me you were back in town."
He wasn't in the mood for small talk, only one thing mattered to him at that moment, "Festus said Kitty left a letter for me."
"She did, she wrote it before she left town." He undid the buttons on his overcoat and pulled out the letter and placed it on the desk top. "This wasn't easy for her."
Dillon stared down at the envelope. It was addressed simply, "Matt". He could almost hear her voice in the curves of the written word, whispering his name in that soft drawl, meant for his ears only.
His cheek twitched and he swallowed hard, "I can't even write her back, we don't where in New Orleans she is."
"I have her address." Doc revealed. "I got a letter in the mail from her yesterday."
Matt's head jerked up to look at the old man's face, "How's she doing Doc, is she okay?"
"She's doing fine."
"Why did she send you a letter and not me?"
"I think she wasn't sure you'd want to hear from her again, after reading what she wrote here."
Matt Dillon's features were at once intense and vulnerable. He leaned forward, and placed the flat of his palms on the desk, his face directly in front of Adams, "Doc. I need to know where she is … no way in hell I'm not going to be writing her back, no matter what she wrote to me."
"I brought her address." Doc answered.
Matt straightened his spine and picked up the envelope, holding it in both hands, "Did you read this?"
The old man tugged his ear, "No. I know when to keep my nose out of other people's business."
"Humpf." Dillon grunted, but not unkindly, "Since when?"
Doc grabbed the back side of a Wanted Poster and scribbled out Kitty's New Orleans address. He pushed himself to his feet and then waited a moment for his arthritic joints to settle in place, "I'll be around if you want to talk later."
