Growing Old With Kitty 2

by Lilyjack

Chapter 7

"Here Comes the Judge"

"Howdy, Judge! Long time, no see!" called a voice from the boardwalk.

Judge Emmett Nation, dressed in a brightly embroidered floral waistcoat and black tailcoat that he'd been sporting on special occasions for at least twenty years, doffed his battered tophat at passersby who greeted him cheerfully in the small burg of Brushy Heap. He was sitting astride a shaggy sorrel mount who'd definitely seen better days as well, but the judge had come to love the old horse and couldn't bear to part with him for a younger one. Besides, working as a judge in the predominantly rural county of Rasco hardly afforded the old man an affluent lifestyle. That's why he was forced to supplement his income by serving as a notary public, Justice of the Peace, and supplier of fine spirits and beer in his drinking establishment, The Blossom Inn Saloon and County Courthouse. Folks could take in a dramatic trial, indulge in a libation afterward, and then spend the night if they were so blind drunk they couldn't stagger home afterwards. It all worked out very well for Emmett Nation in the long run.

Judge Nation was no stranger to the other side of the legal system himself. In his younger, wilder days, he'd gotten into a few scrapes and scuffles in Old Mexico, a couple of them unfortunately ending in a shooting death or two. But Emmett knew in his heart those evil scoundrels needed killin', so he didn't trouble his head or his heart about it too awful much. He did make sure to stay on this side of the Mexican border though, just in case someone should recall those old warrants for his arrest and decide to act upon them. Emmett Nation didn't cotton to spending his final days in jail, or even worse, on the wrong end of the hangman's noose.

A grizzled farmer, loading seed into a rickety wagon, called to him from outside McCorkle's Mercantile. "Say, Judge! What're you doin' in town? We got a trial comin' up?'

Emmett Nation pulled his horse up, spat, and scratched his chin through his bushy gray beard. "Nope. I'm here in my capacity as Justice of the Peace. Gotta perform a weddin'."

The farmer squinted up at him. "Anybody I know?"

"Young couple who works for a friend of mine, Leland Blessing."

"Oh, I know Leland. Fine man." The farmer stuck his hands in his pockets. "Never was the same after his wife passed though."

Emmett took out a handkerchief, removed his hat, and mopped his brow. "Yep, you're right. Her death hit 'im pretty hard." Nation knew more, but didn't elaborate. "Well, gotta head on out to the Sweetwater Ranch. You take care now, you hear?"

"You too, Judge."

Emmett rode away thinking about his friend Leland Blessing and his lost love Juliet. That's how he and Emmett had come to meet during the Texas Revolution. They'd both joined up to fight for Texas' independence from Mexico, but Emmett knew that Leland had another agenda. Leland didn't say so, but Emmett could tell by the flinty look in his eye, the grim set of his jaw. He'd led insane charges to fight the enemy, fought hand-to-hand combat ferociously. He acted as if he had no thought for his own welfare.

Emmett had discovered the black reason for his disregard for his own personal safety one night when both young men had gotten sloppy drunk in a little cantina that served terrible rotgut tequila and delicious enchiladas. Leland Blessing related his heartbreaking story to the future judge that fateful evening, and Emmett had understood at last what drove the young man. It seemed Leland Blessing harbored a death wish since his wife and unborn child had perished so horribly in a fire, and Leland seemed determined to join them in eternal rest. But young Leland had survived the war in spite of his best efforts.

After helping General Houston route Santa Ana in San Jacinto, the two men had stayed in touch through letters and occasional visits over the years. Since Juliet's untimely death, Leland Blessing had been a lonely man who kept to himself, so Judge Nation was surprised when he recently received a letter asking him to journey to the Sweetwater Ranch to marry up a young couple. Leland seemed quite taken with them, it seemed by the way he spoke of them, so Emmett's curiosity was piqued and he was looking forward to this wedding. Besides, he and Blessing hadn't had a chance for a drink together in a coon's age. Leland had explained it would be a very small, informal affair, as the couple didn't really know too many folks around Brushy Heap and they didn't have much money, but Leland wanted it to be a special day for them nonetheless. Nation smiled to himself, intrigued at Leland's interest, as he clucked to his old horse to pick up the pace.

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Dependable old Horatio whinnied as Judge Nation signaled for him to stop in front of the Sweetwater ranch house, a comfortable-looking home with a wide porch and heavy, square, white-washed posts and impressive windows that ran from floor to ceiling to let in the light. A young man with a slight limp hurried to take his horse's reins and the judge groaned as he dismounted, his stiff muscles and arthritic bones complaining at their maltreatment. The judge sighed. He used to be able to ride for hours alongside Emmett Blessing in Sam Houston's company of soldiers. He and Emmett would talk about their favorite books and swap lies that became more and more outrageous as they traveled. Well, those days were over. He wasn't a young man anymore and he could tell it more and more with each passing year.

The judge did still cut an imposing figure though. He was six feet tall and with the addition of a tophat, the man seemed a giant. He looked down at the boy before him. He seemed awfully young, with clear blue eyes, skin tanned and hair bleached pale from working long hours in the sun. He gave the judge a nervous smile, ducking his head.

Clamping a hand on the boy's shoulder, Nation's deep voice boomed, "Well now, young man, you wouldn't happen to be the groom, would you?"

The boy's eyes widened and his voice fairly squeaked, "M-m-me? No! N-no, sir. I mean...m-m-maybe I wisht it was m-m-me..." He frowned and then shrugged. "But she loves s-s-somebody else."

His mouth turning down in sympathy, the judge patted his shoulder. "I know how you feel, son. The pain of unrequited love is a sorrowful burden to bear, but in the end it will make you stronger."

The boy's nose wrinkled, "What kinda l-love?"

"You'll understand one of these days." And Judge Emmett Nation's thoughts were drawn as they always were in matters of love to the beautiful actress Miss Fannie Mae Blossom, the fairest girl in all the land. He'd been privileged to see her play Ophelia in Hamlet on stage in St. Louis many years gone by, and her achingly lovely portrayal of the doomed heroine had left him both devastated and completely infatuated. All women paled in comparison, which is most likely one of the reasons he'd never married himself. He'd followed her career in the theatre magazines he managed to get hold of, and when he'd finally settled in Rasco County, he'd named his establishment in her honor, the Blossom Inn Saloon. He wrote her of his tribute, but sadly enough, he'd never received a single word of acknowledgement in return. Judge Nation knew of what he spoke when he mentioned unrequited love to the young ranch hand.

Judge Nation shook his head and brought himself back to the present, asking, "What's your name, boy?"

"Henry. H-henry Small."

The judge firmly shook the boy's hand. "Nice to meet you, Henry. Now where's that old rascal Leland Blessing? He and I have some catching up to do!"

"Th-this way, s-sir. He's most likely in the k-kitchen. Gettin' 'bout s-s-suppertime. H-he likes to v-v-visit with Miss K-kitty sometimes when she cooks."

"Miss Kitty?" The judge's mouth dropped open at the familiar name, one he recognized from Leland's letter. "So she's the young lady whose heart was stolen away from you?"

Henry blushed. "Aww...I d-don't think I would quite p-put it thataway, sir."

"Don't worry, son. Your lovelorn secret is safe with me." He winked conspiratorially. "Lead me to the kitchen, Henry Small. I want to meet Kitty Russell and her young man."

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Emmett engulfed his old friend Leland in a bear hug when he entered the warm kitchen. The two elderly gentlemen roared their happy, gruff greetings, pounding each other on the back, eyes sparkling merrily. When they'd said their hellos, they finished with an undefinable look into each other's eyes, a glance that spoke of shared life experiences, memories, secrets and heartaches. The two men had a bond that ran deep.

Blessing broke the moment self-consciously, indicating the bench beside the kitchen table. "Sit down! Sit down, you old codger!"

"Not until you introduce me to this lovely young lady," Judge Nation replied formally, removing his hat.

"I'm sorry! Where on earth are my manners? Livin' out like this, I forget how civilized people act sometimes!" Leland apologized. "I'm sorry, child. I didn't forget about ya'." He cleared his throat. "Judge Emmett Nation, this here is Miss Kitty Russell, and you'll be marryin' her to her sweetheart tomorrow, God willin' and the creek don't rise!"

Emmett was at once struck by the beauty of this girl with flaming red hair, porcelain skin and bright blue eyes. But she also radiated an inner poise and charm as she quickly used a towel to wipe her hands and then stepped forward to confidently greet him. Firmly, she took his hand and smiled at him warmly. "I'm so glad to finally meet you, Judge. Mr. Blessing has told me so much about you."

Her self-assured manner belied her extremely youthful appearance, the old judge ruminated. He replied, "And not a word of it is true, I can assure you!" Both men laughed heartily at the joke, but Emmett noticed how Leland's eyes sparkled as he looked at her. The impression he'd received from the rancher's letter was true-Leland apparently thought a great deal of the girl.

Leland chuckled, "And don't you believe a dadgum word he says about me, either, child. He's the biggest liar in the west!"

Enjoying their camaraderie, Kitty laughed, not a delicate, ladylike titter, but a sound that came from clear down in her toes, thought Nation, and he knew then and there he was going to like this beautiful, earthy girl.

Rubbing a hand over his graying beard, he inquired, "Where's the lucky groom, young lady?"

She answered with a crooked smile, "He'll be here pretty soon, Judge. If there's one thing you can say about Matt, it's that he's never late for supper."

Leland reminded his friend, "You may recall from my letter that he's my new foreman."

"Yeah, that's right. You said you were finally slowin' down a little? I can't believe that, can you, Miss Russell?"

"Oh, please call me Kitty, Judge."

"It's an honor, Kitty, for a lovely girl such as you," he nodded at her. "And Leland, I can't believe you have retired."

Blessing shook his head. "Now, I haven't been put completely out to pasture, Emmett. Just leavin' some of the work to my most trusted man. Matt is..."

Kitty was stirring dumplings on the stove with her back turned, but she was listening in interest to the conversation.

Blessing continued quietly, "...he's a fine young man, Emmett. I'd trust him with my life, and that's the God's honest truth."

Nation answered with a sober, knowing look at the friend he'd experienced the horrors of war with. "That's sayin' a lot, Leland. That's sayin' a lot."

Her chest still swelling with pride at Mr. Blessing's heartfelt commendation of Matt, she heard the door open. Kitty happily exclaimed, "Matt!" And one of the tallest young cowboys Judge Nation had ever seen strode through the door, grinning back at her. Matt actually had to remove his hat and duck a little to make it through the frame.

"Kitty," Matt answered, and the quiet glance that passed between them spoke volumes. Nation stood eagerly to shake the hand of the young man that Leland Blessing trusted so much.

Blessing hurried to introduce them. "Matt Dillon, this is Judge Emmett Nation. He's the one that's gonna get you two hitched tomorrow!"

Matt's face self-consciously turned a little pink but he shook Nation's hand with a strong grip, smiling, "Judge. I've heard a lot about you..."

Nation laughingly protested, "Oh no, here we go again!" He grinned as they sat on opposite sides of the table. "I assure you none of it was my fault!"

Matt added jokingly, "Oh, I'm sure you've changed your ways since then, Judge, bein' an officer of the court and all."

The judge laughed appreciatively at the young man's dry wit.

Kitty quietly served the men their supper and prepared to leave, but Mr. Blessing insisted she join them in spite of her protests that they probably wanted to discuss old times. So she sat beside Matt and enjoyed the raucous conversation, not sure which of the stories the old men were telling were true and which were pure, unadulterated hogwash. She and Matt laughed until their stomachs hurt with tales of late night, liquored up hijinks, covert tequila runs into enemy territory, and Mexican jail breaks involving knives concealed in tamales. There were also highly ill-advised pranks, the most outrageous of which involved a full-grown horse in the upstairs hallway of an establishment Kitty fully suspected was a whorehouse although neither man would admit it in front of a lady. Kitty was amused at that ironic fact. If they only knew what her life had been like in the past...

While they were laughing, Matt slipped Kitty's hand in his beneath the table, giving it a squeeze, and Kitty smiled up at him. Tomorrow they would be married. Tomorrow they would become man and wife. It seemed unreal. It was unreal. How had all this come about? But then she remembered the hurt she had felt back in Dodge when Matt had taken off on his own after being shot, not knowing if he would ever return to her. She now looked up into the shining, gentle eyes of her young cowboy who was holding her hand, who wanted to marry her and spend the rest of his life with her. Right then Kitty Russell decided hers was not to question why, or how, and she instead reveled in being so close to him and enjoying this evening with friends, this evening before their wedding day.

Suddenly Kitty realized it was dark, and she needed to be going home. Tomorrow would be a long day and she needed to get plenty of sleep. Plus, she was sure these two old comrades would enjoy spending some time talking alone. Kitty stood and gave her apologies, clearing the dishes, and Matt wordlessly stood and brought in clean water from the well, pouring some into the pan on the stove. Then he whispered in her ear, "Come outside with me for a minute, Kitty," and his breath stirred the loose hair hanging on her neck after a long day's work, making her shiver deliciously. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and followed him. The old gents pretended not to notice the sweethearts' departure, but when they were gone, they smiled at each other knowingly.

Outside, Matt quickly pulled Kitty against him, his hand caressing the small of her back, and he kissed her urgently. Then he drew back and in a voice full of wonder, he said, "Tomorrow you'll be mine, Kitty Russell."

"And you'll be all mine, Matthew Dillon," she murmured, placing her hands on his cheeks. Then she drank deeply from his lips, gently, sweetly, until he groaned and pulled away again.

"I can't take much more waitin', honey," he drawled in frustration, rubbing his hand over his face.

Tiptoeing, she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, and she could feel him trembling. "You won't have to wait too awful much longer," she breathed softly in his ear. "Just until tomorrow, Cowboy."

He took her hand and kissed her palm, a gesture which made her chest ache. Then he pushed his hat back on his forehead with an index finger. His voice sounded a little gruff with pent-up emotion. "I'll see ya' tomorrow then, Kitty."

As she watched him lope off toward the barn, she called out, "I love you, Cowboy."

He gave her a lingering glance over his shoulder as he walked. "I love you, too, sweetheart."

tbc

Author's Note: Judge Emmett Nation's character is loosely based on the larger-than-life historical "character" Judge Roy Bean. His unbelievable tale makes for fascinating reading.

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