No one ever really saw the old man and his dog anymore.
Ralston Abbey and his old dog "Sugar" had become part of the Dodge City background, always making their rounds at 9:00AM, noon, 4:00PM, and 8:00PM every day.
A veteran of the Texas Revolution in 1835, Ralston proudly wore his tattered blue cap and faded uniform jacket with his medal for bravery pinned above his heart. He had been living in a small shack on the outskirts of Dodge for the past ten years, longer than most of the town had existed.
Since his first day there, the veteran had begun his daily walks with his then satiny, chestnut-colored lively dog. Over the years, they had grown to look alike, man with gray hair and beard, dog with white muzzle and head. Their walking gait had slowed to a leisurely stroll with frequent stops for sniffing and leaning. Six months ago the old man had begun to "walk" sweet, fourteen-year-old Sugar in a comfortably padded wagon he had found and fixed up. The wheels were painted bright red and "SUGAR" had been carefully printed on each side in blue paint.
Ever since their first walk through town, shop owners, residents, and visiting cowhands couldn't help but smile at the old military man and his friendly four-year-old, reddish-brown dog pulling him along the boardwalks by her leash. The old veteran rarely spoke, but smiled and nodded, letting Sugar do the "talking" for both of them.
After a week of seeing the man and dog on their rounds four times a day, shopkeepers like Wilbur Jonas took to stepping outside at least once a day with a few hard crackers in his hand for the dog. The lean dog could easily put her front paws up on the nearby horse trough to noisily lap up water afterwards.
As the years went on, and the old dog began to be as affected by arthritis as her owner, small bowls of water began to appear along their route on the boardwalk. The hard crackers were soaked in milk first before being handed to the grateful dog. Kitty Russell, the owner of the Long Branch, began taking meals out to Ralston's shack twice a day instead of the one she had been leaving there since she became sole owner of the saloon. She had convinced the proud man that she hated for the extra food to go to waste.
People began telling the time of day by the sight of the old man and dog heading into town. They would unknowingly glance over at the pair, and head home for lunch at noon.
Ralston and Sugar knew the routines of Dodge people, too. As they walked the boardwalks, Ralston would admiringly watch the old town doctor slowly making his way up the steep steps to his office after a call, medical bag in hand. Doc Adams always seemed to be the same, the graying of his hair the only sign of aging.
Reaching the Long Branch on his last walk of each day with Sugar, the quiet veteran would linger in the shadows, hoping to see the Marshal arriving. The big man would always pause for a moment, looking in over the tops of the swinging doors. Ralston would smile when he knew that the young lawman's eyes had found lovely Miss Kitty's sky-blue ones, and those pale blue eyes would light up with pleasure. After the old man got a glimpse of the red-haired woman as the Marshal pushed open the doors, he would pat Sugar, and resume their walk. He thought the young woman was as kind as she was beautiful, and that was saying a lot.
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On a hot, still, July morning of that tenth year, Mr. Jonas glanced at the clock in his back room. It was 8:56AM and the storekeeper grabbed a few crackers from a bin and put them in a shallow dish. Then he poured in a small amount of fresh milk delivered earlier that morning.
The usually dour man smiled to himself as he set the dish on the counter out front and watched the doorway. The very first time Sugar had gently licked his hand after eating her treat, she had captured his heart.
Up and down the street, other shopkeepers and residents set out fresh water bowls, and some put an apple in a pocket for the old man and a small bit of leftover breakfast bacon in a napkin in the other pocket for the old dog.
At 9:15AM, heads were curiously glancing out windows and doors.
By 9:30AM, Wibur Jonas and several others had stepped out onto the boardwalk and were staring down towards the far east end of town.
At 9:45AM, a small crowd began walking east, talking softly among themselves.
Matt, Kitty, Doc, and Chester had finished their breakfast together in Delmonico's, and were sitting at the table relaxing and chatting when they heard the approaching sound of the murmuring crowd on the boardwalk.
"What's that, Matt?" Kitty asked, turning her head towards the open door.
Matt stood up. "Stay here," he said in his low, commanding voice as he walked to the doorway and carefully peered out.
Wilbur Jonas was at the head of the group, saw the Marshal and stopped. The people behind shushed each other to hear.
"What's going on Jonas? Where are you all going?" Matt towered above the storekeeper as his narrowed eyes scanned the area for trouble.
"Marshal. It's going on 10:00AM and no one has seen Ralston Abbey and Sugar," he said in a tight, worried voice. Some of the people behind him nodded their heads. "We're all heading over to his shack."
Chester, Doc, and Kitty now stood in the doorway behind Matt, having overheard.
"Well, I'M going too!" Kitty stated, as she gathered her long skirts with her right hand, slid by Matt and started walking hurriedly towards the edge of town.
Matt reached one long arm back into the restaurant, grabbed his Stetson, put it on and strode towards Kitty, quickly catching up with her and taking her arm. Chester and Doc looked at each other and scurried out the door, joining the crowd now continuing on its mission down the boardwalk.