GUNSMOKE
"One Christmas Night"
The falling snow landed seamlessly as it blanketed the boardwalks of Front Street. Stealthy in its silence, it reminded him of a thief stealing away in the night. But unlike a criminal, the snow was soft and glistening in the moonlight; far more beautiful than any mischief made by man. He always enjoyed the first snowfall of the season. It left the town enclosed in the long arms of winter, bathed in the reflective glow of lamplight, and crisp in the night air. There was a stillness about the earth that was comforting to him. It was a time of calm peace, of warm hearths, gathered friends, and affections voiced. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his expressive mouth as he checked the locked doors of the general store. Once he finished his rounds, he would join his friends at the Long Branch, and lift a glass in thanks for another year together, and the many more to come. It was a tradition long treasured, and a party that Marshal Matt Dillon looked forward to attending every Christmas Eve.
The downward blow of the gun handle on his skull ended any more thoughts of the party, the Long Branch, his friends, or Dodge City.
***********
Kitty's cheeks were colored red from the warmth of the room, and the contents of her glass.
"Come on Festus," she cajoled, "you haven't favored us with a tune tonight."
The normally ragged looking deputy seemed to almost shine in his spruced holiday apparel, and clean-shaven face. He blushed slightly with the embarrassment of her attention.
"Aw, now, Miss Kitty," He drawled, "I don't reckon there's a tune I knowed that'd sound good enough in my voice to sang here tonight."
Kitty Russell's shock of red hair shook emphatically, "Nonsense, Festus. Now you just sit down with that guitar there, and sing something."
Festus took the guitar Clem Richards was holding, sat down on a chair, and then looked at the hushed crowd in the Long Branch.
"This here's one of Grandpa Hawg Haggen's favorites..."
Doc threw back a belt of whiskey, muttering, "Saints preserve us...."
Kitty playfully swatted the old doctor's shoulder and he winked at her. Undaunted by the jibe, Festus began to gently pull the strings of the guitar, striking the notes of each chord in accompaniment to his sweet baritone. As the tune of O Holy Night floated through the saloon, all extraneous sounds ceased. By the time he hit the last note of the final chord, and his voice softly faded to an echo only in the minds of the listeners, the Long Branch was completely still. Sam, Burke, and Newly stood transfixed with all the others by the depth of emotions the deputy could evoke when he sang. Tears streaked down Kitty's face, and she struggled to hold back more. Even the curmudgeonly Dr. Adams had taken a hold of Kitty's hand, and was clutching it dearly to his chest.
Festus looked up into Kitty's blue eyes, and the raw emotion he saw in them tugged at his own sentiment. Standing, he set the guitar down, pulled his hat off his head, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
"I didn't mean ta make ya cry none, Miss Kitty."
"I'm not crying Festus."
The deputy frowned slightly, "Well it sure done looks like ya are.I wouldn't never do nothin' to make you sad...."
"You didn't, Festus. You have one of the sweetest voices this side of the Mississippi; it just makes me emotional is all." Kitty nodded toward Sam, "Drinks around the house!"
As the cheers went up, the celebration geared into more conversation and piano playing. Festus sat down next to Doc, and Kitty took the chair on the other side of the old physician. She looked toward the entryway expectantly.
Doc brushed her arm, "You know how he has to check every door on Front Street... even on Christmas Eve. He'll be along in a minute."
She looked back at Adams, "Yeah, I know you're right." She looked at their glasses, "Hey, we're out of whiskey. I'll be right back."
The two men watched her glide out of the room toward the back office. Once she was out of earshot, Festus leaned in toward Adams.
"Matthew has been gone a right long time."
The doctor looked at him incredulously, "What? You too? Matt's been a US Marshal for twenty years, he hardly needs the likes of you to baby-sit him!"
Festus snarled back at him, "I wasn't suggestin' that Matthew done needs my help to make rounds, nor none other thang, no sir, but after ten years of law workin' my own self, I done know a thing or three 'bout it." He squinted his eye at Doc, "And it don't take this long to make rounds on Front Street."
Festus stood.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm a-goin' to make sure nothin' happened out there, that's whar..."
Kitty reappeared with a bottle of whiskey, and Doc held out his glass to her.
"Save me from the idiocy that prevails at this table."
Festus stared at him, not understanding exactly what he said, but certainly that it was about him, and that it wasn't a compliment. He glared at Adams for a moment, then turned to Kitty as he put on his coat and hat.
"I'll be back, Miss Kitty... I'm jes' goin' to see what's a-keepin' Matthew."
Kitty nodded, the thanks in her eyes plain, "I'll have a shot ready for both of you when you get back to take off the chill."
Festus tipped his hat, "That'd be right nice, Miss Kitty. Right nice...."
The deputy of Dodge walked out of the Long Branch and into a snow covered portrait of Front Street. The wind had begun to rise, and with it, the frigid air of the north. Festus tried to burrow deeper into his coat, but knew it wasn't going to help. He looked up and down the street, but saw no sign of Dillon. Resigning himself to his task, Festus moved up the street and systematically began looking for the marshal. The quicker he found him, the sooner he could sit back down in the warmth of the saloon, and enjoy a shot of the finest whiskey in Kansas.
Matthew had to be somewhere: after all, people didn't simply disappear in Dodge, especially on Christmas Eve.
The falling snow landed seamlessly as it blanketed the boardwalks of Front Street. Stealthy in its silence, it reminded him of a thief stealing away in the night. But unlike a criminal, the snow was soft and glistening in the moonlight; far more beautiful than any mischief made by man. He always enjoyed the first snowfall of the season. It left the town enclosed in the long arms of winter, bathed in the reflective glow of lamplight, and crisp in the night air. There was a stillness about the earth that was comforting to him. It was a time of calm peace, of warm hearths, gathered friends, and affections voiced. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his expressive mouth as he checked the locked doors of the general store. Once he finished his rounds, he would join his friends at the Long Branch, and lift a glass in thanks for another year together, and the many more to come. It was a tradition long treasured, and a party that Marshal Matt Dillon looked forward to attending every Christmas Eve.
The downward blow of the gun handle on his skull ended any more thoughts of the party, the Long Branch, his friends, or Dodge City.
***********
Kitty's cheeks were colored red from the warmth of the room, and the contents of her glass.
"Come on Festus," she cajoled, "you haven't favored us with a tune tonight."
The normally ragged looking deputy seemed to almost shine in his spruced holiday apparel, and clean-shaven face. He blushed slightly with the embarrassment of her attention.
"Aw, now, Miss Kitty," He drawled, "I don't reckon there's a tune I knowed that'd sound good enough in my voice to sang here tonight."
Kitty Russell's shock of red hair shook emphatically, "Nonsense, Festus. Now you just sit down with that guitar there, and sing something."
Festus took the guitar Clem Richards was holding, sat down on a chair, and then looked at the hushed crowd in the Long Branch.
"This here's one of Grandpa Hawg Haggen's favorites..."
Doc threw back a belt of whiskey, muttering, "Saints preserve us...."
Kitty playfully swatted the old doctor's shoulder and he winked at her. Undaunted by the jibe, Festus began to gently pull the strings of the guitar, striking the notes of each chord in accompaniment to his sweet baritone. As the tune of O Holy Night floated through the saloon, all extraneous sounds ceased. By the time he hit the last note of the final chord, and his voice softly faded to an echo only in the minds of the listeners, the Long Branch was completely still. Sam, Burke, and Newly stood transfixed with all the others by the depth of emotions the deputy could evoke when he sang. Tears streaked down Kitty's face, and she struggled to hold back more. Even the curmudgeonly Dr. Adams had taken a hold of Kitty's hand, and was clutching it dearly to his chest.
Festus looked up into Kitty's blue eyes, and the raw emotion he saw in them tugged at his own sentiment. Standing, he set the guitar down, pulled his hat off his head, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
"I didn't mean ta make ya cry none, Miss Kitty."
"I'm not crying Festus."
The deputy frowned slightly, "Well it sure done looks like ya are.I wouldn't never do nothin' to make you sad...."
"You didn't, Festus. You have one of the sweetest voices this side of the Mississippi; it just makes me emotional is all." Kitty nodded toward Sam, "Drinks around the house!"
As the cheers went up, the celebration geared into more conversation and piano playing. Festus sat down next to Doc, and Kitty took the chair on the other side of the old physician. She looked toward the entryway expectantly.
Doc brushed her arm, "You know how he has to check every door on Front Street... even on Christmas Eve. He'll be along in a minute."
She looked back at Adams, "Yeah, I know you're right." She looked at their glasses, "Hey, we're out of whiskey. I'll be right back."
The two men watched her glide out of the room toward the back office. Once she was out of earshot, Festus leaned in toward Adams.
"Matthew has been gone a right long time."
The doctor looked at him incredulously, "What? You too? Matt's been a US Marshal for twenty years, he hardly needs the likes of you to baby-sit him!"
Festus snarled back at him, "I wasn't suggestin' that Matthew done needs my help to make rounds, nor none other thang, no sir, but after ten years of law workin' my own self, I done know a thing or three 'bout it." He squinted his eye at Doc, "And it don't take this long to make rounds on Front Street."
Festus stood.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm a-goin' to make sure nothin' happened out there, that's whar..."
Kitty reappeared with a bottle of whiskey, and Doc held out his glass to her.
"Save me from the idiocy that prevails at this table."
Festus stared at him, not understanding exactly what he said, but certainly that it was about him, and that it wasn't a compliment. He glared at Adams for a moment, then turned to Kitty as he put on his coat and hat.
"I'll be back, Miss Kitty... I'm jes' goin' to see what's a-keepin' Matthew."
Kitty nodded, the thanks in her eyes plain, "I'll have a shot ready for both of you when you get back to take off the chill."
Festus tipped his hat, "That'd be right nice, Miss Kitty. Right nice...."
The deputy of Dodge walked out of the Long Branch and into a snow covered portrait of Front Street. The wind had begun to rise, and with it, the frigid air of the north. Festus tried to burrow deeper into his coat, but knew it wasn't going to help. He looked up and down the street, but saw no sign of Dillon. Resigning himself to his task, Festus moved up the street and systematically began looking for the marshal. The quicker he found him, the sooner he could sit back down in the warmth of the saloon, and enjoy a shot of the finest whiskey in Kansas.
Matthew had to be somewhere: after all, people didn't simply disappear in Dodge, especially on Christmas Eve.