Kitty sat alone in the Long Branch, nursing a brandy. Matt and Doc had been gone for close to three hours, and it was nearing sunrise. She stifled a long yawn, and stretched her neck. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her head into her hands; it had been a long night. Kitty shivered involuntarily, and was suddenly aware that she wasn't alone. Her eyes snapped open, and she quickly looked about the room, only to find that no one was there. She shook her head at herself and the tricks her mind was playing on her. A moment later, she jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked, but once again, there was no one with her. Kitty looked into the deep amber color of her brandy and wondered if it was causing her to hallucinate.
Festus. In some way that she couldn't understand, he was at the crux of the unease that each of them had felt. And she couldn't honestly deny that she had felt Festus with her, even though it was impossible.
Matt glanced over at Doc, but the old man was still staring straight ahead in front of him, as he'd been doing since they had left Dodge. Not a single word had passed between them, and Dillon was beginning to feel the tension between them. He cleared his throat, but Doc didn't seem to notice. He waited another few minutes, and then finally spoke.
"You're awfully quiet, Doc."
"That so?"
"Yeah, it is."
Doc glanced over at Dillon. "Lot on my mind I guess..."
"We'll find him, Doc."
Adams couldn't mask the emotion in his voice, "I can't shake this, Matt."
Dillon sighed and looked ahead. "Me neither." Matt looked again at Adams. "What bothers me is the irrationality of it all."
Adams turned to look at the sun which was just peeking out over the horizon. "Ain't nothin' logical about feelin's like this, no sir."
"He wasn't even due back until tomorrow."
Doc's voice was laden with anxiety, "We've gotta find him now, Matt. Tomorrow'd just be too late."
Matt pulled the reins up on the horses, and stared at the doctor. "Calm down, Doc. We don't even know if anything's wrong."
The old man's voice grew more intense, "Confound it, Matt, there is somethin' wrong! Festus needs us..." His voice grew quiet, "I can't explain how I know it, but..." He made a fist in front of his belly, "deep down in here, I know it."
Matt swallowed hard and nodded. The marshal slapped the reins on the rears of the horses and once again, they were moving forward.
Festus awoke as the sun began to rise, casting light across one side of his face. He moaned in deep pain. He figured his right thigh was shattered, and he was pretty sure most of his ribs were splintered. Slowly, he reached a hand up to his throbbing head, and felt blood. He shivered hard, and wished he at least had a bottle of whiskey to ease the inevitable. Matt wouldn't miss him until at least the evening, and surely no one would come looking for him so soon. The deputy wondered why such a fate would befall him. He hated the idea of dying alone.
"Damned ol' mule..."
He coughed slightly, and the motion sent waves of agony through his broken ribs. He cried out in pain, but there wasn't so much as a prairie dog nearby to hear him.