A Passionate Understanding: Vignettes Through the Years

A.N. My writing desire has been highly dampened lately, but this short piece was the product of a recent fic writer's challenge. I revised it a little and thought I'd add it to this collection of mostly plotless ruminations. I hope it brings a smile to your day.

"Interruption"
by lilyjack

"Why, Mister Dillon!"

"Well, uh, hey there, Chester!" Flustered crystal blue eyes peered out the door, glanced with relief toward the empty landing.

"Goodness gracious, Mister Dillon, I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, you see, I… I was just on my way out, as a matter of fact."

"I thought you'd still be out to the Abernathy's place lookin' fer them rustlers." Lean fingers curiously scratched at dark, lanky hair. "Wasn't you gonna stay overnight since it was such a fur piece to ride all in one spell?"

"Well," Broad shoulders shrugged tentatively. "…I was, Chester, but…"

"But I don't blame ya', not one little bit, fer not stayin' any longer than you just had to. Birdie, she's such a sweet little gal, so kind and a' awful good cook, too. Her fluffy cornbread and hot apple pie, oh my, they's just larrupin'. Forevermore, it makes my mouth water just standin' here a' thinkin' about it."

"Chester, I…"

"Yeah, but Birdie's ol' man Dink is a whole 'nother story. I tell ya', he always acts like he swallowed a sour persimmon down his gullet whole."

"Yeah, he can be purdy cantankerous, but, Chester, I reckon I better be going…"

Big, booted feet stilled again when dark eyes fixed him with a troubled stare. "You know what he said to me one time, Mister Dillon? He had the nerve to say he believed I didn't have sense but to go huntin' prairie chickens with a hammer. I'll swan, Mister Dillon. What'd make a man wanna go and say somethin' like that fer?"

"Oh, I dunno, Chester. Some people seem to stay a in bad temper all the time."

"Mister Dillon, you musta' rode yer horse awful fast all the way back to Dodge without yer hat on or else there was a real big wind."

"A big wind?"

"Yer hair's stickin' straight up, 'specially in the back there. Musta been a northerly wind."

"Oh, yeah, thanks, Chester. Didn't realize…" Self-conscious fingers raked through the unruly waves. "That any better?"

"Yep, you look purty normal now. 'Cept yer shirt's buttoned a little crooked. I reckon you got dressed in the dark."

"Why…" Surprised eyes shot down to his shirtfront, followed by a quick throat clearing. "…how did you know I couldn't see to dress proper? I sure was in a rush to get home, wasn't I? I'll fix it soon as I get back to the jail. I need to freshen up after my, uh, long, hard ride."

"I'm surprised Miss Kitty didn't tell you your hair got blowed all over tarnation."

"Uh, Miss Kitty?"

"Yeah, she's standin' there right behind ya'."

"Oh!" A furtive glance into the room behind him, another noisome throat-clearing. "Well, hey there again, Kitty!"

Warm voice tinged with wry amusement, she sidled comfortably to his side. "Hey there again, yourself, Matt."

"Mister Dillon, ya' didn't think I come all the way up t' Miss Kitty's room at this hour of the mornin' to see you, did ya'?"

Long thumbs hooked familiarly into his belt. "…uh, no, I reckon not, Chester."

"I'm surprised Miss Kitty didn't throw you out on yer ear, wakin' her up s' early."

"I'm mighty surprised, too, Chester." Another furtive glance to the red-headed figure in nightclothes beside him. "Why didn't you throw me out, Kitty, when I, uh, came and woke you up at such an ungodly hour?"

Twinkling deep blue eyes met his straight on. "Oh, I reckon I felt sorry for ya', Matt. You looked right pitiful, I guess."

"Well, Miss Kitty, you look awful purty this mornin', with yer hair all down on yer shoulders. I don't reckon I ever seen it so soft and shiny and… How come you don't wear it like that all the time?"

A ladylike snort. "It ain't proper for a lady to wear her hair down in public, Chester."

"Oh, I see… But I bet Mister Dillon thinks it's purty, too, don'tcha, Mister Dillon? Have you ever seed Miss Kitty with her hair like that before? I just bet…"

A deep voice hastily interrupted. "Chester, I think it's time we both leave. Uh, Kitty…thanks for passin' along that, uh, information about the…commotion here in the Long Branch last night. And, uh, sorry I rousted you outta bed so early. Those, uh, Smith brothers instigated it, you say?"

Feminine hands thoughtfully touched her chin. "Yeah…I believe it probably was those troublemaking Smith brothers, Matt."

"I'll be sure and look into it for ya, Kitty. Wouldn't want those Smith brothers to raise any more ruckuses around Dodge, now would we?"

A wiry frame ruffled somewhat indignantly. "Smith brothers? Mister Dillon, I never heard a' them. Miss Kitty, when was there a commotion in the Long Branch? I didn't hear nothin' about it. Why, you coulda 'come told me, and I woulda'…"

"I know you would've, Chester." Honeyed tones and a grateful expression quickly reassured him. "You're always a big help to me. But it's alright. I'm sure the brave marshal here will have things in hand pretty quick."

A big sigh of relief resounded from a broad chest. "Chester, let's you and me go so Kitty can put that purty red hair of hers up nice and proper and…"

"Oh, I nearly clean fergot!"

Beefy arms crossed in near exasperation. "What now, Chester?"

"The reason why I come here, that's what. My pants!"

Softly freckled alabaster hands flew to her ivory ruffled decollate. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Chester. I nearly forgot, too. Hold on and let me go grab 'em off the chair."

A deep voice rumbled archly, "Your pants, Chester?"

"Miss Kitty was a' fixin' 'em fer me. I ripped 'em and they's my best pair."

The rustling of perfumed silk and lace approached once more. "Here ya' go, Chester. One pair of black wool trousers, all stitched up."

"Would you lookie there, Mister Dillon? The stitches in the seat of these pants is so neat, you can't even tell they was ripped in the first place. Why, I figger even ol' Doc couldn't a' stitched 'em no better."

"Yeah, Chester, Kitty's pretty good with those hands a' hers."

"You better believe it, Cowboy."

"Mister Dillon, I couldn't very well take Ada Rose O'Dell to the sociable tonight in a pair a' ripped britches, now, could I?"

A deep cough. "I certainly hope not, Chester."

"Why, Mister Dillon, I just figgered out why you got dressed in the dark and come ridin' home all night long with yer hair a'blowing in the North Wind!"

"You did, didja'?"

"It was t' git home in time to take Miss Kitty to the sociable this year!"

"Just maybe you're right, Chester. You're a pretty smart fella, you know that?"

"Dink Abernathy don't think I'm s' smart."

"Aw Chester, Dink Abernathy can go boil his shirt. Let's head downstairs, pardner, and leave Miss Kitty be so she can pin that soft, shiny hair up real fancy and put on her purtiest dress."

"Alright, Mister Dillon. Thanks a whole heap, Miss Kitty. I surely do appreciate it."

"You're more than welcome, Chester. And, Matt…?"

"Yeah, Kitty?"

"Don't forget your hat."

"Oh! I sure did almost leave it behind." Quiet glances exchanged with the hat. "Thanks, Kitty. Pick you up at seven for the sociable?'

"Uh-huh… Later, Matt."

"Later, Kitty."

end

ljljljljlj