"Matt…sometimes…sometimes…I still see him. When you and Doc and I are sitting at our table talking and laughing, I'll glance over to signal for another round, and for just a second, I see Sam. Then I blink, and there's gentle Floyd smiling at me quizzically, eyebrows raised."
The big man tightened his arms around the beautiful woman and kissed the top of her head, her soft red hair redolent of roses and lilacs. They were lying entwined in the big brass bed in Kitty's room above the saloon. It was the soft, peaceful hour between night and dawn, the time they most often shared their thoughts. This was when their hearts and minds meshed after the ever-sweet sharing of their bodies.
"Kitty. It's only been about six weeks. After so many days of so many years together, that is only to be expected. Sam and the bar were one. He knew you better than almost anyone. You relied on him and he loved you with a fierce loyalty."
Now he felt the warm tears on his bare chest where her head rested. She hated to cry in front of even him, so he just squeezed her and whispered one of their private endearments in her ear.
Losing Sam so suddenly had stunned Kitty, and she was still recovering from her denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, working herself towards acceptance. She tried her best to always be pleasant, smiling, and polite with Floyd, who understood and never tried to push or "be" irreplaceable Sam. But she still held something back, not wanting to give everything to him as she had to dear Sam. She knew this feeling of disloyalty didn't make sense, but it was still a struggle to be more than employee and saloon owner.
Kitty thought back to the many times her Sam had been injured while trying to defend her, and of how he would unhesitatingly put his broad, six-foot-five inch frame between her and danger, fearlessly staring down multiple gun barrels. He had been a quiet and gentle giant unless she were threatened.
But she also thought back fondly on their shared jokes and laughter, such as the time Festus had been going on and on to poor frustrated Doc about wooden lightning rods. She and Sam had stood back by the end of the bar, watching and whispering in delight. Sam totally "got" her, always and instantly. They had developed their own silent language in the noisy saloon, often only having to raise an eyebrow at each other. She never thought it would end, and now the pang in her heart stabbed her every time she went behind the bar.
One of her favorite memories was the time she had seen Sam head for the back door during a slow period at the bar when only one bartender was needed. Kitty had noticed him occasionally doing that, and knowing he didn't smoke at work, was curious as to what he did out there. This time, he had noticed her watching, and had motioned for her to accompany him.
"I'm sorry, Sam, I don't mean to pry. You go on."
"No, Miss Kitty. I WANT you to come with me! Please."
He held out his massive hand, and led her outside when she put her small hand in his. Sam led her a short way through the dim alley until they were away from the closeness of the buildings and emerged in a small hidden courtyard with an iron bench under a large elm tree.
"I often eat my lunch here, and try to come sit here for a few minutes each moonlit night when we're not too busy and I can take a break," he said in a deep, soft voice. They both sat down on the bench.
Kitty nodded and said nothing, the soothing sound of the leaves over their heads, and the sweet smell of the not too distant prairie made any unnecessary words feel intrusive. She exhaled the smoky, pungent air of the saloon, and filled her lungs with the clean freshness.
The few clouds in the sky parted, and the golden full moon was revealed, so bright that shadows appeared on the ground. Sam's face creased in a big smile that transformed his imposing face, and he pointed up with one long arm.
"LOOK, Miss Kitty, LOOK! All of those craters and shadows. You have to look past those individual rough spots to see the wonderful face of the 'Man in the Moon.' Do you see him?"
The puzzled woman first looked over at her big friend's own face, now bathed in moonlight and broadly smiling, then up at the marvelous object glowing in the heavens so inconceivably far away. She never saw Sam in the rude way some cowboys did who often insulted him their first time in the Long Branch, making cruel remarks about his homely appearance. Once they saw the warning glare in her icy blue eyes, they stopped their jeers, picked up their drinks, and slinked away to a table. Now she blinked a few times, and refocused her attention on the full moon, and gasped a little as the dark areas seemed to magically form into a benevolent face.
"Sam! I don't know how many times I've looked at the moon without seeing a face there! He looks so friendly and happy! How marvelous! Am I the only one who has never noticed before?"
"Oh no, Miss Kitty! Most people look at things around them every day and never see them. I feel like that man up there." His voice had become almost a whisper now, as if he were talking to himself:
"Most people, when they first see me, see only the individual parts. They see the deep creases, the battered nose and ears, the leathery skin. The craters and the shadows. You have always seen my whole face. Me. You see the 'Man in the Moon' in me."
The lovely woman put her hand over the hand of the big, rough-looking man sitting next to her, and they sat in companionable silence, both entranced by the enormous bright orb in the night sky.