The Shack Part II
This is about a year later. Just me trying to write something different. A story without fistfights, gunslingers or bank holdups.
It had been a tough spring. More than the usual number of cattle drives had come through Dodge that year and that brought more than the usual number of drovers to town. Now the relative peace of the occasional gunslinger or bank hold up had returned.
Matt was on his way back from Hays city. He had made a slight detour from the trail to introduce himself to a group of settlers who, he heard, had established a small homestead out this way. Having taken care of that, he was taking a different route to make the return trip to Dodge a little shorter, he topped a small rise and then in the distance saw the old shack.
He remembered something about the place, a few days he had spent there with Kitty. His memory of the time was hazy, but he could feel peace and contentment when he thought about it.
He turned the buckskin he was riding in the direction of the shabby building. He remembered that porch and the two rocking chairs he had repaired. They were still sitting there, unoccupied. He tied the horse to the rail in front of the place and went inside. It looked just the same as when he was last here, at least as far as his foggy memories could tell.
He looked at the old bed in the small back room. Again muddled memories came flooding back. Memories of soft, quiet peace and Kitty. Her smell, her touch and the patience she had for him.
Somehow he wanted to come back here again, to relive those visions he had of that gentle time.
He is thoughtful for the rest of the ride back to Dodge.
He had been gone almost two weeks.
Kitty Russell was standing behind the bar helping Clem restock the whisky bottles before the evening really got going. Looking up she sees that familiar head and shoulders standing there, looking over the doors. Stopping what she is doing she walks over to meet him.
They exchange familiar words, and she escorts him to the back table where they can enjoy a cool beer and the last few minutes of the quiet of afternoon before the evening begins in earnest.
"I had an idea this morning," he tells her after finishing that first beer. "Is there anyway you could get a few days away from this place?"
Kitty is surprised, usually it is she who has to drag him away from this town and the responsibilities of his job.
"What's on your mind Cowboy?"
He sits back a little in his chair – turning so he is facing her. Clem brought him a second beer, which he is staring at.
After a moments silence he tells her how he came across the old shack out there on the prairie where they been holed up for those few peaceful days just over a year ago. Somehow he feels cheated that he does not have all those memories. He would like for them to take fishing poles and supplies and have some time together there. Some time that he could remember as well.
It is almost fall before he gets everything arranged, but somehow it comes together. He manages to get a deputy from Hays to come for a week to help Festus, and at first light one morning, with a wagon full of supplies and fishing poles, the Marshal and Kitty head north towards the old shack.
They get within sight of the place and Kitty remembers their last time here. She moves closer to the Marshal as they travel the last half-mile. He stops the wagon and helps her down.
They push the door open and go inside. Kitty is amazed. The place has been cleaned up. The wood box by the stove is full, and when she opens the door to the small bedroom, the bed is made with clean linens, soft pillows and a hand stitched quilt in soft greens and yellows. There are lacy flowing curtains at the window and a painted lamp by the bedside.
She looks at him. "I was wondering where you disappeared to last week," she said. "Festus said you had taken a couple of days to go fishing, but I thought it was odd that you never came back with anything."
"I wanted it to be nice when I brought you back here. I borrowed the quilt from Ma Smalley. I thought it would make the place look more like home."
They unload the supplies from the wagon and Matt takes care of the horse.
The early fall evening is warm and they walk arm in arm across the prairie. Eventually they come to the small stream Matt found on their previous visit. They sit watching the fading light play on the ripples, feeling comfortable in the sounds of nature that surround them.
She fingers his shirt. "Matt?" He is not wearing his badge.
He smiles at her, "This is our time Kitty. For a few days I am going to forget that piece of metal – just as I did before. I want us to find the same happiness we had then, even if it is only for a few days."
"How much do you remember of before?"
"Mostly just feeling softness, quiet, no worries, just you and me. Most of it is missing, Doc said I may never remember."
He takes her in his arms, and they sit there for a while, she huddled against his chest. Somehow the absence of that badge seems strange to her. It is something she has wanted out of the way for a long time. On the other hand, it does not seem quite right without it.
Eventually, after a long kiss, he helps her to her feet and they go back to their retreat, anticipating the few days of happiness that lie ahead.
The bedroom is cool. Now in the darker evenings of the season there is even a chill around them. The lacy curtains move gently as air moves in through cracks around the window and disturbs the soft fabric.
Matt goes through the home lighting lamps, and the fire in the hearth.
who she sees everyday. The man who hides his feelings, who is always watching, always alert, waiting for something to happen. Something that is his responsibility to deal with. That man is afraid or reluctant to show his feelings. Here he is different, he smiles and laughs. He holds her hand and kisses her lips just because she is there next to him and there is nothing to stop him. He is soft and gentle, a side she never sees in the daytime in Dodge.
Nothing fancy, just some stew that will be warm and comforting.
There is a lamp on the table and they sit eating in its yellow light. She looks up and he is smiling at her.
Supper is finished, they sit by the fire burning in the hearth, just talking and being close. It is still early, but daylight has gone and the flames are starting to fade. Gently he takes her in his arms and finds her soft lips.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you Kitty Russell?" he says in a soft voice she hardly ever hears. The excitement she always feels when he is close, runs through her body.
Their kiss deepens, as she feels him pull her closer to him. Suddenly she is totally in his arms and they are headed towards the bedroom that he took such care to prepare.
The bed is soft and cleaner than before. He pulls back the quilt and lays her on the sweet smelling sheets. He positions himself next to her and takes her in the crook of his arm. Quietly they lie there for several minutes, just enjoying the togetherness of it all.
He turns towards her and takes her chin in his hand. No words are needed. Just a kiss, a deep and loving kiss, exploring each other, wanting more. Then his weight on top of her. She is so used to him now that he is not heavy, just comforting and familiar. She wants to feel his skin against hers, but he is taking things slowly. He wants to savor every minute. There is no need to rush. Outside is quiet. There will be no gunshots. No commotion on Front Street that he has to rush off to break up. They are the only two people that matter.
"Relax Kitty," he murmurs, "It's just you and me. We have time to enjoy. No rush," he whispers in her ear. His tongue follows the sound and she feels his warm breath on her neck.
"Matt," – she whispers urgently
"Hush, take your time."
Gently he undoes the buttons of her blouse, she finds the fastenings on his shirt. Finally flesh against flesh.
With slow careful moves he orchestrates the love making, culminating in such passion that they both lie exhausted.
Their clothes rest next to the bed in a tumbled heap to give testament to the urgency of their need.
Sometime in the night he pulls the soft quilt around them both and holds his woman in his arms. Matt Dillon experiences pure happiness for one of the few times in his life. Knowing he will never remember the first time they were here, he feels that something precious was stolen from him. He knows now what he missed.