Days of My Life

A Curious Encounter

Twas the season to be jolly.

Christmas eve. The Long Branch decked with boughs of holly. A tree dressed in strings of popcorn and sparkling ornaments, flickered with candle light. Paper streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, streaks of red and green twirling through the air. Tables filled with sweets and spirits. Gift giving, music, laughter. A celebration among friends.

Upstairs in the afterhours. Private party. Private gifts. Oo  La  La  La  La, La  La  La  La 

 

 

The upstairs room now quiet, not a creature stirring. Cold. Embers in the fire grate barely glowing. In exhausted slumber, he with arm and leg thrown across her. Pinning her down. She with blissful smile in deep sleep. Dreaming of sugar plums.

When the noise came it rattled the window panes. Reverberated inside the room.

“Oh, my god,” jolting upright. “What was that?” Blanket clutched tightly against her chest.

Already halfway into his union suit, “An explosion.” Pulling on pants, sliding bare feet into boots.

“Matt, its freezing out there . . . get dressed.”

“No time.” Grabbing his coat and gun belt, hat jammed on his head, he rushed out the door. She could hear him pounding down the back stairs.

Out in the street Festus came running, “Matthew, sounded like the freight office.”

“You and I’ll take the front.” Shouting a second set of directions, “Newly, the freight office. Head around to the back.”

Stationing themselves on either side of the now missing door, guns drawn, they waited. Listening.

From the rear of the building Newly called out, “Marshal, they’re gone. Looks like there were three horses.”

His nod sent Festus heading to the back, “Check out their tracks.”

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned to meet head on what he knew would be the second explosion of the day.

Coat buttons misaligned, nightshirt hanging down over pants legs, striped scarf twice wrapped round his head. Taking a peek inside. “They blew up the safe?” disbelief in his voice. He spun around in confrontation. “Why are you standing here? Go after them!”

“Burke, I need an answer first. What was in the safe?”

“Money!” he spat out the word. “Eight thousand dollars.” Voice getting louder. “Came in yesterday.” Yelling, now. “Supposed to go out on tomorrow’s train.”

He stood for a moment watching as Burke picked his way through the rubble. Windows blown out. Part of the outside wall missing. Papers everywhere, bits and pieces floating on the drafts passing through the openings. Some finding their way into the street.

As Festus and Newly came around the corner he called out, “Better go get into some warm clothes. Ask Hank to help with the horses. Meet me at the office in twenty minutes.” Flipping up his coat collar against the cold, “Burke . . .” Needing a second try. “Burke! There’re some men out here. See if they can help you stretch a tarp or somethin’ until it gets light enough to board things up.” He didn’t wait for an answer.

Back at the office he finished getting dressed. Wool socks. Corduroy shirt. Heavy jeans. Winter boots. Packing jerky, coffee, three cups and coffee pot in his saddle bags. Grabbing rifles and a box of shells, he headed back outside.

Glancing across the street. A figure backlit in the doorway of the Long Branch. Kitty. Quilt draped over her head, wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Setting down his gear he waded over to her through the slightly drifted snow.

Shivering in the cold, “Matt, what happened?”

“Three men blew the safe in the freight office. We’re headin’ out after ‘em.”

“It’s Christmas,” looking up at him, her eyes full of disappointment.

A sigh. “I know, Kitty.” Giving her a hug as much for warmth as for comfort, “That’s probably why they did it now. Thinkin’ they’d get a better head start.” A tighter squeeze, “We’ll get back as soon as we can.”

“Promise?” she mumbled into his coat.

 

Darkness slowly replaced by the weak light of a gloomy day. Three riders hunched over in their saddles following three sets of tracks. Hands and feet aching, cheeks raw, legs numbed by the cold.

The crest of a hill showed them a railroad shack. Light glowing through the window, smoke from the chimney. Three horses standing in a small corral.

Approaching cautiously.

The door swung open. An old man, beard,  soot-covered overalls, stepped out. Closing the door tightly behind him. “Howdy, what can I do for you?”

The wind suddenly sending up swirling snow. He waited for it to settle. “I’m the marshal outta Dodge.” His gloveless hand hovered near his gun. “We’re trailin’ three men who robbed the freight office. Their tracks lead here.” His words coming out in clouds of white.

Gesturing toward the rails, “Three men came by. Asked me to signal the train to stop so they could get on.”

“When?” He didn’t bother to mask his frustration.

“Train came through about half an hour ago.” Briskly rubbing his arms, “Say, let’s not talk out here in the cold. Come on in, coffee’s hot.”

They scanned the room. Everything noted. One door in, out. One window next to the door. A shelf hung over a plank counter, food items, dishes, cups, a pot and a pan. Wooden table with four mismatched chairs. Cot along the far wall, covers neatly folded. The half dozen wall pegs held a few articles of clothing and a fur-trimmed winter coat. A desk stood near the corner. Clock on the wall, 9:30. Tacked up next to it, a timetable and a big map of Kansas and surrounding states with rail lines indicated in red.

Oil lamp burning brightly on the table, still a noticeable dimness in the corners of the room. Remaining cautious, they took off their coats and walked over to stand around the woodstove. He gave Festus and Newly a look that said ‘Let me do the talkin’.

“When’s the next train comin’ through?”

“It’ll be running late. Should come through around four this afternoon at the very latest.” Walking over to the shelf he took down three cups and carried them over to the table. Picking up a fourth cup already full of coffee he took a couple of swallows before adding, “Not scheduled to stop, though.”

“You can signal it to stop.” Giving him a level-eyed stare. Not in the mood for game playing.

“Like I did for those other three fellas?” Catching his serious look, “I can.”

The warmth from the stove began penetrating cold extremities as fingers and toes started to tingle. Nodding his head toward the desk, “See you’re able to send a telegram from here. What’s the next stop? I need to get a message to the sheriff.”

“Next stop with a sheriff’s office is Kinsley. Train’ll get there in four, maybe five hours depending on how much snow’s on the tracks.” Sitting down at the telegraph key, “What do you want to say?”

“Describe the men. What they’re wanted for. Tell the sheriff to arrest ‘em . . . and if they got off before Kinsley, have him find out where.”

“Okay,” starting to tap out the message. “Help yourselves to coffee. You got a spell to wait.”

Giving up on trying to decipher the message being sent, he turned to Newly, “Once you have a chance to get warm, I need you to head back to Dodge. Someone should be there in case anything happens.” Reluctant to continue, “Festus, I don’t really wanna ask . . . it being Christmas…”

“Don’t cha worry none, Matthew. I’m staying right here an goin’ after them three yeahoos with ya.”

Responding with a simple nod, “Thanks, if I have to follow after ‘em I can use your help.”

Telegram sent, he shuffled over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. “I didn’t catch your name, Marshal. They call me Sandy after the color of my hair.” Adding with a jolly laugh, “You’d never guess it now, it being all white. The name kinda stuck.”

“Name’s Matt Dillon…”

“Oh, I don’t bother with last names. Never can remember them.”

“Then this here’s Festus and that’s Newly.”

“Pleased to make you boys’ acquaintance.” Getting up, he moved back to the shelf, “I got some fixings here.” Turning around and pointing to the empty chairs, “Have a seat at the table, I’ll rustle you up some breakfast while we’re all waiting.”

“Come on Festus,” grabbing his coat. “Since we’ve got a long spell to wait, we’ll put our horses in the corral with the others.”

An opportunity to take a quick look around. “Check and see if there’re any tracks that tell a different story from the one he gave us.” Their search resulted in negative head shakes. The smell of frying bacon beckoning them back inside.

Four sitting around the table, three focused on the business of eating.

“You said you’re outta Dodge City?”

Swallowing a mouthful of food, “That’s right. Where’re you from? Not much out this way.”

“I live over in Ingalls, west of Dodge.”

“That’s what forty, fifty miles from here?” Surprise in his voice.

“Yep, I hop the train to work. Stay here three days, then Stan . . . he comes in by train from the east outta Offerie. I ride home to Ingalls for three days, then ride back here again.”

“Well fiddle, that there’s a plum interestin’ way ta get yaself ta work, don’t cha think, Newly?”

Grinning back, “Sure is, Festus.”

Glancing over at a calendar on the wall marked full of Xs and Os, Sandy continued. “Not really my turn to be here but Stan has a wife and two kids . . . important for him to be home for Christmas.” A shrug, “It doesn’t matter much to me where I am today.”

“Well, I surely do wish we didn’t have to be out a chasin’ after them three yeahoos today.”

“You boys got families waiting Christmas on you?”

“Sorta. Ya see, Doc, Miss Kitty, Matthew, Newly, me an friends like Louie an Sam an all. Well, we always gets us together for a rightly delicious Christmassy meal. Delmonicos, that there’s the eatin’ place in Dodge. They done close on up on Christmas so them that work there can have time off to do their own celebratin’. Miss Kitty, now she gots herself this here great big heart. She jist cooks up a whole heap a vittles. An then she goes ta welcomin’ in all those who ain’t got no place to go for their Christmas celebratin’. Even iffin’ they be strangers just a passin’ through town.”

Sandy listened carefully, glancing at each in turn. Making a mental list and checking the meanings behind their smiles, nods, and one’s lack of eye contact with the others.

“Now if'n I was back there in Dodge at this very minute, I’d be a helpin’ Miss Kitty get ready for that there meal, don’t cha see.”

The last bit of eggs cleaned off his plate, “Marshal, guess I better be heading back.” Getting up out of his chair, “Thanks for the breakfast, Sandy.” He carried his plate and cup over to the counter.

“Newly, we’ll try to send a message, let you know what’s happenin’, soon as we can.”

“Yes, sir.” Putting on scarf, coat, hat and gloves, with a nod to each, he let himself out the door.

Clearing the remaining plates off the table. “You know, those three robbers sat around here visiting with me for almost a half an hour.” Running his fingers through his beard, “I’m usually a pretty good judge of people…”

 

Early afternoon. Drinking coffee spiked with the whiskey Matt carried in a flask. ‘To fight off the chill when he was out on the trail,’ Kitty explained. The flask, her public gift to him from a couple of Christmases ago.

Festus continued his almost non-stop talking. “My Grandpappy was the goodest story teller outta all the Haggens. He always told us this here same Christmasy story every year. I member his a tellin’ it from when I was no bigger than a tater bug. All us younguns and growdups, we’d all come sittin’ round to listen. He’d be a tellin’ ‘bout this here little baby who got borned in a mange and got hisself all wrapped up in these waddlin’ clothes.”

Sandy started to open his mouth, Matt sent him a look that said ‘don’t bother’.

“Then there was these three rich fellas, kings they was. These kings, now they was called the magic eyes ‘cuz they was able to see this here especial star. And that there star done told ‘em where to find that there little baby who was left alayin’ out in a barn with the cows and donkeys, sheeps an all.” Rolling his eyes, Matt reached over and splashed a bit more whiskey in both Sandy and his cups.

“An when these kings comed to see that there little baby, they brung him gifts like franks and cents and burrs.” He didn’t miss hearing the snort from Matt, nor the stifled ho, ho, hos from Sandy.

Frowning. “You know those never did sound to me much like rightly sorta gifts for a little baby. My Grandpappy done tried splainin’ how they was these symboly gifts that meaned somethin’ different than what they really was, don’t cha see?” Looking over to see if both were following along. “Do you know this story, Matthew?”

“Yeah, I know it Festus . . . but in a slightly different version.”

“Matthew, you member any Christmasy gifts from when you was a young ‘un back in Texas, do ya?”

Tipping back in his chair, “Let’s see . . .  I remember my father carved me a wooden horse. I was maybe five or six. He painted it brown and white ‘cuz I was always sayin’ I was gonna get me a pinto pony. Told me it was his promise. He’d get me one soon as I got a little older.”

“I member my pappy made me a slingshot one Christmas. Got it took back that very same day. Broke a hole right there in the back wall a the house. Was practicin’. Usin’ too a big rock.”

“Ya know, Festus, I had a slingshot, too. My job was to go out huntin’ jackrabbits for the stew pot.”

“Squirrels was what I was a huntin’ for stew.” Looking across the table, “What ‘bout you Sandy, you member any especial gift?”

“I tell you Festus, I don’t recollect any one Christmas gift in particular.” Laying a finger along side of his nose, “I always found I enjoy gifts the most when I’m giving them to others.”

The door latch rattled. Two heads jerked toward the sound, hands sliding to guns. The wind sending a puff of snow through the gap under the door. Tiny crystals swirled, suspended ever so briefly. Sparkling in the lantern light. Silver.

A twinkle in his eye, “You know this here is one of the most memorable Christmases I’ve had in a long time.” Their attention returning to him. “Stopping a train so three robbers can get on. Passing the time with a United States Marshal and his deputy.” He tugged on his beard, “Yep, I’ll remember this one for a while.”

The telegraph key started clattering.

“Says the Kinsley sheriff hauled them three fellas off the train. They’re sitting in his jail. The sheriff’s got the money. He’ll be sending a telegram to you in Dodge.”

“Golly Bill, Matthew, that saves us a whole heap a trouble, don’t it?

“It sure does, Festus.” Looking over at the clock, “You know if we get movin’ we just might make it back in time to have some leftovers from Kitty’s Christmas dinner. That is if it isn’t all eaten up before then.”

“I’ll go get the horses.”

Sandy called out after Festus, “Take those other three with you. We’re not equipped to board horses here. Won’t be nothin’ for them to eat for two more days.”

In a matter of minutes he had the three horses set up in a string behind Ruth and came back inside, “They’re all ready, Matthew.”

“Well, Sandy, it’s been a pleasure,” extending his hand. “Be sure to stop and say ‘Hello’ one of these times you’re comin’ through Dodge.”

“You bet I will.” Shaking hands with each of them. “Matt, Festus, I sure enjoyed having your company today.”

Wrapping his scarf around his neck and the lower half of his face and ears. Buttoning the top button of his jacket. Collar turned up. Hat on his head. He put on his fur lined leather gloves and stepped out into the cold.

Festus started to follow then stopped. Pulling down the scarf he had wrapped over his mouth, “An if’n you find yourself not workin’ one of these here Christmases, you be sure you come by and have yourself some vittles with us all.”

Mounting up, both gave a wave before riding off.

Waiting until a swirling cloud of snow settled, he called out after them, “Merry Christmas,” as they rode out of sight.

 

The overcast day turned into a crystal clear night. All was calm, the multitude of stars shining bright. Full moon surrounded by a wide ring . . . a sign of colder weather to come. It was nearing eight o’clock when they arrived back in Dodge. Quickly getting the horses stabled, “Okay Festus that should do ‘em for now. Let’s get on over to the Long Branch and see if there’s somethin’ left for us to eat.”

Despite their best efforts to slip in and hurriedly shut the door, freezing cold air still managed to rudely force its way into the warm interior. Heads turned.

Clustered near the stove, Doc, Newly, Sam. Hank was there. Louie. Burke and Halligan. A half dozen or so cowboys. A drummer or two. Several of the girls.

Twisting in his chair his hand swiping across his mustache, he called out, “Would you look at that. You know,” a tug on his ear, “I told Kitty to lock those doors so we wouldn’t have riff-raff like that wandering in.”

Piling coats and hats on a table near the door, the smiles on their faces conveying their ‘Merry Christmas to you, too’ sentiments. Festus adding under his breath, “Ya ole scudder.”

“Marshall, Festus, sure is nice to see you back so soon.” He moved behind the bar. “How about a drink?”

“Thanks Sam, we could use somethin’ to help us thaw out.”

“You can say that agin, Matthew. It sure is gettin’ to be right cold out there.” Leaning his elbow on the bar, “Ya know Sam, I recollects my Aunt Henry tellin’ ‘bout the time it got so cold…”

Returning from the office, bottle of brandy in each hand, she stopped. The corners of her mouth turning up into a smile. Setting the bottles on the end of the bar she put on a serious expression. With an irritated tone to her voice, she called out, “Stay right there Matt Dillon, don’t you dare move.”

He spun around giving her a puzzled look as she hurried over. He didn’t notice the nudges, gestures and smiles of anticipation that rippled through the room.

Standing in front of him, fists on hips. Silent for a moment. Suddenly, rising up on her toes, she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss.

Desperately trying to pry her arms loose. “Kitty!” The shocked expression on his face prompting laughter. Her kiss, whistling and applause.

Eyes full of mischief, fingers wiping lip rouge off his mouth, “You better watch where you’re standin’, Cowboy.”

His eyes narrowed.

A tilt of her head directed him to look up. Sprigs of mistletoe newly added to the streamers crossing the ceiling. Laughing, "You should've seen the expression on your face."

Festus, grinning sheepishly, a blush on his cheeks. “Miss Kitty, you wouldn’t happen to have any leftovers, would ya? We’d be much obliged to get us some.”

“Sam, would you fix up two plates for these hard workin’ lawmen.” Linking an arm with each she led them over to a table near the stove.

With a beaming smile, “This is such a wonderful surprise. What are you two doing back so soon? When Newly said you had to wait around to catch a train, I didn’t expect to see you for a couple of days.”

“Well you see, Miss Kitty, it was the lucksomemost thing. Whilest Matthew an me was a sittin there a jawin’ an passin’ the time with ole Sandy…”

 

 

Four days later…

Sitting at the table, cloth in hand, cleaning the leather of his saddlebags. He looked up as the office door opened.

“Ben Williams, well I’ll be.” Pushing back from the table, he stood. Offering his hand. “By golly, it’s good to see ya. What’s it been three, four years?”

“All of that, Matt.” Smiling and returning a vigorous handshake. “You’re still lookin’ like you might be able to do a day’s work.”

“Ha. What about you, how’re you doin’?”

“Can’t complain.” Taking off his coat and hanging it over the back of a chair, hat tossed on the seat. “Say, how’s Kitty?” Giving him a wink. “She still as pretty as ever?”

“That she is.”

“Still putting up with the likes of you?”

Answering with a big smile. “She’s gonna be surprised to see ya.” Giving him a slap on the back, “How about some hot coffee to help fight off some of the winter chill?”

“Sounds good, sure is cold out there.”

Handing him a cup, “You come in on the train?”

“Yeah, was runnin’ about two hours late I’d say.”

Sitting down on the corner of his desk, “What brings you to Dodge?”

“Passin’ through on my way back to Sweetwater. Thought I’d take a couple of days and visit an old friend. Welcome in the new year together.”

“Now wait a minute. The last time we did some New Year’s celebratin’, although my memory of that night isn’t too clear, I do recollect we were given the choice of spendin’ some time in jail or payin’ a stiff fine.”

“Some old transgressions should be forgot.” Taking a seat at the table. “This being your town and your jail . . . and we being about ten years older, I figured we should be safe this time.” Scratching the back of his head, “I don’t know about that.” Sharing a knowing grin.

“Say Matt, I heard a story about some robbers you were chasin’. Scared them so bad they hopped a train to escape ya. Wasn’t that how it went?”

“Where’d ya hear ‘bout that?”

“Conductor saw my badge and had to tell me the story . . . or at least the version of it he heard.”

“Yeah well, seems they had everything figured out. Timin’ it just right to get on that train and be gone before we could catch up with ‘em.”

“Got themselves caught pretty quick, I heard.”

“Lucky. That was.”

“The conductor, he couldn’t figure out how you managed to get that old telegraph workin’.”

“What?” giving him a confused look.

“Thought he remembered the wire was taken down from there.”

“What?”

“The rail shack, abandoned. Railroad stopped using it more than five years ago, he said.”

Silent. Mouth hanging open. An eyes-wide stare.

“What’s the matter, you lose your ability to speak?”

He managed to stammer, “I . . . I think I need a drink.” Shocked by the information, unable to think. And away to the door he flew like a flash. Startling Ben when he made his quick dash.

Grabbing coat and hat, he sprang from his chair, “Dang it, Matt, hold on up, there!”

Outside, the snow in huge flakes it did fly. A gust of wind swirling it into the sky.

He turned to Ben and tried to explain. A stunned reaction. He then exclaimed, “What happen that day all three of us saw!”

He stopped. He paused. Shook his head, then said.

“His last name . . . it couldn’t have been . . . Claus.”

At sunset this evening.......

( Not so Kosher... )

OMGoodness ... end of the semester... end of the year... nary around the corner.
Chanukah is less than five days away....

Light a bonfire candle... my final is on the 10th.
I did get 100% on my mid-term diet analysis project. No gold star, but a lovely snowflake from the lovely and talented Canooodian tayryn. Thanx m'friend!
Tests, unfortunately, are the bane of my existence, so call the fire marshal and light something up on Thursday morning or tell PETA to look the other direction and sacrifice a goat on my behalf.

I traded Tuesday for Thursday off and Tuesday is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. We're doing a big ham & turkey buffet dinner tomorrow night, but for lunch... the girls usually get homemade hamburgers for lunch on feast days. It's a treat for them. Well, someone requested hot dogs and we have Hebrew National wieners for them..

Being the silly goose that I am, I inferred that Hebrew National hot dogs are what Mary craved when she was with child. Brother Tom said I get to cook the hot dogs... because like the makers of Hebrew National products, I answer to a higher authority. Heh... I only answer if I can hear 'em.