Mistletoe, Chapter 1

This story is dedicated to my wonderful Gunsmokegirlz, the wackiest buncha reprobate cowgirls slash emergency rescue squad team members ever to hook up on the Information Highway.  Grab yer little black books, yer punch, and the getaway ass and let’s hit the dusty trail, girlfriendz!

The bitter, biting bitch of a north wind lashed out across the barren prairie with punishing surges of snow that blinded a man and burned his skin raw as it pelted him mercilessly with its icy crystalline flakes.  Pretty to look at, but not so pretty if you’re caught right smack dab in the middle of it.  The relentless swirling drifts over the path slowed the lone lawman’s already lengthy journey home.  

Shivering even beneath his heavy woolen coat and scarf, all he could think about was a hot cup of coffee, a roaring fire, and a soft, warm woman’s body to curl up next to. 

And not just any woman, no sirree.  A very particular woman whose flaming hair, fiery temper and burning passion had kept him going through this long, miserable ride in the cold, dark night, when he should have holed up out of the elements hours ago if he’d had a lick of sense.  But she was expecting him, and it was Christmas Eve. 

Kitty Russell had thrown a party at the Long Branch Saloon every year at Christmas for more years than he cared to remember, Matt Dillon thought as he shifted his weight painfully in the saddle to relieve the pressure on his stiff, aching hip.  And he sure as heck didn’t intend this year to be the first time he missed it.  She’d be fit to be tied.  Not to mention how worried she’d be since he was caught out in this dadblame snowstorm.  Kitty was one tough lady, but he also knew she wouldn’t rest easy until he was home safe and sound.

Those yearly parties were a tradition at the Long Branch.  A place for people to celebrate the holidays if they didn’t have family of their own.  Family...  Over the years, Kitty and Doc, Festus and Newly, why, they’d become his family.  It wouldn’t seem like Christmas without them.  Kitty knew what it felt like to have an adopted family of sorts, and she made sure that anyone who needed a place to go to on Christmas was invited.  The drifters, the loners, the derelicts--Louie Pheeters, bless ‘im-- they would all be welcome at the Long Branch to have a glass of punch, liberally flavored with a  splash of strong whiskey, of course, a good meal, and the company of fellow fringe society members with little or no blood ties.  A motley crew, to be sure, but they always had a fine time of it.

So Matt Dillon tipped the brim of his hat further over his eyes to protect his face from the blustery white whirlwind surrounding him and gently spurred Buck to move a little faster so they could make it back home to Dodge in time for a party.  He’d always heard the old saying, “Home is where the heart is.”  Well, that pretty well sealed it.  That good-lookin’, big-hearted saloonkeeper had held his own heart securely for a good many years now, so home was wherever Kitty Russell laid down her head.    

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That good lookin’ lady saloon owner checked the small timepiece that hung on a delicate gold chain from around her neck for the dozenth time in less than an hour.  She sat at a table with Doc and Festus near the center of the room where she could keep an eye on the punchbowl and the platters of food to see that they were replenished regularly, and she could also keep a wary lookout on the front doors for the arrival of a certain tall, broad-shouldered guest. 

“Kitty, he’ll make it, you know he will,” Doc consoled his companion gently.

Festus joined in, “Why, I bet ol’ Matthew is nearly back from Hays already.  He’ll be leavin’ his horse over t’ Moss Grimmick’s and skedaddlin’ over here to yor party afore you kin say Hildegard Bahootsifite!”

Doc eyed his friend askance.  “Hilde...what?”

“Hildegard Bahootsifite.  That’s my cousin on my ma’s side.  She ain’t a Haggen, see, but I tell you what, she oughta be.  Why, one time....”

“Oh!  Festus don’t start with one of your crazy stories about your kinfolk.  The party’ll be over by the time you get finished!”

“Why, you mean ol’...!” Festus began sputtering.  “This here’s the Christmas season.  Whatever happened to pieces of good will and earth over the men?  Ain’t you got no heart a’tall?”

Doc did a double take.  “Festus, I may not have any heart, but at least I’ve got a brain.  That’s not how that goes!  Pieces of good will.  Why, I never...”

Kitty rolled her eyes, then suddenly froze, listening hard.  “Boys, hush up a minute.  Did you hear...?” 

Years of watching and waiting for Matt Dillon to return home had honed her senses, especially her hearing, to the sounds he made that were different from other men.  Working in a saloon full of men all day long, day in and day out, it was hard, but Kitty Russell knew when it was Marshall Matt Dillon who’d sauntered up behind her, and not some smelly cattle hand or fancy pants gambler.  She’d turn and greet her secret lover with a bright smile that made his eyes shine softly in return.  She’d revel in the feel of his hand warmly sliding to the small of her back, one of the few touches between them he allowed himself in public. 

Kitty luxuriated in his searching glance whenever he entered the Long Branch at the swinging doors, seeking her out, his gaze lighting on her and making her stomach flutter and her knees weak, even after all these years.  She’d give him a slow smile in return, their eyes saying everything and nothing because of all the people surrounding them. 

And now, Kitty Russell could distinguish the tread of his big booted footsteps on the boardwalk outside, even through the howling wind of the snowstorm.   She held her breath, praying hard for a minute.  Praying that Matt Dillon had made it home to her one more time, safe and sound.

tbc

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