Author's Note: This little vignette was written for a fan fic challenge in which we were to write double drabbles (200 words) for each of the following words: Christmas, Santa Claus, holidays, candles, snow, fruitcake, carols, mistletoe, holly, turkey.

Homecoming

Christmas Eve. He paused on the crest of the hill, looking out over the town, watching the flickering gas lamps illuminating the cold night.

His town.

It had been his for nineteen years—bigger now, stretching farther and wider than when he had first stood on this same hilltop, the shiny new badge of a United States Marshal glittering on his broad chest.

He gazed into the distance.

Candles in windows, shimmering points of light in the darkness. One gleamed brighter, stronger than all the rest, calling to him.

Her window.

Her candle.

His woman.

And then…

The light was gone.

Her light was gone.

He shook his head.

He had imagined it, much as a lost and thirsty man envisions an oasis in the desert.

For that's what he had become.

A lost man.

A thirsty man.

A man parched and withering with a need that could be slaked only in the arms of the woman he loved.

All the Christmas eves and Christmas days he had left her alone—and lonely—in the performance of duty.

He pointed his mount down the hill. Toward the south and out of town.

Duty be damned.

He had to find her.

xxx

Christmas Eve. She disembarked from the train and looked around the deserted platform that served as the train station.

No one to greet her.

No tall cowboy.

Not even a bewhiskered hill man or a curmudgeonly old physician.

She had hoped to arrive earlier, but snow in St. Louis had delayed the train by more than a day.

Not that it mattered.

No one was expecting her.

No one knew she was coming.

She wondered wryly if he would have been there to meet her even if he had known.

All the years he had left her alone—and lonely—on Christmas eve and Christmas day.

In the performance of duty.

His duty.

All the years she had loved him.

Loved him with a passion that defied all reason.

With no one around to assist her, she sat down on her trunk to think.

She had been away only eight months, but the town had changed. It seemed bigger and…well...strange, now.

She wondered if he had changed.

Rising and pushing her trunk against the wall of the station, she began to walk the half mile to the jail, the flickering street lights guiding her steps through the dark night.

xxx

"He ain't here, Miz Kitty. Ain't nobody seen ol' Matthew since this aftynoon. And he didn't leave no note or nuthin'. He jist went away."

Festus had greeted her with an enthusiastic hug that warmed her heart and nearly crushed her ribs, his surprise and joy at seeing her obvious.

That had been several hours ago. Now, snug and warm in Ma Smalley's best guest room, sipping hot coffee and nibbling on a slice of Ma's scrumptious fruitcake, she contemplated her hasty decision to come to Dodge for Christmas.

She should have sent a wire.

But she wanted to surprise him.

It never occurred to her that he wouldn't be here.

Or that he might not want to see her if he were here.

She wondered if he missed her as much as she missed him.

Not possible.

Not possible that he had spent the last eight months as lonely and unhappy as she.

She had become half a person.

A shell of her former self.

Present only in body.

Not in spirit.

Festus said this wasn't the first time he had inexplicably disappeared.

Suppose he had forgotten her and was seeking companionship,

Comfort,

In the arms of someone else?

xxx

She hadn't thought of that.

He had always been so steadfast, so faithful, so true.

But, she was no longer his woman. She was…no one.

Not to him, not to anyone else.

He had every right…

She squeezed her eyes tight against the all-too-vivid images that flashed before her:

Someone else's hands ruffling his curls,

Someone else's mouth kissing his warm lips,

Someone else's fingers intimately tracing his scars,

Someone else's legs wrapped around his back as….

No!

Please, God, no!

She choked back a sob and leaned her aching head against the frosted window pane, willing the images to stop, forcing herself to remember all of the good times shared with her cowboy.

Silent night, holy night…

All is calm, all is bright.

She peered out into the night, watching the carolers gather on the street corner, listening to their clear, sweet voices raised in what was, usually, her most favorite of all the carols.

Sleep in heavenly peace…sleep in heavenly peace.

She smiled a bittersweet smile.

She had come here seeking comfort, seeking her own kind of peace.

But there would be no comfort, no peace for her on this holy night.

The carolers moved on.

She cried.

xxx

Christmas morning. She opened her eyes to sunshine and quickly glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine. She dressed hastily and hurried down Ma's walk, her high-heeled boots leaving intricate patterns in the fresh fallen snow.

First stop, the jail.

"No, ma'am. He ain't been here."

She quickly crossed the street and climbed the steps to Doc's office, tapping sharply on the door before turning the knob.

The old physician smiled as he rose from his desk and wrapped his arms around her, pressing a friendly kiss on her cold cheek.

"Where is he Doc? Do you think something's happened to him? Do you think he's…well, is he…is he with someone else?" Her words tumbled over each other in her need to get them out.

"It's nice to see you, too, Kitty. I don't know where he is, but I don't think anything's happened to him. This isn't the first time he's gone off by himself since… Well, this isn't the first time."He held her at arms' length. "We've missed you around here."

She twisted out of his grasp.

"You didn't answer all my questions, Doc."

"Don't do this to yourself, honey. But…no...I don't think there's anyone else."

xxx

Christmas afternoon. She stopped by the Long Branch, saying hello to the girls she knew as well as to Hannah and the new bartender. Out of habit she sat down at "their" table—the one beneath the stairs, obscured slightly from prying eyes, but with a clear view of the front door. She glanced up at the bedraggled sprig of mistletoe suspended in the center of the room from loops of red and green paper garland.

She sighed forlornly, remembering.

Last Christmas, and for all the Christmases before that, she had hung her mistletoe just inside those batwing doors, over the very spot where a certain tall marshal always paused before stepping down into the saloon.

So many memories in this room—nearly all of them good:

Raucous cowboys just up from Texas with greenbacks in their pockets and trail dust in their throats.

Townspeople dropping by for drink and gossip.

The occasional drifter just passing through.

Morning coffee with friends.

Clear blue eyes searching for her across a crowded, smoky room.

Arms touching gently, discreetly, as they leaned against the old wooden bar.

A slight brush of hands.

Late night rounds.

Her eyes lifted to the balcony.

More memories.

xxx

"He's in trouble, Doc. I know it."

Above Kitty's red head, Doc's concerned eyes met those of the deputy. "You're sure he didn't say anything, Festus? Nothing that could give us a clue as to which direction he was heading?"

"I'm a-tellin' ya, Doc, he didn't say nary a word 'ceptin he wuz gonna go check on things."

"He often went to Boot Hill to look out over the town—said it helped him to think," Kitty offered.

"Ain't gonna be easy to foller no tracks whut with this snow. I'd best take Newly with me."

"I'm going, too."

"Beggin' yer pardon, Miz Kitty, but a buggy'll jist slow us down."

Doc knew better than to argue—with either of them. "You and Newly will ride, of course. Kitty and I'll follow in my buggy—no, a wagon—just in case."

At the top of the hill, they paused. Newly and Festus hunkered on the ground looking for tracks. Nothing. They skirted the tombstones and started down the hill. Festus stopped. "Someone's been up here. Lookit how this here holly bush's all broked off. Too high up fer a coyote. Hadda be did by a horse—or a big man."

xxx

At the bottom of the hill, Festus discerned faint hoof prints under the fresh snow and trailed them to the south fork, the road out of town.

As they drove along in the waning light, Kitty turned to her old friend. "How's he been, Doc? The truth."

"More tight-mouthed than ever. Works even harder, doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. Other than that, I'd say he's doing fine…just fine."

"I did that to him, didn't I?"

Doc paused before answering gently. "Yes, Kitty, I think you did. For nineteen years you were the center of his entire world. When you left, his world crumbled."

"I had my reasons, Doc."

"I'm sure you did. And there's no need to share them with me. I just wish you had told him what they were."

Newly rode up to Doc's side of the wagon. "Doc, we're gonna ride on ahead." He glanced at Kitty and lowered his voice. "Festus spotted turkey buzzards circling overhead in the distance—hard to tell for sure, but they look to be near the old Bentwood Mine."

"I know the place. You and Festus get moving. We'll catch up."

As Newly sped away, Kitty whispered a strangled, "Hurry, Doc. Please."

xxx

They drove along the icy road. The night—Christmas night—turned dark.

And colder.

Snow continued to fall.

She was silent for much of the way, giving only monosyllabic responses to Doc's comments. Finally, she took a deep breath and blurted, "I left because I didn't want to watch him die. Is that so wrong—not to want to watch the person you love die?"

"Of course it's not wrong, honey…"

A shot echoed through the frosty air.

"They found something." Doc slapped the reins across the horses' rumps, jolting them forward.

An eternity later, Festus lifted her down from the seat and led her to the copse of trees where Matt lay on the ground, his leg jutting out at an odd angle.

"Lookee here, Matthew. Look whut we brung ya fer Christmas."

His face was contorted in pain, but his blue eyes twinkled in the lantern light. "Festus, you're about the scraggliest Santa Claus I've ever seen, but I'm mighty glad to see you tonight." He grinned. "And I'm kinda pleased with the present you brought me, too."

Regardless of the snow and slush, she knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him. "Let's get you home, Cowboy."

xxx

"I didn't think you were ever coming back." He was propped in the bed of the wagon with Buck tethered behind. His left hand was bruised and swollen, but his right one held tight to hers.

"I…I hadn't planned to, but…I missed you, Matt—missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too." Unexpectedly candid, he added softly, "Fact is, I was on my way to find you."

"Oh?"

"Coyote changed my plans—spooked my horse, and I..." He paused, looking embarrassed. "I fell off. Buck lost his footing and fell on my leg. He couldn't get purchase on the ice, and I couldn't get up with him on top of me."

She cuddled against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Matt. And I'm very sorry I left the way I did."

His thumb caressed the back of her hand. "It's all right, Kitty."

"Where were you going to look for me?"

He shrugged. "South. I thought about Ballard. Figured if I didn't find you there, I'd take the train to New Orleans." He lifted her hand to his lips. "This is better. I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too." She smiled up at him. "There's no place like home for the holidays."

The End