The way Cherry figured it, Dunson's aim had been off. Dunson had been so set on shooting Matt he hadn't thought about anything else, hadn't seen anything else as he'd marched through town, across the dirt and dust. Cherry wasn't even sure Dunson had recognized him: Cherry had just been an obstacle in his way. Another man to kill, bury, and read over as soon as he was done with Matt.

Laid up in the Hotel Royale and tended to by a robust, god-fearing widow who pursed her lips at his sweet talk, Cherry now had time to think about these things. The fever had broken and the doc was confident the leg had been saved. Cherry had time to think about a lot of things, but mostly he thought about the drive to Abilene: the trail from the Red River D, Dunson, and Matt Garth.

It was a cool, windy morning. Wind blew through the cracks in the hotel's walls and rattled the window. Cherry lit a slim cigar and watched the smoke curl and eddy in the air. A deep hot twinge in his thigh brought the memory back: Dunson turning, drawing, shooting. Going up against Thomas Dunson had been a damn fool thing he'd done, and he'd done it for Matt -- because of Matt. Because he couldn't watch Dunson gun down Matt in cold blood. Couldn't watch Matt bleed out across the dirt of Abilene.

Cherry snorted. And he'd called Matt soft.

Cherry took a drag on his cigar and stared blankly out the window, gazing past the water tower and the blue sky and the thin racing clouds while his mind went a thousand miles back to the Red River D and Matthew Garth casually refusing him a spot on the drive. That was when everything had changed. Not the moment when Matt had defied Dunson and taken over the drive, and not the moment when Cherry had called out to Dunson and Dunson had shot him. No: everything had changed in that moment when Matt had said, "No," with that funny little smile he had, watching Cherry with his piercing clear eyes. Right then was when Cherry knew he was going on that drive. Right then was when Cherry knew that whatever happened and wherever he went, it was going to be because of Matt.

The window rattled. Outside the door slow heavy steps approached, boot heels thudding on the floorboards. There was a hesitant knock, and Cherry called out, "Come in," around his cigar, expecting Mr. Melville or the doc. Matt entered, hunched his shoulders, and glanced around.

Cherry sat up, winced at the sudden sharp pain in his thigh, and stabbed the end of his cigar on a bedpost. He regarded Matt with an odd kind of elation tempered with bewilderment. It didn't make sense for Matt to be in Abilene still. The words what are you doing here were on his tongue, but he kept quiet and watched Matt saunter across the floor to stand next to the bed. Matt folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall and looked Cherry over.

"Told you Dunson could take care of himself," Matt said. He rubbed the side of his nose with his forefinger.

With a soft chuckle Cherry said, "Yeah." He paused and looked away. "I didn't reckon on seeing you again. Thought you'd be halfway to Texas by now."

Matt didn't reply to this. "How's the leg? I heard it was real bad there for a while."

"I reckon so." Cherry glanced at him and smiled. "The senoritas will be disappointed. He shot me in my dancing leg."

Matt smiled back, and Cherry noticed how tired he looked. Haunted, maybe. "Hey, you didn't do anything foolish about Dunson, did you? He was just trying to get me out of his way. I didn't take it personal."

Matt rolled his shoulders. "Dunson's on his way back to the Red River D."

Without Matt? That didn't make any sense, either.

"How's Tess?" asked Cherry.

Matt pushed off from the wall and paced the floor next to the bed. His arms were folded together so tightly his shoulders bent forward beneath the taut stretch of his shirt. Cherry had seen him like this before: coiled and wound up, agitated. Something was eating at him. Cherry wished they were outside on rough scrub land, shooting together with not a care in the world beyond making some old tin can jump higher and higher.

Matt rubbed the back of his neck and stopped pacing at the foot of the bed. He gave Cherry a sidelong look and said, "Tess rode with Dunson." He managed a weak, unconvincing smile. "I guess they got tired waiting for me."

Mingled with the fierce rush of anger Cherry felt was a shameful sense of relief he didn't choose to acknowledge. "Waiting for you?! Why on earth... What kind of crazy fool are you? You let a spirited filly like Tess ride off like that? I got shot trying to keep Dunson from killing you, and I thought it was all right 'cause Tess was there to stand up to you both and make you see reason. You let a girl like that go from tarrying too long? What in the devil's name were you waiting for?"

Matt put his hands on the rail that stretched across the foot of the bed, looked down and hid his face with the brim of his hat, and shook his head a little. When he looked up, he fixed Cherry with that steady, startling gaze that had ensnared Cherry so well all those months ago. "I was waiting for you."

As abruptly as it had risen up, the anger left Cherry, and with it went any traces of shame, replaced by a puzzled wonder. He licked his lips. "Why?"

Matt's gaze didn't waver. "I had to know you didn't die," he said. "I figured Dunson wouldn't kill you -- he knew I'd never forgive him if he did -- but when the fever set in, well..." Matt glanced away, face disappearing under his hat again.

Cherry leaned back, feeling oddly hollow. He said, "The fever's broke now. I'll be all right. You can..." He faltered. "... be on your way."

Matt looked at him with a wry little smile and tipped his hat back. He perched on the edge of the bed like he was riding sidesaddle. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "I haven't decided yet where to go."

Cherry shifted restlessly. "You go after Tess, of course."

Matt cocked his head. "Told you: Tess rode with Dunson," he said, and there was a finality in his voice Cherry didn't know how to contradict. "They're kind of a funny pair, those two. Can't see what they have in common."

Cherry could: they both loved Matt. With the mild, amused surprise of a man finally seeing what was plain as day in front of him, he realized he had that in common with them.

"But I guess it makes some sense," Matt continued. "The way they kept arguing with each other, because they didn't want to argue with me anymore." He leaned against the foot of the bed, stretched his legs out next to Cherry's, crossed his arms and shrugged. "Think I'll stay here for a while. Good a place as any."

Cherry glanced at the dusty boots resting by his elbow, drew his gaze up along Matt's legs, over that pretty gun of his, and stopped when his eyes met Matt's. He saw in Matt's intense stare something he hadn't fully recognized before: an understanding. Understanding and a challenge he recognized all too well and welcomed.

"Doc said it'll be a few more weeks before I can ride out of here."

"A few more weeks in Abilene suits me."

"And then?"

Matt uncrossed his arms. He lowered his hand so it came to rest on Cherry's good leg just below the knee. Through the blanket Cherry felt the heat from Matt's palm on his bare skin.

"Then," said Matt, "I reckon we figure out which way to ride."

Cherry brushed his knuckles against the bottom of Matt's boot. "What about west?"

"Keep heading west," Matt said musingly. He flashed a grin at Cherry. "Well, all right."

"All right," said Cherry, smiling back. Certain now of the truth: whatever happened now and wherever he went it would be because of Matt. It would be with Matt.

(the end)

december 2004