AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He hadn’t told the boys about...any of this. Not that he was coming here, or why. Not what had led up to the decision to buy the feed store and convert it. Even though it was all for them. Telling them now would ruin the surprise later. And he certainly hadn’t told them about his condition, which would ruin his last holiday season ever, and his plan to make it the most memorable of his life.
He didn’t want to think about that now, anyway. He wanted to throw himself into The Long Branch, because that was what he loved doing best. And he wanted to throw himself into spending time with Vidalia, because, though he’d never been a saint, he believed that he deserved as much pleasure as he could muster from what was left of his life. And whether he deserved it or not, which was, he supposed, not up to him to judge, he was damn well going to take it.
He was a little hurt that Vidalia didn’t seem to be harboring the same endless adoration for him that he had for her. But he was also glad she didn’t return his feelings. It wouldn’t be fair to encourage that and would end up breaking her heart later on. But since she was so immune to his charms, he figured it was safe for him to spend time with her.
It would be just like getting the Corral up and running together. Just like old times.
After a few minutes, her conversation with Betty Haggerty, who seemed a bit too old to be running an entire restaurant, wound down. The older woman, he noticed, looked tired, and that made him take another look around the place, and wonder whether it was just empty because it was midday, or whether it was in trouble. And as he examined the place with new eyes, he noticed things. The fresh coat of paint that was long overdue, the crack in one of the out of the way windows, trying to hide behind curtains that were starting to lose their vibrance and fray a bit at the edges.
Haggerty House, he thought, might just be in trouble.
But Vidalia didn’t mention a word about that as they went their separate ways. No, she wouldn’t, would she? Vidalia Brand was a woman who could keep a confidence. Trustworthy. He’d always trusted her. She’d rather be shot than lie, or betray someone she cared about.
In the parking lot, he walked her to her truck, then stood there like a sixteen year old, wondering if he should go in for a goodbye kiss.
She shot the thought down when she leaned up and planted one on his cheek. Not at all what he’d had in mind. “I’ll see you soon, Bobby Joe. And I’ll dig out my Miss Kitty costume before I do.”
“You don’t have to. I got you a brand new one.” At auction, for a small fortune, because it had been one of several actually worn by Amanda Blake in the TV series. She’d been five six, a good four inches taller than Vidalia. But a full foot plus shorter than her co-star, James Arness. He’d landed an original Matt Dillon costume worn by the six-foot seven actor. He was only six two. But he’d had both costumes altered, and the height difference between him and Vidalia would look very close to that between Marshall Dillon and his own Miss Kitty. A foot.
One foot was, he thought, the perfect height difference, as he looked down at her, and she looked up at him. Her eyelids lowered as the color rose in those perfect apple cheeks of hers, and she said, “I’d better go. Gotta open soon.”
“Okay. Thanks for this, Vidalia. And for helping out with the Long Branch.”
“De nada,” she said, and then crushed his heart by turning and getting into her truck. She did flash him a bright smile, though, as she drove away. And yet he thought something was bothering her. There were shadows behind her eyes.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Bobby stood in his all but finished saloon, looking around the place and planning their grand entrance. He might have Vidalia come down the curving staircase in the red and gold Miss Kitty getup with her curls all bundled up high on her head and a fake beauty mark on her cheek. He’d be waiting at the bottom in his Matt Dillon getup. That was where the boys came in to play their parts in the skit he had planned for opening night. Of course he had yet to tell them, and the skit was only in his head right now, but he would be doing that later today.
Absently, he opened a cardboard box of the glossy flyers that had been delivered while he’d been out. They’d been waiting by the front door, under the tarp, when he’d come back. They had come out beautifully
Citizens of Big Falls, celebrate the Holidays in the Old West. Come to the Long Branch for our opening night, December 23rd. Have a great meal, see a show, absolutely free of charge. Merry Christmas, Neighbors.
Your friend,
Bobby Joe McIntyre
He smiled when he eyed the line drawings of him as Matt Dillon and Vidalia as Miss Kitty. Feeling confident she would say yes, he’d hired an artist who’d used a photo of Vidalia in her Miss Kitty getup. Bobby had found it on one of her daughters’ Facebook pages. It had come out great. Not as great as she was in person, of course, but great, all the same.
As he stood there looking at the flyers, he heard the front door swing slowly open and looked up to see his oldest son, Jason, across the room. It never failed to amaze him, looking at his sons. Grown, strapping young men, as different from each other as they were from him. Jason was six four, and his upper body showed his penchant for workouts. He was the silent one, the brooder who never showed his feelings. But he was wearing his heart on his sleeve just then, looking at his father in a way that left no doubt in Bobby’s mind that Jason knew. He held his son’s eyes and tried to think of anything else that would’ve caused those tears he saw swimming in them, but there wasn’t anything else.
Jason looked away, tried to hide his emotions, swept the place with his gaze, gave a nod of approval. “So this is the secret project no one wanted to tell me about.”
“I just sent you an email. All three of you. Wanted to get you down here for the grand opening.”
Jason couldn’t seem to meet his father’s eyes. His own were everywhere but there, in fact. “Since when do you stay for the grand opening? Isn’t that the new owner’s job?”
“Usually.” Bobby went around behind the bar, took down a mug. “Pull up a stool, son, and I’ll pour you a beer.”
“I talked to Mom,” Jason said as he crossed the room, took a seat on one of the tall barstools. The saddle-shaped seats were made of leather and suede. Ladies could hang their handbags from the pommels. Bobby thought it was ingenious, himself.
“HowisJudith these days? She happy with old what’s-his-name?”
“It’s Stu and you know it. And yes, she’s happy.” Jason sighed, lowered his head and shook it slowly. “She told me about...your condition.”
“She shouldn’t have done that.” He said it softly, because he didn’t know what else to say. His gut wanted to reassure his son that it wasn’t all that serious, that everything would be fine, but it wouldn’t. He was on a waiting list for a bone marrow donor that would stop the blood disease from killing him if he got it before the symptoms set in. From that point, which could be any day now, it would move fast. They’d be out of time. And his shot of finding a donor in time were slim to none. He had an odd blood type, one his sons had no inherited.
“Why the hell not?” Jason asked. “Don’t you think I have a right to know that my father is...is dying?”
