Chapter Text
December 12, 1871
Today was a good day.
Me and Mr. Dillon had supper with Doc and Miss Kitty at Delmonico's. Doc lost another checkers match, so he had to pay for it, that was the deal. I don't think Doc'll ever learn Mr. Dillon is too darn good at checkers to get beat and he ought to stop wasting his money. But that's alright, cause me and Mr. Dillon get free suppers out of it regular.
I'm awful glad I got sense not to try checkers for pay. Too much strategy involved for me trying to be outwit folks wittier than me. I'm better off at the faro table, I figure, next time payday comes around.
There's meant to be a faro game tomorrow night at the Long Branch, but I won't be able to make it, courtesy of Doc's taking a li'l wagon to pick up Abner Reese and some lumber and bring it back to Dodge to sell. Doc thinks he ought to play delivery boy cause Abner gave him the loan of the wagon some weeks ago when a feller was hurt bad and needed to lay out on the trip back to Dodge, says the man would've for sure died if not for Abner's wagon, so we all owes him a favor.
Mr. Dillon has business out in Tascosa and intends to be gone for a few weeks. He ast me to ride with Doc and keep him company. He says to me, Chester, Doc could sure use a hand. You know, he isn't half the navigator he thinks he is, and he might need some strong hands for that haul. He isn't a young man anymore. Might hurt himself without you there. I get plumb tickled pink he said it out loud.
Anyhow, I'm glad to go with Doc, being he's a good friend of mine, even as aggravating as he's been sometimes. I'm sure glad he got the loan of the wagon, too, to save that feller's life. But forevermore, did he have to do it in December? Things was right temperate back in September, and now it gets so cold, we're liable to get blue lips and red noses from the whole ordeal.
I bid goodnight to Mr. Dillon. He figures he'll leave before sunup, says he won't wake me.
I says, Mr. Dillon, if you's wake me up in the morning, I'll get your horse saddled for you and your bags all packed up.
But he says to me, If I wake you before dawn, your feet will start sweating and you won't be able to get back to sleep, so you'll go bother Doc to leave early while you're bored and lonely, and then he'll get all cantankerous over being woke at the crack of dawn, and he won't be fit to live with on your way to Abner's homestead.
I figure he's right and I best leave well enough alone til my normal rising.
Sure is funny how smart Mr. Dillon is and how well he knows me and Doc. We'll be missing him while he's in Tascosa. I sure hope the weather stays clear while he's gone for all that traveling and the work he'll be doing. Winter so far has just been dry, gray, bitter. Of course Mr. Dillon says it ain't no more bitter than any other year, but I just get too cozied up with a roof over my head and straight forget how to live uncivilized.
I tell you, maybe I did forget. Would that really be the worst thing? Imagine being warm and full so long you outright forget what it feels like to be cold and hungry. That's how I felt since Mr. Dillon brung me to Dodge, especially about being lonely. I was lonely so long I got to keeping conversations with turkey buzzards picking carrion off the prairie, but now I got enough decent folk around, if I saw a turkey buzzard, I'd just shoot it.
Anyway, I ought to go to bed. I'm saying my prayers. Tonight, I'm praying for Mr. Dillon's safe travels tomorrow through clear weather.
"Then shalt thou walk in thy way safely, and thy foot shall not stumble." That's in Proverbs, roundabouts.
Goodnight.
-Chester