My Sweet Kathy

Chapter One


Sitting here on the floor, my back against the wall, I hold her in my arms. Oh, my God, she is so beautiful.

As I caress her hair of gold, I can’t help but notice her blue eyes are slightly closed now. I watch the rise and fall of her breasts, and it seems her breathing is beginning to slow even more.

I see the blood, grow heavier upon her lips. Leaning over, I gently place my own lips upon hers; tasting the iron, feeling the cold touch of the wet blood, which now coats them.

Placing my lips softly against her ear, I whisper, "I love you so much, Kathy."

I know the bullet has done its job well … that I'm watching, as she slips ever further beyond my reach. The pain I feel from the two that struck me is small and unimportant, compared with the unbearable pain of watching her disappear right before my eyes. There's nothing I can do except hold her close within my arms of love — to try and comfort her in these, her last few moments.

She fails in a valiant effort to raise her head and gasping, softly asks, "Sam, am I dy-dying?"

Her breathing is short now, yet, I'm startled, as she squeezes my hand with all of her strength.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Yes, my heart. Yes, you are. We're both dying, my sweet love. There's only a few minutes left for each of us, now. I'm here, sweet Kathy. I'm right here beside you, holding you. Here I'll stay, until it's over for both of us. I promise you this, sweetheart....nothing shall make me leave your side."

Her beautiful head nods and I know she understands my words. The wonderful hair, which I've always found to be so sassy, falls across her face

. Gently, I brush it back from her eyes with my fingertips, even as my lips lower to kiss her one more precious time.

That gorgeous smile returns to her lips, as I lift mine from them—that delicious smile, with which she'd drawn me into her life the very first time I ever saw her.

When I see her smiling up at me, the first tears of the night rush into my eyes.

How strange that is. The most wonderful gift she has, that lovely smile, brought my first tear

and I know it really is going to be only the first. There are going to be many, many more, before this long and painful night ends for the two of us.

"We'll not be apart for long, precious lady. Then, once again, I’ll be standing right there beside you. When you reach that Heavenly place, will you....Kathy, will you wait for me there?"

Nodding with her remaining strength, she whispers, "Yes, Sam. I'll w-wait for you, my l-love. P-please, don't be long. I'm af-afraid. I don't wa-want to be a-alone."

“That’s why I will not leave this earth before you've already gone, Kathy. After your very last moment, you will see that I'm still here. I'll still be holding you close to me, still fighting off your fears. You'll not be alone, my precious lady. I’ll be right here with you. When your beautiful spirit leaves your body, my darling, you'll look down and you’ll see me sitting here, still clinging to you, just as I am this second.

When you see me sitting here holding you, that’s when you can reach your sweet hand out and touch my shoulder. That will allow me to close my eyes and finally rest. I'll be on my way to you.”

My heart is breaking, as her breathing suddenly becomes shallower. The flecks of sunlight, which were always captured within her eyes, are beginning to fade now. Her eyes, which always seemed to glisten with the life within her soul, slowly begin to change from their brilliant blue, into a duller gray. The glistening itself is beginning to disappear. It's just fading away, as the light within her sweet eyes creeps slowly, yet inevitably, behind the cloud forming from deep within them.

"Sam?" A whisper so soft, I’m not really sure I’ve actually heard her.

"Yes, my darling?"

"I w-would have made you h-happy, my love. I w-would have b-been a good w-wife to you, Sam. I'm so s-sorry, my d-darling."

I think I shall scream with the pain I am feeling this very second.

Not from the bullets ending my own life, but from the knife cutting so deeply into my heart from her sweet words. I want to die....right now

, even as she does.

"Kathy, you have

made me happy. I never enjoyed my life until you entered it. Nothing can ever take our time together away from me, away from us; the happiness you've given me lasted a lifetime. Thank you for choosing to love me above everybody else. May I ask you one final thing, my love?”

She is staring straight into my eyes, tears in the corners of both of hers, and she slowly nods.

“My sweet Kathy, If such a thing is allowed in Heaven, I was wondering....what I mean to say is....my love, if it's allowed, will you marry me when we get together up there? I've led a rough life, dear love. What if I'm not allowed to be up there with you? If that's the case, you go on, be happy and remember me."

She no longer has the strength or the breath to answer. She can manage only a slight, very weak, nod, as if she answered “Yes

.” Her gentle lips bend upwards with her marvelous smile, and she silently mouths four simple words, "I love you, Sam."

One long, last breath and then...then, her chest rises no more. It is still! Those wonderful eyes now stare, no longer seeing. They’ve begun the short march into what will become their final, fixed stare. The fierceness she grips my hand with slowly begins to ease, as her hand relaxes, becoming soft once more, as soft as it had been in her life.

She has slipped away from me. She is gone. My sweet Kathy is gone.

Oh, my Sweet God, please help me. I cannot take this pain anymore!

I can hear myself scream, yet, no sound escapes my mouth.

Huge sobs pour with pure force out of my lungs. I'm startled by the sheer violence of them. My shoulders shake so hard I think my ribs must surely break. I can only sit here now, holding her up close against my chest, trying to pull her body deep inside of mine; my face buried deeply in her lovely hair.

The pain of my own wounds is crushing my chest and I know my time is short.

It's true, what they say; you know — that thing about how your entire life flashes before you while death approaches — when the angel of death is riding his pale horse. Riding, on the way to his next conquest — riding, coming for you. I hear the racing horse and feel the shaking of the ground, as the Angel of Death comes for me!

Life-long memories begin coming rapidly to me now. Still, it takes my mind more than a few seconds, before I finally realize exactly what’s happening.

My name is Sam Bell. I arrived in Gonzales, Texas about a year ago. I'm twenty-two years old...

I shall never be twenty-three.

Chapter Two

I’ll never forget that day, so many years ago — unless it leaves me when I die. The day when the Yankees came to my home. We lived in Kansas, near the Missouri line, at the time. We'd been farming that land for years. It was just Ma, Pa, and me. We had a nice field of corn, a smaller field of peas and beans. We also grew onions and potatoes in several areas that were free of trees and other obstacles.

Didn't even plow the area, just planted it with some eyes from last year's crop. Mostly, we kept enough corn to make it through until next season and pa sold the rest. That money bought enough of everything we needed, with a few dollars left over. We ate all the peas and beans, ourselves.

It was quite a lot of work during, planting and harvesting times, but the rest of the time was ours. We made camping trips to the river where we caught plenty of fish to smoke and put up for the winter. After harvesting was over, me and pa would make several hunting trips in order to obtain plenty of venison along with other meat animals, so, we always had something to eat.

All that ended the day the Yankees came.

Early that morning, Pa was sending me into town to pick up some supplies. While I was hitching the mules up to the wagon, he’d come out to the barn and talked to me a little bit about Ma. She'd been feeling bad the last coupla days. In fact, it'd been days since she was last on her feet and outside, so, I was worried about her.

"Your ma don't feel much like getting up just yet, Son. She's still feeling real poorly again this morning. I think maybe you should stop by at Doc's office when you get into town, see if he might be able to get out this way sometime today. You know, just to check up on her. Could be, he can give her some kind of medicine. Whadda you think, boy?"

"Of course, I will, Pa. Pa? She’s gonna be alright, ain't she? I'm getting kinda concerned about her."

"Sure, she'll be up in a little bit. You know, she just hasn't been feeling all that good the last week or so and I don't know what's wrong." He began walking back towards the cabin, then stopped.

I'd already climbed onto the wagon and was starting to sit down when I noticed him turning back toward me.

He called out, "Say, by the way, Sam. You mind maybe picking me up some tobacco for the old pipe here, boy?" He held the pipe up, jabbing the air with it.

The sight of him looking like he was trying to stab houseflies with the stem of his pipe made me chuckle out loud. "I think I can handle that little chore. I’ll be sure and remember that for you. Since I’m gonna be there anyway, Pa, you think we need any more lamp oil? I noticed it wasn't on the list."

"Nah. We still got plenty for right now. Probably wouldn’t hurt if you picked up a box of them new kinda matches, though. That is, if they got ‘em."

When I was riding away, I looked back over my shoulder and saw him standing there, watching me. I raised my hand high in the air, waving to him. Waving back in my direction, he turned and began to walk up onto the porch.

That was the last time I saw my Pa, alive. Even now, with my life’s blood flowing out to cover this Café floor, I still give thanks to God, I’d taken the time to go over and kneel down beside my Ma that morning. I'd leaned over and kissed her goodbye, before I’d left for town. I'd have the memory of that come back to me many times over the next few years.

When I got into town, the first thing I did, was stop by Doc's and tell him what Pa said. Doc told me he might be able to get out there a little bit later on. He had to go out to the Baker's cabin, anyway to check up on their little boy. He'd broken his leg a couple of days back.

I had to take more time than usual in getting our supplies, because for some reason, a goodly number of other folks were in the store getting things. More people than usual. Talk of the war, which everybody was expecting to come, was just about the only thing they were talking about.

As I went about picking out the things I needed to get, I had to listen from time to time. The war talk really didn't bother me all that much, because I had no interest in fighting on either side. I was content, just being at home with my Ma and Pa, working our little farm.

I must’ve been gone for at least four hours, by the time I finally rode back through the gate leading to the cabin. What I saw there made my heart begin to race. There was the body of a man lying in the front of the cabin. He was wearing the uniform of a Yankee soldier. His fancy blue uniform stood out in sharp contrast to the brown dirt he was lying in.

Pushing the mules harder, I could see Ma and Pa lying crumpled up together on the porch. Jumping from the still moving wagon, I ran up onto the porch. Pa was lying face down, four bullet holes in his body. Ma was on her side, one arm across Pa's body. She’d been shot nine times. I know this, because I counted each and every bullet hole.

Looking around through my tears, I could see the bodies of some of the slaughtered animals lying scattered everywhere. A pure and bitter hatred entered my heart at that moment — a hatred, which would stay with me for a long time — a very long time.

I buried Ma and Pa out behind our cabin, side by side. There were six old oak trees there, and they were covered in a flowering jasmine, which had a smell all its own. My Ma simply loved the beauty and the aroma of the jasmine. It took me the last of the remaining day and deep into the night, to finish digging the hard ground there. It took that long just to get the graves deep enough to hold my loved ones.

I left the dead soldier right there where he lay. Hell—he wasn’t gonna get up and walk off during the night

.

The next morning, I saddled up one of the mules, which had straggled back to the ranch. Looping a rope around the dead Yankee's ankle, I mounted up on the mule, and slowly dragged the man’s body deep into the woods. I didn't feel any pity, certainly no mercy, as I pulled him through the creek, through the mud. I felt nothing but pleasure, when his head would bounce up, and, then slam back down hard, onto the ground.

A couple of times, his other leg, which I hadn't tied with the rope, would find itself on the wrong side of a tree. I'm sure if he'd still been alive, that leg getting broken and pulled out of joint would've been a little painful. Probably, that tree trunk slamming into his manhood wouldn't have felt very good, either. Unfortunately for me, he didn't get to enjoy any of those nice things

When I’d judged we'd come far enough, I halted and jumped down from the mule. There wasn't much use in kicking a dead man, so, I just removed the rope. This oughta be far enough away so he don't stink up our land while he rots. I took the gun belt and pistol from his body, strapped it on and started to climb back up on the mule.

Hesitating, I walked back over to the dead man. I went through his pockets. He had about ten dollars in his pockets, so I took it.

Hell—he no longer needed money for anything, but I did. You can't buy your way outta Hell, anymore than you can buy your way into Heaven. That made the money kinda useless to him. Me? I wasn’t interested in buying my way into Heaven, so I could make use of his money, for him.

Looking down into his face, I noticed a huge grin on his face, which his death mask had created for him. Seeing that grin, my mind just sorta snapped. I kicked him just as hard as I possibly could, right in the middle of his grinning face. Why the hell not? Probably didn't hurt him very much at all. But it sure helped the hell out of me.

When I tired of this, I simply walked away from him and climbed back onto the mule.

When I got back to the cabin, I went inside and got out the money Pa’d been saving over the years. There was maybe three hundred dollars in all. Little else of any value did we have. After all our years here, three hundred dollars was all we were worth. Knowing I'd never return to live here again, I poured kerosene all over the cabin and tossed in a match. I stood there watching, as it burned.

Yeah, it burned almost as brightly, as the hatred in my heart right that moment.

I rode back into town, stopping by Doc's office to tell him it was just as well he hadn't made it out to see Ma the day before. “You needn't bother with going out to the cabin after all, Doc. Ma, she just don't need you no more.”

After walking the mule down to the livery, I picked out a fine looking horse. I traded the mule and a couple of dollars more for the horse; placed my saddle on him, climbed up on his back and rode him down to the store. Inside the store, I picked up some supplies, such as a frying pan and a fork; walked around, gathering up some beans, bacon, salt, coffee and sugar along with a few other little things.

I bought three boxes of .44 caliber bullets to go with the new Colt pistol, which I chose—the pistol fit well inside the holster of the used gun belt, which I'd also bought. All in all, after trading the dead Yankee's holster and gun, I got the new one pretty cheap. Then, I left that town, and it would be many years before I next saw it.

I rode back out to the cabin. Of course, by then, it'd already burned to the ground, but was still smoldering. Picking up the tracks of the soldiers who'd killed my folks, I began trailing them. I counted the tracks of at least eight horses which bore the weight of a man. There were four horses carrying no weight. My Pa’s horses.

It wasn't difficult tracking at all. What with all the horses, mules and hogs leaving tracks, I could follow them just about without even looking for them.

I followed the tracks, day and night, not stopping for sleep. I did stop one time, just long enough to heat up some beans and eat. Then, I continued on their trail. I don't know how many days passed, but there came a morning when I noticed the men had separated.

Six men continued on to the north, two of the riders broke off from the others and headed east. You could tell they'd probably made the decision to split up, the night before. They'd butchered a hog and had themselves a big feast. This was the first time they'd killed one of the hogs.

Three nights later, I found the two who’d separated from the others. They had themselves a huge fire going.

Sitting there, without a care in the world, they were drinking from a bottle of whiskey, which they passed back and forth. They'd earlier cooked, and were now eating what looked like chickens, several of which were still hanging over the fire. Leaving my horse tied to a branch of a tree, I walked towards them, forty-four in my hand.

Both men were drunk—wearing their shiny blue uniforms like they thought they were some kind of little gods or something. They were laughing, just having themselves a real good time; telling each other about all of the things they'd done in their lives. About the places they'd been and the women they'd had. They were so sure they were safe; so sure nobody could ever bring any harm to them—they were very badly mistaken.

Stepping out, into full view of the men, I should have been easy to see in the firelight, by anybody wanting to notice me. Still, it took them a few minutes to realize I was even there. Finally, one of them looked up in his stupor, and saw me.

"Hey, who’re you, Boy?"

The other one looked at me then and asked, "Whadda ya want?"

"You boys," I told him, through teeth clenched in hatred.

Both of them stood, hands trying to take out their pistols. I killed one of them outright, a bullet through his head. The other one was hit in the shoulder. His pistol fell to the ground and he stood there, holding his arm. I shot him in the leg simply because I didn't want him standing up. He went down, yelling. Walking up closer to him, I put a bullet into his other leg and he screamed even louder.

While he was lying there screaming, and rolling around like a baby, I picked up his pistol and the bottle of whiskey and walked over to their fire. I sat myself down on the log they'd been sitting on. I took one of the chickens off the stick and began eating.

I don't know how many of the chickens the men had eaten or how many they'd killed altogether; but I ate the two that were left. I ate ‘em both, while the man watched me. Let him watch—hell, truth be known, they were probably my chickens anyway. With frequent cups of whiskey, poured from their bottle, I washed the chicken down.

Finished filling my stomach with their nicely cooked chickens, I got up and walked back over to the man. He watched my every move. His eyes were wide open and they were filled with terror.

"Wh-why’re you doing this? We did no-nothing to you."

Looking over at Pa's horse, I waved the Colt at them and, turning back towards the man, asked, "Where'd you come by them horses over there?"

"Bought ‘em from a farmer. Couple a days ago."

"Got a bill of sale?"

"Well, no—we paid him good, hard-earned cash."

"Really?"

"Yeah—six dollars."

I shot him in the other shoulder and he screamed again.

"Why? Pl-please, why are you do-doing this to me?" he asked, again.

"Why? Why am I doing this? Because those are my Pa's horses you have there. Because you didn't pay for them. Because you killed him and my Ma, and while they lay dead on our porch, you stole our horses. That's why I’m doing this?

Now, do you understand me?”

He could feel the hatred in my words, which I'd spat out at him.

His eyes opened even further. He knew then, Hell had come for him—that I was Hell's messenger, sent to collect him.

"It wasn't me that shot ‘em," he begged. "I tried to stop ‘em, but they went ahead and shot those people anyway."

"They ain't the ones who was riding my Pa's horses—you was."

I sent a bullet into his abdomen.

I kicked him in the head, hatred came pouring out of my heart and onto him. I never hated anybody so much as I hated this man, who was now whimpering on the ground at my feet. He was squirming in pain, holding his stomach and crying.

I knew it wasn't right to torture him like I was doing, but I couldn't seem to keep myself from doing it. I was so out of control I just couldn't stop kicking him.

Finally, my anger spent—or maybe, kicking him so much had just plumb wore me out, I put a bullet through his head; sending him further along on his road to Hell.

Chapter Three

Some weeks later, I found a Rebel army unit and joined up with them. We got into battles with Yankees almost every day, it seemed. I found an easy outlet for the hatred which had built itself up inside me. I didn't take any prisoners.

The way battles were fought by the army, seemed sorta stupid to me. I mean, we would be ordered to line up, and stand there, side by side. Then, without any cover at all, we’d be ordered to walk slowly across some extremely long distances, just to meet up with the enemy.

An enemy who, by the way, would be hiding behind lots of cover, just lying there waiting on us to get close enough to shoot. To me, it was more like murder and we were the murderees.

They'd just cut down our ranks as we marched; killing us with this new kind of thing that I'd never seen nor heard of before. That thing, which they called artillery, was simply a pure horror. Any words I might utter on it would not even come close to letting you know the sheer fear that sent shudders up and down my spine, whenever I heard one of them fire off a round.

I told my captain I wanted to kill—I needed, to kill Yankees. But, I wanted to do it another way. I wanted to be able to, at the very least, get close enough to see 'em, without getting my head blown off by an artillery shell first. He told me I had no choice. I had to do exactly what he told me to do, or, he'd have me shot as a coward.

Telling nobody of my plans, I just simply walked away from the friendly campfire that night while everybody else was asleep, and I never looked back. Now, I supposed, both sides probably wanted me dead. That didn't even matter to me, though. Hell, I figured I was gonna die in this damned war, anyhow

.

Shedding the gray uniform and cap, I pulled out my old clothes from the saddlebags and put ‘em on. My once, proudly worn uniform, I buried beneath a rotten log. My old hat felt like a long lost friend. Then, I set out, looking for stray Yankees. I had no trouble finding ’em--killing ‘em, because they were everywhere I looked. This went on for what seemed like years. Well, truth be known, it was years, in fact.

But, there'd just been a whole damn bunch of those Yankees and I never even came close to having enough bullets for all of ‘em.

I chuckled through my pain now, as I remember this extremely tiny detail. It’d taken me two years of war, before that little fact had finally sunk into my brain. Just how dumb I could be, well, that was the one thing that just never failed to amaze me.

When the war ended, my hatred had been spent as well, over the span of those years. Now, all I wanted was to stop killing and go home. Then, of course, I remembered. I no longer had a home to go back to and had to hang my head for a moment. So, I just started riding, seeing what all there was out there in this big world.

Chapter Four

During the war, I’d learned quite a lot about killing, with most of it being bad. One thing I'd purposely sought out to learn the best I could, was how to use my Colt better. I’d taken every lesson seriously and I’d learned ‘em well. More than once, the Colt saved my life through the years.

There'd been times in different towns, when men wanted to test whether they were better at drawing and killing than I was. They weren't. Each of them died. I became quite fast, when it came to the art of drawing the Colt. I'd become extremely gifted when it came to killing what I shot at. But, this constantly having to be on the lookout for people out to kill me, quickly grew tiring.

So, I just kept riding. Finally, I’d ended up here in Gonzales, Texas. I'd made Gonzales my home and I also made a new beginning for myself. Nobody knew about my past, or, the things in my past. I liked that idea and didn't have to be on the guard for someone looking for me.

I'd bought me a few acres some ten miles outside of town. There was a small, and, a very old, abandoned cabin on it. I repaired it, as best I could. I never was very good at fixing things, but I managed to fix the cabin well enough to keep the rain from coming in. At least, while not pretty, it provided me the shelter I needed to stay dry. One day, I hoped to save enough to get a real carpenter to fix it up proper.

I grew a few crops and had me a few head of beef, so there always was something to eat. Down by the creek, running through the south side of my land, I would go each day, just to practice my drawing and shooting skills. I had confidence in my ability to be able to protect myself if the time should ever come, which forced me into having to do so.

I made very few trips into town. Usually, the trip was just to do two things. First, I would pay a visit to the saloon for a couple of quiet drinks. Then, I’d take the short walk down to the store, where I'd pick up fresh supplies.

I never bothered anybody. After the drinks, I'd maybe pick up a bottle of whiskey to take home with me. I found that I liked to have myself a coupla drinks each night before I went to bed. One bottle would last me, until my next trip. Outside of those things, town held no interest for me.

There was this one time, though, when I'd been in the saloon, and I'd found trouble was right close at hand. I'd had my coupla drinks and was just sitting there nursing on the last one. A cowboy I didn't know walked up to my table.

He said, "The boys up there at the bar—they tell me you was a Reb. Well, was you boy—huh, was you a Reb?"

I lifted my eyes slowly from my drink, which was already at my lips, and stared into his. Nodding, I said, "Yep—that I was." My eyes steady on his, as I went ahead and took a sip.

That's when he told me, in this long-winded speech, filled with ugly words, how much he hated all us Rebels. Seeking no trouble, I didn't say anything.

"Did ya hear what I said, boy? I hate every one of you Rebs!"

"Yeah. Heard you the first time."

"Whatcha gonna do about it, boy?"

I didn't answer him. I could see where we were headed with this conversation. He reached down, picked my table up and threw it across the room.

Then, he turned and looked back at me. He jumped like a snake had bit him, when he saw my Colt. It was aimed right at his head.

"Bring the table back over here, boy.

" I motioned, with the gun barrel, for him to move.

Picking the table up, he brought it back. He set it almost in the position it'd been in before. He had such a hateful look on his face and I sorta figured this thing wasn't over between him and me. I'd embarrassed him. He probably wasn't of such a mindset he was apt to forget about that, anytime soon.

Walking outside, I saw him. Sure enough, there he was, just waiting out in the street for me. He stood there, legs slightly apart, right hand hanging just above the butt of the pistol at his right side. He left little doubt but that he intended to continue this matter with his gun. I'd no interest in this fight, though. It was all about nothing that was very important, at all.

I asked him, "You don't really wanna do this. Do you?"

"You're damn right I do," he growled.

His hand dropped to the pistol on his hip, as he began his play.

Before he could lift his pistol more than a couple of inches, mine was already pointed at his face. I held my fire. He just froze. He neither continued his draw, nor, did he remove his hand from the pistol.

He simply froze like a statue, still crouched over, slightly bent at the waist. His right hand was still in the act of drawing; his left hand was hanging out from his side, elbow bent, almost like he was trying to balance himself or something. He was quite a sight to behold.

"Go on.” I told him, almost whispering the words. “Draw. You’ve still got a chance. Could be, my aim will be bad. Haven't practiced much, lately. Go ahead, boy." I was hoping he wouldn't do it, though. I really didn't want to take his life—not for something stupid, like this, which had been over for me a long time ago.

Removing his hand from the pistol, he replied, "Nope—ain't no damn way in hell I'm gonna do that—I ain’t never been too damn smart, but my Ma, she never raised no damn fool, neither."

"Tell you what, though. You damn well beat me fair and square, mister. Come on back inside with me and I'll buy you a drink."

With that, he just walked right past me and back into the saloon; never even bothering to look over at me. Holstering my own pistol, shaking my head from side to side in wonder at his fast change of heart, I followed him back inside. Hell, least I'd made it all the way up to being called mister, now.

Sitting there with him, I learned he was Dave Wilson. He’d his own story to tell. Turned out, he was from Kansas. His sister'd been killed by men who were riding with Quantrill. I could understand his hatred, because it matched my own, back then. But, instead of hating all us Rebels, I think he should’ve hated Quantrill. Hell! Even I hated Quantrill.

I remembered why I got into that war to begin with: Hatred of Yankees. I had no hatred of Dave. In fact, I had more in common with him than I had with a lot of other people. I think the hatred, which once had fueled me so much, had sorta been exhausted by all the lives I'd taken, all the death I'd seen, or caused.

Dave was twenty-seven. Since I was only twenty-two, he figured I was still a boy. That's kinda funny now that I'm reliving it again. He had a place out west of town, also. Fact is, I had to ride past his place on my way to and from town, yet, we'd never met. On that day, we became good friends.

I'm glad remembering Dave was one of the things playing back through my mind, in these, my last few moments here.

Chapter Five

Suddenly, playing across my memory comes that greatest day of all of my days. The most wonderful day of my life; a memory I want to be seeing, even as I leave this life and on my way to her.

I’d been in town that day for my usual drinks and supplies. After swallowing down a few drinks, I'd been on my way down to the store when the stage pulled in.

I wasn't really paying all that much attention to the stage, until I saw her step out of it. When I saw her standing there, it stopped me in my tracks. Her golden hair was so long and was shining brightly in the morning sun. Her body was—what do those refined folks call it—petite?

She was absolutely the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. As I approached closer, she turned and her eyes locked upon mine. There was a chair sitting on the stage platform.

I never even saw it. In fact, I still suspect somebody pushed that chair out in front of me. Either way, I tripped over it.

I sent the chair sliding and tumbling across the platform. Tripping over it also sent me stumbling across the platform. When I’d finally regained control over my body, I discovered I'd ended up about three feet away from her.

That's when I first saw the brilliance of those magnificent blue eyes. I could see all of these tiny, golden flecks scattered around within them.

My face was quite red, I'm sure. I figured she could smell the whiskey and probably thought I was drunk

, I remember thinking to myself, at the time.

I tipped my hat to her, as if I hadn't just almost planted my face in the boardwalk, and said, "I'm sorry, ma'am. Good morning."

After she'd finished laughing at me and composed herself, that sweet laughter was replaced with such a gorgeous smile, it just simply melted my heart.

When she responded, it was as if I was hearing the soft voice of an angel. "Good morning, Sir."

I introduced myself to her, and she told me her name was Kathy Sumrall.

Boldly, I asked, "Are you just passing through, ma'am?"

Smiling brightly at me, she said, "No, actually I'm on my way to New Mexico to visit my dad."

Her voice was like music. Oh, my sweet Lord. Please, make her stay here for awhile

.

While I was still thinking that thought, she continued, "I think I might be here for several days, Sam. It certainly looks like this is a very nice town." She was looking straight into my eyes when she said those words.

With great difficulty, however, I somehow managed to keep myself from throwing my hat up into the air.

She started to reach down and pick up her bags. I stopped her and said, "Please, Kathy. Would you allow me to take those for you?"

"Of course, if it's no trouble to you. I was going across the street to the hotel. I thought I might get a room, that is, if they have a vacancy."

As we walked, I told her a little bit about myself and she told me some things about herself. When we got her checked in, the boy took her bags on up to her room.

She turned to me and asked, "Sam, would you like to have supper with me tonight?"

Well, I know my flushed face must have tickled her pretty good. What else could I say but, "Yes ma'am I'd be pleased to."

Yeah....like there’d ever been any chance at all that I was gonna say no.

She asked, "How about 6:30, then? Is that alright with you?"

"Yes, ma'am. That’ll be just fine. I'll be here to pick you up then."

I was sitting in the hotel lobby at 6:00 pm. I know this, because I was watching the hotel clock like a hawk watches a crippled bird. I'll tell you— the minutes, they passed like hours.

Finally, at 6:20, I could stand the suspense no longer. I walked upstairs and knocked on her door.

When she opened the door, she said, "Good evening, Sam. I hope I didn't keep you waiting long." She was wearing this beautiful, light-blue dress. The front of dress dipped way down low on her chest. She was gorgeous. Her hair was rolled up on top of her head in some kind of ball, or something. Little strands of her lovely hair kinda fell down on each side of her soft, round face.

The blue dress caused the blue of her eyes to glisten, and to change colors, from light blue, to dark blue depending on just how the light struck the dress.

I swear, I was gazing upon an angel. I didn't take my eyes away from her beautiful face. Couldn't have, even had I wanted to, and I surely didn't want to. For the first time ever, in my entire life, I fell in love. Oh, yes sir. I fell in love. I fell in love in a big way. When I tried to talk, I couldn't. The only thing I could do, was stutter like a shy little school boy. I made a fool of myself just from the sight of her.

"Sam? Sam? SAM?" She was waving her hand in front of my face. "Sam, are you alright?"

I don't remember what I said but I did, finally, manage to mumble something to her in response.

We walked down to the cafe and I can remember stumbling on the steps, as we left the hotel. When we reached the cafe, I was the perfect gentleman. I held her chair out for her, as she took her seat. I sat on the other side of the table from her, all the time resisting the voice in my head, telling me, to pull a chair right up next to her. She figured out what she wanted to eat, and when the waiter came over. I sat there being a gentleman and let her order first.

I know the Lord always has some plan in mind whenever he wants a man to be with a woman. I just never knew he would make it so complicated. Why would he want me to feel this helpless when I was with her? I knew I could usually talk.

Why was it necessary for me to not be able to find the right words to tell her what I was thinking? Why wouldn't the words come out like they usually did, in complete sentences? Why did my stomach feel so queasy? Why would my eyes not leave her face?

During our meal, I'd finally managed to talk with some semblance of intelligence, with her. At least, after a little bit, we did talk while we ate. After eating, we had coffee. She and I had this polite conversation, sitting there afterwards, and I fell even more deeply in love with her while we sat at the table.

When we finally left the café, we walked up and down the main street of Gonzales for a couple of hours. We just talked, trying hard to learn more about each other's lives, about our wants and needs.

Since the street was only a block long, we did a lot of walking back and forth. Probably, to anyone who might’ve been watching, I'm sure we looked a little bit silly. But, that didn't bother me, not one little bit.

Oh, yes! I was deeply in love, and I could tell; no, I could feel, from how she looked at me and the way her fingers moved slowly, up and down on my arm, while we were walking, she’d been growing some feelings of her own for me, as well.

I walked her back to her hotel room later. Just before she closed the door, she stood up on her tip-toes and gave me a gentle peck on the cheek. I walked downstairs, all the time holding my cheek, almost like I could push her little kiss further inside.

I didn't go back to my cabin that night. Instead, I took a room over the bar, so I could be near her. Each morning, I would rent us a buckboard, and she and I would go for long rides. Every day we grew closer to each other and she became my only reason for living.

My every waking moment was spent thinking of nothing but her. We had long picnics down by the river, beneath the large trees. We would lie on a blanket and just talk to each other for hours.

One day I took her out to see where I lived. She left little doubt in my mind how much my cabin impressed her. I could tell, just by the look on her face. She sucked in her breath and her mouth puckered up like she’d just taken her very first bite on a lemon. Her sweet nose looked like it was trying to reach up and touch her blue eyes. I thought she was gonna faint right there in front of me

.

The fourth night that I knew her, we shared our very first kiss. There’s no way I can explain the feeling that shot through my veins, through my heart.

When the kiss ended, I wrapped her in my arms and whispered into her ear, "Kathy, I think I've fallen in love with you."

"Oh, my darling, Sam. I've loved you since the very day I met you. That's why I stayed in town and didn't continue my trip to Dad's ranch. I love you very much."

All was very good in my little piece of the world.

There was a lot more to our romance than what I’m seeing right now, of course. But, a lot of those things....well, they've just flashed by, much too fast, through my mind. They passed in a blur and didn't give me time to enjoy them, again.

We would eat in "our" little cafe each morning and every night. We’d take long walks afterward, arms wrapped around each other, with me holding her close up against me. I kissed her every chance I could get and she gave me plenty of chances.

On the sixth night that I knew her, I was holding her in my arms and said, "Kathy....uh, Kathy, I was wondering about something. Would you consider, I mean, could you....what I'm trying to say is, Kathy, would you consider becoming my wife? My soul aches for you."

She said, “Yes, I would be honored to marry you, Sam. I've been waiting and waiting for you to ask me that question. Yes, I'll marry you, my love.”

Now, my whole life seemed complete.

However, she wasn't finished yet. "Oh, by the way, Sam?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Darling, I have money saved up and if I give it to you...Sam, now don't be mad or insulted, but, if I give it to you, do you think you might hire a carpenter to fix your place up? I mean, just a little bit? Maybe make it a suitable place for you and me to live? We might even raise a family there, if it's fixed up just a little bit."

Well, I certainly hope she didn't think she'd hurt my feelings. Nothing could take away the thrill and pure joy she'd just given me. Besides, I'm sure she probably didn't mean what she said in a bad way.

Chapter Six

Two days ago, after returning the rental buggy, we were walking back to her hotel. A drunken cowboy came out of the saloon just as we were passing its doors.

Seeing Kathy, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her hard up against his body, trying to kiss her. I put my hands around his neck to make him release her and then slugged him, knocking him out into the street.

I commenced to beating on him. The only thing that stopped me from killing him had been Kathy pulling me from him. But, of course, now that I'm seeing that part of my life, it brings me back to tonight.

Tonight, while we were eating in our little cafe, the door opened and in came this cowboy who'd assaulted Kathy. Seeing us there, he walked up to our table and squared off right in front of me.

"You sumabitch--I'm gonna kill you," he said, staring coldly at me.

I stood, un-strapping the hammer on my Colt, ready for him to make his play. Kathy tried to prevent it, but that just would never happen.

His hand flashed, down for the gun hanging at his right side. My draw was much faster and I sent a bullet tearing through his heart.

As he was falling to the hardwood floor of the little cafe, I felt a tremendous blow hit me in the back. The shock and the sheer, unexpected force of the impact, drove me to my knees.

Looking behind me I saw a man I’d never seen before, standing there, his pistol smoking. He was aiming it at me, ready to fire again. Without thinking about it, acting only out of instincts sharpened through the years, I threw myself off to the side. I kept my gun hand from making contact with the floor, which could've jarred the pistol from my grip.

I felt the heat of his bullet...heard the snap, as it passed close to my ear. Then I heard this horrible "thump

," as it struck Kathy in the chest. She grunted from the bullet's impact, even while she was slowly falling to the floor. I knew I’d made a horrible mistake.

"NO!"

I yelled out, damning myself for having moved from in front of her.

While I'd been looking at her, it had distracted me from the stranger, who must’ve been a friend of the man I’d just killed. Before I could fire at him, his third bullet struck me in the chest. I felt it burn its path all the way through my body, and then rip itself out through my back.

I shot the man four times. All four of my slugs hit him somewhere in the chest. He began to crumble and fall, but, I'd already turned back to Kathy, because I knew he was done.

Kathy was lying on the floor, mostly on her back, but partially on her left side. I crawled the short distance over to her and gently rolled her onto her back. The front of her dress was soaked with her blood. I carefully tried to judge the damage she'd suffered but was unable to do so.

I quickly unbuttoned the top of her dress and pulled it over to the side. When I could see the wound, I was stunned and simply slumped over her. The bullet had entered just beneath her left breast. I knew this was a wound she could never survive. I’d seen many such wounds before.

My forehead rested for a few seconds upon her bare breast. Lifting my head from her body, I gently pulled the dress back over her, covering her breast.

Standing slowly, and with great difficulty, from beside her, I began walking toward the man lying in the back of the cafe. It was hard for me to walk. I was having trouble getting my breath and I was coughing up blood. The blood constantly filled my mouth.

Hatred, which I thought I'd dealt with long ago, rushed like a flood back into my heart again. I spat a mouthful of the blood onto the cafe floor. I watched it splatter there, in all directions.

It scattered the dirt on the floor, sending it flying. In what seemed to be slow motion, I noticed it not only scatterd the dirt, it also caused many casualties to a long line of ants who'd been marching along the floor from one table to another.

Completely and from out of nowhere, at a time like this, I chuckled. Even as I watched the ants scattering in a thousand directions, the thought came to me. Hell, boys...everybody's got their own problems, huh?

When I finally reached the man and could see his eyes, they were open wide. They were filled with fear. He was gasping for air—but hell, we were both gasping for the very same air.

His eyes followed my every move. He knew he was about to die— that right now, the messenger of death had come for him. He was about to need a lot less air.

My remaining bullet, I put straight into his left eye. I fully reloaded my Colt, and sent six more slugs tearing into his head. From no more than three feet distance, thise .44 caliber bullets tore his head apart.

I’d been hit very hard by his bullets and I knew that, just like my Kathy, I'd never survive them.

The gun fell from my suddenly, extremely weak, fingers. They no longer had the will with which to grip it. Horrible pain sent me back down onto my knees. The loss of blood, the pain; together they forced me to have to crawl, just so I could get back over where Kathy was lying. I refused to die before I reached her side.

When I finally reached her, after what seemed to take forever, I got myself up into a sitting position beside her. Lifting her upper body onto my lap, I sat there, cradling her in my arms, holding her close to my chest. Then, I leaned back against this wall.

Chapter Seven

Oh, my God, she is so beautiful

, I remember thinking when I'd held her in my arms earlier tonight, when she was first shot. I remember those last moments again, now, as I’d lived them then; her hair of gold, those blue eyes slightly closed

.

I remember too, gently placing my lips upon hers, feeling the cold wetness and tasting the iron of the blood which coated her sweet lips.

I feel the tears stinging again, as I remember whispering into her ear, "I love you so much, Kathy."

A soft laugh escapes my lips as the realization strikes me that I’d just repeated those words out loud, again, even as I was remembering I’d said them to her earlier.

Her hair, which I'd always found to be so sassy, had been falling across her face

, and I can remember gently brushing it back with my fingertips. The smile, with which she’d drawn me into her world the very first time I ever saw her, had returned once more to her lips, only seconds before she died.

That smile, appearing as if she had some secret knowledge of what awaited her, or what awaited the two of us, perhaps...when we were finally together again.

I remember asking her, "Will you wait for me when you get there?"

And, I remember too, her final words; the words which will take me on angel wings to her side once more, "I will wait for you, my love—don't be long. I'm afraid, and I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone, my love," I hear myself say out loud.

I remember the fierce grip with which she'd held my hand, as if she was trying to keep me with her

; I remember feeling her soul, as it was leaving her body; her hand slowly relaxing, becoming soft once more.

I remember, in these last few moments remaining to me now, how she’d just slipped away from me, and was gone.

I know I’d begun to cry, sitting there on the floor, holding her close to my chest.

It's so hard to breathe—and now, a final insult. I can no longer see anything.

I am totally blind. Reaching down, I feel for, and, finally find her face. Tilting her sweet face up for the very last time, with my fingers, I know there is time for one last touch of my lips to hers. My tears fall, unseen by either one of us, onto her face and my hand.

I cannot believe I’m going to be deprived of having one final look at her beautiful face, before I die. It is not fair

...I hear myself screaming out from within my mind.

I have to fight back the blood, which is now filling my throat, my mouth. I'm not scared at all. I no longer feel any pain either. I only feel how very much I want to rush this moment. I can't wait for it to be over.

There is a persistent tugging on my hand and it's bothering me. It is frustrating my need to leave this place. Opening my eyes, which must have closed without me even knowing it, I see Kathy. It was she who had been gently pulling on my hand. She’s with me once again.

She’s standing there, above me now, and she's holding her hand down for me to take. With the wonderful anticipation of being rejoined with my love, I find myself reaching up, taking her sweet, tender hand in my own.

Rising, I stand beside her once again. My arm goes around her waist, gently pulling her body against mine. Now I'm looking down into her beautifully glistening, gold-flecked eyes. I care about nothing else but being with her again.

I want nothing more than what I now have. Just to be here...in her arms...to be with her again. Heaven cannot hold anything more beautiful

than this lovely creature now standing here, at my side. What a glorious feeling -- to know she wants to be here beside me. I am complete. Total happiness surrounds me, as I kiss my love.

What a brilliant glow that is...that glow, which surrounds her. The wonderful smile is back once more upon her beautiful face; she's even more stunning to me now, than she’d been in her life. I know now, I’m blessed. I know even more. That now, I can look at her forever.

The bullet which took her, no longer holds its power over her. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she pulls me up close against her body. Her body is so warm, so very soft. She smiles even more sweetly now, as she tilts her face slightly upwards; looking with pure love, upwards, into my eyes. Those tender lips are slightly parted, her blue eyes almost closed, as we gaze our adoration for each other.

But her eyes are brilliant now, without any clouds. There is no pain in them and they are beaming the love she has for me into my own eyes. This time, it isn't a bullet causing her almost closed eyes. That’s her love...her adoration even, and, she means it only for me. And, then...she kisses me

.

I know this one last thing as well

:

Her gentle kiss no longer has an end. We are together now, forever. I'm told, that where we are now, forever, means just that.

Forever, and forever after, and, it's all waiting for...me and my sweet Kathy.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.12.2009

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