Mattie picked up the little doll she kept in a hatbox under her bed in her room above the gun shop. There had never been much money for toys when she'd been growing up. With her and her three brothers to provide for, her mother and father had done well to keep them all fed and clothed. Those were hard times. But one year her mother had taken all of their Christmas money and bought Mattie a doll. Her father had been very angry, but her mother had said a girl ought to at least have one doll. She'd never played with it much. Mother kept it in a trunk in her bedroom and only let Mattie take it out on Sundays and hold it for a while. Mattie would stroke the doll's soft curls and reverently touch the laces and ribbons on the hat and dress. She didn't know anyone who dressed that way. Mother said the doll came straight from Paris, France, and that little French girls wore dresses like that every day. Mattie thought it must have been very hard for the little girls to stay clean. When she said as much to her mother, she had replied that the little girls were young ladies, and that they didn't run and whoop and holler with the boys the way Mattie did. Mattie thought that they must not have had much fun.
Mattie put the doll away and stepped to the window to look down on a sleeping Curtis Wells. The streets and buildings were bathed in early morning light. She could hear doves cooing outside on the roof ledge. Doves had always been her favorite birds. There'd been lots of them back home, and she loved the soft music they made. When she was sad it always sounded like they understood. And Mattie had seen many sad times. Her brothers had all died while they were still children, and then she'd lost her mother and her father. She didn't have anyone now; she was all alone. When she'd seen the name on the hotel in Curtis Wells, it had felt like she'd come to the right place.
Mattie had a lot on her mind this morning. She was wondering what to do with her life. Sometimes her loneliness nearly drove her mad. She had hoped that Call would declare his feelings for her and that they could have a life together. Sometimes lately he had seemed so close to doing just that. But it was no use; she knew he could never change. The man was consumed with grief over his dead wife; anyone could see that. And she had never come to grips with the killer in Call. He seemed to like hurting people. Yet when she'd said that very thing to him, he'd stared at her blankly and hadn't replied. Like he'd said before, he killed people; it was what he was good at. And he didn't stay awake nights wishing he were different. Mattie was worried about Call. The man had many enemies; he would always be looking over his shoulder. She knew he would never ask her to share that kind of existence. They were friends; that was all they'd ever be.
She had other friends in town as well . . . Amanda, Clay, Luther, and most of all Unbob. She'd grown to love his simple childish ways. It would be hard to say goodbye. Mattie sighed and turned back to her packing. Her mind was made up; she would leave at the end of the week. She wouldn't be coming back.
Mattie didn't know what life would be like somewhere else, but there was too much here that she needed to forget. Her thoughts went to Earl Hastings and how close she'd felt to him. If only he had wanted to be with her more than he'd wanted to kill Mosby. She remembered Tom Andrews and how he'd been gunned down in the street on the very day he'd proposed to her. They would have been so good together. It seemed to Mattie that she was always mourning the death of someone near and dear to her. Maybe she was bad luck. She smiled. Maybe Clay had some magic potion that could change that. Mattie pulled another box from beneath her bed. In it was the photograph of Atlanta that she'd bought for him. She wanted him to know that she understood his vision for the future of Curtis Wells. She didn't always agree with his methods; that was for sure. But at least he believed in something. At least he still had dreams. Call didn't.
She went to her bureau drawer and took out a folded handkerchief. Inside was an old sheriff's badge. Mattie polished it thoughtfully. She had bought it for Call in Miles City. She meant to give it to him before she left. Maybe if he got back to being a lawman, he would find peace and healing. She wished that for him. This was her way of letting him know that.
Mattie stepped back and looked around her. She had everything here well in hand. Now she just had to pack up her shop. Unbob would help her with that.
On Friday Call still hadn't been by to see her. She had just about finished loading her wagon, and she couldn't wait much longer. Maybe it was just as well. Mattie didn't know how he was going to take her leaving. She really didn't know how to say goodbye.
Unbob's sad face haunted her. She was sorry to be the source of the man's pain. She knew he didn't understand why she had to leave. "It's nothing you did, Unbob. It's just that I had hopes and nothin's gonna come of them hopes. I can see that now. So I gotta start fresh someplace else." Unbob turned away and stacked some more boxes on the wagon. She could tell he was wiping his eyes.
Unbob turned back around to face her. "Well, that's the last of it, Miss Mattie. Guess you're set to go, lessen ya change yer mind."
"OH, Unbob, I ain't gonna change my mind."
"But what about Call? He ain't gonna like it if you're not here when he gets back. Ya gotta wait fer 'im, Miss Mattie. Ya gotta wait fer Call."
Mattie finished hitching up her horse. She laid a hand gently on Unbob's shoulder and smiled at him. "I gotta go now, Unbob."
Mattie hugged Unbob and climbed into the wagon. She spoke to her horse and lightly flicked the reins. The wagon moved slowly away from the back door of the gun shop.
A kind of peace settled over Mattie as she looked back at the town that had been her home for the past year. It was time to move on.
The End
5/2001
