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kingofdorkville · 5 months ago

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Title: I never had no regrets

Ship: Mike x Dude (old edition), Mike & Colorado Ryan

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: Major character death, religious themes

Description: Mike and Dude's last day together.

Dude groaned softly as he eased himself into his chair on the front porch. Dude rubbed his face and sighed. Mike came out of the house with two cups of coffee and the newspaper. Dude took the newspaper appreciatively and opened it. Mike sat down next to Dude silently. It was a warm morning, and they were dressed in their lightest patterned shirts. Dude still left his partially unbuttoned as he had in his youth.

July 16th, 1914. The little town hadn’t had its own newspaper when Dude came into it about 50 years ago. All the news was word of mouth then. The town was hardly much bigger now than it had been in 1860 but there were cars, and a pharmacy with a soda fountain had finally made its way over. Dude could drive a car now but he didn’t like to. Unfortunately, it was harder getting on horses now than it had been even 5 years ago. It was harder getting around at all.

The newspaper talked about how the school that had been built only 20 years ago was getting on. There was a war brewing in Europe. Woodrow Wilson was doing this and that for domestic policy.

“Anything good?” Mike asked him.

“The school’s doin’ well.”

Mike shook their head. “How this damn town lasted almost 30 years without a school, I’ll never know. You’d think they wanted a bunch of uneducated hicks.”

Dude frowned at them.

“I don’t mean you, Dude. You weren’t born here.”

“I’m an uneducated Texan hick, anyhow.”

“Well, you can read that newspaper,” Mike tried with some levity.

Dude only frowned more.

Mike shook their head. “Old age has killed your sense of humor.”

He laughed. “All these years, and you still ain’t funny.”

Mike feigned offense, but conceded, “One of us has to be the grumpy old man.”

Dude smiled. A couple of his teeth had fallen out and his lips were worn. He still had a pretty smile. Mike smiled back at him. They took one of his wrinkled hands in theirs. They frowned at a bruise on it.

“You better start being more careful Dude, you aren’t a young man anymore-”

Dude waved his hand. “Ah, you still worry too much. No man ever died of a bruise.”

“Well, if you fall-”

“Fall?! Who’s fallin’? Not me, that’s for damn sure,” Dude interrupted in indignation.

“You sound more like Chance every year.”

Mike and Dude looked vaguely in the direction of the jail, as if Chance could still be there. Dude pouted. “Am I really a hardass?”

“No, baby, but you’ve gotten especially stubborn and prideful.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. Gettin’ old…it ain’t a cakewalk.”

Mike squeezed his hand. “I’m here for you, always.”

Dude got a very serious look on his face. “I know. I only wish I could be there for you. My time’s coming, honey.”

Mike tilted their head. They tried to laugh. “You say that like you’re dying tomorrow.”

“I’m serious. I feel Heaven callin’.”

“But you’re sure it’s Heaven?”

“At night, I hear the angels.”

“Baby, you’re just dreaming. Just dreaming. Come on, let’s go for a walk in town, huh?”

Dude grabbed his old worn hat and the pair walked into town. It was still small, but it had acquired more streets in the past two decades. What had once been a single street, turned into 6 streets. Mike and Dude walked past the Wells Fargo that was still in the same spot next to the new pharmacy.

Dude stopped. “We should get two ice cream sodas.”

They frowned. “This early in the morning? Are you sure that’s good for-”

“Mike, I’m 75 years old. I know what’s good for me.”

“Oh, I know. I just care about you.”

Dude kissed their hand and they walked inside the pharmacy and came up to the counter. “Two coca-colas with chocolate ice cream, please.”

“That’ll be 10 cents,” said the man behind the counter. Dude dropped a dime on the counter.

Dude sat down carefully. “You know, I remember the first time I had a coca-cola.”

Mike laughed. “So do I. Did it still have cocaine in it then?”

Dude furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know. When did they take it out?”

“Ohhh, about 10 years ago.”

“Yeah, it probably did,” Dude said. “What a fool thing to drink.”

They both laughed.

The man behind the counter put down their ice cream sodas and they thanked him. They had their beverages and said little else.

Dude rolled himself a cigarette as they exited the pharmacy.

“They come pre-rolled now, Dude,” Mike teased.

“I like to roll ‘em myself.”

He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit his cigarette.

“You used to use matches,” Mike said reminiscently.

He shrugged. “It’s nice not to have to strike a match against something.”

Mike blushed for the first time in a long time. “You know, I always thought you were pretty when you smoked.”

Dude blew smoke out of the side of his mouth and asked amusedly, “Yeah?”

“Still do.”

Mike and Dude walked home.

Later on that evening, Mike lit the stove to reheat some soup they’d made yesterday. Dude sat at the table, watching.

“Honey, could you…” Dude stopped himself. “How ‘bout you fry up that good cut of pork belly in the icebox for me? And make me a nice glass of sweet tea, huh?”

Mike turned around. “I thought the pork belly was for when Colorado and his wife and kids come over on Saturday?”

Dude’s eyes were distant. “Mike, I ain’t gonna be here Saturday.”

Mike’s heart felt like it had been thrown into the bottom of the ocean. They bit their lip then released it. They told him sharply, “Dude, that is not funny.”

“I’m not bein’ funny. Mike, I’m not making it to Saturday.”

His mouth was drawn into a straight line. He looked 10 years older.

Mike lowered the flame on the stove and sniffed. “Are you sick? Was it the ice cream soda? Should I send for the doctor?”

Dude shook his head. “I’m fine. I don’t need no doctor.”

Mike looked at him for a long time. “Are you sure about the pork belly?”

Dude nodded. “Fry it up for me…with a couple of mashed potatoes and…do we still have the green beans?”

Mike nodded. “Alright. I’ll heat up this soup for me.”

Mike made Dude’s dinner exactly how he asked for it, and sat down with him to eat.

Dude always insisted on saying grace before meals, so the pair did so.

“When you pray tonight, could you ask God to take away whatever feeling you’re having?” Mike asked. They almost considered praying themselves. Please let God listen for once.

Dude gave them a small smile. “I will. But, I want you to know something. I never was any damn good with words. Mike, these past 34 years have been the best of my life. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. If I could do it all over, I’d do it all the same so I always got to you. I wouldn’t trade a minute of it. I don’t regret not having kids with you, and when I go, don’t you think I ever did. I know how your mind is. Don’t go dwellin’ on any bad moment we had. I’m not mad at you. You’re the best damn husband a fella could have. I’m going out of this world grateful for you, you understand?”

Mike wiped their eyes. “I understand.”

Dude shoveled down his dinner like a starving man.

“Hungry?” Mike teased.

“Always for your cookin’, honey.”

Mike shook their head fondly. “You did get soft. You old sap.”

Dude grinned. “I was always soft on you.”

Mike reached out to stroke Dude’s face. “You better be here Saturday, Dude.”

“I’ll try, honey. I will.”

When the pair went to bed that night, Dude was insistent on sleeping naked as they did more often when they were younger. Mike didn’t mind Dude’s aged body. They were in love with every wrinkle, bruise, and sag. He retained some of his tan, though his days in the sun were shorter. He’d put on a bit of weight, but Mike loved that all the more. He still smelled like coffee and tobacco. Dude took a deep sniff of Mike’s hair.

“Always fruity. Used to be cucumber. Now more peachy.”

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” Mike whispered.

“As handsome as I used to be?”

Mike hugged Dude closer. “More handsome.”

“You’re lyin’, but I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Mike woke up slowly that morning with Dude still pressed close to them. They felt Dude’s thinning hair and sighed. As their hand fell onto his neck, their heart stopped dead in their chest. He was stone cold. Mike kept their eyes closed as they pushed themselves away. Their heart pounded in their chest. They almost tumbled off their bed, but were able to steady themselves. They opened their eyes slowly, to their husband still on the bed. He could almost have just been asleep, except his skin had become a strange shade of grey. They reached out slowly and felt his cheek. Cold. They knelt down and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

“Dude, I should have made a big speech to you too. You knew I loved you. I know you did. I don’t want to go on without you. But I will baby, I will. I guess I’m glad I knew…or had an idea. I hope you were always right and you’re in Heaven. Having breakfast with the angels. You’d fit right in. You are my angel. Watch me carefully, huh?”

For a long while, Mike didn’t move. They kneeled in front of the long gone Dude and caressed him. They held back tears. After some long amount of time that could have been an hour or two, they managed to stand. Their knees groaned on the way up. They grabbed their robe from the closet and tied it around themselves. They neglected putting on any shoes.

Mike walked out of their house into the Friday morning air. The warmth of the morning was an insult to how dead and cold Mike felt. They managed to get to Colorado’s farm. He had a good deal more land than Mike and Dude had ever acquired. With his 6 children, he needed it a lot more. They stumbled across the pathway past Colorado’s group of cows. They chuckled, remembering their sole cow back at the ranch. What a meager life they had lived.

Mike was greeted by Colorado’s youngest, Abilene. She had long brown hair, and favored her father. She was as girlish cute as he had once been boyish cute. She smiled.

“Why, good mornin’,” she drawled. “I thought me’n Pa ‘n Ma weren’t coming over ‘til tomorrow?”

Mike was grave. “I need to talk to your father.”

Abilene frowned then hurried inside. Colorado soon replaced her in the doorway. His brown hair was speckled with gray, and his boyish smile had flattened into a handsome, but aged grin.

“Hey, Mike. What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Dude’s dead, Colorado.”

His grin fell off his face. He laid a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “When?”

Mike’s resolve broke, and they cried. “Last night I think. I woke up this morning and oh, God.”

He pulled them into a hug. “It’s gonna be alright. You can stay here with me and Jennetta for a while, until we get the ranch straightened out.”

Mike shook their head. “No, it’s my ranch. I’m not selling. Dude and I built it together. It goes when I go and not a second before.”

“Did Dude write out a will?”

Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. All we have is the ranch, a car, and some livestock. And, who’s he going to leave it to if not me?”

“Where’d he want to be buried?”

Mike paused. “On the ranch.”

“Alright. I’ll go talk to the coroner about a death certificate, and we’ll see about a coffin and a headstone.”

Mike nodded solemnly. “Thank you.”

Colorado invited Mike inside to sit down at the coffee table while Colorado went out to set up Dude’s final proceedings. Jennetta made Mike a fresh cup of coffee.

“Sugar or no?” she asked.

“All the sugar you have.”

She laughed. She put a few teaspoons of sugar in Mike’s coffee along with a little milk. “You know, Abilene is getting married next month.”

“That boy, uh, Tommy?”

“Thomas, yes.”

“Well, congratulations,” Mike said to Abilene, who had just come back into the room. “One person loses a husband, another gains one. The world goes around.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Abilene.

Mike stared into their coffee cup. “So am I. It’s so stupid but I thought somehow I would go first.”

“That’s not stupid,” Jennetta disagreed. “I hope the same thing about my Colorado sometimes.”

They laughed. “You’re only a year younger than Colorado.”

She feigned a smile. “Yeah…Mike…Dude’s in Heaven waiting for you.”

Mike frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t know about all that God stuff. I know Dude believed, and you and Colorado do. Hell, almost everyone in this little town does.”

“You could come to church with us on Sunday. Come talk to God in his own house, he’ll listen.”

“I appreciate that,” Mike said. “I just don’t feel quite comfortable in a church.”

“Isn’t that where Dude’s funeral service is going to be?”

Mike pondered this. “Yeah, if he wrote a will…yeah. Death’s harder for the living. I have to give him a good celebration. I have to make a pie, and a good roast, and all of Dude’s favorites. I couldn’t let him down…especially if he’s up there watching.”

“Mike, everyone knows how much you adored him. No one in this whole town is going to think you didn’t if you let yourself grieve. Don’t worry about the service or the party. Tell me Dude’s favorites. We’ll handle everything. You don’t even have to make a speech if you’re not up to it.”

Mike shook their head. “I’ll allow everything else but I have to make a speech. I have to properly wish my husband goodbye. Don’t take that from me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“We have to bury him soon…don’t we?” Mike asked quietly.

“Next couple of days would be best. A wake tomorrow, maybe. Closed casket the second day with a service and a communion if you wanna be Catholic about it.”

Mike tapped their fingers on the table. “I hope I go soon.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No. I don’t. Dude wouldn’t want me to think that way…but I can’t help it. He’s not here, and…it’s only been a few hours. It’s already hard. I don’t know if I could live another twenty years without him.”

Jennetta looked at Mike sympathetically. The rest of the morning was in dead silence.

On the day of the funeral, Dude looked as beautiful in his casket as a dead person could. Mike knew he wasn’t sleeping, but if they ignored the color and temperature he was, they could almost pretend. Mike had him dressed in one of his blue shirts, buttoned low; his worn brown cowboy hat, a pair of tight pants, and shoes. No spurs. His gunbelt and guns would be buried with him later. Mike held his black ascot in their hands, thinking. Was he really Dude without it? Could Mike bear to part with it? Mike kissed the ascot, and gently maneuvered his head to wrap it around his neck. Their Dude.

“We found the will,” Colorado said as he came up behind them.

“And?”

“‘I leave everything to my darling spouse, Mike’,” He quoted. “You were right about the burial. Right on the ranch.”

My darling spouse. Oh, Dude.

“Anything else?”

“You did right by him, Mike,” he reassured. “He’d be happy with all of it.”

Mike sniffed. “I hope so.”

Mike sat down, and a service was started. They tuned it all out, trying not to weep. The next thing Mike knew, the casket was closed and they were carrying it back to the ranch. Mike did all they could not to keep touching the casket, as if comforting their dearly departed husband. The walk to the grave that had been dug during the service was the longest walk of Mike’s life. It had been dug by a man who had been an apprentice of the previous mortician, Burt, and one of Colorado’s sons. Mike almost wanted to fall into it themselves.

The casket was lowered slowly into the hole as the priest said some final words. With Chance and Stumpy gone, Mike, Colorado, and Feathers (who had been phoned quickly enough to drive over) were the only ones to make speeches.

Feathers’ speech went: “Dude was a wonderful man, a great deputy, sheriff, and friend. He made it through hardships in his life, some of which we all witnessed. He was always considerate of others. He would be the first to put his life on the line to defend this town, even if the town wouldn’t return the favor. He was brave, loyal, and charming. I’m glad to have known him.”

Then Colorado’s: “When I came into town all those years ago, I didn’t expect to lose my boss, Pat Wheeler, and gain so many great friends. I was always a smartass to Dude and Chance, and they were like brothers to me. We made a damn good team. Dude was the man who avenged Wheeler, and earned my respect. I had so many laughs with him, and his partner, Mike. Until I found my Jennetta, we spent many wonderful Thanksgivings and Christmases together with the gang. I’m thankful for all of it.”

And finally Mike: “My husband was the bravest man I’ve ever known. He was loyal, kind, funny, and resilient. He was also sensitive, stubborn, and prideful. He was so caught up in defending his manhood sometimes. I know Dude wanted children, and I appreciate that he never resented me for not having any. He was always accommodating to me. Until I found Dude, I thought I was unlovable. I thought I would die alone. Physically, I will, but mentally, I will know that I was loved for the best 34 years of my life. Dude’s heart is still with mine, even if his body isn’t. I’m beyond grateful for every moment I got to care for him. He was the most beautiful and wonderful man I have ever met. I will always adore him. With all my heart, I hope to be reunited with him when I pass, so we can spend eternity together. I owe everything to my one and only, my husband, my lover, my best friend, and my soulmate. I never want to live in a world where I didn’t meet you. Sleep well, I’ll be there soon.”

Mike teared up and ran into their house to sob their heart out. Gone. Forever. They were all alone in the world. Not alone. There was Colorado and his family. Feathers. The town. None of them could ever replace Dude. No one could ever replace Dude.

Colorado found them after everyone else had gone home.

“D’ya wanna see the epigraph?” he asked softly.

Mike nodded and he helped them stand. He led them outside to where Dude’s grave was freshly covered with dirt. The sun was getting low in the sky but Mike could still make the words out.

It was Dude’s name, his years lived (1839-1914), and the words: Beloved husband, friend, and sheriff.

Mike smiled. “It’s beautiful, Colorado. Thank you.”

“If you ever need anything, you let me know, alright?”

“I will. Thank you for everything.”

Colorado walked home. Mike knelt at Dude’s grave and talked for a long while. They went to bed that night and dreamed of Dude.

#typewriter dings #i started sobbing writing this btw #i had to stop and pick it up later #dude #c.r.

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