Protection

Chapter 27

Clint was tempted to do just that. His temper flared, and his jaw tightened even more. He opened his mouth to retort, but stopped short. Bliss needed him. He knew he could protect her if it came down to it. He wouldn’t let anything as simple as a shot to the hand stop him if she was in immediate danger. Of that he was sure.

He didn’t reply to Sherman, much too annoyed by his aching hand, but turned to Colt as he and several of the other cowboys came rushing toward the house.

“I heard a shot,” Colt said as he entered the kitchen.

“Everyone’s alright,” Sherman said. He directed a pointed look toward Clint before adding, “Fortunately.”

Clint scowled and diverted his eyes from the annoying old man. Every one of them knew that he could drive Sherman into the ground like a thumbtack, even with a hurting hand, but it wasn’t Clint’s place to point that out.

Smaller footsteps came padding down the hall and Clint knew that it was Bliss even before her blonde head peeked around the corner.

“Is everyone alright?” she asked, focusing on him.

He holstered his gun with his left hand and nodded.

“What happened to your hand, Mr. Slade?” Bliss’ voice echoed over to him.

Every eye turned toward him and Clint realized that he had accidentally moved his bloodied hand into their view. He closed his eyes in annoyance as Grace gasped.

“Lord, have mercy,” she breathed in more of a prayer than an exclamation.

Clint opened his eyes just in time for her to drag him into a chair.

“It’s just a scratch,” he protested.

“It still needs tended to. You wanted to keep this from me, didn’t you?” Grace went to the cabinet and rummaged through the strewn things to find a box that she kept medicines in.

Clint didn’t answer her. Her antics were just enough to coax a small smile on his lips. Suddenly, Bliss plopped down in the chair next to him just as Grace brought the box over.

“Let me do it,” she mumbled to the older woman.

Grace gave her the box with a knowing smile and Bliss rolled her eyes and opened the box, withdrawing some gauze.

“Quit your grinning and get me some warm water and a rag, please?” she looked up at Grace.

Grace patted her arm and went to do Bliss’ bidding.

“How many were there?” she asked.

“Two,” Clint answered.

He found it interesting that Bliss didn’t accuse him of things like her father did. Recalling the man’s former statement, Clint looked up at Sherman and scowled.

The man didn’t meet his gaze, which gave Clint a level of triumph.

Bliss began to wipe away some of the blood on his hand with a dry rag.

“How did this happen?” Bliss asked.

Clint shrugged. “One of them whirled around and shot in my general direction before I could figure out what to do with them.”

“You could have not let ‘em go,” Sherman mumbled.

Clint turned his head to face Sherman and laced his words with sarcasm. “Oh, yeah. That’s a novel idea. I’m sure if I asked them politely they would sit real still while I tied them up and locked the doors.”