Verboten

6.

Crows squawk overhead like angry kazoos, the dry dirt on the ground kicks up around your murky boots in dusty puffs before settling in your path. The sun is directly overhead but shielded from your eyes by a straw boater hat, the tight and firm rim decorated by a simple red ribbon.

The corners of your mouth have been permanently ticked into the slightest curve of a smile ever since Harry kissed you in the coat closet a few days prior, pulling you back to him as you tried to hurry away with the sound of the cow bell. He whispered in admittance that he had paid a customer to distract your father long enough to keep you from the stage for the evening and your heart soared at his courageous regard.

He didn't say it out loud but it was clear to him that you detest performing, the expression that was shot at him after you were purchased on Friday is one he was sure never to forget as long as he should live. He can't fathom how someone would desire to bed a woman who was so unhappy and unwilling, but he simultaneously thanks his mind and his upbringing for being more aware and astute of his surroundings than most.

He has been making work at the saloon much more tolerable for you; appearing and sitting on his usual bar stool day after day, locking eyes with you each time you look in his direction, devouring books and even asking to borrow some from your collection one day. He has mastered the art of secretly touching your skirt or your fingertips without a single soul noticing, basking in the glittering tingles that radiate up and down your arms at the thrill of the mystery and teasing between you.

You hum quietly to yourself as you approach the same gorgeous mustang that you noticed outside of the Silver Spur saloon a couple weeks ago. The town is bustling with workers passing by and neighbors chatting, storefront owners appeasing customers and children playing with hoops and sticks or jumping rope. Everyone around you seems to be cheerful and content or possibly that feeling is coming from within; the realization of joy brings a stab of internal growth and you bite your bottom lip as tears sting your dry eyes.

Your hand rises to gently rub her forehead and nose; her body completely black in color aside from a white diamond on her snout, her mane is brushed and well-groomed, her eyes are understanding and loving as she soaks in the smooth strokes of your palm.

You hold your hand below her mouth for a lick before you circle around and stroke her shoulder and flank, singing quietly to yourself as you appreciate the grace and beauty of the enormous animal before you.

The sound of a voice has you gasping and cupping your hand over your mouth as if to suck your surprise back into your lungs, "this is Charlotte."

You jump back and snap your head to the right to find Harry watching you with a squint to keep the sun from his eyes, his fedora covering his hair with the dapper pointed tip of the mourning dove feather turned north proudly. You absorb his outfit in a second; a dress shirt covered in a black waistcoat and black trousers. Simple, clean and elegant - his physique making his fashionable clothing appear effortless and handsome. One arm hangs at his side the other rests against his horse, both hands heavily ornate with silver.

You clasp your hands together in front of your skirt, "she is yours?" Children run in circles around the two of you, tossing jacks and marbles as they go and Harry is only distracted for a minute before his shiny eyes are back on you.

He removes his hat and drops his head forward to run his fingers through his hair, tossing it back before replacing the cap, "she is." He glances over his right shoulder and then his left before taking a step closer and tilting his face towards you to whisper, "may I take you for a ride?"

He watches your hands as you snap open your pocket watch and survey the time, holding onto the pinch of your hat as you glance at the sky and then at your surroundings to see if anyone is watching. There is never a time when you're free of paranoia regarding your father or truthfully anyone else in town. The simple notion that you've put so much trust into Harry so blindly causes you to open your mouth and stutter, your second guessing suddenly getting the better of you.