Unshaken

45

Seasons came and went as years passed. The kids grew like little weeds, and became smarter every day. And they longed to know their father, and my heart broke any time they would ask for stories about him.

My sweet Arthur was his father made over, right down to the way his chin dimpled when he gave me his crooked smile. Angela was my little mirror image, but with her father's eyes, as well as his temper at times. 

"Mama," Artie touched the back of my arm as I packed up the last box into the wagon. "Why are we movin'? I thought you liked our house."

"I love our house, sweet boy. But the area's gettin' rough. Between the Del Lobos and all the craziness goin' on just down the way in Armadillo... we'll just be safer if we leave. Head for West Elizabeth."

He nodded and looked behind him to the empty house. "Angie's sad."

"I know she is. I promise, though, this is for the best." I leaned down to kiss the top of his sandy blonde head "We'll stop by Blackwater on the way out. See if we can round up a piece of birthday cake for the two of you."

He smiled and nodded.

A cloud of dust heading our way caught my eye. A group of riders sped towards the house.

My heart pounded as I looked to Arthur. "Now go inside and make sure you got everything." I nudged him gently in the door and slammed it shut before reaching into our wagon and wrapping my fingers around my pistol.

As the rider came closer, I was able to make out some distinguishing features.

The white hat, the unkempt mustache that bled down into his messy mutton chops. Time had aged him, but it was undeniably him.

"Stop right there, Micah Bell!" I screamed as I aimed my gun at him.

He pulled his horse to a stop and chuckled as he looked me over. "Well well well... It is you. Cleet said he saw someone round this way looked like you."

"The hell are you doin' here?"

"I came for what's mine."

"Ain't none of this yours." I stomped. "Now, I don't want my kids to see me shoot somebody, but if you don't eave right now I will."

He pulled a bundle of dynamite from his satchel. "No, I don't think you will. Because you so much as act like you're gonna pull that trigger, I can have this fuse lit and tossed at that little shack faster than you can blink."

My arm lowered the slightest bit, dropping the gun from Micah's head.

"That's what I thought." He smiled. "Now, since you know why I'm here, we can either do this the easy way, or..." He shook the dynamite.

"I ain't gonna fight you." I dropped my arm completely. "Just don't hurt the kids."

"Why don't you bring them on out and let me see 'em? Eight years, I been waitin' to look at their faces. Well, one of their faces. I only learned about the second one a few weeks ago."

I stood still refusing to move until he pointed his revolver at me.

I opened the front door and peeked my head inside.

"Arthur, Angie, please come here." My voice shook as I beckoned my children.

 Micah laughed loudly. "You named my kid after the cowpoke?"

"I named my kid after him." I glared as they came towards me and I moved back to let them out.

They stood under the shade of the eave.