Chapter 25
Two weeks passed and Clint noticed how Bliss didn’t go to Almighty or her mother’s grave as much she had done in the weeks before. No notes came, no more mysterious figures were lurking around the ranch, and not even Bliss brought up the subject of the knife or the buckle, not did she tell her father that Seth couldn’t write so it was impossible that he was sending the notes. Clint was beginning to think that she chose to forget about the whole ordeal, yet a part of him knew better.
At supper one Saturday night, Sherman and Damian were wrapped up in yet another war story. They tended to stretch the truth a little bit with a tale of Indians attacking them from one side and Yankees from the other. Clint shook his head and looked at Bliss. She smiled and stuck a spoonful of peas in her mouth.
The story seemed to go on for about twenty more minutes until they had all eaten and Grace began gathering the plates.
“According to all the stories you two tell, I don’t see how ya’ll made it out of the war alive,” Clint said, handing his empty plate to Grace.
“We may not be glorified bounty hunters like… some people,” Damian said pointedly, “but we could hit a Yank between the eyes.”
Clint nodded like it was dull music. “Uh huh.”
It struck him as odd that in the past few weeks, Damian hadn’t even been working on an article of any kind. It was to Clint’s understanding that most newspapers sent out a weekly paper, and Damian claimed to be a head journalist, did he not?
“How’s your newspaper writing going, Damian?” Clint asked, rubbing the line of his jaw with his thumb.
Damian looked at him strangely, the telltale sign that he was hiding something. “It’s going fine.”
Clint pursed his lips and nodded slightly. Sure it was.
Pushing himself into a standing position, Clint dismissed himself from the room and walked out the back door and into the chilly night air. Darkness was about to descend over the ranch, a few stars making their appearance against the darkening sky. The air was silent except for the occasion neigh of a horse or the bellow of a cow in the distance. Clint sighed and allowed himself to indulge in the boyhood dream he’d had of owning his own spread. Maybe ranching was more honest work, but being a gunfighter definitely brought more money.
He walked across the yard until he reached the fence that outlined the closest pasture. He rested one of his feet on the fence and heaved a sigh, leaning his whole weight onto the sturdy fence.
For a moment he felt like he owned the world. The land stretched out in front of him like a painting on a canvas, making his thoughts turn to something it rarely had before. Did the land just end up in such a beautiful state? Surely something was keeping it in order.
He had heard several people refer to God and praying, but he didn’t understand much. Why did they believe in Him? What had He done? Why did He care about people, anyway?
He heard footsteps behind him and looked in their direction.
“Hey,” Bliss smiled at him.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” she asked him, leaning against the fence beside him.
“Nothin’ much,” Clint answered simply.
She sighed, looking out over the land in front of them. “It’s a pretty place, huh?”
Clint nodded.
“I’ve lived here my whole life and it never ceases to amaze me,” she smiled broadly. “One day this will all be mine. Well, either mine or Colt’s. I don’t think Daddy’s decided yet.”
“He plannin’ on giving his ranch to someone who ain’t his kin?” Clint asked.
Bliss shrugged. “Colt's kin. Maybe not by blood, but he's just like a brother."
Clint nodded. What was that jealous searing through the pit of his stomach? Why should he care about that fondness in her voice when she spoke of Colt?
“So,” Bliss folded her hands, “we need to talk.”
“About?”
“About our next move. Seth isn’t writing the notes, but who is? He could be having someone else write them, but he’s got too much pride for that,” she tapped her fingers on the back of her other hand, “and I refuse to believe that my father had something to do with my mother’s death. I’m pretty sure that someone was trying to frame him.”
Clint sighed. “We haven’t had a note on over two weeks. We’re back to square one with nothing to go on but a rusty knife and a buckle.”
“And this,” Bliss said as she handed him an old, yellowed newspaper.
Clint took it and opened it up.
“Daddy was trying to keep it from me, I’m sure. Not sure what it is about it, but I feel like it’s important,” she told him.
Clint read the headline and froze, rereading the sentence over and over again.
Kassidy.
“Something wrong, Mr. Slade?” Bliss leaned forward and looked him in the face.
Clint didn’t reply as he read the article about a robbery in…
Destin, Virginia.
Images from years before flashed through his mind and came crashing down upon him quicker than he could stop it. He shut his eyes hard and tried to forget, but that only made the scenes replaying behind his eyes more vivid. His hands began to shake, and he dropped the newspaper on the ground.
“What’s wrong?” he felt Bliss’ hand in his arm, but he didn’t pay attention.
He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, trying to get rid of the memories.
He could still hear the screams and gunfire, still see the giant oak door that seemed like a mountain to a fifteen-year-old boy, and he felt himself growing vulnerable again. The walls he had built around his heart and mind over the past few years began to shake and grow weaker.
The only family he’d had - his three brothers - taken from him in the blink of an eye. If they had survived, which was not that likely, they would have been hung for the murders they had committed.
And his boss.
Was she even alive anymore? What if she was trying to find him?
“Clint Slade!” Bliss’ voice broke through his panic and his eyes snapped open with so much force that she back away, a look in her eye that he couldn’t place. She held her hands out, palms forward, as if she was defending herself.
Clint blinked a few times to remove whatever emotion was there and rubbed his temples.
“What’s wrong?” Bliss asked again, bending low to retrieve the newspaper from the ground.
Clint shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You can trust me,” Bliss put a hand on his arm again.
Clint looked her in the eye. He was very tempted to tell her, to get all of his regrets and bad memories off his chest. He opened his mouth, ready to spill out his whole story, but no words came out.
No, he couldn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust anyone. That was how he had gotten to the place he was in. He helped himself, and that was the way he had survived.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he said, determined to regain his normal disposition.
He turned and walked away as fast as he could before he changed his mind. He was trusting that woman, and that was not a good thing. Everything he had worked so hard to become would be worthless if he opened up to anyone. No one could ever know that he had ever been a part of the Slade gang.
*****
Bliss sat down at the table late that night, the only light around her coming from the lantern sitting in front of her. Everyone else had already gone to bed, but she had a list to make. A sheet of paper and a pencil lay in front of her. Thanksgiving and Christmas were coming up and she had forgot to get the supplies for them. One of the cowboys was heading into Plateau the next morning, so she needed to have a list to give him. She had only written down a few items when she noticed the kitchen window had been opened. She stood and went to shut it as a blast of cold air came through it. Wrapping her shawl tightly around herself, she thrust the window down. She stood there for a moment, looking out of the window. The night sky barely lit the ground below, but it was just enough for her to see a pretty far piece.
A movement caught her eye close to the barn, and she saw a dark figure moving around out there. All of the cowboys were in the bunkhouses getting the sleep that they all desperately wanted, so they wouldn’t be out this late. Her heart began pumping just a tad bit harder as she caught a glimpse of movement again.
Colt could be out there doing something, but that was unlikely because he’d had a full day of work, too.
The figure came away from the barn and started sprinting toward the house.
That figure was no cowboy she had seen.
Panicking, she rushed back to the table and blew the lamp out. The stranger mustn’t know that she was awake. She rushed across the room and huddled down between the wall and the potbelly stove. She was afraid to breathe out of fear that it would alert the stranger of her presence.
Time crawled slowly as she waited for some nose to come from outside. The back door knob jingled before it slowly began to open, startling Bliss.
Why hadn’t she locked the door?
A faint thud sounded as the intruder’s boot hit the floor inside the house. Bliss held her breath and squeezed her hands together. She closed her eyes and listened to the faint footsteps coming toward her. Suddenly they stopped.
Bliss’ heart lurched.
Her eyes snapped open and she looked up. The intruder was lingering near the table. She couldn’t make out his face in the darkness, just his figure from the dim light of the window. He was broad chested and muscular, and obviously tall. If he did find her, she was no match for him.
She wished Clint could hear either the intruder’s faint steps or the loud beating of her heart from his bedroom down the hall. At that moment, all she wanted was for him to know what was going on. Whether he came or not, she just wanted him to be aware that she was in danger, and that would calm her.
She heard the sound of paper crinkling, then the man’s retreating footsteps. He walked out of the house and she didn’t move when the door was lightly closed with hardly a sound. After about thirty seconds, her sense came to her, and she stood to escape the room. She ran down the hall, knowing her way around even in the dark, and felt her way down the hall until she reached the second door. She knocked on it hard and loud.
“Clint!” she called desperately when he didn’t answer his door right away.
The door swung open and the only thing she saw was his shiny six-shooter in his hand, lingering just below his left hip.
“What’s wrong?” his voice asked urgently.
“S-Someone was here. Th-they came into the house… I… I…” Bliss stuttered and impulsively wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest. She felt the irresistible need to be held, and she didn’t care who did it. Yet he did what she least expected. His arms encircled her and pressed her against him. Her breathing, while shallow, began to grow stronger after a few moments.
“What happened?” Clint, appearing to be unaffected by the brief moment, set her back from him.
“A man b-broke into the kitchen. I was so scared,” her sentence ended in a whisper.
He put a hand on her shoulder and brushed past her toward the kitchen.
“What’s all the commotion about down there?” Daddy asked from where his room was down the hall.
“Sherman!” Clint called him from the kitchen.
Bliss beat her father to the kitchen, not wanting to be away from Clint’s protection even for a moment. Once in the kitchen, she lit the lantern again.
Clint shoved a note at her father and rushed toward the back door. It wasn’t until she saw him with some sort of light that she noticed his state of undress. His shirt was completely unbuttoned down the front and his bare feet hit the floor with soft thuds. She blushed and diverted her eyes from his chiseled frame. He exited the room and went out back to investigate.
Daddy was still clinging to the note in his trembling hand, rereading it several times.
“Daddy? What is it?” Bliss asked.
Daddy said nothing as he walked to the stove and threw the note into its burning belly. Bliss gasped.
“What was it?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” Daddy stalked past her.
“You don’t burn nothing, Daddy. You’re keeping this from me too? Where does it end?” Bliss exclaimed.
Clint entered the house again at that moment, and Bliss diverted her eyes again.
With a pointed look at Clint’s chest, Daddy hinted that he should button his shirt as was proper. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Clint hurry to button it.
“I can’t see a blasted thing out there,” he said.
Bliss could look at him properly again, and she looked him in the eye. “What did the note say, Mr. Slade?” she asked.
Clint looked at her father, then back at her. “It said that…”
“Don’t tell her!” Daddy interrupted.
“Umm… Why?” Clint arched an eyebrow at him.
“There’s nothing she needs to know. Let’s get on back to bed now and get some sleep,” Daddy rubbed at his eyes and turned to go back down the hall.
Bliss stared at him, tears brimming in her eyes. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t see her as the responsible adult she was.
Deciding to leave well enough alone, she followed in his steps down the hall.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Grace asked, meeting her in the hallway alongside Damian.
Bliss nodded. “I’m fine. Goodnight.”
As she settled into bed that night, disappointment settled over her. There was nothing she could do about her father. He was so hardheaded that nothing short of a divine miracle could convince him that she was grown up, and God was certainly not going to grant her that.
She sighed and settled back against her pillows. Her determination to find the answers to the questions she had been asking herself surrounding her mother’s death seemed to disappear. No matter how hard she tried, the willpower to continue on in her search failed to materialize.
The lamp stayed lit in the kitchen, shining down the hall and under her bedroom door. Every once in a while she would hear Clint clear his throat or something, letting her know that he was still awake.
Maybe she could talk to him about her feelings, and maybe he could instill some confidence in her.
Throwing propriety aside, she got up and threw on her robe. She was obviously not going to get any sleep tonight anyway.
Walking down the hall, she made her appearance in the kitchen before standing by silently and watching as Clint twirl his gun around his hand in fancy ways, unaware of her presence.
“You’re gonna shoot yourself here in a minute,” she spoke up.
Clint whirled around, his finger suddenly hovering over the trigger of the gun he was just playing with. Once he saw it was her, he placed it away from him on the table.
“You’ve really gotta announce yourself more,” he said.
Bliss sat down in a chair across from him and sighed. “I’ll try. I couldn’t sleep,” she told him.
He nodded. “You’ve had quite the scare.”
“It’s not really the intruder that is bothering me. Suddenly I feel like I don’t even want to know how Momma died anymore. I feel like it doesn’t matter as much,” she said with a huff at herself.
Clint pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “I guess I can understand that.”
“Then help me understand. Nothing has changed, Momma’s death is still a mystery and we don’t even have a lead. I feel like I should be more determined than ever,” she admitted.
“It’s your daddy, ain’t it?” Clint lifted his eyes until they focused on her, his shaggy brown hair falling below his eyebrows.
Bliss sighed and leaned back hard against the chair. “I don’t understand him. He’s so hard headed about me. He still sees me as an eighteen-year-old child, not a woman. I’ve learned from my mistakes, but he refuses to accept that. Part of me doesn’t even want to know what that note he burned said anymore.”
“I’ll tell you what it said if you want me to,” Clint offered.
Bliss thought a moment and bit the inside of her cheek.
“Might as well,” she finally mumbled.
“It said, ‘eighteen sixty-one. Never forget,” Clint stated, his face scrunched up as if he was thinking.
“Sixty one? That was the year Momma died,” Bliss blurted.
A strange look came over Clint’s face and his expression grew clouded. “That year holds a lot of things that could hint us in the right direction. The war started, your mother died, and…”
Bliss drew her eyebrows close together as his sentence went unfinished. His face held a faraway look, as if he could see the past on the tabletop.
“And?” she pressed.
Clint took a moment before answering. “And… And my brothers were killed.”
Hey guys! I'll be gone for the weekend to a basketball tournament with my brother's team, but I'll be taking my computer so let's hope I can get a lot of writing done! I'll update Sunday night if I get a chapter done:) Thank you guys so much for reading this! Means the world to me!
If you guys are bored, can you stop by the blurb of this story and let me know if I can improve it? I'd really appreciate it! Thanks! Love you guys!
Lemme know what you honestly think about this chapter! Most helpful comment gets a dedication! :D