Chapter 22

Bliss rolled the knife back and forth in her hand to confirm her suspicions. Her father’s knife had been at the top of that mesa. Was that why he was keeping all of this a secret to her? Was that why he never talked about the events surrounding her mother’s death?

“Bliss?” Clint’s voice said.

She jerked her head up. This was the first time he had ever called her by her given name.

“You can’t jump to conclusions. There might be another reason that his knife was up there. Your mother could have had it on her when she jumped… er… fell and dropped it,” he tried to reason with her.

“What about the buckle?” Bliss reached into her dress pocket and removed the other item in question. “It was attached to a belt once, and it decayed over the years. What was that belt used for, do you think? Did he beat her with it? Strangle her? What if he killed her then stabbed her and threw her over the edge to make it look like she killed herself…” Bliss ended her accusations with a failed attempt to suppress a sob.

She covered her mouth with her hand as visions of what could have happened that day ten years ago filled her mind and flashed before her eyes.

“Don’t think like that,” Clint’s voice broke through her terror-filled imagination.

Bliss leaned back and lay flat on her back, the only sound being the slowing rain as it poured through the hole in the ceiling. Her heart longed for something - someone - to take over for her. Someone who had the power to turn back the clock and she wouldn’t even think of sticking her nose in places she didn’t belong.

“You know, if I had a glimmer of hope that God cared about me before, this shatters it. He doesn’t care a single bit about Momma or me. He ain’t gonna lift a finger to help me or anything that might give me peace,” she said emphatically.

The pit of her stomach boiled with disappointment. She was completely alone now; it was her against the world. Even Colt couldn’t be trusted with his useless infatuations with God and his beliefs that were nothing but a lie that he had enveloped himself in.

The rain slowly began to stop until it didn’t come through the hole in the ceiling, so Bliss stood.

“We better be heading back,” she said.

Clint stood and nodded in agreement. While he took care of the fire, she went out to the horses. Not more than a minute after she left the building, she came back in.

“Slade, what did you do with the horses?” she asked.

“Tied ’em up. Why?” Clint finished putting out the fire and walked toward the door.

“Because they’re gone,” Bliss stated.

One of his eyebrows arched and he looked out to where he had tied the horses to see that they were indeed gone.

“Well…,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… that don’t hardly seem right.”

“You forgot to tie them up, didn’t you?” Bliss crossed her arms in annoyance.

“No, I tied ‘em up. At least I’m pretty sure I did,” Clint sighed.

“At least it ain’t that long of a walk,” Bliss stepped off the porch and started walking toward home. “They’ll run back to the ranch and the barn.”

It wasn’t long before Clint began to walk beside her. Her initial irritation toward him slowly dwindled as she realized that anyone could have made the mistake. So, she focused her irritability on the knife-weighing heavy in her dress pocket. She couldn’t believe that Daddy had killed her mother. She had jumped to conclusions too soon. She couldn’t go and fly off the handle at something she knew very little about. She would have to get the story from her father’s own lips.

She looked over at Clint, who had returned to his solemn self since he had actually smiled at her earlier. It wasn’t like the one she had seen while he was brawling back in Plateau. The smile he had directed at her was much more… personal. Sure, it had been the result of his trying not to laugh at her, but that made little difference at the moment. She needed something enlightening to think about.

Glancing back at Almighty, she breathed a sigh. “I can’t believe we actually made it to the top of that mesa. It seems so surreal,” she said.

Clint nodded. “Yep.”

“It was such a pretty view from up there, too.”

Clint shrugged. It dawned on her that he hadn’t stepped close enough to the edge to really see the view very well.

“Why didn’t you move closer so you could see it all?” she asked.

Clint shrugged again. “I was fine where I was.”

“It was a lot prettier closer to the edge.”
“I’m sure it was.”

Bliss felt a lingering suspicion about Clint Slade. “You’re afraid of heights, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Pshh,” Clint shook his head. “No. Why would I be?”

She could see that he was lying. “You are! I knew you were afraid of something.” She thought a moment. “And yet you risked your life while I was dangling over the edge, your fear of heights and all. You climbed that slope without a moment’s hesitation. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Clint groaned. “You think I wanna admit that I don’t like heights to the woman I’m supposed to be protecting? How are you supposed to feel safe if you know that I’m a coward like that?”
“You’re not a coward. The bravery I saw on your face was anything but cowardice. No, I think I feel even safer now,” Bliss assured him.

Clint looked over at her but didn’t reply.

“I never thanked you,” Bliss stated.

“For?”
“For saving my life up there. You didn’t have to dive after me like you did, or scold me into holding on when all I wanted to do was drown myself in my fear. You made a big sacrifice for me today, and I want you to know what I’m grateful for it.”

Clint nodded. “Sure.”

They walked along in silence for a while, listening to their own thoughts. The clouds had begun to clear away and specks of blue sky peeked out of the overcast here and there.

She had never felt so deserted in all her life. God really didn’t care about her, and she had been delirious to think that He cared for a moment. The only thing God was good for was making the world go round.
Bliss was jerked out of her thoughts when she stepped on a rock and felt her foot twist sideways. She looked down while a dull ache entered her ankle and her heel lay down on the ground, disconnected from her shoe. She groaned and examined her broken shoe.

“You okay?” Clint asked.

“Yeah,” was all that Bliss could say.

She bent down and picked up the heel to examine it, her eyebrows pulling close together. She wasn’t looking forward to walking home lopsided.

She glanced over just in time to observe Clint taking his boots off.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Can’t have you walking home all catawampus, can we?” he replied.

He held out his boots to her.

“What are you going to wear?” she asked him, not accepting the boots just yet.

“Um… my feet?” Clint stated as if she should have known the answer by common sense.

Bliss reluctantly took the boots and replaced her broken pair of shoes while Clint‘s back was turned toward her. His boots were at least four sizes too big for her, but she could still manage to walk in them. Besides, Clint was extremely sweet to just give up his shoes without a moment’s hesitation like that. She smiled as she stood to her feet. The dull ache had left her foot, confirming that it wasn’t injured. She couldn’t imagine Clint having to carry her all the way back to the ranch.

Well, then again, she sure could.

Shoving the thought from her mind, she looked up at Clint when he turned around.

“Thank you,” she said.

Clint reached down and took her shoes from her hands and carried them himself. “No problem.”

He had rolled his pants halfway up his calves, walking on his bare feet with his socks shoved into his back pocket. Bliss shook her head at him.

Clint Slade was a hard man to figure out. Was he a sweet, misunderstood gunfighter who was not as hardened as he seemed, or was she just another one of his victims to heartbreak as what happened in the dime novels? The longer she watched him, the more confused she became. He had long, proud strides and held his head high, but there he was carrying her broken shoes. His face was set in its usual unemotional look, but somehow there was a kindness behind his eyes this time. The very man who had snapped at her countless times and annoyed her with his attitude had conquered his fear to rescue from her apparent death.

Groaning inwardly, Bliss rubbed her forehead with her hand. The last thing she needed was a complicated man… again.

*****

Clint examined Bliss’ broken heel on her shoe. All it needed was pounded back together, but he would have to do that when they got back from the ranch. He let his mind wander to how the people back at the ranch would react when they arrived. He could just see Damian’s face now. Truth it be told, he couldn’t wait to see it in person. The old coot needed to learn to keep his nose in his own business. Even if he was the kind to take advantage of a woman as Damian had suggested this morning, Bliss could take care of herself.

He glanced over at her. Her blonde hair had dried into frizzy waves; her dusty pink dress had dried too, but didn’t wrinkle. Her jaw was set in determination, hinting that her thoughts were about what she was going to say to her father when they reached the ranch. Clint pitied the man. Her eyes, though they glistened with unshed tears, were the very picture of resolve. Glancing down at her feet, Clint had to choke back a grin at her. She looked awful funny in his boots. Her normally graceful movements had turned into an awkward, stiff-legged walk.

Clint looked away before he really did laugh at her.

“You know what, Mr. Slade?” she spoke up. “I’m not gonna say a single word to my father about this. He can’t know that we’ve been to the top of Almighty. He’d probably just lie to me anyway. I’m going to ask Grace. She has a harder time of lying to me than my father does, and I know that she doesn’t like telling a fib anyway. We’re not going to tell anyone about this, okay?”

“Whatever you say,” Clint said simply.

“You don’t agree with me?” She glanced over at him.

“I didn’t say that,” he hoped that answer would satisfy her curiosity, but he was sadly mistaken.

“You think I should tell him?”

Clint groaned inwardly. He was forced to give his honest opinion. “I think he may be willing to tell you a few things if you came clean about everything.”

Maybe Sherman would tell her about Seth’s signature once Bliss told him about her suspicions and the knife.

Then again, he might be so hurt that it makes things worse.

“I have this nagging suspicion that you know something I don’t. Has Daddy told you something?” Bliss made a few longer strides in his boots before she started walking beside him.

Clint slowed down so it wouldn’t be such a chore for her to keep up with him. He didn’t want to answer that question. He could lie to her, but he couldn’t find it in him to lie to her, too. On the other hand, she had every right to know what was going on.

Her daddy would send him packing if he found out that Clint had told Bliss about the signature.

Bliss would scalp him if she found out that he knew and consciously didn’t tell her.

“There has been a few more notes that you don’t even know about,” he heard himself blurt out.

He gulped. He’d done it now.

“What?” Bliss stopped walking.

Clint turned to her. “Remember that man that was sneaking around out back of the house?”

She nodded.

“I saw him when he was running to the back porch. When I snuck up on him he was trying to slide a note in the doorjamb of the back door. He dropped it before he ran off. Then there was another one that came while we were gone to Plateau,” He explained, not wavering his gaze from her face.

“What did they say?” she asked.

“Same things, really. Just threats. But there was something different about the last two, and that’s why your daddy told me not tell you about them,” Clint resituated his hat before he continued. “These came with a signature at the bottom. Well, not really a signature. They had the letters S and R at the bottom, so your daddy assumed that it was this Seth Ryder that no body tells me about.”

Her eyes widened and, her hand covered her mouth.

“Seth?” her voice was muffle by her hands. Her eyed clouded over, but only for a moment. She blinked back the moisture and looked away from him. “I don’t believe this.”

“I would have told you sooner, but your daddy told me not to utter a single word about it,” Clint defended.

“So what makes you tell me now?” She looked back at him.

Clint shrugged. “I guess you needed to know.”

Her eyes filled with confusion as she studied his face. “You’re telling me the truth?”

Clint nodded. “I am.”

She shook her head. “Something’s wrong.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Seth can’t write a word.”

Clint drew his eyebrows close together. There went about two weeks of work. He mentally trashed everything he had suspected and wiped the slate clean in his mind.

She sighed and plopped down on the bare ground, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap.

They were obviously not moving on anytime soon.
He sat down beside her, crossing his bare feet under him. He pulled up a weed between them and began to twist it in his fingers.

A few moments passed before Bliss finally spoke. “I think it’s about time I told you about Seth and I.”

Here we are! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Have a great day/night/evening/morning and let me know what you think!

What do you think about Clint so far? Tell me what you've gathered from his character so far:)