Chapter 4

Clint blew out a heavy breath and ran his fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. He was surrounded by nothing but space in every direction. It wasn’t an orange desert like he had been expecting. There were small green shrubs covering the ground, with a tall Saguaro cactus rising up taller than he was every once in a while. There were wide, tall mesas that he passed often, but he had yet to see the Twin Buttes like the two old men back in Plateau had yelled to him about. It was more than likely that the two old men had lied to him. As old as they were, the “Twin Buttes” they spoke of were probably figments of their strained imaginations. Now he was lost out in the middle of Arizona without as much as a direction to go. He had fell one too many times for the mirages out here, too, and his horse was starting to get angry at him for trying to make him drink dirt. Sighing, Clint took a small swig from his nearly empty canteen and continued to head west like the men had told him. Or had they told him to head south? He couldn’t remember anymore. Three days of being out in the sun was he was beginning to doubt that he knew his own name.

How did Sherman Cooper know his way around out in the middle of nowhere like this? He probably knew by the mesas and such, but Clint had to admit that he had no idea what he was doing. The least that Mr. Cooper could have done was include directions in his letter. Pulling his horse to a stop where a giant mesa guarded them from the sun, Clint dismounted and leaned against the tall wall of the gigantic mound of what looked like clay. Hues of orange and brown faded in and out of each other all the way up to the sky. Clint imagined that standing on top of the giant mesa would feel like you stood on the top of the world. He would like to find that out before he left Arizona, though it wasn’t likely. He was here for one reason and one reason only, and that was to protect a little girl from harm.

The situation puzzled him. Why would someone threaten a little girl? What could they possibly hope to gain?

Looking around and taking in his surroundings, Clint’s eyes landed on a small wooden cross about ten feet away. Curious, he walked over to it and examined it. It looked like someone had been here recently, as there were wilted flowers on the dirt beneath the wooden cross.

The name “Cassidy Cooper” was chiseled out in to the thin wood of the cross, obviously worn out due to the years in the weather.

Cooper.

This grave could be a link to where the Sherman Cooper lived. The wooden cross could be a relation to him. Straightening his hat on his head, he walked back to his horse and mounted, preparing to look around for signs of any civilization.

**********

Bliss sat at the kitchen table, fidgeting with a string from her dress sleeve. She hated being trapped inside the house like an animal in a cage. She longed desperately for her morning ride, something she had been deprived of for the past few days. She was beginning to get restless.

Grace contentedly washed the breakfast dishes and Bliss made sure she didn’t complain about being fidgety. Grace would more than likely put her to doing the dreaded chore. She hated doing the dishes more than any other house chore. People seemed so unappreciative of that job around the ranch.

Maybe talking would get her to stop being so skittish.

“Grace, can you tell me about the time you met Momma again?” she asked.

Grace looked back at her. “I’ve told you that about a million times, sweetie.”

“I know. I just like hearing it, is all.”

And Grace would be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy telling it.

Once Grace started the story, Bliss began to settle down. Hearing about her mother and getting a glimpse of what she was once like always made her feel calm and collected. Grace said that her mother was the very picture of patience and strength in one.

Grace also said that her mother had a side of mystery to her. She had apparently lived a very different life before she met Daddy and made a home with him. No one really knew how she was back then except for Daddy and Grace, and they never spoke of her life before marriage.

The bad thing was that Bliss had always really wanted to know.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the front door bursting open.

“There’s a rider coming,” Colt’s voice said.

“Go get Daddy. He’s in his office,” Bliss said, jerking up to her feet.

They rarely got visitors out where it was a three days’ ride from town, so that could mean that the visitor could only be one person.

Clint Slade.

Her heartbeat quickened as she rushed outside onto the front porch of the house. Walking to the end that faced north, where the rider was coming from, Bliss leaned against the porch railing and steadied herself.

She pictured him having cold, hard eyes that could pierce a soul in one glance, wearing a black hat low over his eyes and a long dark brown leather duster that concealed a well-used gun. She anticipated seeing if he matched the picture in her mind.

The rider rode up to the hitching rail in front of the house and dismounted just as her father came out onto the porch.

“Sherman Cooper?” the rider asked.

He had a deep, smooth voice that resonated with authority and bade an answer to everything he asked. A voice that would make his enemies cower in fear of what the owner of that voice was capable of.

“Yes, sir. You must be Clint Slade.” Daddy extended his hand to the man, who took it and shook it hard and quickly.

“That I am,” the rider said.

Bliss took a few steps closer to the men and got a good look at Clint Slade. He looked some like she thought he would, but not entirely. His eyes were a steel grey color, framed with thick lashes and defined eyebrows. They were as cold and hard as a block of ice. His face was completely made up of planes. His square, chiseled jaw was set determinedly and the line of facial hair that traced it gave him the smallest trustworthy air. His wavy brown hair fell nearly below his ears, the front nearly covering his eyes. His brown Stetson didn’t set as low as she had imagined. As for the rest of him, he was as big and brawny as the newspaper journalists had described him. He was positively intimidating. He didn’t wear a duster as she had thought he would, but who could stand one as hot as it was today? He wore a faded brown shirt that he had rolled halfway up his deeply tanned forearms and a black leather vest, dark blue pants and then there was that well-worn gun that every man feared. It slung low on his hip to make for a quick draw; every slot in his gun-belt had a gold bullet in it, all the way around. Every fiber in Clint Slade’s appearance demanded respect and obedience.

“This is my daughter, Bliss.” Daddy’s voice broke through her musings.

Bliss looked at Daddy, then at Mr. Slade.

“She’s the one I called you out here to protect,” Daddy explained.

Clint’s eyes took one quick sweeping gaze over her and when they reached her eyes again, she didn’t see a hint of emotion in him. Whether he approved of the person he was going to see all day every day was something he wasn’t going to reveal.

“Th-This is your daughter?” he asked,

*****

Clint stared at her. This wasn’t a little girl he looked at. He had come across the country to protect a child, not a… a woman. What had he been thinking?

“Yes, this is my daughter,” Shannon Cooper draped an arm over his daughter’s shoulders.

Clint couldn’t decide whether he liked the change of plans or not. Women weren’t his forte, no matter what the dime novelists said. Every time he spoke to one he ended up making her mad.

“Something wrong, Mr. Slade?” Miss Cooper asked him.

“No ma’am. It’s just that I was led to believe that you were much younger in your father’s letter,” Clint replied.

Miss Cooper looked up at her father with annoyance behind her eyes. “Sounds like him.”

Mr. Cooper was obviously ready to change the subject.

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” he said with a smile, motioning toward the door.

“I’d like to tend to my horse, first,” Clint said.

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll have Colt handle it,” Mr. Cooper told him.

Clint nodded and followed the man and his daughter into the house.

She was indeed something to behold. She had platinum blonde hair that the kept up in some contraption that women put their hair in these days. Her skin was slightly tanned but not bronzed, which made it contrast against the pale green dress she wore that seemed much too fancy for someone way out where they were. Her warm, brown eyes gave away every emotion she felt, and that was something that Clint didn’t consider a virtue. She was slightly too thin for his liking, but Clint knew that she wasn’t made for his liking or anyone else’s but her own. Overall, she didn’t hurt his eyes any.

“Colt, will you take care of Mr. Slade’s horse for him?” Mr. Cooper asked.

A young cowboy looked at Clint and nodded. He seemed trustworthy enough for a first glance.

Mr. Cooper sat him at the table if his inviting kitchen. His daughter sat directly across from Clint, keeping her eyes that were obviously trying to figure him out on him at all times.

The woman should really learn how to hide things with her eyes.

*****

Bliss watched as Mr. Slade leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and intertwining his fingers.

“Tell me the situation,” he said.

Daddy took a deep breath. “As you know, we’ve been receiving notes threatening Bliss’ life. We have no idea who these men are or what they want from her, and that’s something we hope that you can help us with.”

“I’m no detective, Mr. Cooper,” Clint said.

“You’ve tracked down men before, haven’t you?” Daddy asked.

“Yes, but I know who they are. You give me nothing to go on.”

“But you’re like a bounty hunter, aren’t you?” Bliss asked.

Clint looked right at her, fixing those cold hard eyes completely on her. “I’m paid to kill. There’s nothing more and nothing less to it.”

Bliss gulped.

Clint looked back at Daddy. “Here’s what I do. I stay with your daughter. Where she goes, I go. If these men happen to make an appearance, I take care of them. I don’t track them down.”

“I want these men found and killed, Mr. Slade. A private detective can’t use a gun like you can. You’re the only option we have,” Daddy said, nearly begging.

Clint looked at the table, a muscle in his jaw twitching as the thought.

“How does five thousand sound to you?” Daddy offered.

Clint looked over at him, one emotion finally showing in his eyes. One that Bliss couldn’t interpret. He thought about it a moment longer.

“You’ve gotta understand that hunting down men I don’t know is not my specialty. I can’t make any promises. You do have my word that if I find them, no one will hear of them again.” Clint’s voice was quiet and determined.

Daddy nodded and held out his hand. “As long as you do your very best. Do we have a deal?”

Bliss watched as the two men shook hands.

She felt her last bit of liberty crumble and slip out of her fingers in a second’s time.

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