Chapter 7

Bliss woke to the cherubic laugh of Damian Jeremiah carrying through the walls and echoing into her room. She smiled.

Why hadn’t she been notified that Damian was going to visit?

Jumping up to clothe herself and run a brush through her hair, Bliss started to leave the room. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she gasped. What lady would allow herself to be seen in such a state? Walking back to her wash table, she washed her face before carefully braiding her hair and winding it into a loose bun at the nape of her neck.

Satisfied with her slightly fresher appearance, she exited her room and walked down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen, humming softly to herself.

“She lives!” she heard Colt’s voice say.

She cut her eyes at him in the corner, sipping his morning coffee.

“Why, if it isn’t Miss Bliss Cooper. I wouldn’t have recognized you if I hadn’t heard you humming.”

Bliss looked to Damian Jeremiah.

“Mr. Damian, it’s so nice to see you!” She smiled and she gave the man who had been like a father to her a brief hug.

“As it is to see you, my sweet young lady. It’s been far too long since I’ve laid eyes on your family. That’s something your father and I plan to remedy in the coming weeks,” Damian smiled at her father.

“Weeks?” Bliss asked.

“Yes. Damian will be staying with us for a few weeks,” her father said, taking a sip from his steaming cup of coffee.

As much as Bliss loved Damian Jeremiah, the Dottie Belle was getting mighty crowded.

Bliss was late getting around to riding that morning, and it was around midmorning when she finally got around to saddling Butterfly and preparing to ride with Clint.

She wished the man would say more so that she could decide if she liked him or not. After all, it would be harder to get ride of someone if she liked them. While she had no quarrel with Clint, she couldn’t lose her independence until the threats disappeared, which could carry on for months to a year.

It still boggled her mind about those notes. Who sent them and what was their motive? What could she have possibly done to deserve it? She didn’t recall offending anyone or maliciously insulting them in any way.

Maybe this ran deeper than she thought.

The missing newspaper and its contents. Her mother’s mysterious death. The life threatening notes. Seth Ryder.

What if they were all connected? She had no idea how or why they would be, but her imagination ran wild trying to connect all the pieces.

Not one of them seemed to fit with another. It was obvious that there were more pieces to be uncovered, and she knew just where to look.

“I was thinking I would go see my mother’s grave and then look around the mesa. That okay with you?” she asked Clint.

Clint shrugged. “Whatever you want to do.”
Humming softly to herself, Bliss rode on to the gravesite and hopped off her horse. She glanced over at Clint and thought that she might as well put him to good use while he was with her.

“Mind doing me a favor, Mr. Slade?” she asked.

Clint shrugged.

“I want you to circle this mesa with me and let me know if you see any way of getting to the top. I’ve looked before, but a fresh pair of eyes could do some good,” she said.

Clint nodded and moved his horse forward, beginning to circle the large mesa. Bliss walked by her mother’s grave and rubbed the dust off the wooden cross before re-mounting her horse and riding around the other side. She kept her eyes glued to the mesa wall, eyeing for any hint, and sign that there was a way to climb to the top.

I will get to the top of this thing. I’ve got to find out why Momma killed herself… if that was indeed what happened.

*****

Grace concentrated on pulling all the dry clothes from the clothesline and placing them in the basket. Bliss and Clint hadn’t returned from their ride yet, and Sherman had taken their guest to show him around the ranch, so she had time to clean the house and do the laundry while no one was home.

It was during these times that she tried to find a way to get through to Bliss. The girl was trying to put on a show for her, trying to convince her that she had a good relationship with the Savior while never giving Him a second thought otherwise. It was sad to watch, and Grace couldn’t find it in her to stand by silently.

Bending low to retrieve the basket form the ground, she hoisted the heavy load to her hip and started walking towad the house.

“Let me get that for you, Ms. Grace,” Colt appeared beside her and took the basket from her.

Grace smiled at him. “Thank you, kind young man.”

Colt shook his head. “Pssh. It ain’t right for a perty thing like youto have to carry heavy things.”

Grace giggled, feeling heat creep up to her cheeks. “Now, be quiet, Colt.”

Colt grinned as they entered the house. He placed the basket on the table and she began to fold them.

“Need me to do anything else?” he asked.

Grace shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m just gonna fold these then get to cleaning.”

Colt nodded. “Well, if you need me, just holler.”

Grace nodded. “Thank you.”

Colt walked back toward the door.

“Colt?” Grace stopped him.

“Yes’m?”

“What do you think of Mr. Slade?”

Colt twisted the brim of his hat in his hands. “Well, I think he’s a strange character.”

Grace nodded. “Too strange.”

Clint Slade. That name sounded so familiar.

“What are you thinking?” Colt narrowed his eyes at her.

“Nothing,” Grace shook her head and placed a folded shirt on the table. “Nothing at all.”

**********

Clint met back up with Miss Cooper on the other side of the mesa she was circling. The same one he had been by when he couldn’t find the ranch.

He figured that it was her mother who had been buried under that cross. He knew what that was like. Yet being orphaned at a young age and being raised by his brothers had made him into the man he was today. He couldn’t fault anyone for that.

“Did you find anything?” Miss Cooper asked.

“No. Didn’t really know what I was looking for, though.”

Too bad he was getting used to that.

Miss Cooper blew out a breath. “I’ve circled this mesa a dozen times. One would think that I would find something somewhere.”

Clint arched an eyebrow at her.

“My mother either jumped or was pushed off the side of this mesa and died. It’s been eleven years of wondering, and I’m tired of wondering. I’ve been trying to get to the bottom of this for some time, but she or whoever killed her covered their tracks very well,” Miss Cooper explained.

Clint nodded and risked a question. “Your daddy ain’t explained anything to you?”

Miss Cooper shook her head. “No. Every time I bring up Momma, he clams up. I don’t know what it is.”

Her pretty face scrunched up as she thought. “Reckon we’d better be on our way home.”

Clint nodded and they turned their horses toward the direction of the ranch. He figured that now was as good of a time as any to ask her questions.

“What can you tell me bout these notes that keep popping up?” he asked.

“They don’t keep popping up. There’s just been two, and I can’t tell you much about them,” Miss Cooper said a little too quickly.

Clint nodded. She was definitely trying to dismiss the problem.

“Do you have any past enemies that you think would want to get revenge?” he asked her.

Miss Cooper seemed to think a moment. “Not anyone that would go so far as to threaten my life.”

“Never underestimate the opponent, Miss Cooper. If there is anyone you would suspect were sending those notes, then I need that information. Any information is helpful.”

Especially when he had no idea what he was doing.

“Well, there’s… No, it can’t be him.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘can’t’ in this game, Miss Cooper,” Clint sighed.

He wished the woman would just tell him a name already!

“Okay, fine. Seth Ryder. We were… in a relationship once. He was a madman once, but I’m confident that he’s too much of a coward to try to find me now,” Miss Cooper’s eyes belied her words.

There was much more to this story than she was telling, and Clint wasn’t itching to hear it.

“What does this man look like?” he asked.

“Average height, scrawny, brown hair, blue eyes, and a terrible attitude. That sums him up,” Miss Cooper described.

“I see,” Clint mumbled. “Anything else?”

Miss Cooper shook her head. “We don’t have to talk of him ever again.”

Clint nodded.

Silence came over them for a few moments until Miss Cooper spoke up.

“That exchange was the longest I’ve heard you speak in days, you know,” she said.

Clint shrugged. “I don’t talk much.”

“Clearly. Most men like you don’t.”

Everything within Clint was wanting to explore the meaning behind her words “men like you”, but he refrained as he always did.

No need in asking questions he didn’t care for the answers to.

They arrived back at the ranch and found it quite busy. Cowboys were doing work here and yon, while a boy came out of the barn and took the reins from Miss Cooper.

“Oh, I don’t believe the two of you have met. Mr. Slade, this is Mason, our stable boy. Mason, this is Mr. Clint Slade,” she introduced.

Mason’s eyes grew wide. Clint was used to that reaction.

“Y-You’re Clint Slade?” Mason asked.

Clint nodded and dismounted his horse.

“I’ve read all the newspaper articles about you. Well, Miss Bliss read them to me a few weeks ago,” Mason told him.

Clint looked to see Miss Cooper’s cheeks turn flaming red.

“He loves stories about adventure and such, so I figured I’d read to him. I’m gonna teach him to read one of these days,” she said quickly.

Mason snorted and reached for Clint’ reins.

“I’ll take care of him. You don’t have to worry,” Clint stopped him with his words.

Mason nodded and led Miss Cooper’s horse toward the barn. Clint followed with Miss Cooper walking beside him.

“You haven’t met him because he’s been at his home the past few days with his mother. She just had twins,” she explained.

Clint nodded, though he didn’t really care why he hadn’t met the boy before.

Some people just liked to hear themselves talk. Miss Cooper must be one of them.

“I’m going to go on back to the house to see if Daddy and Damian have blown up anything yet,” Miss Cooper stated before turning to walk back toward the ranch house. Clint snuck a glance back at her.

The woman was sure annoying and couldn’t hide a thing behind those brown eyes, but she was stunning to look at, he’d give her that.

“Mr. Slade? Can I ask you a question?” Mason asked as he began tending to Miss Cooper’s horse.

Clint didn’t answer, wanting to deny the request yet not wanting to hurt the boy’s feelings.

“How many men have you killed?” Apparently, Mason took his silence as an invitation.

Clint sighed. “I don’t rightly know, son.”

“Could you teach me to shoot if I asked ya nicely?” Mason asked.

Clint glanced over at the boy. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Why?”

“Because being good with a gun is no way to live. You’re at a greater risk of dying while wearing a gun than you are without,” Clint answered.

“How’s that?”

Clint inwardly groaned. The boy was full of questions. “Because even outlaws know better than to draw on an unarmed man. They’d sooner shoot you in the back before you knew about it.”

Mason nodded but didn’t ask another question, much to Clint’s relief.

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