Sparks fly and horns lock on the Dottie Belle Ranch in Plateau, Arizona!

Clint Slade is a well-known hired killer. What he does for a living has never been questioned nor given an explanation. The dime novelists love his work to pen to paper, and young boys see him as the epitome of a heroic lifestyle. He lives a lonely life of solitude as he travels all over the country, and that’s the way he likes it. He doesn’t see the need for other people and his latest job makes him wonder why he even bothers to try to understand them.

Bliss Cooper loves her life without the ties of a man or an interest in one. She’s the daughter of a rich ranch owner in Arizona with more than what she needs. Yet when her father becomes overprotective about notes threatening her life, the life she loves so much comes crashing in on her. What seems to her like overkill on her father’s part just might change her life forever.

Colt Kidd can't hide it for much longer. Being the foreman of a ranch is a challenge of it's own, but when he starts having complicated feelings about his boss' daughter and long-time best friend, his life gets a whole lot more confusing. He knows that he can't hold a candle to what Bliss really needs, but he would give his whole life to try.

Psalms 30:5 For his anger endureth but a moment: in his favor is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are the products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved

I do not own any multimedia used herein, including the cover picture. Cover picture is from Tumblr.

Set in 1872 Arizona, United States of America.

Prologue

Fifteen year old Clint Slade gripped the reins to four horses tightly in his hand, his breathing slow and ragged in silence of the midmorning air.

One army pay-roll.

Two guards.

Three men.

The odds were in their favor. While Clint didn’t appreciate the job of merely holding the horses while his brothers got the fun part of the job, his heart beat pure adrenaline through his veins at the thought of being filthy rich in no time flat. It was beginning to make sense to him why his brothers chose this way to make their living. He had been skeptic before, but now he felt the same rush of what he labeled as happiness.

Suddenly, two shots sounded out of nowhere, piercing the silence and sending a chill racing down his spine. A woman screamed and more guards came from down the street toward the bank.

Clint froze.

What was he to do? His brothers hadn’t told him what to do if things went wrong. They had planned on this job coming off without a hitch. Robbing a bank in midday while people weren’t as guarded as at night had seemed like a fool-proof plan.

Yet it had gone terribly wrong.

More shots fired until the sound filled the air and threatened to suffocate him. Clint dropped the reins to the horses. He began running down the slope toward the back of the town, pumping his feet as hard and fast as they would go, until he reached the back of the bank. Rocks in the ground stuck into the bottom of his bare feet. He slid to a stop at the back door. He heard the loud groans coming from inside and knew that it was a scary scene behind the oak slab in front of him.

He was too young to hang!

Visions of a noose and a hangman filled his mind and struck terror into his core.

The fear took over his common sense as he ran back to the horses. He grabbed the reins to his Palomino, mounted, and rode away without a backward glance. He rode hard and fast away from the sound of gunfire and apparent death.

The hooves of his horse pounded past and faster as they put more distance between Clint and Destin, Virginia. He had to get out. He didn’t want to be an outlaw for the rest of his life.

He wouldn’t even go back to Boss. He would just skip out altogether and make a life somewhere else.

Alone.

Without the bothers he’d had all his life.

What he did that morning would haunt his dreams until many, many years later.

There's a little bit of Clint's past:) Hope you guys enjoy this story!

Chapter 1

“Bliss, you get right back here and eat something before you go off riding that horse this morning.”

Bliss Cooper stopped in the middle of tightening the drawstring on her hat and sighed. She had nearly made it past the doorway of the kitchen this time before Grace noticed she didn‘t stop at the table.

“I don’t see why I can’t eat with the cowboys like a normal person.” Bliss pushed her hat off her head until it hung by the drawstring down her back.

“Because the second they get their hands on this food there won’t be crumbs enough for a mouse. Now sit and eat before I take a switch to you,” the sweet cook said.

She was on up in her years, about the age of Bliss’ father, and yet her cheeks blushed like a woman half her age. Graying wisps of hair fell from the bun on top of her head and framed her face, which had handled aging very well.

Bliss walked back to the table and took two flapjacks from the stack she swore was a mile high.

“Nope,” Grace shook her head.

Bliss took one more.

Grace gave a satisfied nod and went on about flipping more flapjacks. Bliss was on her way out of the door when she ran into her father, who was coming in from feeding the livestock.

“Hey, sunshine,” he said, taking her in his arms and squeezing her like a child.

Bliss smiled and hugged him back. Though she had turned twenty last year, she still cherished her father’s morning hug. She hadn’t always been around to enjoy it.

“Off riding again, I see.” Daddy looked down at her split skirt and riding boots.

Bliss nodded and took a bite of her breakfast.

“Well, be safe, darlin’.”

Bliss smiled and exited the house, walking toward the barn with a pep in her step. It was a lovely, typical Arizona morning. The wide expanse of the land rose and fell periodically for miles in either direction. The mesas out in the distance were one of Bliss’ favorite things about living out West. They made the sunrise and sunsets even more enchanting than they would be anywhere else. The best part was that Bliss could wake up every morning and go to sleep every night looking at one of them and it rose up to touch the fingers of the sun as it began to change the way the world was viewed with it’s light or lack thereof.

Walking through the doorway of the barn, Bliss stood in front of the long line of stalls.

“Where’s my Butterfly Kisses?” she chimed.

A loud neigh came from the stall near the end of the long line and Bliss sighed. She found her russet colored quarter-horse where she usually would be and opened the stall. Butterfly Kisses had gotten her name from the three tiny dots that appeared on her blaze square between her eyes, which Bliss had fondly called “freckles”. Since Bliss had always had an annoying spray of freckles on the apple of each of her cheeks, as a child her late mother had called them “butterfly kisses” to maker Bliss feel better. Naming her horse after the endearing memory had gave Bliss a special connection to the animal.

Walking to the tack-room and bringing back her favorite saddle blanket and saddle, Bliss went on about combing and saddling Butterfly Kisses for their morning ride.

“That you, Bliss?” a voice said from the doorway.

“Nope, it’s a horse thief who happens to be combing out the horse before she steals it,” Bliss teased the foreman, Colt Kidd.

“Oh, I see. I thought it looked strange to see a horse brushing out another horse,” Colt threw back at her, walking toward her.

“That’s low, Kidd,” Bliss said with a good-natured grin. “Good morning to you, too.”

Colt yawned. “Wish the sun would sleep in a time or two.”

“I don’t think the sun cares whether or not you want to work or not.”

Colt shook his head, obviously too sleepy to carry on with the banter.

Bliss slung her saddle over her horse’s back and tightened the cinch.

“Where are you gonna ride this morning?” Colt asked, leaning against the wall on the other side of the horse.

“Where I always do,” Bliss said quietly.

Colt had always been good to look at, even when they were children. He had black hair that curled out at the ends just beneath his brown hat, stately blue eyes framed in unusually thick lashes, a squared jaw, and one dimple on the right side of his face.

He had been like a brother to her when they were growing up, sticking by her through her mother’s untimely death and keeping her out of trouble through her rebellious years.

Finishing the job of saddling Butterfly Kisses, Bliss began to lead the horse outside.

“Be careful, Bliss,” Colt said.

“You still keepin’ our secret?” Bliss asked.

Colt nodded.

“Good.” Bliss gave a determined nod of her head and mounted her horse before riding off, leaving Colt behind her.

*****

Bang!

One shot. One shot to kill a reign of evil and mercilessness.

That shot came from the gun of no other than Clint Slade. His thirst for justice in a lawless land had stopped yet another murderous outlaw in his tracks. The outlaw Cheyenne Charlie fell to his knees, clutching his heart with pure agony in his eyes. He was no doubt reliving his pointless and malevolent life of stealing from other people both their lives and hard-earned money. A life that Clint Slade had put to an end. People began flooding the streets again as the feared Cheyenne Charlie fell face-first to the ground and dust rose and fell from the impact. All of the town’s residents cheered and chanted Clint Slade’s name. Our conquering hero said nothing, but simply walked back to his horse, mounted, and prepared to ride away. He stopped by Cheyenne Charlie’s body.

“The pain you inflicted on innocent people ended with the last breath you took,” he said. “May the Lord grant you more mercy than I could ever afford to give you when you meet Him.”

With that as his final words, he rode west out of town, the setting sun silhouetting his heroic figure. He was off to find another adventure, another outlaw who needed put in his rightful place, and another innocent person who needed saving.

Clint groaned and slammed the dime novel closed. The way these writers portrayed his life was absolutely ridiculous. He felt more like a clown in a circus act than a hero like they made him out to be. He had certainly never killed anyone by the name of “Cheyenne Charlie”, nor had he uttered such a cheesy line before he rode out of town. He most definitely never rode into the sunset. When he rode out was nearly shortly after noon or at first light in the morning. On the rare occasion that he did finish a job at sunset, there was no point in riding out because it would be dark in a matter of half an hour anyway and that amount of riding was just enough to make a man mad. No, he would rather sleep in a comfy hotel for one more night than sleep out in the weather.

Placing the novel beside him on the train seat, he watched as the scenery passed him by. He had been to nearly every state in the Union on jobs, and none of them had suited his fancy more than the other. He was a drifter before he even took up a gun, and he intended on staying that way until he died. Putting down roots was for someone who actually liked being around people, who had a family, or who wanted to live a simple life. Clint wanted none of those things.

“Hey, Ma! Look who it is!” Clint heard a boy’s voice say. “It’s Clint Slade!”

The entire train car turned to look at him as if they hadn’t seen him when they boarded. One man pulled his pretty little wife closer to him and Clint smirked at the man. Why was it that all people believed that he loved women and lived to hurt them? He’d never had a woman in his life! The last dime novel he had just read and felt like burning was the first one who didn’t have a woman in it who was completely enamored by his existence. It was disgusting that some of the writers back east had an imagination like that.

Clint forgot about the people staring at him and looked back at the window. This was how it was supposed to be. He didn’t care about people, and they weren’t interested in being within fifty paces of him. So he just leaned back, pulled his hat over his eyes, and enjoyed the fact that no one had the courage to sit in the train seat across from him.

*****

Bliss pulled her horse to a stop and dismounted, her feet landing in front of a wooden cross.

“Hey, Momma,” she said as she sat down beside the old grave, clutching the reins to her horse.

Her mother was buried under the intimidating yet mighty height of Bliss’ favorite mesa, one that the locals to the area called “Almighty”. One day, Bliss was going to climb that mesa. She had dreamed about seeing the world from the top of it since she was a little girl. She even had a stake that she had kept since she was young that had the words “Bliss was here” whittled into it.

She was used to sitting beside her mother in the silence, content to just let the silence fill the air. After all, the silence was there first.

Her mother had been gone ten years last month. No one knew what had possessed her to climb up to the top of Almighty and take her own life. That was one reason why she wanted to get to the top of that mesa and hopefully find some clue as to why her mother had killed herself.

It had been so unlike Momma to be so irrational. As a ten year old child, Bliss had blamed herself for driving her mother crazy, but looking back now, she knew that Momma’s reasons ran deeper.

Now Bliss would give anything to know what happened on the top of that mesa. Her mother was always very active, but none of them knew she had the agility to climb all the way to the top of Almighty. Bliss had walked all the way around the mesa al least a dozen times and had never seen a way that she could have used to get to the top. They hadn’t found a rope or anything lying around. Bliss could only hope that the answers to her questions rested on the top of Almighty.

Chapter 2

Bliss arrived back at the ranch and Colt ran out to meet her before she even reached the front gate.

“It’s bad now, Bliss. He found out.”

“F-Found out?” Bliss felt her heart sink. “How?”

“Another note came and he found it.”

“Another one?” Bliss dismounted and stood in front of Colt.

“Yeah. This one’s worse,” Colt shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I see. Well, I’ll go face Daddy. He’s gonna blow, isn’t he?” Bliss winced.

“Sure as the sunrise.”

Bliss groaned and gave Colt the reins to Butterfly Kisses and began walking toward the main house.

“I’d be careful, Miss Blissful,” the oldest of the cowboys, Mose, said from where he was saddling his horse.

“He’s in a pretty foul humor, huh?” Bliss stopped before entering the house.

“He’s gotta right to be, missy.” Mose cinched his saddle.

Bliss shrugged. Daddy seemed to be overprotective of her even though she was twenty-one years old. Opening the door, she walked into the front room of her home. A bear skin rug lay in the middle of the room with overstuffed chairs and a settee littered the room in a semi circle. Every part of the room screamed masculinity. Momma would surely roll over in her grave if she saw how the house looked now, but Bliss kind of liked it.

“Bliss? Honey, is that you?” Daddy’s voice rang from the kitchen.

Bliss walked into the room and saw her father sitting at the kitchen table with two notes in front of him. Grace was stirring the soup for dinner, but sent a worried glance her way.

“Did you know about these?” Daddy motioned to the notes in front of him.

Bliss walked over and sat beside him. He gave her the notes to read.

The first one, which she had memorized, read:

Watch your back.

While the second one was her initials with a line through them and a few drops of red on the page.

Bliss rolled her eyes and ignored his question. “Daddy, this is probably some dumb kid playing a joke.”

“A kid? Coming all the way out here from town to play a joke? Your life is no joke, sweetheart.”

“Sherman, she might be right,” Grace spoke up. “This could be a bad prank.”

“I’m not chancing anything.”

Bliss sighed. “So I have to stay locked up all the time? I’d go crazy.”
“No, not that necessarily. You need someone to be with you. A bodyguard so to speak” Daddy explained.

Bliss leaned back in her seat. “So basically a shadow?”

“Just until this blows over.”

Bliss swore he thought she was still a child. She had shot a gun before, and she could take care of herself. Packing a six-shooter until the notes stopped was a reasonable reaction, but this… this was infuriating. She kept her mouth shut and simply nodded, knowing that there was no way of changing her father’s mind.

“I know just who I can get, too,” Daddy said with pride, placing a newspaper in front of her and pointing to where he had circled an ad.

“This is the Denver Post, Daddy,” Bliss reminded.

“Read the add.”

Bliss bent over the newspaper.

Clint Slade - gun for hire. Will discuss rates upon reviewing job. Send replies to this advert to Lovelace, Tennessee, address to Clint Slade. Not all requests are accepted.

“Clint Slade? Daddy, do you know how much he will cost?” Bliss pushed the paper away from her.

“I’m prepared to pay as long as he protects my little girl,” Daddy replied.

“You’re willing to pay that much money for his gun when there’s a big chance he won’t even have a need for it?”

“I am.”

Bliss sighed and stood. “Fine. If this is what you want to do, then I don’t see that I have a choice. Do what you want.”

She walked out of the room, annoyed at her overprotective father. This was exactly why she didn’t need a man in her life ever again. They were way too possessive of any woman who was placed in their care.

This Clint Slade man was probably the worst heathen of them all.

*****

Clint pulled his horse to a stop in front of the little shack in the middle of the woods. When he wasn’t on a job, he called the little place his home in the middle of the Tennessee Rockies. Dusk was descending over the mountains, and the fog was thick in the air. Throwing his right leg over the saddle and sliding to the ground, Clint heaved a sigh. Opening his saddlebags, he retrieved the stack of letters he had received from the town of Lovelace down the mountain a ways. People sent their pleas for help to him and he picked the most urgent of them all.

After tending to his horse, a black stallion who had been his only companion for years, Clint went inside the cabin and shivered at the chill inside. Placing his bags and the letters on the dusty table, he retrieved some firewood from the pile out back that he had cut months ago.

With a fire started and some warmth beginning to come from it, Clint sat on the ground in front of it and pulled off his gloves. The stack of letters in front of him, he began sifting through them, mumbling to himself.

“Kansas, Texas, Nevada, Oklahoma… Mexico?” He lifted the letter to see better. What could possess a person to think he would travel over the border for a Mexican when he had perfectly good Americans where he was? They would have to pay a fine price.

Opening the letter, Clint groaned. Another female wanting him to pick off her husband. This was the second letter in a month from a new bride who found out some nasty things about her groom after the wedding. Either men were getting worse or women were getting harder to please.

The next few letters came from reporters, and he had no desire to endure their countless questions again.

“Mississippi, Louisiana, Montana, Georgia… and Arizona,” he mumbled the last words, holding the letter up. It had been a while since he had been to Arizona.

Opening the letter, he read an unusual request. A father, whose daughter had been receiving notes threatening her life for no apparent reason, was wanting him to guard her until the author of the notes were found. Clint drew his eyebrows close together. This wasn’t what he was used to. The father had expressed that he would be willing to pay good money for his services.

Clint sighed.

No, it wasn’t his job to be a nursemaid to a little girl.

*****

Bliss watched the sunset set behind her favorite mesa and smiled. It had been two weeks since her father had sent that letter to Clint Slade. Maybe he was receiving the letter and denying it at that very moment. She didn’t want to burden the man with her presence all the time. She didn’t want to burden anyone with that. She had come to accept that her father still saw her as a child, even after all that had happened with Seth Ryder.

Closing her eyes, she shut off the memory of that terrible man.

Focusing all of her thoughts back onto the sunset, her mind was suddenly plagued with thoughts of the Creator. She didn’t really know why. Sure, He existed, but she didn’t see why he would take the time to care about each and every sunset that only she and a few others saw. No, these sunsets happened by pure chance, nothing more.

Turning away from the window, she remembered a time when she believed that God paid attention to every detail of her life. She had found such comfort in knowing that He knew exactly what she was feeling. She felt so alive then, so full of love for her life. Every time she would get discouraged, she would tell herself to keep going, that someday she would give someone a reason to believe, too. She didn’t know what had happened. Maybe she wised up, but somewhere along the way she had stopped believing. She put on a front on Sundays when Grace was around and talking about God’s goodness and His love for them, but during the week she lived just like she wanted to without being concerned whether it was right or wrong by God. She just let Him worry about the people who needed it and let Him leave her alone. So far she had been getting along just fine.

Staring up at the ceiling, she tried to force her mind to think on a reasonable subject for the first time that night.

*****

Clint folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, not being able to sleep even though it was well past midnight now. He couldn’t get that man out of his mind, mostly because it reminded him of the family he used to have. Three brothers were all he’d had in the world, and then they were taken away in the time it too to shoot a gun. Sitting up and staring into the fire, listened to the only noise that it gave and thought long and hard on Sherman Cooper. He should go and help that man and he knew it.

Why did he care, anyway? It wasn’t like he had… feelings for people.

Could he really go on a job knowing that a family might fall apart and he didn’t help them?

Clint thought a moment on that.

Yes, yes he could, because he was Clint Slade, and he didn’t care.

He paused a moment after making that decision.

Would it hurt anything to go?

Clint groaned at himself and lay back down.

Sherman Cooper would probably pay good money.

There. That was his reason for going. The money.

Sighing at his decision, Clint rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

*****

Grace Gabrielle went about cooking breakfast the next morning with Bliss’ safety weighing heavily on her mind. It was true that Sherman was overprotective, but that was just because he loved his child. Bliss could take care of herself, but there was no telling what could happen if the attackers had the element of surprise.

She heard Sherman’s spurs jingle as he walked down the hall toward the kitchen. She turned when he entered. There was something that she just had to ask.

“When are you going to tell her, Sherman?” Grace asked.

“Good morning to you too, Grace.”

Grace put her hands on her hips. “Answer me, mister.”

Sherman sat down at the table. “Tell her what?”

“You know what. She has a right to know, Sherman,” Grace told him.

“Some things she couldn’t handle, Grace.”

“That girl rides everyday to go see her momma and you’re going to keep this away from her? She’s stronger than you think.”

Sherman sighed. “No, she isn’t.”
“She isn’t a child anymore. One would think that you would know that after Seth Ryder,” Grace mumbled, turning back to where she was frying bacon.

“I thought we decided not to mention his name anymore, Grace.”

“Not talking about things doesn’t make them disappear.”

Sherman groaned. “Maybe not for us, but what Bliss doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Grace sighed.

Lord, this family needs your direction. They don’t know what’s right and wrong anymore. I know that Bliss isn’t as close to you as she ought to be, and I’m starting to worry about Sherman. I love them like my own blood kin, you know. I can’t stand to watch them suffer. Help us to strengthen our faith instead of pushing it aside. Help us to look to you for everything, Lord.

Let me know what you think!!!

　I did a little updating to the prologue, so you can check it out if you want. Nothing major, though:)

{Chapter 3}

Clint groaned at the town of Plateau, Arizona. He had no idea what he was doing here or why he was even trying to figure it out. Something had driven him to come to this town and Sherman Cooper, but he had no idea what.

Clint didn’t like not knowing.

He needed to make it out to the Dottie Belle Ranch as quick as possible. He shook his head when he thought of that name. What masculine man in his right mind would name his ranch that? Maybe he let his little girl name it. That was what Clint chose to believe.

Pulling up in front of a store where two old men sat playing checkers, Clint leaned down from where he sat atop his horse.

“Can one of you direct me to the Dottie Belle Ranch?” Clint asked.

One old man pushed his spectacles farther up his nose and glared at him. “The Dottie Belle, you say?”

Clint nodded.

“The what?” the other man asked, nearly yelling.

“The Dottie Belle Ranch!” the first old man said to him loudly.

“Oh-h,” the second man drew out the word. “I see.”

“You head south out of town and in about three day’s time, you’ll run into it,” the first man explained.

Clint sighed. He’d ridden father.

“Three days, you say?” he asked.

“Wha-a-t?” The second man bellowed.

“He asked if it was a three days’ ride!” the first yelled in an answered.

“Oh-h.”

“This here’s Clint Slade, that gunfighter I was tellin’ ya about!” the first man told the second.

“Oh-h.”

The first man looked back up at Clint. “Just keep followin’ the trail south and you’ll run into it. Well, maybe you turn by Susannah’s Butte. Lemme ask Clark.”

Clint shook his head.

“Hey, Clark! Do you turn by Susannah’s Butte on the way out to the Dottie Belle?” the man’s yelling was beginning to get on Clint’s already worn nerves.

When people began to get on his nerves, his hand got twitchy, and Clint would hate to have to go to jail for shooting two old coots.

“The Dottie Belle?” Clark asked loudly.

“Yes, the Dottie Belle Ranch!” the first man answered.

“Well, Sam, all you gots to do is head south until you come to those twin buttes then head west. You’ll run into the Dottie Belle Ranch thatta way.” Clark nodded slowly as he spoke.

Sam, who Clint assumed to be Clark’s checkers opponent, turned to Clint. “You heard him. You head south until you come to the Twin Buttes and then head west. It’s as easy as… as… Well, flitter fire! I done forgot the old sayin’.”

Clint put his gloved hand up. “Thank you. I’ll be on my way now.”

“What’d he say?” Clark hollered.

“He said he’d be on his way!” Sam answered back.

“Oh-h.”

Clint rolled his eyes and headed south out of town… far away from the annoying, hard-hearing old men.

*****

Bliss folded yet another newspaper and placed it with the stack of newspapers that she had already looked through.

Her father’s unexplained need to collect every newspaper that was ever printed in Plateau was getting out of hand. There where three stacks that were nearly as tall as she was. Searching for the few articles on Clint Slade was like trying a sliver off a needle in a haystack.

A big haystack.

Pulling her hair back away from her face, she stared at the stacks of newspapers. Picking another newspaper from near the bottom of the older stack, Bliss sat cross-legged on the floor and read the headline.

Slade Gang strikes again in Destin, Virginia.

Bliss reread it until she was sure that she wasn’t reading wrong.

That’s odd.

She went on to read about Joe, Abel, and Cyle Slade, but nothing of a Clint. Of course, the newspaper was from nine years ago. Clint Slade would have been just a kid then, wouldn’t he?

The rest of the newspaper was filled with news about the war that Bliss had been told about a million times. Her father relived and sometimes reenacted some part of the war every night during supper. Folding the newspaper and placing it to the side, Bliss just happened to look back over the top part of it.

The newspaper wasn’t from Plateau.

Lifting the paper back, but Bliss looked closely at the city it was located in.

Destin, Virginia.

What would Daddy be doing with a newspaper from Virginia? Bliss shook her head.

Suddenly, she heard someone running down the hall. She would know that clomping run anywhere.

Colt passed by the doorway of her father’s office where she sat and nearly ran right by, he put his hand on the doorway to stop his slippery boots before he slid right on by.

“Bliss, yo’ Daddy’s gonna kill hisself!” he panted.

Bliss arched an eyebrow at him. “What else is new?”

Colt rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. “He’s trying to ride Starke.”

Bliss rolled her eyes. “We got one bull. Just one old craggy bull for ya’ll to ride and ya’ll stick him on top of it?”

“We didn’t do any such thing!” Colt exclaimed.

“Uh huh,” Bliss said doubtfully as she placed the newspapers she had looked through back on top of the newest stack. She kept the one from Destin and folded it up. “How much money you got on the bull?”

Colt hit the floor with the toe of his boot, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, about… somewhere near… in the range of…”

“Five bucks?” Bliss folded her arms.

“Y-Yeah. I didn’t think he would actually get on him though!”

“I know you too well.” Bliss left the room and threw the newspaper she had onto the kitchen table. “Come on, let’s go save my father.”

Colt followed her and Bliss loosed at the floor.

“Colt! What did you do? You tracked mud all through this house! Let’s go before Grace finds it and kills you.” Bliss sped up her walk.

She ran out of the front door and out behind the house toward the corral where her father was surrounded by a cloud of dust as the bull bucked every which way.

Bliss walked right up to the group of cowboys where they were cheering for whichever they had bet on. She put her hands on her hips. One of the cowboys saw her and nudged the others. Every cowboy fell silent when they saw her.

Bliss rolled her eyes and walked up to the side of the corral and stared at her father. The man loved pretending to be young again. He spotted her and he immediately became unseated and slid off the back of the bull, landing flat on his back.

“Daddy!” Bliss climbed over the corral fence and ran over to him.

Two of the cowboys caught the bull and took the ropes off of him.

Daddy stood and dusted himself off.

“Are you alright?” Bliss asked.

Daddy nodded. “I’m just fine, sweetie.”

Bliss crossed her arms. “What were you thinking? You could have died!”

Daddy chuckled. “That’s not likely. I’ve been riding bulls my while life and I know how to handle them.”

She sighed. “I still don’t think you should be doing that.”

“I’m fine, ain’t I? I’m not hurt.” Daddy climbed back over the corral fence and Bliss followed him toward the house.

They passed Colt on the way there and Bliss swiped the five dollar bill out of his hand.

“Hey!” Colt protested.

“You don’t need this dirty money, do you?” Bliss teased.

Colt rolled his eyes. “You know that ain’t yours.”

“Really? You’ve owed me five dollars for two months. Remember when you bought that new saddle?” Bliss reminded, walking backwards.

Colt heaved a sigh. “I guess you’re right.”

Bliss grinned and stuffed the money in the pocket of her split skirt. “Never borrow money from a woman. Actually, don’t borrow money from anybody but Mose. He’ll just forget anyway.”

Colt chuckled and Bliss went into the house. She heard Daddy and Grace talking in the kitchen, so she went back there to get her newspaper.

She entered the room and they immediately quieted down. Bliss looked at the table to see that the newspaper she had set there wasn’t there anymore.

She arched an eyebrow. “Did ya’ll happen to see a newspaper here?”

Daddy shrugged. “Why would there be a newspaper on the table, sweetheart?”

Bliss narrowed her eyes. Maybe she had put it in her room.

No, she was sure that she had placed it there.

Looking back and forth between her father and Grace, she knew that something was going on. They both had guilty looks on their faces.

The best way to handle a situation like this was to pretend like you didn’t suspect anything. People got careless then.

She would get to the bottom of this.

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