by Claudia Hope
Awkward goodbyes were exchanged the next day when she left at first light for town. They’d gone to bed not talking, and the fact that it hadn’t smoothed over that morning stayed with her the whole trip into town.
The excitement of the people and the hustle and bustle of town momentarily wiped all of that away. Out on the ranch since the day she arrived, she realized she didn’t know a single person in this town she was now calling home. As she pulled the cart up and hitched it outside of the general store, she did her best to put on a friendly face and smile to those that seemed they would smile back.
The town she had grown up in was a tightknit community where everyone knew everyone else. No one would have let a new bride go unvisited for as long as she had. Despite her attempts at being friendly, no one returned it. Not even a polite head nod.
Feeling even more alone than before, she walked into the general store, her head held high. They wouldn’t have the satisfaction of feeling they’d had any effect on her confidence. She approached the clerk and listed off the cattle feed and supplies she needed.
While he went about with her list and gathered everything together, the two men she’d spoken with when she first arrived walked in. Again, she tried a friendly smile. They’d been pleasant before, funny even. She didn’t feel it so foolish to hope that at least they would acknowledge her existence. To her delight, one of them grinned widely at her and touched the rim of his hat. Immediately they walked over, one of them, the more handsome one, leaned against the counter near her.
“Howdy there. Clint’s lady, right?”
The fact that her entire self-identity was tied to someone else stung, but she tried to not let it show. Instead, she put on a smile and nodded. “That’s right. Married now. You’re the Jonus boys?”
The other one standing next to his brother laughed, but the handsome one feigned injury as he put a hand to his chest. “Madam, you wound me.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I meant no disrespect.”
“None taken,” the other said and removed his hat. “Johnson, madam. Not Jonus.”
“Johnson, yes,” she said. “That’s right. I recall now. Well, how are you boys?”
“Mighty well, thank you,” the handsome one said. “Where’s ol’ Clint at? He helping ‘round back?”
Valentine shook her head. “Oh, no, I’m afraid he’s back home. Horse crushed his leg.”
Both the men grimaced, the other one making a spin as though he wanted to walk away from such news but forced himself to come back around. “That’s terrible to hear,” he said.
“Terrible indeed,” the handsome one agreed. “He gonna pull through though, right? Doc see to him and all that?”
Valentine thought it best to avoid the fact they never called the doctor, as she didn’t know what that would do to her reputation or Clint’s. Instead, she glossed over the entire topic and said, “Oh yes, he’ll be fine soon enough. He’s able to walk about now a bit before needing a rest. I trust he’ll be up and about in time for winter.”
“That’s fine,” the handsome one said with a smile. “That’s just fine. We’re glad to hear, and you tell him we wish him a speedy recovery.”
The clerk returned with her list. “The boys are loading your order up on your wagon now, miss.” “Oh, thank you very much,” she said to him. Then turning to the Johnson boys she said, “It’s been mighty nice talking with you boys. I’ll be sure to pass on your best to Clint.”
They bid her well, and she left feeling refreshed at having had a decent conversation with someone for once.
The trip home, she felt rather good about herself. She made it to town, gathered what they needed without being cheated on cost, and would make it home before it was time for dinner. When Valentine arrived at the ranch and began unloading the cart, Clint came out to greet her. “How’d it go?” he asked as he hobbled up.
“Don’t touch anything,” she said. “Your leg can’t take the strain yet. I have it.” When he held up his hands defensively to show he wasn’t touching anything, she gave him a sharp nod. “It went well. Got everything we needed with money to spare. Oh, and I spoke with the Johnson boys. They wish you well and were sorry to hear of your hurt.”
Rage erupted inside of him like a wood furnace. The emotion was so strong so quickly that Clint’s fist snapped out and broke a plank of wood that made up the side of the cart. The sudden movement startled Valentine so much that she dropped the bag of feed she’d just lifted. “What?”
Valentine looked at the bag of feed. “I don’t know what you’re upset about.”
“You told them I’m hurt? Did you mention how bad?”
“Clint, we were just talking about news and things. I didn’t make mention of the Doc not comin’.”
“Them boys have been after my steer for years. Now they hear I’m here, laid up, helpless. What do you think they’re going to do? Huh?”
“They wished you well,” she said, nearly shouting.
“They wish me dead!” he said, loud enough to drown her out.
As she stood there in shock, he turned and walked back to the house. His mind reeled with all of the ways the Johnson boys might try to come in and destroy his ranch. Now that they knew he was injured, they wouldn’t just take his steer. With nothing in their way, they’d slaughter his cattle, maybe even set fire to his barns and the pen. Damage like that he’d never recover from, and they’d be rid of their greatest rival.
Once back in the house, he went to his room and pulled out his riding leathers. They weren’t much in the way of bullet protection, but they offered at least some sort of buffer if they thought to come at him with knives or the like.
As he fought with his splinted leg as he tried to don the leathers, Valentine marched into his room with a fury. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Protecting my ranch. Someone has to.”
“You’re right,” she said, ripping the leathers from his hands. “Someone does.”
“Listen here woman,” he said, reaching out to take them back. She stepped back, holding them back and out of his reach.
“You can’t walk a snail’s pace. What are you going to do if they do show up? Beg? You can’t climb into any fitting position, you can’t squat in a trench or behind cover. You’re no good right now.”
“You do a fine job building a man up,” he said, glaring at her.
“I do an even better job keeping my man alive. Get back in bed. I handled the ranch and your leg. I’ll handle this.”
When she pushed her way past him to the rifle, he gave her no resistance. With one last look, she left the room, her boots beating against the floor as she did.
Clint stood for a moment, thinking. It wasn’t the situation, or the threat of the Johnson boys. Clint stared at the floor, his leg aching like the Devil himself, but all he could think were two words. They repeated themselves in his head over and over, each time making less and less sense, yet somehow meaning more and more to him.
“My man.”
With such a simple phrase, she claimed him. In that moment, he was surprised by how much he’d truly fallen for her. The spirit she wielded about her was like a force of nature. It filled a hole in his life he hadn’t realized was so great a chasm.
The one time she’d spoken with the Johnson boys, he’d taken an attitude about it and marched her away, never speaking of it again. How was she to know not to mention his injury?
Once more, she was taking matters in her own hands. This time, she wouldn’t do it alone. Clint pushed himself onto his good leg and limped his way through the house to the main room where she was fighting to strap on the leathers.
“You mean to tell me you can shoot, too?” he asked, sure to keep his tone light.
“I’m about to learn,” she said without looking up.
“How about,” he said as he came up behind her and cinched a strap tight, “I teach you?”
She worked her mouth as though she were physically trying to swallow her an
ger. “You’d do that?”
Clint reached up and put a finger on her chin to guide her face to look at him. “For my woman? Yes indeed.”
Valentine laid atop the stack of hay bales, hidden from view in all directions. Up there, she had a solid view of the entire ranch. The cattle were in the pen for the night, which was just as well since it made it easy to keep an eye on them.
Clint had tried to talk her out of standing watch all night, but she refused to listen. He seemed to believe heart and soul that these boys would try to take advantage of Clint in his weakened state and destroy the ranch. Well, she wasn’t about to allow it! It had been her slip up that would bring them, if they were to come, and she wasn’t about to let that be the end of it. They had finally come together. Clint finally had feelings for her.
For the second time that day she’d had a slip of the tongue, calling him her man. Truth be told, she’d grown quite fond of his quiet strength. It was a security for her, even as injured as he was. If he could make her feel that safe and cared for when under such circumstances, how much stronger it would be when he was back to his old self. She’d had the chance to prove herself before and succeeded. Now she would do it again. When he looked at her and called her his woman, it had solidified it in her heart. This was their ranch. Their home. Their life together. She wouldn’t let a soul harm that.
Even as she sat thinking about it, a number of black shapes approached from west. As they drew closer, she made out five of them. Men on horse. When they were close enough, they hid the horses in a copse of trees nearby and approached on foot.
Valentine readied the rifle, aiming down the sight like Clint had taught her. Taking one of the men’s heads into view, she pulled the slide back to chamber a shell, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. The rifle’s report still startled her, and she jumped as the butt of the rifle kicked against her shoulder.
All five men dropped flat and spread out for cover. Valentine chambered the next round and fired. Adrenaline coursed through her body, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Her stomach flared up with an entire congregation of butterflies, but she ignored it all and chambered the next round.
This time, the men were all firing back in her general direction. They hadn’t seen the muzzle flash, like Clint assumed they would. That meant she might be able to get off maybe one more shot before they locked her down. Taking deep breaths to steady her aim, she fired again.
“What’s the matter Clint?” one of the boys called out. “You used to be a crack shot. That leg really got you down, huh?”
Valentine chambered the next round. “Clint’s inside,” she called back.
The five of them turned as Clint appeared in the doorway of the house. In their attempt to take cover from Valentine, they’d positioned themselves well within range of his six-shooters.
“Hello boys,” her man said.
The ranch erupted in gunfire. Distracted as they were by Clint’s grand entrance, which had been the point, Valentine was able to fire off two more solid shots without fear of return fire. One of those shots took down one of the Johnson boys. Clint leveled his six-shooters and unleashed all hell on them. They fired back, but they were flanked and knew it. Shooting while trying to find cover, their shots went wide, doing nothing but putting ventilation holes in the side of Clint’s house.
Between Valentine and Clint, there was no cover that protected them from both. Quickly realizing this, they gathered up their wounded and fled back to the trees where the horses were. Clint and Valentine continued to fire, more ensuring they left as quickly as possible, than anything else.
As they rode off into the night, Clint leaned against the doorway and let the guns hang in his hands. The weight of them was always a reassuring thing, the smell of gun smoke thick in the air.
Valentine hooted and hollered as she climbed down from the hay bales and ran over toward him. “Did you see that?” she cried. “I got a couple of ‘em, I know I did.”
Clint holstered his pistols at his hips and held open his arms for her. “Yes you did, I saw. Got ‘em good, too.”
Valentine ran into his arms, the rifle held out in one hand, and they planted a kiss on one another. It was impossible to say who kissed who, but their lips met in the most exquisite joy imaginable.
In all their time together, it was the first time they kissed. It was definitely not the last.
A week later, Clint was well enough to go out. The pain in his leg had finally crested the stage of recovery where he could last hours instead of mere minutes. The first thing he wanted to do was take her back to town and show her around proper, like he’d meant to the first time.
Now, as they walked along the boardwalk under the eaves of the buildings, Valentine clung to his arm, lovingly enraptured by every tale he had to tell about the store owners.
He introduced her to everyone they met, and now that the fine townsfolk had context for Valentine, they were only more than happy to include her. For a frontier town, they explained, they received all sorts of people. More often than not, those trying to escape less than savory lives.
As one woman explained to her about a gentleman she’d met just months before that had turned out to be a notorious bank robber, Valentine and Clint spotted the Johnson boys walking by on the other side of the street. The younger one had his arm in a sling, a spot of blood marring the bandaging at the upper arm. That must’ve been where Valentine winged him.
For her part, Valentine flashed them a bright smile and a wave of the hand. They responded only with grim sneers and turned away as they continued walking by. It’d be some time before they ever came around the ranch again, but if they did, Clint knew he and Valentine would be ready for them.
They were ready for anything.
THE END
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Love For A Broken Hearted Woman