Saving the Gunslinger

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

The sun was beginning to rise to the east. Birdsongs filled the quiet morning air as Zachary lay upon his bedroll, holding the woman he loved in his arms. He felt a peace in his soul that he had never imagined he would ever feel.

It was amazing the way Samantha had somehow managed to change him. He'd been a gunslinger, a killer, and nothing more than that. He'd been lost in hate and anger and self-loathing. With a few tender words, warm touches and knowing looks, Sam had saved him. She was his lifeline, his lighthouse, his oasis in a desert and there would never come a day when Zachary would be foolish enough to take her for granted or forget that she was more than he deserved.

Zachary wished they could lay like this all day, but the smell of rain was heavy in the thick air and he had several things to take care of in town. Burying his nose in Sam's thick red curls, Zachary breathed in the scent of lavender and dreaded the day. Yesterday had been enough. Zachary was not a man who appreciated constant stress—he already lived his life on edge worrying that a threat could come from around any corner. Adding other people's worries to that was overwhelming. But for Samantha, for the faith she had in the man he was and could be, Zachary would accompany Caroline and go to battle with the bank and their prejudice. Then he would go to the land office with Timothy and give his brother his rightful share of everything. That was something that should have been done a long time ago and would have been had Zachary been thinking clearly five years before.

Natures' call was urgently begging Zach to get up. He knew that Samantha could sleep just a little longer. The growing cloud cover made it a bit harder to gauge but he would guess it was around six or seven in the morning which meant they had plenty of time before their ten o'clock meeting at the bank.

Sliding from her arms, Zachary got to his feet, taking time to stretch out his stiff muscles as he did so. He wasn't old but he had lived hard, and his body was full of plenty of aches and pains to remind him of that. He was ready to have a warm bed of their own to fall into every night and rise out of every morning.

A breeze blew across his bare torso, reminding Zachary that a storm was coming. He quickly walked several feet away, relieved himself behind a bush, and went to stand beside the river. Samantha had insisted on wearing his shirt to bed even though she had remembered to bring clothes of her own. She said she liked the way it felt to be wrapped up in his clothes while she slept. Zachary hadn't offered up any complaint. He happened to like the way she looked all wrapped up in his clothes.

Staring into the water flowing slowly past him, Zachary thought about how drastically his life had changed in just a few short weeks. It was a strange reality how quickly things could become permanently altered—good and bad. In a heartbeat Zachary had lost his family—and in another heartbeat he had saved a woman from being raped by a fat man in a brothel and found the love of his life. There was a voice in his head, a part of his brain that would be forever terrified of life throwing him yet another blink of an eye change and that voice spoke of what would happen if he lost Samantha. Zachary would be forever broken. There would be no vengeance to be sought—no life to attempt to build back. If something happened to that woman, Zachary would have no choice but to put his revolver in his mouth and eat a bullet.

Those dark thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Samantha's gentle footsteps approaching him. Her arms slid around his middle and her body pressed against his back. "Good morning, handsome."

"Good morning, beautiful," he replied, his body trembling at the feel of her against his bare skin. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." Those lips laid several long kisses to the muscles and scars on his back. "You seemed so sad standing here. What's on your mind?"