Protection

Chapter 4

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.