A Lonesome Rose (A Silverton Springs Novel)

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Clint stretched his back hoping that something would shift for him, maybe just a bit. Standing tall in his stirrups he longed to see if she was still standing there. His horse snorted with his head moving up and down, indicating that he too was looking for her. Laughing at the both of them Clint muttered, “If only she was there, standing and frantically waving, wanting me to return. But I messed up so bad. She’ll never want to see me again. We might as well head down the trail towards the next town and maybe we’ll have better luck.”
With a whiny Buckshot, nodded his head again as the two of them rode away from Rose. It was the wrong direction and Clint felt like the most lonesome cowboy in the entire West. He’d been with plenty of women. That wasn’t the problem. He could have any woman he wanted with his handsome looks, curly brown hair and tall stature; his smile had a way of opening the door to their bedrooms in record time. No, this time he’d gone and done it. He’d actually felt something for her and she for him. But his luck had gone bad and the Marshall was going to be looking for him.
Starting off on a trot, Clint grimaced and held his side. He’d been slow to the draw and hadn’t gotten off the first shot. Lucky for him it was off the mark and only grazed his side. The shot he fired in return had been dead on. If only he’d not been so quick with the trigger maybe the drunk would still be alive. And maybe he wouldn’t be on the run. Running from the only woman he’d truly loved ever in his life!
The pain in his side where the bullet had grazed him would heal, but he wondered if he’d ever get over the pain in his heart. Leaving her behind was the hardest thing he ever had to do in his life. Running away from home at 14 was much easier. Leaving his drunken father and his step-mother was simple compared to leaving her. Clint had often fantasized that she was like his real mother, the one who’d died giving birth to him. She was soft, smelled pretty and was the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with. Her deep blue eyes were like the clear mountain sky. Her lips were tender and sweet. Her laughter was like a sweet melody of love and lingered in his mind. The dust of the trail got in his eyes, as Buckshot began to gallop. He felt the tears coming and blamed it on the trail dust, but inside he knew the real reason he was crying, he’d left behind the only woman for him, the one he loved, the one who made him feel whole again. Damn the luck!
They galloped away from Rose past the creek where they’d gone swimming so many evenings. Rose would fix supper, put it in the basket and they’d slowly walk to their favorite place beneath the pines. He’d spread out the blanket. They would sit side by side and listen to the water rushing over the rocks in the creek. The food was left in the basket for later. He would gently kiss her hand and then move up her arm until she was shuttering and giggling, pushing him away in a playful manner. But once their lips met, the love making began in earnest. The cry of the hawk never failed to join in. Shaking his head, Clint vowed to return and take her away with him. Somehow he’d figure out a plan. His heart demanded that.

Rose stood in the shadow of the porch watching Clint ride away. She knew if she stepped out into the yard he’d be able to see her and she didn’t want to tempt him to return. The Marshall had been there looking for Clint and had vengeance in his eyes. No. She needed to stay back in the shadows and let him disappear in the dust. All she could see now was the dust from the horse’s hooves as he rode away from her and all her hopes and dreams.