Just because you love a girl doesn’t mean you get to spend your life with her.
Hell, Clint knew from the second he met her that Molly was too good for him, that he couldn’t hold onto her. She was a lady. He was nothing but a lifelong vagabond cowboy.
But Clint also knew Molly needed him, in that moment, and he would give his own life to protect her if he had to.
And they both had Cletus to thank for bringing them together. If the broken-down gelding hadn’t been so skittish, Clint would have missed Molly completely.
Whoever heard of a horse afraid of a rocky shadow in the desert?
But there was something about the dusty, moonlit canyon trail that spooked old Cletus, and he nearly bucked Clint from the saddle. In the ruckus, Molly peaked her head out from behind a boulder, and the cowboy’s heart slammed hard against his ribs.
How could such a dazzling creature end up battered and dirty in the middle of nowhere?
He scooped her up, and they rode. Hardly a word passed between them, but Molly’s eyes told him she felt the same way he did.
They didn’t stop until the third night, when they found a watering hole outside of Rockpoint. Clint helped Molly clean up, and he fed her the last of his biscuits and meat.
Finally, they walked together into the center of the sleeping village, leaving Cletus behind so as not to wake anyone.
In front of the jail, Clint tied one piece of rope around Molly’s neck, then used another to tie that makeshift collar to the hitching post.
He gave her one last scratch behind the ear.
“So long, my lady.”
A tear streaked down his cheek as he shuffled into the darkness.
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