Saving the Gunslinger

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Zachary stood in the early morning sunlight with mist and fog still swirling all around and stared at the graves surrounding him. He hadn't seen these graves since he had laid the bodies to rest in them five years before. Those four wooden crosses with names and dates painstakingly etched into the grain were all that remained of the family Zachary had once had. The family Clinton Matthews had stolen. Now, Zachary had a chance at a new family—one with Samantha. If Clinton didn't steal her away from him too.

Zachary squatted down and removed some thick weeds from one of the crosses. Evelyn Marston B. Sept 1835 D. June 1878. A tear slid down Zachary's rough cheek and he swiped at it quickly. He wished he could hear his mama's voice. She had always given the best advice. And she hadn't kissed a persons' ass as she'd done so. She would tell you exactly what you needed to hear in exactly the way you needed to hear it. Zachary wished he'd appreciated that more when she'd been alive—but as a young boy wanting desperately to prove he was a man, he hadn't always wanted to listen to his mother.

Zachary shouldn't be here. He should be gone hunting for Clinton Matthews. That had been his plan when he had ridden out of town just yesterday. But instead of leaving, he had simply wandered in circles never going too far from town, before finally ending up here a few hours before dawn.

Zachary's heart simply wasn't interesting in riding away—it didn't want the chase. Zachary had chased Clinton for five long years. He'd killed dozens of men, ridden up on hundreds of scenes of Clinton's handiwork, slept on rocks and known gut-wrenching hunger and tongue swelling thirst as he'd wandered the plains. Zachary didn't want to do that again. What if it took another five years? And what if he still did not manage to catch Clinton?

Did he want to do that? No. No, he didn't. Zachary wanted only one thing and that was a life with that fiery red-head back in town who was no doubt very angry at him. Damn her. Angry at him for trying to keep her safe.

Zachary sighed and shoved himself to standing. He wasn't angry at her. He understood her view and he had spent the entire afternoon yesterday and all night last night thinking on it. Leaving Samantha while he went chasing after Clinton and removed the man from the face of the earth seemed the obvious route, but it wouldn't guarantee her safety. What if Clinton showed up while he was gone and harmed her? Zachary knew that Timothy would protect Samantha with his life—Zachary could lose the woman he loved and his best friend since boyhood.

No. No, he wasn't going to be leaving them and chasing devils as Samantha called it. Zachary was going to stay right here. He was going to build that life with Samantha. He was going to let himself continue to experience the happiness and the light that she brought into his life. He was going to give Samantha everything she ever wanted because she had known far too much pain in her life and Zachary was not going to be responsible for causing that woman anymore.

Letting out a sigh, he spared one last glance at those graves. They were so plain and lacked any color. Knowing his mother and her love of Botany, she wouldn't like that. Maybe Sam would help him plant some flowers that could make it more beautiful?

Pulling his hat down low, Zachary went to Blaze at the edge of the hill, hopped on the geldings' back and pointed his nose toward town. If he was going to give Samantha that future, he was going to need to give that woman a place to live. It was time to go buy a new farmhouse.

***

Zachary put Blaze up at the livery and stepped back out in the mid-morning sun. It was Monday morning which meant Samantha would be working at Doctor Reynolds' office. Pointing his boots in that direction, Zachary was stopped halfway there by the sound of Timothy calling his name.