After another week had passed, Blade could finally walk on his own. It still hurt, but at the same time, it felt great to regain some independence and freedom. Dakota watched his every move and fussed over him at every chance she got.
One more week passed before Dr. Cooper gave him a clean bill of health. He could ride again. They could continue their mission. Dr. Cooper had warned him that he might still feel pain with sudden movements and advised him to take it easy for the next couple of weeks.
Blade had rested enough. Sure, he could feel he wasn’t fully back to his old self yet, but he was ready to go. He had a life to live, and he wanted to get on with it.
***
Dakota had wanted to stay in Twin Springs longer so that he could have more time to recover, but Blade had refused. They had been back on the road now for five days and were approaching Santa Fe, New Mexico. Their next target was Jeremiah Wilson, and Blade was hoping that they would find him easily.
The worst of winter had passed, and the days were slowly starting to get longer and warmer again, something that both he and Dakota were grateful for.
Blade shifted in his saddle, wincing from the pain the movement caused. Glancing to his side, he made sure that Dakota hadn’t noticed. She worried about him, and he didn’t want her to stress unnecessarily. She was looking straight ahead, her eyes focused on the road.
Her rifle was casually hanging on her back, her neckerchief wrapped around her neck. She was wearing the same clothes as always, and her hair was pulled back in a braid. She was the same old Dakota he had known his entire life, but during the course of their travels, something had shifted. Now, when he looked at her, he saw how plump her lips were, and he kept noticing the dimple on her right cheek.
He tried hard not to notice all the little things that were making him want to kiss her. Sometimes he managed to distract himself; other times, he simply gave in and allowed himself to dream about what it would be like to be more than friends with Dakota.
His longing to tell her grew with each day that passed, but he never did. He was too scared. Dakota meant too much to him, and he couldn’t risk their friendship.
That night, they made camp behind a group of boulders. They ate around the fire and then settled into their bedrolls.Blade’s body ached, his muscles still getting used to moving again after having been bedridden for almost a month.
“Are you all right?” Dakota asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Yeah,” Blade replied. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re holding your stomach where you were shot.”
Blade looked down at his hand. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “Must be a habit by now,” he finally said. “My muscles are still a little stiff, but I promise I am okay.”
“You better be,” Dakota mumbled as she lay down.
Blade watched her carefully. She had loosened her hair, and he loved the way it fell over her shoulders. Frustrated, he forced himself to look away, focusing his eyes on the fire instead.
The next morning, they made their way into Santa Fe, which was vastly different from Twin Springs. It was noisy and busy. Blade wasn’t sure whether he loved it or hated it. They searched throughout the town for Jeremiah but couldn’t find him. Eventually, Blade resorted to asking at the saloon again.
This time, he got some good news. Jeremiah was apparently living alone in a small mining shack just outside of town. It was already getting late, so they made their wayto it immediately. Finding the shack wasn’t difficult once they knew what they were looking for.
It was late afternoon when they spotted it. The wooden boards were weather-beaten, and the porch had collapsed on one side. There was a horse tied to a nearby tree, but the animal looked just as sad as the shack.
They kept their distance, watching the shack from the shadows. They didn’t have to wait long. They were barely there a couple of minutes when an old man walked out the door and sat down in a lonely rocking chair situated on the side of the porch that was still intact.
Blade recognized his face, but it was clear that the years had caught up with Jeremiah. His back was hunched, and his movements were slow and shaky. There was nobody else there.
“Come on,” Blade said, drawing his pistol as he stepped out from behind the trees. “Let’s get this done with.”
He didn’t bother covering his face. There was nobody there to hide from. Jeremiah looked up from the pipe he was cleaning. Their eyes met for a second, and a strange expression washed over the old man’s face. He put the pipe down on his lap and sat back in his chair.
Blade walked right up to him, expecting Jeremiah to draw a hidden weapon or try to escape, but he did no such thing. He simply sat there, watching them.
“You’re not even going to try to fight?” Blade asked, unable to hide his confusion.
“Would it help?” Jeremiah asked in reply, his voice rough and tired.
Blade shook his head. “No.”
Jeremiah nodded. “Go ahead, take what you want.”
“We don’t want your belongings,” Dakota said from beside Blade.
