Page 30 of My Darling Clementine

Clem nodded, spotting some trees and heading for shade. “I needed to figure that out, and I did; it’s in the article if you read between the lines. I wrote with my authentic voice, without regard to my sex, expressing myself as a unique individual, the same as everyone thinks of themself, both men and women. Those re-writes went deeper, they took much longer. I gave it to Barney over breakfast one foggy winter morning, six months after my last version.”

“Did he like it?”

“Barney did something Dad never did, he read it through, then started at the beginning again, and read it two more times. When he finished, he gave me a look I never saw from my father, one of pride. I remember his exact words. “No one could send the Journal a better piece. He’d be a fool not to buy it, and if he doesn’t, any other paper will.” We left it for mail pickup the next time we went in for supplies.”

“And he bought it.”

The sound of satisfaction in Kizzy’s voice carried like music on the breeze, as Clem pulled between sturdy oaks, sheltering branches still thick with leaves. Dappled sunlight provided relief from the glare, and they blinked at each other.

Fishing a clean handkerchief from her pocket, Clem wiped drops of sweat from Kizzy’s temples, but as those incredible blue eyes closed, she blew a soft stream of air over the glistening skin instead.

“Ah,” sighed Kizzy, smiling with her eyes still closed. “Feels like a cool breeze at sunset.”

“I prefer sunrise.” Clem blew another over her face. “I hear a creek over there,” she said, pointing deeper between the trees. “Shall we wet our feet?”

“That sounds wonderful,” sighed Kizzy, shaking her head no. “What about snakes?”

“We’re bigger than them,” Clem said, jumping down to the ground, “and if we make a lot of noise, the varmints skedaddle. I’ll keep my eyes open, promise.” She opened her arms in invitation.

Kizzy shivered once, then tumbled down to fill Clem’s waiting arms with a soft, warm weight. “There’s a fallen branch lying over there.” She pointed. “We can use it to pound on the ground, let all the varmints in the neighborhood know we’re bigger and they better skedaddle.”

“Good idea,” agreed Clem, setting her down. “You’re quite smart, you know?”

Kizzy’s eyes grew large. “Thank you.”

Turning to lead the way toward the sound of moving water, Clem thumped the ground with the heavy branch. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that before?”

“No. Never. I would have remembered.”

“Does it surprise you?”

“That I’m intelligent?” An impish smile made her dimple deepen. “People have said a lot of things about me, but it’s never my brain they gossip about. I know I’m smart, what surprises me is you know it.”

“It shouldn’t. Ever since last night, you’re all I think about.” An image of Kizzy’s breasts rose to mind, making her blush while her heart skipped a beat. Clem parted tall grasses and wildflowers to reveal a stream meandering by, dancing over rocks worn round by years of slow tumbling downstream. A large, flat boulder forced the water to go around, and that’s where they sat.

Kizzy had her shoes and stockings off within a minute, sighing as her feet dangled in cool water. “Oh, this is heaven.” Her eyes twinkled, lit by dappled sunlight under the shade of thick leaves. She rinsed her handkerchief clean in the running water, wiping perspiration from exposed skin on arms, neck, and face.

Clem used wet sand to scrub her hands, then scooped water and held it for Kizzy to drink. The sight of her bent head with its braid, and the feel of soft lips sipping from her hand, lit an inner fire. She did it again, watching water droplets glisten on Kizzy’s lips before quenching her own thirst. “I wish we had more time.” She checked her watch and then tucked it back into her vest pocket. “Um, listen,” she said, “there is something else we should discuss before we get married.”

“I have something, too.” Golden highlights in her hair shimmered as Kizzy turned to her, smiling eyes clear. “You start.”

“Okay, yes.” Clem ran a hand through her hair. “Well, first off I probably ought to tell you I’ve got money.”

“You said you struck it rich in California.” Kizzy squealed. “You really do know what you’re doing! You can show me how.”

“I do, I can, and I will, but most of my money I inherited from my father. I grew up pampered and spoiled, as he often reminded me.” Clem removed her hat and poured a handful of water over her head, taking a moment to work it through her hair to cool her scalp.

“I can’t complain. He worked hard and built a successful, thriving newspaper from the ground up. Then he sold it out from under me on his deathbed, but left me the proceeds and a fifteen percent interest.”

Kizzy gazed at her in silence for a moment before asking, “Did he ever see you like this?”

“No, not in person. I did send a letter with a daguerreotype. In it I explained what I did, how I live, why I do it, and confessed my pen name. My image was in his wallet, well-worn and tattered.” She sighed and then looked up with delighted eyes.

“But he would have loved you, Kizzy. Tom Dennison admired clever, beautiful women. Dad was fascinated by entertaining word play; he’d have been thrilled to match wits with an elegant lady on his level.” She shrugged. “He tried to make me that type of woman, which didn’t happen.” She closed her eyes. “He might have loved me, but he never knew me.” She opened them and looked at Kizzy.

“My father sold a thriving paper to fund his daughter’s inheritance. He meant it as a dowry to attract a husband.” She snorted. “Jim Burdock, my attorney, deposited the money in a Boston bank for me under the name Clem Dennison, and I’m carrying a letter of transfer to my Bank in California. We don’t need to search for gold if we don’t want to. We have enough money to last quite a while.”

As she splashed her bare feet in the creek, Kizzy looked at her, eyes curious. “Why did you tell Mr. Burdock your secret, and why do you trust him to keep it?”