He reached for his hip, but he was drunk and slow. Eli moved with a speed that defied his size. He stepped in, blocked the cowboy's arm, and drove a fist into the man's solar plexus. The sound was a wet thud. The cowboy folded in half, gasping for air.
Eli grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall. He held him there, feet dangling inches off the ground. Eli's face was inches from the man's nose. Eli was shaking, vibrating with a rage so intense the air around him seemed to crackle. "If you ever," Eli whispered.
"Ever look at her again. I will not stop at your stomach. Do you understand? " The cowboy nodded frantically, his face purple. Eli dropped him. The man scrambled away on hands and knees, wretching in the dirt.
Eli turned to Clara. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving. He looked at her and the rage in his eyes vanished, replaced by a horror that chilled her. He looked at his own hands, then at her. Did he hurt you?
Eli asked. "No," Clara said. She stepped away from the wall. "I," Eli started, then stopped. He turned and walked rapidly toward the wagon.
The ride home was fast. Eli drove the horses hard. When they reached the ranch, he jumped down and began unhitching them with frantic, jerky movements. "Eli," Clara said, coming up behind him. "I almost killed him," Eli said, not turning around.
"I wanted to I wanted to snap his neck, but you did not," Clara said. "You stopped. I am dangerous," he said, turning to face her. "You should not be here. Clara, you should not be with a man like me.
I cannot protect you the right way. I'm just like my father. Stop it, Clara shouted. It was the first time she had raised her voice at him. Stop pitying yourself.
You are nothing like him. You protected me. I should not have to. Eli roared back. You should be safe.
You should be in a house where men do not grab you in alleys. I brought you here to this this war. I am using you to keep my land, and it is going to get you hurt. I can handle ugliness, Clara yelled, stepping into his space. I have handled worse than a drunk cowboy.
I am not glass, Eli. I am not some porcelain doll you put on a shelf. I am here. I am your partner. They stood chest to chest, breathing heavy in the cold twilight.