"It gets easier," he said. "Not gone, but easier." You learn to live with it. "How?" By focusing on what's in front of you. by building something good enough that the bad stuff can't drown it out.
He looked at her. You're safe here, "Ayla." I promise you that. And as long as I'm breathing, no one's going to hurt you again. She leaned against him and he put his arm around her.
They stayed like that until the fire burned low and her breathing evened out into sleep. Wyatt carried her to her bedroll, covered her with a blanket, and went back to his own cot. But sleep didn't come easy for him either that night. In late April, Wyatt made a trip into town for supplies. Ayla wanted to come, but he convinced her to stay and finish planting the garden.
The truth was, he had something to do that he wanted to do alone. The town of Clarksville was small and dusty, the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else's business. Wyatt tied Tucker outside the general store and went inside. He bought flour, salt, coffee, and a few other staples, loading them into the saddle bags. Then he walked down the street to a small shop he'd noticed on his last visit.
The jeweler was an old man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He looked up when Wyatt entered, his expression shifting from indifferent to curious. "Help you with something?" "Yeah," Wyatt said, feeling suddenly awkward. "I'm looking for a ring."
The old man's eyebrows rose. "Wedding ring?" "Not exactly. Just something nice, simple, nothing fancy." The jeweler studied him for a moment, then nodded and pulled a tray from beneath the counter.
It held a dozen rings, most of them plain bands in silver or gold. Wyatt looked them over, trying to imagine which one Ayla might like. "This one," the jeweler said, picking up a silver band with a small turquoise stone set in the middle. "Turquoise is good luck. Symbol of protection."
Wyatt held it up to the light. It was simple but beautiful. The kind of thing that wouldn't get in the way of hard work but would still catch the eye. "How much?" "$20." Wyatt winced.
That was a good chunk of his savings, but he pulled out the coins and counted them onto the counter. The jeweler wrapped the ring in a small cloth and handed it over. "She's a lucky woman," he said. "I'm the lucky one," Wyatt replied. He rode back to the ranch with the ring tucked safely in his coat pocket, his mind turning over how to give it to her.
He'd never been good with words, and this felt too important to mess up. But by the time he reached the ranch, he still hadn't figured it out. Ayla was in the garden when he arrived, dirt on her hands and a smudge of mud on her cheek. She looked up and smiled when she saw him. "How was town?"