Between Hell and Texas by Ralph Cotton

Dawson, stopping, letting the flap fall on his saddlebags. “This is something we talked about, remember? I told you when it came time to go, I would have to go alone.” He buckled the straps down on the saddlebags.
    “I remember,” said Suzzette, “but I thought you had changed your mind since then. We’ve gotten along so well. We’ve enjoyed each other’s company…haven’t we?”
    “Yes, we have…
I
have,” said Dawson. “I’m obliged for all you’ve done for me.”
    “You’re obliged?” she asked flatly.
    “That’s all I can say,” said Dawson. “You’ve taken good care of me. I’ll never forget you for it.”
    “What have I done wrong?” Suzzette’s voice sounded shaky and hurt.
    “Nothing, Suzzette,” said Dawson. “You’ve been perfect. It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve got things bothering me that I haven’t settled inside myself. As long as they’re still with me, I’m no good for a woman, I’m no good for myself. You deserve somebody better than me, Suzzette. And I hope you
get
somebody better than me.”
    She stood up and walked to him, putting her arms around him. “But we’re so good together, everything about us, Cray. I love you. I’ll do anything for you. Don’t leave me. Tell me what you want, I can change!”
    Dawson gently freed himself from her arms and held her hands in his as he said, “You’re right, Suzzette, we’re good together in every way. There’s nothing about you that I would change. You’re warm, you’re kind, you’re everything a man could ever want in a woman. The fact is, I just don’t love you, Suzzette. I’m sorry, but there it is. I’ve tried to make myself love you. I watch you, the way you are, the way you do things, and I tell myself, ‘Dawson, don’t let this woman get away. Grab her and hold on and thank God for her.’” Standing close to her he saw a small tear form in her eye.
    “Cray, please,” she whispered.
    “But it’s just not there, and I don’t think it ever will be, Suzzette,” he whispered in reply.
    “Give it time, Cray,” she said. “Maybe after a while we’ll—”
    “No,” Dawson said, cutting her off gently. “I’m in love with another woman, Suzzette. I can’t seem to do anything about it.”
    “Who is she, Cray?” Suzzette asked. “Are yougoing to her? Now? You’re walking out of my arms, into hers?”
    “No, Suzzette,” Dawson said. “It’s not the way you think it is. The woman I love, I can never have.” He hesitated, then said, “She’s dead, Suzzette. I love her…she’s dead…and even still I can’t seem to live without her.”
    Suzzette studied his eyes for a moment, trying to understand. Then she nodded and said in an accepting tone, “All right. I’ll help you forget her, Cray. Just give me the chance. You’ll see. I’ll be so good for you, it will make you forget the past, I promise.”
    “It’s no good, Suzzette, I’m sorry,” he said, turning her hands loose slowly. “It’s not fair to you, and it won’t do me a bit of good. There are men who are born to only love one woman in their life. I’m one of those men.” He offered a tired, hopeless smile. “And she was that kind of women. I’d give anything if I could spend the rest of my life with you, Suzzette, but it’s not to be that way.”
    “Well then,” Suzzette said, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, “I can always say I tried. I saw my chance and I took a shot at it.” She offered a weak smile herself. “You’re
really
missing out on something good, Cray Dawson. You know what they say…if a whore loves a man she’ll go all out for him.”
    “Don’t Suzzette,” said Dawson. “I don’t like hearing you call yourself that.”
    “Well, it’s what I am.” She shrugged. “You would have been my move to respectability, Cray Dawson. But now I have to start all over.”
    “Being a gunman’s woman isn’t respectability, Suzzette,” he said.
    “It is from where I’m looking at it,” she