This is a fan fiction story based on characters from the Lonesome Dove television show, which belongs to Rysher Entertainment and Hallmark. No infringement on copyrights is intended.

A Valentine to Mosby's Ladies

Mosby sat at his usual table towards the back of the Ambrosia but he seemed preoccupied as he chewed on the pen quill. Words that normally flowed so easily suddenly eluded him and he had spent near an hour on the small message in the fancy card. Sighing, he decided to put it aside when the card was snatched out of his hand by a grinning cowboy.

"Whattcha got here, Mosby?" Call smirked. "You sending somebody a valentine?"

"Really, Mr. Call, your deductive powers boggle the mind," Clay drawled. He settled back in his chair and gestured impatiently. "Well, tell me what you think."

Call stared at him, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion and Clay sighed again. "You can read, can't you?"

"Course I can read," the grubby blonde grunted. He opened the card and scanned the message, then looked back up, his face paling with shock. "Damn you, Mosby! What the hell are you playin' at?!"

Clay chuckled mischievously. "Oh, Mr. Call, I would never play with a lady's affections," he said, drawing out the word "play" with special emphasis. "I am most assuredly in earnest."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Call sputtered. "Just 'cause you was the one went after Mattie and fetched her back, and got all shot up so's you'd look like a hero ... you think you're gonna be the one she falls over in a swoon for now?"

Clay contemplated the irate bounty hunter with raised eyebrows. "My, my. That was a long speech for you, Call. You sure you haven't exceeded your dialogue quota for the day?"

"Shut up, Mosby!" Call glared at him and waved the card in front of his face. "I can tell you, Mattie ain't gonna buy this load of crap. She's got too much sense to go for the likes of you!"

"What makes you think I'm writing to Mattie?" Clay shook his head as he leaned forward and carefully removed the valentine from Call's dirty grasp. "Don't worry, Call. I wouldn't dream of interfering with your unique style of courtship." He opened the card again and smoothed it out, reviewing the contents with great satisfaction.

"Well ... all right, then," Call said with a decisive nod, though he made no move to leave. He watched Clay dip the pen in the inkwell and write another line, and after a moment, mumbled, "So, if it ain't Mattie, who the hell are you gonna give it to? You takin' up with Amanda now?"

Clay sighed. "Not that it's any of your business, but I happen to have myriad admirers of the female persuasion." And at least two of the male persuasion, he remembered, frowning briefly. But did Letourne really count? He shrugged the question from his mind. "They call themselves Mosby's Ladies," he continued, and gazed up at himself in the mirror over the bar with a smile. "I'm preparing a suitably romantic poem for them, as befits the occasion."

Call smiled mischievously. "Mosby's Ladies, huh? Don't you think Zeke and the others deserve more than just a mushy card?"

Clay stood up, shoving his chair back against the wall. "Go back to your bench, Call, and mind your own damn business!"

Deciding he HAD exceeded his dialogue quota for the day, Call smiled, pulled his hat down a bit farther on his forehead and slouched his way out the door.

Clay tugged at his vest and sat back down. For a moment he reflected on what he wanted to say.

He picked up the pen, and with a sigh, dipped it in the ink.

~ To My Ladies ~

I want to take each of you by the hand,
One at a time, and walk with you in a quiet place,
and tell you all those things that cannot be said -
All that a Valentine to a Lady should say -
those things that beg to be spoken,
but for which there are no words.

I want to pull you close to me
and take you back with me to a better time
where we can run, like children, through fields of sunlight,
over misty green hills,
and memories of home.

I want to ride with you on a glistening, white stallion,
and race along a silver beach, and splash you with moonlight
and hear your heart beat like the surf pounding a rocky shore.

I want to breathe the scent of wildflowers
and gather handfuls of your wind-tangled hair
and cover you with gentle laughter and sweet, hungry kisses
and taste your flesh melting on my tongue
as I wrap myself in the beauty of your embrace,
and disslove in the warmth of desire.

I want to lay safely in your arms, to hide in your serenity,
to know you understand all that I do not ask,
and trust you with all the promises you cannot speak.

I want to feel you need me, and reach for me,
and possess me in all ways that are imaginable.
I want to sing to you in your dreams
and listen to the sounds of your secret thoughts as they whisper my name.

I want to share my spirit with you in the candlelight of evening
and in the newness of dawn,
and to stand with you in the clear, bright honesty of day
and let your soul tell me
that no heart will be broken that is held so tenderly in your hands.

Then I want you to look at me, and let your eyes say all those things
for which there are no words ...

Tell me, once more, that you are my Love and my Life,
And tell me, just once more,
That you will always be My Lady.

~ FCM Valentine's Day ~


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