Simone awakens to find herself alone. She quickly dresses and goes in search of Crank. Once she descends the steps, she strolls through the saloon and out of the swinging double doors. The loud banging of a tool or weapon hastens her departure.

Paul is leaning against a wooden post. He watches her go with faint curiosity. Beside him, Babe munches on a tumbleweed as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. The lumbering blue beast is more than happy to stand around doing absolutely nothing.

Simone follows the repetition of thuds until she rounds the corner of a decrepit old building. She finds Crank kneeling beside a barrel. She steps lightly in order to not disturb him.

Crank's back is to her, his project hidden from view. A low hum fills the air as Crank's laser sight angles downward. Creeping closer, Simone is finally able to see what he is doing.

Using the parts from an old wagon, the busted water pump, and other odds and ends; Crank has fashioned a prosthetic leg for Paul Bunyan—utilizing only the tools in his implement belt. Simone’s breath catches in her throat, and she utters a soft gasp. Crank swivels in her direction, his mask obscuring his face.

“I didn’t mean to spook you, Crank. I apologize,” Simone says. She steps a bit closer, admiring his handiwork. “Your capacity for compassion…Never ceases to amaze me.”

Crank shakes his head and returns to his work.

“It isn’t about compassion,” Crank says. He is trying to maintain his hunter’s persona and partially failing. “It’s about efficiency. Paul will need to move under his own power. We cannot expect the ox to carry him the entire way. Maybe with two legs, he can at least keep up. Then, the beast will only need to aid him some of the time.”

Simone stands behind Crank and enfolds him in her arms. She kisses the crown of his braided head.

“Well, for whatever reason you did it…I still think it was wonderful of you to make the effort,” Simone whispers softly.

Crank feels a great sense of accomplishment at being able to please Simone. He only hopes he can continue to please her.

Simone sits on a nearby wooden crate to watch Crank work. She observes the efficiency with which he smoothes out every imperfection, and inserts every piece--making sure that they fit properly.

On the ground is evidence of Crank's past failures at manufacturing. Bent metal rods, wire scraps, charred wooden pieces, and a lesser-quality prosthetic discarded a short distance away from the nearly completed leg. He has been at this for quite some time. It's not about Paul. Crank is now in his element.

Crank lifts his gaze to find Simone smiling knowingly at him. Crank's heart leaps in his chest and he returns his attention to his work. A surge of energy, the origin of which he can only guess at, courses through his entire body.

His mind plays back memories he will not likely ever forget. Memories of Simone's body close to his. Her heartbeat fierce in her chest as he laid his head against her skin. How she had held him as if she never wanted to let him go. And he her.

Crank puts the finishing touches on Paul's prosthetic and he smiles as small a smile as he can manage. No use upsetting Simone about the condition of his disguise.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

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“Wooo-hoooo!” Paul Bunyan cries out. He strides purposefully across the saloon, testing out his new prosthesis.

Simone, who is seated at a nearby table, claps both hands and laughs energetically. Crank sits with both arms crossed. No expression is visible on his face, but it is obvious he is waiting for Paul to calm down and act reasonable again.

Paul finally wears himself out and leans against the bar. He inhales deeply and wipes a dirty hand across his brow.

“Wooo,” Paul huffs. “I haven’t done that in years. Looks like I owe you again, friend!”

“You owe me nothing,” Crank replies. “Two legs are better than one. It is a simple matter of making sure we have the best advantage before setting off.”

“Haha. That’s what you say, friend,” Paul retorts. “But we all have our reasons for doing what we do. I can’t help but feel you’re a real upstanding guy! Judging from the way your lady-friend looks at you…I’m pretty sure I’m right!”

Simone’s color flushes and she looks away. Crank stares daggers into Paul, but the frontiersman seems oblivious to the brazenness of his assertions. He continues to mutter to himself and admire his new leg.

Simone rises from her chair, and heads for the stairs. She avoids making eye contact with either Paul or Crank. Her voice quivers with intense embarrassment.

“I think I’d better change into something more appropriate for the trip,” she says, keeping her gaze lowered.

Without another word, Simone hurries upstairs. She shuts the door and leans against it. No sooner is the door shut, she begins to cry.

Is she really that transparent? How stupid and weak can a person be? And what will people think of her? What will her children think? How does someone go about introducing their family to an alien? Is she supposed to say: ‘Darlene…April…This is your stepfather Crank. He’s an alien from outer space.’? What exactly is the procedure for such a situation?

But she does love Crank. As strange as that sounds. Despite the vast distance he has come to be here. Despite their many obvious differences. He makes her feel whole again. And she is certain that he feels the same. But, does it matter? The world she knows, would only wish to study him; to keep them apart. The world he hails from, would wish to destroy them both. It is a losing game. The stakes being their very lives. But she would rather die in his arms than die without him by her side.

Moving away from the door, Simone retrieves her jeans and blouse from the footboard of the bed. She slides into the jeans, tugging them up around her waist and cinching them shut. She has just shrugged on her blouse, and began buttoning it, when a faint knocking comes from the door. Simone turns and her heart flutters. Crank.

She calls for him to enter. Crank opens the door and peers around it. His gaze falls on Simone.

“Come in,” she says with a wave of her hand. “And please, shut the door.”

Crank follows her commands before crossing to where she stands. Simone throws her arms around him and deeply breathes in his scent.

“I love you, Crank,” Simone cries, her chest heaving with the effort. “You do believe me? I don’t mean to—“

Crank simply shakes his head and presses a finger to her mouth.

“You needn’t be sorry,” he says. “Your feelings are your feelings. And sometimes, feelings cannot be controlled. This is very new to you…To both of us. I understand.”

Simone caresses the side of his face, tracing the places where the disguise ends and his true face begins.

“But you can't go around in this disguise forever,” Simone laments. “And the rest of the supplies I would need to make another one…We left in our hotel room. What do we do when this one wears out?”

Crank takes both of Simone’s hands and kisses them tenderly. He spreads her fingers apart so that he can kiss each one individually.

“We will worry about that when the time comes,” he says reassuringly. “In the meantime, we must go.”

Simone wipes at her eyes with a finger, but Crank stops her. He performs the action instead, wiping away the wet streaks the tears leave behind. Next, he kisses her at the corner of each eye. Never has Simone felt so loved. She wonders if she will ever feel anything quite like this again.