by G. S. Carr
Whoever was behind this purposely tried to make it sound as if they were a band of Ihanktonwan warriors on the verge of attacking this gathering of innocent people.
This wasn’t them. Deena believed Mr. Baile’s assurance that they weren’t the cause of the destruction happening around Ruby Creek.
"We have to go," Deena said, dragging Alice back toward the barn.
“What’s happening?”
“I think we’re being attacked.”
Proving Deena’s assumption, a shot rang out, whizzing through the air and hitting the wall of the barn with a thunk. Panic broke out. People ducked low, screaming and running around the structure, seeking shelter. More shots rang out, hitting the barn and the ground, adding to the deafening noise of terrified shrieks and fake Indian war cries.
Something flew by Deena’s head. It struck the barn, along with the bullets. As they neared the barn, she could see the object more clearly. An arrow. Several stuck out from the wooden structure.
Deena and Alice made it back into the barn unscathed. People ran in every direction. Some were leaving through the door they’d just entered. Others were climbing up to the haylofts.
“I need to find Jonathan,” Alice said, tearing her hand from Deena’s.
The selfish fear of being alone made Deena want to call out to her friend and beg her not to leave. It was too late. Alice had already disappeared into the crowd of frantic people.
Deena pulled rasping breaths into her lungs, trying to keep herself from dropping to the ground and curling up into a ball of panic. She couldn’t afford the luxury of giving in. She had her own family to find, Asa and SaraGrace. She needed to find them and make sure they were safe.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Asa! SaraGrace! Where are you?”
“Deena, Deena,” Asa called back.
“Mama!” SaraGrace whimpered.
They must be together. Good. She craned her neck, searching the area for them. The number of people in the barn had thinned, making it a little easier, but not much. The remaining individuals moved too much for her to see clearly.
“Asa, I can’t see you,” she shouted, moving in the direction she thought she heard his voice coming from. “Asa.”
Two large, calloused hands grabbed Deena’s arms. She struggled against the hold.
“Easy, easy. It’s me,” Asa’s rich baritone voice crooned next to her ear. “I got you. You’re safe.”
Deena spun around and flung her arms around Asa’s neck. She hugged him so tight she might’ve done him bodily harm if he weren’t such a huge man. He hugged her back, rocking them side to side.
SaraGrace’s small arms encircled her legs, holding on tight and pressing her body closer. She buried her face in Deena’s skirt. Deena held onto SaraGrace, needing the comfort of touching her and feeling the movement of her body with each breath she took.
“We need to get out of here,” Asa said, pulling away from their embrace.
He picked up SaraGrace and placed her in Deena’s arms. Deena held onto her, curling her body around the little girl to shield her from any flying ammunition. Before she could start running, Asa swept Deena into his arms and held her close.
He did his best to use his body to shield them both. He moved slowly, straining under the collective weight of carrying them. A tremor started in his leg and ricocheted throughout his entire body.
“Put me down. I can walk.”
“No,” he said, his teeth clenched, and the skin around his eyes bunching in a pained grimace.
Deena wanted to argue. He’d complained about his leg bothering him not long ago, and clearly, the strain of carrying her and SaraGrace was too much. He was going to hurt himself if he kept this up. But opposing him would do no good.
Asa was a protector. He’d give his life for theirs without question. As strange as it seemed—even to herself—in the midst of a shootout, Deena felt safer than she’d ever had in her entire life.
Deena’s pulse pounded in her ears like a herd of stampeding buffalo running free along the plains.
She loved him.
God help her, she loved Asa Grantt.
Instead of fighting his protection, she’d do something for him. Deena tucked SaraGrace more securely into the crook of her arms, making sure as little of her body was as exposed as possible. If Asa would give his life for her, she’d give her life for SaraGrace.
Asa trudged toward their wagon, never stopping despite his struggle. Sweat poured down his near-crimson face. His nostrils flared, and his chest heaved with each ragged breath he expelled.
Rob and Mrs. Paty ran up beside them. Like his brother, Rob did his best to keep her close by his side and shield her with his body.
When they reached the wagon, Asa quickly deposited Deena into the seat, then limped around to the other side. Deena scooted to the middle, making room for the others. Rob helped Mrs. Paty up, then took a step back.
“Get them out of here,” Rob said to Asa. “The shooters are retreating. I’m going with the others to track them down.”
Asa gave him a curt nod. “Be safe.”
Deena could tell Asa wanted to say more. To demand his brother get in the wagon and come with them to safety. But if their roles were reversed, Asa would do the same thing.
Asa cracked the reins, sending the horse off at full gallop into the darkness. The frantic screams of those still trying to make their escape slowly faded until all Deena could hear was the chirp of crickets and call of wild animals.
No one in their small group said anything. What could they say? Ruby Creek was under attack in a whole new way now.
War was officially on the horizon.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Chickens clucked, cows chomped grass, and horses neighed. Asa barely registered any of it. He sat on his front porch with his revolver, scanning his property for any sign of a disturbance.
After dropping Deena and Mrs. Paty off, then tucking SaraGrace into bed, he’d come out here and hadn’t left since. He’d dozed off a time or two for short spells until the nightmares had his eyes popping back open.
Images of Deena and SaraGrace lying in pools of their own blood, bullet holes in their chests or foreheads, kept him vigilant. His leg throbbed. The muscles in his thigh spasmed, drawing taut. Apart from occasionally massaging the sore areas, he did nothing else to ease the pain.
Asa stood when he saw a buggy approaching. His gun stayed lowered, but his finger never left the trigger, in case he needed to execute a quick draw.
His body sagged when Mrs. Paty and Deena came into focus. He glanced down at himself, a new thought finally penetrating the fog of his wariness. He probably looked a fright. His shirt and pants—the ones he hadn’t changed out of last night—were wrinkled. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a patch of his dark blonde chest hair. His breath probably smelled horrible, and his hair was no doubt a tangled mess from the countless times he’d run his hands through it.
Fixing the only thing he could, he quickly buttoned his shirt and ran his hands over the front in hopes of smoothing out some of the wrinkles. It didn’t work.
He walked off the porch and hobbled out to meet them.
Mrs. Paty brought the buggy to a stop, her usual cheerful smile missing. “Good morning, Asa,” she said, her weariness evident on her face.
Asa noted her use of his name, instead of one of her terms of endearment. Last night must have taken a tremendous toll on her as well.
“Morning, Mrs. Paty. How are you feeling?” he asked, coming up to the side of the wagon.
She attempted a half-hearted smirk. “Scared. Violated. Angry. I’m just glad no one was hurt last night.”
“I agree. Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”
She nodded once. Whether or not she believed him or if she was so exhausted that she couldn’t muster the energy to care, Asa didn’t know.
He helped Deena down and kept her hand in his, needing the connection and rea
ssurance that she was indeed alive and next to him. Sleeplessness and fear had a way of muddling a man’s mind.
“Could you bring Deena back tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re welcome to stay with us today if you’d like.”
“Thank you, but no. I’d like to get back home.”
“Thank you for bringing me here,” Deena said.
“Of course. I’m always happy to help where I can.”
Asa gave Mrs. Paty’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Thank you. Be safe. We’re here if you need us.”
“I know, dear. You be safe, too.” Mrs. Paty headed off.
Asa stood next to Deena, watching her go. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
Deena turned her head, studying his profile. “No,” she finally answered after a silent beat.
“You’re about to learn. Come on.” Asa started walking around the house.
“What about the chores? Yes, something dreadful happened last night, but life continues. We let them win if we start neglecting our responsibilities because of fear.”
“I told Johnny to handle the big stuff around the farm, and the rest can wait for later. This isn’t about being afraid; it’s about being prepared.”
“I don’t think…”
Asa grabbed Deena’s shoulders and drew her in, pressing her body against his. He cupped her face, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, and stared into her eyes. “Nothing is more important than making sure you can defend yourself—especially if I’m not there to protect you.”
He bent down and touched his lips to hers. Asa poured his soul into that kiss. Telling her without words how much she meant to him. How broken he’d be if anything bad befell her.
His heart exploded with joy when Deena rose on her toes and kissed him back.
She was his woman. The one given to him to protect, cherish, and honor until his dying breath. He had no doubt about that.
Asa took a step back, breaking the kiss before it went too far. “Are you ready for your shooting lesson now?”
Deena touched a hand to her kiss-swollen lips, a slow smile building on her lovely face. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he said in a weak attempt at sounding composed and stern.
They walked around to the open patch of land behind the house. Earlier that morning, Asa had lined up glass bottles and tin cans on top of the fence posts in preparation for the lesson. He stopped a few feet away from the impromptu targets and pulled out his gun.
“This is a Colt Single Action Army revolver. You don’t have to remember the name, but I want you always to remember what it looks like, and how to load and shoot it.”
“Colt Single Action Army revolver,” Deena repeated. “I’ll never forget it.”
“Good. Here’s how to load it.” Asa laid the gun flat in his left palm, for the grip stuck out to the right. “This here is the hammer, the cylinder, and the trigger,” he said, pointing to each part in turn. “The ammunition is loaded into the cylinder. Drawing back the hammer rotates the cylinder and loads a new cartridge into the firing position. Pull the trigger to release the hammer and fire the gun.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
Asa handed the gun to Deena. She gripped the handle and held it away from herself as if she were afraid of shooting off a toe or something equally important. Under different circumstances, he might’ve laughed.
“I’m gonna show you how to load it. Hold it flat in your hand the way I just did.” He waited for her to comply. “Good. This right here is called the gate,” he said, pointing to the covering between the back of the cylinder and the hammer. “Open it and pull the hammer back halfway. Great. Load a cartridge in the chamber, then skip one and load the next four chambers.”
Deena plucked the five rounds from his hand and loaded them into the gun as he’d instructed. “Why only five, when there is space for six?”
“So that you don’t accidentally shoot yourself. Leaving one chamber empty allows the firing pin in the hammer a place to rest. Now, close the gate and pull the hammer all the way back. See how it rotates, and the empty chamber is in front of the hammer.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“That’s the position you always want the chamber in when you’re not shooting.”
Deena nodded. “Got it.”
“Let’s practice shooting it. Grip the handle with both hands. Keep the thumb of your right hand on the hammer. Each time before you fire, you’ll need to pull it back.” He waited for Deena to get a comfortable grasp on the gun and her thumb in place. “Now point it at one the targets. To aim, close one eye and focus the other on the sight at the end of the barrel. That’s the fish-fin-looking thing. Line it up with the target. Keep your hands steady and your breathing nice and easy. When you’re ready, pull the tiger.”
Deena glanced at him, then at the bottles and cans. She closed her left eye and raised the gun. She aimed, taking her time and making adjustments as needed. Finally, she pulled the trigger, sending a bullet flying through the air.
With a loud tink, a can exploded, the remnants falling into the grass. Asa’s chest swelled with pride, and his worry eased. She was a natural and, at the very least, if she had the time to aim could hit something. They’d worry about fast-paced shooting later.
“Great job. Now, keep going until it’s empty.”
Deena quickly fired, the rest of the shots missing twice and hitting another can and a bottle. She placed her hands on her hips, examining the remaining targets.
“Not bad. Let’s try again. This time, a little farther back.”
Asa handed Deena a new set of bullets. She took them and began following the steps he showed her to reload the gun. When she finished, instead of raising the gun and aiming, she turned to face him.
“Asa, this may seem out of the blue, but I have something I need to talk to you about.”
Maybe it was the sadness in her eyes or the resolution in her voice like a man standing in front of the hangman’s noose saying his final words. Whatever it was, it made Asa not want to hear what Deena had to say next.
“Can it wait until we’ve practiced a bit more?”
“No, it can’t. I lied, Asa, and I need to tell you the truth.”
His stomach bottomed out. Sudden confessions after sharing a passionate kiss never boded well for the longevity of a couple's relationship.
“Tell me,” he said, steeling himself against what she was about to say.
“I almost don’t know where to start.”
Asa refrained from making a sarcastic remark about starting from the beginning. Lashing out was a defensive tactic. “Start wherever you’re comfortable.”
Deena released a long sigh. “I’m not who you think I am. I didn’t mean to… Well, I guess I did, but that was before I got to know you. I didn’t… I don’t want to hurt you. I’m rambling and not making any sense.”
Asa stayed quiet, letting her collect her thoughts. So, it was true. Whatever she had to say would hurt him, and likely SaraGrace as well.
“What I’m trying to say is…” she continued.
“Asa! Asa! Come quick,” Johnny shouted, cutting off Deena’s confession.
They both turned and looked at him as he ran full speed toward them. His frantic expression kept Asa from telling him to come back later. Today was not turning out to be the day for good news.
“What’s wrong?” Asa asked when Johnny got closer.
“Two men,” he said between gulps of air. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees and catching his breath. “There are two men here to see Deena and you. I spotted them on my way to the stables, snooping around the property. They look like they are up to no good. Especially the one with the white eye and scar running across his face. I told them you were out back, and they said they’d wait for you. They’re in the front of the house.”
Asa noticed Deena immediately tensed after Johnny described the man. Did she know him? After what happened last night, and the fact that he wasn’t expectin
g any visitors, Asa prepared himself for the worst. He took the revolver from Deena.
“Deena, you go inside with SaraGrace. Johnny, grab the shotgun from my room, then meet me out front.”
“Yes, sir,” Johnny said, then ran off to do as he’d been told.
“Asa, I don’t want you out there alone.”
“Johnny will be with me. And please don’t argue. Go and stay with SaraGrace. Keep her safe.”
Deena rose of her toes and kissed his cheek. “Be safe.”
Asa’s heart constricted. He was about to lose her. She kissed him as if she were saying goodbye. Even if he survived the two men at his door, he might not survive watching her walk away from him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Two men, both wearing three-piece suits and top hats despite the sweltering weather, leaned against a small canopy-covered wagon. Their trousers, slack coats, and matching waistcoats clung perfectly to their frames, denoting the quality and expensiveness of the tailoring. Their clothing was a show of wealth and power.
Too bad for them, for Asa didn’t care.
“Mr. Grantt, I presume?” The shorter of the two men asked.
Asa kept his hand on his gun holster. "That's me. Who's asking?"
"My name is Mr. Benjamin Morris of Morris Land Company.” He motioned to the tall, thin man with the jagged scar zigzagging across his face through his white left-eye. “This is my associate, Mr. Pete Bloodlow."
Asa eyed Bloodlow. There was a certain kind of savagery to him. As if he were the kind of man who would rob you blind, then break your leg to amuse himself. Morris could possibly blend in with normal society as a proper gentleman. Bloodlow couldn’t.
He didn’t look, but the open and close of his front door told him that Johnny had come out to stand guard. That put him at ease. A little.
"What can I do for you two?" Asa asked, keeping his tone impassive.
"My associate here is an acquaintance of your intended, Miss Deena Lyon."
"I think you're mistaken. My fiancée’s name is Pearl Wilson. Deena is only a nickname.” Asa spat at the ground. “Easy mistake."
