by Keli Gwyn
In no time she reached the mercantile. She opened the door, and a cheery chime announced her arrival.
Sammy greeted her. “It’s a shame about your shop. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll make the best of the situation.”
“But you can’t do business without a storefront.”
The young man was cut from the same cloth as his employer. “Not in the traditional sense.” She lifted her chin. “But I’m not a traditional woman.”
Sammy quirked a smile. “No ma’am. Was there something I could help you with?”
“I’m here to speak with Mr. Rutledge.”
“He’s down at Abe’s. What with all the excitement, he didn’t get his haircut this morning.”
No doubt he was talking about her. Oh well. She’d see him later. Right now she’d find out the cost of renting a delivery wagon. She excused herself and left the shop in such a hurry the bell clanged. Her bootheels clicked a rapid staccato on the wooden walkway as she made her way to the livery.
Abe popped out of his place. “You’re just the lady I wanted to see. I been hearin’ news about you and want to make sure my ears are working right.”
Leave it to him to waylay her. The word hurry wasn’t in his vocabulary. She should have crossed the street so he wouldn’t have the opportunity to stop her. The livery would be closing soon. “Of course.” She smiled and stepped inside. “What did you hear?”
“Word is you aim to get yourself a gun and learn to shoot.”
She flicked her gaze from Abe to Mr. Rutledge, whose tall frame filled the barber chair, to the sheriff, who stood in the corner of the small shop. “That’s true. I’ve asked Mr. Rutledge to teach me. From what I’ve heard he’s the best shot in town.”
The jovial barber grinned. “Sure is. He has a passel of ribbons to prove it, too, don’t you, Miles?”
“I have a few. So, Mrs. Watkins, does this mean you’re willing to accept my terms?” He pulled off the sheet covering him, stood, and grabbed his frock coat. His expressive eyes bored into her as though he were searching for something.
“I am.” She did her best to paint a picture of sincerity.
Her efforts seemed to have an effect. He ceased his intense scrutiny and donned his jacket. “All right then. I’ll ask Sammy to close up Saturday, and I’ll meet you at Will and Pearl’s place. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run.” He tipped his hat and left.
Abe stood at her side, and they watched Mr. Rutledge’s retreating form. “He doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about teaching me, does he? I don’t understand. His mother said he insisted she learn to shoot when she started working in the mercantile.”
“Don’t mind him. He’s probably worried that you’ll out-shoot him is all.”
The sheriff joined them. “Abe’s right. Miles will come around once he sees how eager you are to learn.”
She hoped Mr. Rutledge’s friends were right, but she had her doubts. It seemed she possessed a knack for getting him riled up.
Miles leaned against the fence around Will’s paddock. “Looks like you’re keeping my horses in good shape.”
“Don’t I always? But you didn’t come out early to check on your team. What has you scowling? Seems to me you’d be in fine spirits. It isn’t every day a lady you find attractive asks for a shooting lesson.”
Ellie was that, but he wasn’t about to let a pretty woman turn his head. He’d been down that road, and it was a dead end filled with nothing but heartache. “For the record, she didn’t intend to seek me out. Hank put her up to it.”
Will’s new mare nuzzled his arm. He produced an apple. “Here you go, girl.” He fed her the fruit and patted her neck. “You know what your trouble is, Miles? You don’t realize when you’ve been given a gift.”
“Being forced to teach Mrs. Watkins isn’t what I’d consider a gift. More like a burden.”
“Don’t think Tiny would see it that way. Or MacDougall. Or—”
“They don’t know her the way I do. She’s headstrong and stubborn.”
“And you’re not?” Will strode toward the barn. “If I were in your shoes, my good man, I’d thank Hank for recommending me and enjoy the experience.”
Miles fell in step. “I guess it’s better than teaching Mother, even if Mrs. Watkins is outspoken.”
“She’s not like Irene.”
“Leave her out of it.”
Will threw up his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get testy.”
Miles gritted his teeth. Lord, it’s been eight years. Why, after all this time, does the mention of her name set me off? Help me put the past in the past—and keep it there.
They reached the barn, and Will slid the large door to the side, seemingly oblivious to the screech of rollers in need of oil. He grabbed a crate, filled it with tin cans, and carried it outside, where he plunked it down. Miles followed, looked down the road, and saw Mrs. Watkins approaching with Tildy skipping along at her side. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“She’s a wonderful mother. Can’t fault her on that.”
“No.” Will was right. If anything, Ellie erred on the protective side. “But she’s opinionated. Her way is the only way. And when it comes to handling a gun, there’s no room for discussion. She has to do what I say, or she could get hurt.”
“From what Hank told me, she agreed to use your gun even though she wanted to wait for hers to arrive. That sounds to me like someone who’s willing to compromise. Maybe you’re just looking for trouble because you didn’t see it coming before.”
Miles clenched his teeth to keep from singeing Will’s ears. Will meant well, but he had a wonderful marriage to a woman who loved him. He didn’t know what it was like to have a wife who challenged him at every turn and made his life miserable. Strong-willed women needed to learn their place, or accidents could happen.
“Mrs. Watkins has a good head on her shoulders. She won’t do anything foolish. If you can look at what’s in front of you instead of what’s behind, I think you’ll be a lot happier.”
“I don’t need a lecture.”
“What you need is some fun in your life. And here’s somebody who can add it.”
Tildy sped toward Miles with her arms open wide. He caught her, spun her around, and set the breathless girl on her feet.
“Oh, Mr. Rutledge, isn’t it the best day ever? We get to eat supper here, Mama got candy for me to share with Constance and her brothers, and I get to play in the new tree house with them.”
“It’s a wonderful day, Tildy girl.”
Will inclined his head toward a large oak beyond the farmhouse. “Constance is waiting for you at the rope swing.” He turned to Ellie, whose warm brown eyes shone with obvious anticipation. “Welcome. I’ve got everything set for you and Miles. I told the neighbors you’d be practicing in the back field, and the children know to stay near the house.”
“Thank you. I’ll speak with Pearl, and then I’ll be ready, Mr. Rutledge.” The light in her eyes dimmed. She gave him a curt nod and departed.
Miles grunted. Why did she brighten when speaking with Will but close up tighter than a poppy at sunset when addressing him?
No sooner was she out of earshot than Will jabbed him with an elbow. “Relax, my good man, and she will, too. Some of my best courting was done while teaching Pearl to shoot.”
“I’m not courting.”
“You could. It’s high time you find someone.”
First Mother, and now Will. He respected Ellie’s ability and wanted to protect her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to court her. This was a shooting lesson and nothing more. He just wanted to make it through the lesson without incident and go home.
Elenora closed her hand around the soft cotton balls Pearl passed her. They would help deaden the sound of the shots, but they could also come in handy if Mr. Rutledge snapped at her. She peered at him through the kitchen window of the Dupree farmhouse. From the depth of the creases on his broad forehead, it was clear he
wasn’t looking forward to their lesson nearly as much as she.
“Don’t worry. It’s not that bad. You might even find you enjoy it.”
Elenora roused herself from her musings. “I want to learn. Pa wouldn’t let me handle his gun, although I would’ve felt much safer if I’d known how to shoot when…” She rested her trembling hands on the window ledge.
Pearl screwed the zinc lid on the Mason jar filled with fluffy white spheres and padded to Elenora’s side. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not, but I remind the children it’s easier to let go of bad memories if we tell them to someone.”
She’d said the same thing to Tildy. As hard as it was to think about that horrid day, the images persisted. “A customer came in the shop one afternoon when Pa was in the back room. Something about the man troubled me. He…Well, he leered at me. It made my skin crawl. Then he took out his gun and demanded all the money in the till. He aimed the revolver at my heart, and I was so scared I couldn’t move. I could tell from the strong odor of liquor and his slurred speech he’d been drinking. He pulled back the hammer, and I was sure I was as good as dead.”
“That’s awful. What happened?”
“Pa shot him. I’ve only seen two people die. Jake and…that man. Jake died as a result of a wound that got infected and went in his sleep, but the robber…Pa shot him in the chest. I’ve never seen so much blood at one time. The sight made me so sick I thought I’d lose my breakfast.” She shuddered.
“Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I just need a bit of fresh air.”
Elenora hurried to the porch, where she gripped the railing. Several moments passed as she attempted to banish the images.
Pearl joined Elenora, stood by her side, and waited in companionable silence.
Elenora looked into the distance and continued her tale. “Pa refused to let me handle a gun, even after that horrid experience. He said it wasn’t ladylike. I felt so helpless, but I didn’t have a choice. Until I received the money from Jake’s parents, I was dependent on Pa.”
“But you’ll be able to protect yourself now. Have you picked out a gun yet?”
The tightness in her chest eased, and her breath came easier. “I found a model just right for me. It should be here next week. That’s why I’m so eager to learn how to handle a gun.”
Pearl leaned back against the railing and lowered her voice. “I hope the lesson goes well and Miles isn’t too…intense.”
“Is there something I should know?”
“He had a bad experience in the past. I’m not one to speak ill of those who’ve passed on, but his late wife, Irene, wasn’t as cooperative as she might have been. So if he seems short, it might not have anything to do with you.” She fidgeted with a button on her bodice. “I hope you don’t think poorly of me for telling you.”
“I’m glad you did. It helps.”
“Ready, Mrs. Watkins?” Mr. Rutledge called.
“Coming.” Elenora smiled and hoped it looked genuine. The scowl he wore didn’t bode well. Perhaps if she presented a pleasant manner, the lesson would be tolerable.
He clutched a crate in his hands and motioned her to follow with a tilt of his head.
She fell in step beside him. “Thank you for doing this.”
“I want to be clear about my expectations. You’re to do everything I say. If you refuse to follow my instructions and put either of us in danger, the lesson’s over. Do you understand?”
“Is it really necessary for you to be so heavy-handed? You might find it easier to get people to do your bidding if you used honey instead of vinegar.” She lifted her head and her hem and took off at a brisk pace.
Miles plunked the crate beneath a sheltering oak at the southernmost point of the Dupree farm with such force the cans clanged together. He straightened and found Ellie surveying him, that determined chin of hers tilted. Teaching another headstrong woman to shoot ranked up there with pulling weeds.
She smiled. Granted, her attempt to appear cheerful looked forced, but she was obviously trying to be agreeable. It wasn’t her fault Hank had talked her into this. He would have done anything to avoid spending time in the company of an attractive woman, especially when he’d have to do a fair amount of the talking. No doubt she’d carried their dinner conversation, which is why he’d been able to make it through the meal.
“When did you plan to get started?” Ellie’s smile had dimmed, replaced by her let’s-get-to-business look. Perhaps things would be more bearable than he’d first thought, since she did seem eager to learn.
“We’ll start by setting up the targets. They sit on this plank Will’s nailed between the two uprights.”
She helped him position the tin cans, some of which bore holes from previous practices. At least she was determined and would no doubt work hard to hit one as often as possible. Irene had only managed to do so once before she’d declared the lesson over and demanded he take her home. Even Mother had done better than that. But then, she’d respected him and done as he asked. If Irene had done the same, May wouldn’t have been in that woman’s home the night the fire broke out, and he wouldn’t have lost his family.
“All done.” Ellie brushed her hands down her sides.
“It’s time to get in position. Stand here.” He scraped a line in the dirt about twenty-five feet from the row of cans. The dust he raised clung to the moisture coating the back of his neck.
“So far?”
“This is close, actually. My revolver’s an Army model Colt and has a much greater range than this. I usually stand fifty feet back. Since you’d be using a gun inside your shop though, you wouldn’t even be this far from the intru—from your target.”
He pulled the gun from its holster, and she moved to the side. “That’s far enough,” he said when she was several feet away. “Let me warn you, it’s going to be loud and there’ll be some smoke.” He fired, knocking off a can with each of his five shots.
“You’re quite good. I didn’t expect you to know so much about this. You’re not like those rough men I saw in Omaha. You’re…nice.”
Nice? What did she mean by that? He was as much a man as Hank. “Just because I grow flowers doesn’t mean I’m weak.”
He hadn’t meant to sound so defensive, but for some reason, her opinion mattered more than he would have thought.
“You’re not. I shouldn’t have been surprised. You’re good at whatever you undertake.”
“Not everything. I can’t figure you out.”
She put her hand to the flowers at her throat, her mouth open in a look of disbelief. “Me? I’m not hard to understand. I just want to run a successful business, provide for my daughter, and prove that I’m—”
“As capable as any man, especially one with a shop across the street from yours.”
She smiled again, although this one brought a light to her eyes. “I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that.”
“But I’m right, aren’t I?”
She rubbed her hands together. “When do I get to shoot?”
He chuckled. The lesson was going much better than he’d expected. Unlike Irene, Ellie wanted to be here and seemed to enjoy his company. He was certainly enjoying hers. “Not yet. I want you to get used to holding the gun first, see how it feels in your hands. Since it’s empty, you’ll be safe.” He rotated the cylinder so she could see. “It might be heavier than you think, so hold it tightly.”
“How?”
“It’d be easiest if I help you. May I?”
“Oh. You mean…” Her face flushed. “Why yes, I suppose that would be necessary.”
He positioned her right hand on the grip, her left underneath, supporting it. “You’ll keep your index finger beside the trigger guard until you’re actually ready to shoot.”
“Now what?”
“You need to learn how to aim. I’ll show you.” He stood behind her and placed his hands over hers. “Hold your arms out at shoulder level.”
She
did. He caught a whiff of a pleasing floral perfume. Her hair brushed his cheek as he checked her position. Having her so close sent his pulse rate into double time. He forced his thoughts back to the lesson.
“Good. Next you pull the hammer back like so. And whatever you do, keep your fingers out of the way when the gun’s cocked. See the sight on the rear, here?” He pointed it out.
“The notch?”
“Yes. You’ll line up that blade sight on the front so it’s in the middle of the notch. Now, point the gun at the center of whatever you’re aiming at, in this case a can.”
“It’s hard to focus.”
True. He was having the devil of a time doing so. Taking a breath, he concentrated on the instructions he gave her. “Try closing one eye. Once you have your target sighted, you’ll put your finger on the trigger.”
“And pull it, right?”
“No. I’ll show you why. Let me have the gun.”
He released the hammer and shoved the revolver in his holster. Ellie had given him the perfect opportunity to have some of that fun Will had talked about and teach her an important lesson at the same time. Giving her no warning, he grabbed her hand and jerked her to him. She lost her balance and fell against his chest, just as he’d planned.
She lifted wide eyes. “What did you do that for?”
“Two reasons. First, to demonstrate how pulling the trigger suddenly or with a jerky movement could throw off your aim. And second”—he lowered his voice—“because I rather like having you in my arms.”
She gazed at him, her face flooded with more feeling than he’d ever seen. Surprise. Hesitation. And could that be anticipation? Clearly she was torn. He drank in the sight, which warmed him more than the summer sun slanting from the west.
“Now take a deep breath.”
She did and held it, apparently waiting to see what he’d do next.
