The Independent Bride

by Leigh Greenwood

  “Only if you help by doing what I ask.”

  ”Tell me about what your soldiers do.”

  For a man who’d grown up in the East, Bryce knew an incredible amount about the country he was charged to protect. He had apparently made it a point to get to know as much about the Indians as he could. He made regular visits to the reservation to talk to the chief. He was equally concerned about the civilians—farmers, ranchers, townspeople, miners, trappers—anyone who lived inside the area of his responsibility. He seemed most concerned about his soldiers. So many of them were young, inexperienced, lacking in knowledge and basic skills. He spent most of his time training them.

  “They’re awfully green when I get them,” he said. “If I do the rest of my job right, I’ll have time to train them before they face combat.”

  He told her about the land itself. He showed her that it could be beautiful as well as awe-inspiring and terrible. He showed her a bird’s nest in a willow by a stream. They passed a herd of pronghorn antelope that watched them with calm indifference. Rabbits sprang from under the hooves of their horses with alarming regularity. She was delighted to see a chipmunk, even more taken as a colony of prairie dogs dove into their burrows at the approach of a pair of hawks. But the most fun was a pair of male sage grouse competing for the favors of a female.

  “I’ve never seen birds that could puff up like that,” she said.

  “They’re trying to impress the female.”

  “How stupid to be impressed by a bag of air.”

  “I’ve known some women to be mighty impressed by a windbag, though not one covered with feathers.”

  Abby saw the gleam in his eye and burst out laughing. The grouse, apparently thinking the laughter was aimed at them, turned and walked away with great dignity. That caused Abby to laugh even harder. “I think we’ve hurt their feelings.”

  They rested in the shade of an ancient cottonwood by a stream.

  “In a month or two the prairie will be covered with new grass and flowers,” Bryce said.

  “I thought this was desert”

  “We get most of our rain in the winter and spring. By the end of the summer, you’ll think it’s a desert. Some days it’s over a hundred degrees. Next January, when it’s been below freezing every day for a week, you’ll think wistfully back on those one-hundred-degree days.”

  “Are you sure you’re not trying to scare me into going back to St. Louis?”

  “No. I’m reconciled to your staying here. As proof, I’m going to teach you how to shoot.”

  This day wasn’t turning out the way Bryce had expected or planned. The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying, yet he knew at once they were true. Maybe he even hoped she would stay. Something about Abby had bewitched him, something beyond her looks, beyond the undeniable physical attraction he felt for her. He didn’t yet know what it was, but it was like a magnet drawing him closer, holding him tighter. The more he knew about her, the more he wanted to know.

  She continued to surprise him. He had expected her to be nervous and awkward around horses. After all, what city girl knew anything about horses except what she could learn from watching them pull wagons and carriages through the streets? He doubted she’d seen a sidesaddle more than three times in her life. Not only did Abby adapt to the sidesaddle quickly, she was at ease with her mount from the first. It took her only a short while to convince the animal she intended to tell him what to do, not the other way around.

  What Bryce had expected to be a wholly wasted half hour had turned into a very enjoyable ride that had taken them several miles from the fort. He pleased himself explaining what he’d learned about the plant and animal life that inhabited the plains and foothills. He surprised himself at the pleasure he derived from seeing Abby’s enjoyment of this totally alien world.

  He’d seen the sage grouse courting ritual before, but he’d never enjoyed it as much as he had while sharing Abby’s laughter. Her fascination with the unfamiliar plants and animals, her awe of the mountains that towered in the distance, brought home to him the fact that these sights had been no more familiar to him three years ago than they were to Abby now. How had he missed the excitement of discovery, the joy of seeing things he’d only heard about before, the feeling of awe when every morning he woke up to see soaring mountains that dwarfed anything in Pennsylvania?

  Because he’d focused all his efforts on doing his job well and on getting back East, he’d ignored the magnificence of the land. That focus had kept him from realizing he had begun to like what he saw, to feel comfortable in this environment so unlike Philadelphia. It gave him a freedom unlike anything he’d ever been able to enjoy. Odd that it should take Abby, another city dweller, to make him see what lay all around him. Her excitement in discovering something new, seeing something unexpected, fueled his own. He’d even gotten to the point of looking for things he thought would please her. A brazen little chipmunk, as fascinated by them as they were by him, had sent her into peals of laughter.

  It was laughter that did it. He’d had no intention of teaching her to shoot—women were much too nervous around weapons. But he found himself looking for some way to prolong their ride. The words were out of his mourn before he had time to give the idea proper consideration. Abby looked so surprised and pleased, he wouldn’t have withdrawn the offer even if he’d wanted to.

  “I’m flattered you trust me with a weapon,” she said.

  “I don’t. That’s why I’m going to teach you how to use one.”

  The idea had been all right in conception, but he soon discovered the execution caused a lot of problems. There seemed an inordinate amount of body contact required. He couldn’t remember this ever happening when he worked with the soldiers.

  “We have to dismount,” he said. “I can’t teach you how to handle a dangerous weapon perched atop a horse that’s stamping its foot in impatience or moving about in search of grass.” Dismounting required that he help her down from the saddle. That required him to put his hands around her waist while she rested her hands on his shoulders and practically slid down his body on her way to the ground. That required that he step back and take a few steadying breaths.

  “Let’s stand in the shade of these trees,” he said. “It will cut the glare and make it easier to see.” Too late, he realized the cottonwood grove offered nearly complete concealment on three of its four sides, producing a feeling of intimacy as unexpected as it was unwelcome. He actually felt nervous, a reminder of his schoolboy days.

  “Let’s start with a pistol,” he said. “It’s probably the most frequently used weapon in the West.” He explained how to load it, how to aim it as an extension of her hand, and how to squeeze rather than jerk the trigger. But when he handed the pistol to Abby, she handled it so badly she nearly dropped it.

  “Here, let me show you how to do it,” he said.

  That was when the touching started. The only way to show her how to hold the gun was to take her hand in his and fold her fingers carefully around it, explaining as he did why she should do it this way and not some other. That took minutes, not seconds. He couldn’t stand in front of her, so he stood beside her. He brushed against her shoulder and upper arm several times. By the time he finished he was feeling very warm.

  “Now take careful aim and fire at that prickly pear cactus,” he said.

  “What part of the cactus am I supposed to aim at?” Abby asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. You won’t hit it.”

  He didn’t intend to be cruel, but he was angry at himself. He couldn’t remember having any difficulty controlling himself around women in the years since his wife had died. His relationships had always been calm and controlled. It didn’t mean they were without passion, but nothing happened until he decided he wanted it to happen. He had never been a man to take chances with life. Always know what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, so you can make sure the results are what you want.

  He watched Abby take aim, shif
t her position, and aim again before walking a couple of steps to the left. He had to smile. If his troops took this long to aim, they’d all be dead. So what was different with Abby? An old military saying sprang to mind: Know your enemy and you can defeat him. He didn’t consider Abby his enemy, but he didn’t like not feeling in control when he was around her.

  The sound of the pistol shot interrupted his thoughts. A pink bud shot up into the air and spiraled to the ground.

  “I missed it,” Abby said.

  “No matter. You were lucky to hit anything at all.”

  “I guess I need more practice.” She handed him the pistol with unaccustomed meekness. “Now show me how to use a rifle.”

  “A pistol is all you need to protect yourself.”

  “I’m not talking about protecting myself. I’ve got to sell rifles. I need to know the differences, the strengths and weaknesses of each kind of gun.”

  “There are men at the fort better equipped than I am to explain all of that.”

  “Didn’t you use a rifle during the war?”

  He decided not to explain that generals made decisions instead of fighting. It made him sound as if he’d hidden behind the courage of other men.

  “Let’s see what you remember,” he said. “Show me how to load the rifle.”

  Abby remembered his lessons even if she was a bit awkward. With a little practice she’d be able to load a rifle as quickly as any man.

  “Most of the time you don’t use a rifle for close-up targets,” Bryce said. “Unless you’re mounted on horseback, you use a sword, pistol, or shotgun. Even on horseback, a pistol is best for short range. It’s also easier to use.”

  “Then why do they make so many rifles?”

  “For any target over fifty feet away, you need a rifle. Some rifles are accurate for thousands of yards. That’s the only way we can bring down deer, elk, and moose.”

  “How do I shoot it?” Abby asked.

  “You shoot a gun. You fire a rifle.”

  “Why?”

  “No good reason. It’s just what we say. Now take the shells out and I’ll show you how to hold it, aim, and fire.”

  This was where it got tricky.

  He attempted to show her everything standing at a safe distance, but she moved close to him, touched him as she peered over his shoulder. Giving up, he handed the rifle to her. “Here, you try.”

  She immediately held the rifle in such a way as to guarantee herself a broken shoulder. There was nothing for him to do but take the stock of the rifle and place it properly against her shoulder.

  “My arms aren’t long enough,” she said.

  “They’re plenty long. You just aren’t used to holding them like this.”

  He had to show her how to use her left arm to support the rifle. Then he had to show her how to place her finger properly on the trigger. And that was the easy part. After having his hands all over both her arms, he practically had to hold her in an embrace to show her how to line up the target in the sights of the rifle. He wasn’t sure how Abby was reacting to his being so close—he thought he could detect a slight change in her voice— but he was so strongly affected he couldn’t be sure he was seeing or hearing anything correctly.

  Even his muscles refused to cooperate. He couldn’t hold the rifle steady. He could tell himself it was because he was holding it through Abby’s hands and they weren’t steady, but standing behind Abby, his chest touching her back, his arms cradling her in a tighter embrace man some then held their wives, reduced his muscle control to zilch. And increased his respiration and heart rates. His voice sounded unlike himself.

  “Can I shoot it?” Abby asked.

  “Fire it,” he corrected automatically.

  “Okay, fire it.”

  “It would be better to do that at the fort. We have a range for target practice.” With those words be stepped away from her. He held out his hand, but Abby didn’t give the rifle.

  “Why not out here? There’s nothing around.”

  “We don’t know that. A whole army of Indians could be hiding out there and you wouldn’t see them.”

  “How? There’s nothing there but little bushes,” she said, indicating sage and rabbitbush.

  “They’ve spent hundreds of years learning to hide behind those little bushes. I’d feel more comfortable back at the fort.”

  “Will you teach me to hit the center of the target?”

  “I thought you just wanted to know how to sell the rifle.”

  “I do, but it would be fun to learn how to actually hit something.”

  “What do you want to be able to hit?”

  “I don’t know. Father used to go deer hunting. Maybe I will, too.”

  “It takes a while to learn to shoot well.”

  “I want to try anyway. It’s frustrating to spend half an hour listening to you talk about a rifle and not be able to shoot it at least once.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you try to hit that cactus over there?” He pointed to a prickly pear cactus about fifty yards away.

  “Is this right?” she asked when she placed the rifle stock against her shoulder.

  “Fine. Now squeeze the trigger. Don’t jerk it.”

  He waited while she went through her routine of aiming, changing her position, then aiming again. He was running names through his mind of soldiers who might have the patience to work with her when she fired the rifle, and another bud went spinning into space. “At least you’re in the vicinity of the cactus,” he said. “With practice you might—”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Abby fired again and a third bud went flying. Then a fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh. She turned, a look of disappointment on her face. “I didn’t hit it even once.”

  “You fake!” Bryce exclaimed, realizing he’d been tricked quite thoroughly. “You let me think you were a novice when you’re practically a sharpshooter. You intended to hit those buds instead of the cactus.”

  “How could I do that?” Abby asked, assuming a look of outraged innocence. “I’m a helpless woman from the East. I’m afraid of guns.”

  “I don’t know whether to hug you or turn you across my knee and give you a spanking,” Bryce said. “If I get a vote, I’d choose the first option.” And that was how he ended up with Abby in his arms. Having gone that far, it seemed only logical that he kiss her. Since he’d been trained since birth to be logical, that’s what he did.

  It wasn’t much of a kiss, just a brush of his lips against her forehead. It surprised both of them too much to continue. The important thing was that it had happened at all, that she didn’t slap him, and he wanted to do it again. Fortunately, logic came to his aid. If he went any further along this logical course, he’d be in trouble. He made a rapid retreat.

  “Congratulations,” he said, stepping away from Abby. “That was some of the best shooting I’ve ever seen.”

  “Do you congratulate your soldiers like that?”

  “Only my women soldiers,” he said, answering her smile with one of his own. “Where did you learn to shoot like that?” He didn’t care. He just needed something to get his mind off what he’d done.

  “I used to tag along with my father every chance I got. That’s how I learned to ride and shoot. I got my first rifle when I was seven. We hunted at least twice a week even after we moved to St. Louis. When he started talking about going West, I practiced especially hard so he would take me with him. He didn’t, and I stopped shooting until I started seeing Albert. He considered himself a marksman. We used to shoot together. I made sure to lose at least half the time.”

  “You are a dangerous woman,” Bryce said. “Maybe I should warn the Indians and the rustlers.”

  “I hope you’re not angry. You’ve been so determined to convince me I don’t know anything about the West and can never learn, I couldn’t help teasing you a little.”

  “Oman doesn’t know how lucky he is you couldn’t find the right bullets for that pistol.”

  “Fa
ther never let me touch a pistol or a shotgun.”

  “You probably won’t have time to master every weapon. I expect you’ll be fully occupied with your store most of the time.”

  To his surprise, Abby didn’t appear to welcome being reminded of the store. Maybe she was finally realizing she faced a task far beyond her knowledge and experience. Maybe she was even considering going back to St Louis. He was disconcerted to find himself not only resigned to her staying but actually wanting her not to leave. He wasn’t sure why such a crazy attitude had overcome his common sense, but it had.

  “I don’t suppose the store can take care of itself.” Abby sighed. “I’d forgotten how much I used to like riding with my father. We only rode down farm roads, but I always looked forward to it”

  “I’m sure you can find some time, but you must never attempt to ride out alone.”

  “Will you ride with me?”

  “I can hardly believe how much I enjoyed it” Abby said, telling Moriah about her ride. “It’s not really so scary once you know what’s out there and what to expect.”

  “You can never tell what to expect in a place like this,” Moriah said. “Dorrie says there are rattlesnakes.”

  Abby wanted her sister’s full attention, but Moriah moved methodically through the store, straightening piles of shirts and rearranging cans and boxes into attractive displays.

  “I didn’t see any snakes.”

  “You don’t see them until they strike. Then it’s too late.”

  “Well, I’m sure there’s no rattlesnake big enough to attack me while I’m on a horse. I can’t wait to ride to the mountains. They’re so big, they seem just out of reach. Bryce says they’re more than twenty-five miles away.”

  “It’s a good thing you’ll be too busy to go in search of the wild beasts that hide in those mountains,” Moriah said.

  “I’m not interested in wild animals,” Abby said, barely resisting the temptation to stamp her foot. “I just want to see the mountains. They look so beautiful covered with snow.”