The next box was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a black ribbon like a man’s necktie. “That’s an odd one,” Ethan said.
Hiram felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck. He reached to scratch it.
“Ah, this is an interesting package.” Peter held it up for all to see. He tipped the top slightly toward the crowd. Fastened near the bow was a packet of primers.
Peter grinned at them. “Something tells me this box was prepared by one of the members of the Ladies’ Shooting Club.”
Four hands shot up, and men began flinging bids at the mayor.
Ethan leaned close to Hiram’s ear. “You think that’s Trudy’s?”
Hiram shook his head. The brown paper was what Libby used to wrap customers’ packages every day, and he’d gone into the emporium only yesterday and bought a packet of primers. Trouble was, every man in town was interested. He stuck his hands into his pockets and fingered the coins in the right one.
“Two-seventy-five,” Peter called before the bidding slowed down. “And now three dollars. Who’ll bid three dollars?”
Hiram reached up and lifted his hat. Peter looked his way, and Hiram nodded.
“Three dollars,” Peter said. “I have three dollars from a man who knows a good thing when he sees it. Who’ll bid three bucks and two bits?”
Griffin roared, “Right here, Mayor.”
“Three-twenty-five. Who’ll make it three and a half?” He glanced at Hiram.
How could he afford it? He had only three silver dollars in his pocket. Griff Bane would win. Hiram shook his head slightly.
“Three and a half,” Peter said. “Who’ll bid three-fifty?” He paused, holding up his gavel. “Going once …”
“Three-fifty.” Everyone turned and stared at the cowboy who’d bid. Hiram sucked in a deep breath. It was Eli Button, the man he’d walloped at Bitsy’s place.
Ethan looked askance at him. “Can’t let that fella get it.”
Hiram grimaced.
Ethan looked at the mayor, who was saying, “Going twice …”
“Four dollars!”
Everyone turned to stare at Ethan.
“The sheriff is in the game with a bid of four dollars.” Peter grinned at him. “Do I hear four-twenty-five?”
Button shook his head and walked away.
“Well Ethan, looks like you bought yourself a lunch.” Peter brought the gavel down.
Hiram exhaled and watched as Libby stepped forward. She took the box from Peter and walked toward the sheriff, smiling.
“Thanks for buying my box, Ethan. I hope you enjoy what I’ve packed.” Her gaze slid toward Hiram. “I thought for a minute you’d be my dining partner, Mr. Dooley.”
He felt his face going red. “Well I …” He looked down at the ground.
“Guess I’d better go pay for it.” Ethan looked at Libby and then at Hiram. “Hi, why don’t you join us, whether you snag a box or not.”
“Oh, I don’t know …”
“Yes, do,” Libby said. “There’s plenty. And I have a quilt yonder. We can spread it in the shade of the schoolhouse.”
“Sounds good,” Ethan said. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” He turned and headed for the small table where Emmaline Landry was collecting the fees from the bidders.
Libby leaned toward Hiram. “Interested in buying your sister’s lunch for Ethan?”
He jerked his chin up. Her beautiful blue eyes twinkled at him.
He nodded.
“A nosegay of buttercups,” Libby whispered. “Yellow grosgrain ribbon.”
He glanced quickly at Peter, but the box the mayor now held was trimmed with blue and red rickrack.
“Meet us over there.” Libby nodded toward the side of the school building, where a narrow strip of shade would give the barest relief from the sun.
Parnell Oxley walked off with the current offering, and to Hiram’s surprise, Isabel went with him. He hadn’t supposed Isabel would loosen up enough to participate in the event. She’d changed a lot since she’d begun going to the shooting club.
The next box sported gaudy red, pink, and orange paper. It looked as though a child had thrown blobs of paint at it. A glittery gold cord decorated it, with several unnaturally red feathers fluttering from the knot on top.
Hiram looked about and studied the remaining widows and single women in the crowd. The two saloon girls from the Nugget giggled and nudged each other. Several men joined the bidding, and one of the cowboys won the prize of lunch with Opal Knoff, the blond from the Nugget. Another box went to Kenton Smith, and he graciously escorted the widow Daniels—whose husband had died in a wagon accident last winter—to a spot on the grass. Two cowboys and Cyrus Fennel bought boxes, and at last the one with the yellow ribbon and drooping buttercups came up for sale. The bidding slowed at two dollars.
“Come on, fellas,” Peter called. “Only a few boxes left. Don’t you have any cash on ya?”
Hiram looked around for Trudy, but she was keeping busy with Mrs. Storrey and Mrs. Tinen at the food tables, not paying any attention.
“Going once, going twice … sold to Mr. Hiram Dooley for two dollars.”
Hiram accepted the box and walked over to Mrs. Landry’s table.
“Who’s the cook?” someone shouted.
Trudy looked up and clapped a hand to her mouth. She hurried around the tables toward Hiram. “Guess you’re stuck with me.” The crowd laughed.
“He bought his sister’s box,” Hiram heard Cy Fennel tell someone else.
“Hey, Dooley, I’ll buy it from you for two-ten,” called stagecoach driver Nick Telford.
Hiram smiled and shook his head.
“You missed your chance,” Emmaline yelled. “Bid on the next one.” She smiled up at Hiram and held out her hand for the two silver dollars. “Thank you, sir.”
He turned and found Trudy at his elbow.
“Sorry,” she said.
“What for? It’ll be good, I know that.”
She smiled and walked beside him with her head high.
“Did you know it was hers?” Augie called.
Hiram just smiled and gave a little shrug. The crowd turned its attention back to the auction. Griffin and Nick began a battle for the next box. Hiram led his sister straight to the quilt in the shade, where Libby and Ethan were unpacking Libby’s box.
CHAPTER 24
Nearly one hundred people thronged around the pie table as the judges—Charles Walker, Bertha Runnels, and Micah Landry—sampled the entries. Much fidgeting and whispering ensued while the three conferred.
At last Charles Walker stepped forward and held up his hands. “Folks, it’s a tough decision, but we’ve decided on the winners. The grand prize, which is that magnificent new set of bakeware over yonder donated by the Paragon Emporium, goes to Augie Moore for his pecan pie.”
Everyone cheered. Augie and Bitsy stood near Ethan, and he grinned at the new restaurateurs.
“Congratulations, Augie.”
The bald, muscular man blushed to the tips of his ears. “Thanks, Sheriff.” He walked up to shake the judges’ hands.
“Folks, the rest of Augie’s pie will be sold by the slice when we’re finished,” Walker said. “Now, as to the best fruit pie, that was very difficult, but we’ve decided on a fresh rhubarb and strawberry pie by Rilla Thistle.”
Again the people cheered and applauded. Mrs. Thistle, her face pink with pleasure, accepted the gift of a new apron, pieced by Orissa Walker.
“And in the cream pie division,” Walker called out, “the judges are unanimous. The set of linen napkins embroidered by Ruth Robinson goes to our very own schoolteacher, Miss Isabel Fennel, for her lemon meringue.”
Isabel gasped and left her father’s side to retrieve her prize.
“Now, folks,” Walker continued, “you know these three are mighty fine cooks. Some of the best eating in town is to be found at the Spur & Saddle and the Fennel House. And Miss Isabel showed her skills, as well, last summer dur
ing the opening of the boardinghouse. So you know you’re getting your money’s worth when you pay two bits for a slice of one of these winning pies. The other pies can be had for ten cents a slice. All the proceeds will go toward furnishing and equipping Dr. Kincaid’s new office. So eat up and pay up.”
The doctor stepped up beside Walker for a moment, and the laughter and murmuring stilled.
“Folks, I just want you to know how much I appreciate all you’re doing. The town council has worked with me to help me give you the finest medical care I can. But I didn’t expect the entire town to turn out and support the effort like this. All I can say is thank you, and I’ll be there for you when you need medical attention.”
Everyone clapped as Dr. Kincaid beamed and nodded.
“That’s great,” Walker said. “The ladies will serve the pies now, and I believe Miss Dooley and her helpers will be setting up for the shooting contest while that’s going on.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “Let’s say the first round of the shooting match will begin in thirty minutes.” He looked questioningly at Trudy, and she nodded.
Cowboys, miners, and townspeople lined up for pie. Ethan noted that Kenton Smith and a couple of his men were among them. He could relax as long as they kept busy. If they started getting bored, things might heat up.
He strolled toward the fence that served as a hitching rail, where a dozen wagons stood and thirty or more horses and mules switched their tails at flies. Wouldn’t hurt to make sure nobody was poking around the wagons and sneaking flasks out of saddlebags. He greeted a couple of ranchers feeding their animals and ambled around the perimeter of the yard where others had hobbled their teams. Griffin and Parnell had cans of flour and were sprinkling it in a line across the road.
“You getting ready for the horse race?” Ethan asked.
“Yup.” Griffin frowned as he shook the can gently. “This is the starting and finishing line. They’ll ride into town, grab a flag from Ted Hire at the Nugget, and come back here. First one to cross the finish holding his flag wins.”
Ethan nodded. Sounded simple enough.
Goldie and Vashti had teamed with Myra and Florence to organize games for the schoolchildren. Ethan stood for a few minutes watching the girls hand out feed sacks for the sack race. Parents and cowboys alike mingled to cheer the youngsters on. Will Ingram collected the prize of a peppermint stick. Myra announced that for the next event, the children would divide into teams for an egg-and-spoon relay. Ethan walked on to the back of the schoolhouse. Behind the building, Trudy, Libby, and Starr had set up four targets, with the shooting range facing the open prairie and the distant mountains.
Trudy came to meet him in the knee-high grass. “Ethan, we can’t decide how to set up the divisions. We had planned to just let anyone enter who wanted to and not split up the contestants, but nearly thirty people have signed up. Some say we ought to separate the men and the ladies. But some of the ladies from the club want to try their skills against the men.”
“How many prizes do you have?”
“Three. The grand prize, a free dinner at the Spur & Saddle for second place, and a box of ammunition for third.”
Ethan nodded, thinking about the possibilities. “That Colt pistol for the grand prize is something. If I thought I had a chance, I’d enter myself.”
“Libby talked the town council into buying it wholesale out of the proceeds of the day. They decided it would be a good draw for the contests, and it seems as though it worked. It’s only two bits to enter, and it’s for a good cause.”
Ethan chuckled. “Well, in my case, it would be money thrown away, because I happen to know several ladies who can outshoot me. Probably a lot of the men can, too, but I don’t think I’ll stand up today and let the whole town know. If you need people who aren’t competing to be judges or help change the targets, I’m willing.”
“Thank you.”
Libby and Starr came to join them.
“So, what do you think, Sheriff?” Starr pointed to the four identical bull’s-eye targets they’d set up. “We decided that to be really fair, we’ll have to change the targets for each shooter.”
“It’s a good thing we brought the paper and paint,” Libby said. “Twelve more people have signed up since this morning. We’ve got Opal and Bitsy working on more targets.”
“They look good.” Ethan surveyed the shooting range. “Will you be ready on time?”
Trudy’s brow wrinkled. “I think so.”
“Some of the men were muttering at lunchtime,” Starr said. “They don’t think we should let the ladies compete against them.”
Libby waved one hand in dismissal. “What you mean is they don’t think we ought to make them compete against us ladies.”
Starr nodded with a smirk. “Guess you’re right. They’re afraid we’ll outshoot them.”
“And everybody will see,” Trudy said.
Ethan raised his hands palms up, smiling. “It’s up to you, but shooting’s one skill that doesn’t favor men or women, so far as I can see. Some have put in more practice than others, and there’s always folks who have a natural talent for it.”
“That’s right.” Starr scowled at Trudy. “Why shouldn’t we be allowed to go against them?”
“Well, uh …” Trudy glanced at Libby. “Sometimes men get all …”
“Humiliated?” Libby suggested.
“Well yes. We don’t want to embarrass the men that badly, do we?”
Starr let out a whoop. “Of course we do! We’ve been working for nigh on a year now to become good shots.”
“Yes, but our purpose was to protect our families and property, not to outdo our fellow citizens.” Libby arched her brows. The three ladies waited, obviously expecting Ethan to settle the matter.
“Well, if you have a first round where all the contestants shoot their rounds, then narrow it down for the next round … And if some of them are ladies, who can argue?”
Trudy nodded. “That’s the way we were figuring to do it. If we have thirty in the first round, then we can let the ten best move on to the second round, and three for the final. Or four if it’s close. We’ll use fresh targets for the final go. I think we’ll have enough.”
“We can circle their shots on the targets from the first round and reuse them in the second round,” Libby said.
Starr grinned. “Yes, and if some of them miss the target completely, we can certainly reuse those.”
“Oh my, you ladies don’t think much of the competition, do you?” Ethan laughed. “Are you all entering?”
“I don’t know as we should,” Trudy said. “We’re setting up the range, after all.”
“Ah, that’s nothing. I’d like to see you gals shoot. I think a lot of people would. Let us see the fruits of your hard labor.”
Trudy chewed her bottom lip. “Cyrus is entered.”
“Is he, now?” Ethan asked.
“Yes,” Starr said. “All those new cowpokes, too, and Augie and Griff and Doc Kincaid. Half the town’s going to shoot this afternoon.”
“Trudy, you have to enter.” Libby laid a hand on her friend’s sleeve, her blue eyes coaxing.
Trudy inhaled deeply and eyed the far targets. “I will if you will.”
“Done!” Libby hugged her.
“We’ll have to borrow a rifle.” Trudy seemed to have forgotten her hesitation. “This contest is for long guns.”
“You know I haven’t shot much with a rifle.” Libby frowned. “Hiram’s is the only one I’ve practiced with.”
“He’ll let us both use it.” Trudy turned eagerly to Ethan. “Do you know where he is? One of us will have to run home and get it.”
“I could ride into town on Scout. I’d be back in fifteen minutes.”
“Would you?” Trudy’s eyes lit, and he was glad he’d offered.
“Sure. I’ll find Hiram and speak to him first. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, no more, I promise.”
“Good,” Trudy said. “Libby and I will go sign up
and pay our two bits each.”
“I wish we had time to get a few practice shots in.” Libby looked along the barrel of Hiram’s Sharps repeating rifle and squinted at the sights.
“You’ll do great,” Trudy said.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t handle like my pistol.” Libby lowered the rifle.
“Here comes Mayor Nash.” Trudy took the Sharps and rested it on her shoulder, pointing skyward. She and Libby walked toward the shooting line and met Peter just beyond it.
“Are you ladies all set?” He looked out over the range. “Looks good. Four shooters at a time?”
“That’s right,” Trudy said. “We have the list of names. And Sheriff Chapman has offered to help with the scoring and such. If he and Mrs. Runnels and Mrs. Walker handle it, we reckon it’ll be all right for the members of the Ladies’ Shooting Club to enter.”
Peter nodded slowly. “Hadn’t thought about it much, but I know my Florence wants to shoot.”
Myra hurried toward them waving a sheaf of papers. “Trudy! Look! More people have signed up. We have forty-two entries now.”
“That’s ten dollars and a half in entry fees.” Libby stared at the young woman. “I can hardly believe it.”
Myra laughed and handed her the papers. “You can believe it, all right. And eighteen of them are ladies.”
Trudy cleared her throat. “Mr. Mayor, we women would like to compete against the men. That is, we don’t want a separate division for the women.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
Peter threw back his head and laughed. “Oh yes, I think I do. Fine, ladies. When folks gather over here, I’ll announce it.”
Trudy nodded and scanned the papers. “For the first round, you can just read off the names four at a time, I guess. The judges will decide who moves on to the next round.”
“We’re setting up a table,” Peter said. “Mrs. Runnels and Mrs. Walker will let the contestants draw numbers for their shooting order.”
Libby nodded with approval. “That’s a good idea. Then no one can complain.”
Bitsy and Opal approached with Augie helping carry stacks of large paper targets.
The Bride's Prerogative Page 49
