by Nerys Leigh
She didn’t even mind anymore that Brutus had used the plate before her.
Chapter 5
Grace gingerly held the revolver away from her, hands as far from the trigger as they could get. She harbored a small irrational fear that it would go off by itself if she moved too much.
Across the yard, Gabriel finished setting up several rusty tin cans along a plank of wood supported on each end by an upturned bucket and walked back to her. She held the gun out to him, barrel pointed at the ground.
“It won’t bite you,” he said, taking the revolver from her.
“It’s not biting that worries me. It’s the bullets coming out of the end.”
He opened it to show the empty chambers to her. “No bullets yet, see?”
“Well, now you tell me.” An empty gun wasn’t as scary as a loaded one.
“That’s your first lesson. Treat an unloaded gun with as much respect as a loaded one, just in case.”
“In case of what?” She eyed the revolver warily, fully prepared to be afraid of it even when empty.
“In case it isn’t unloaded. The rule is, all guns are loaded.”
Now she was confused. “But you just said it’s not loaded.”
“Yes, but it might be.”
“Well, is it or isn’t it?”
“It isn’t, but you should always treat it as if it is until you know for certain that it isn’t by checking the cylinder, like I just did.”
It took her a moment to sort that out in her mind before it made sense. “And if it is really empty? Is it still dangerous?”
“Only if someone hits you with it.” His lips curved up slightly. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ever do that, by the way.”
At least he could joke about her punching him the night before. She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about that today. Not that she regretted what she’d done, of course.
She pretended to consider his request. “I can’t promise anything.”
“Well can you at least promise not to shoot me?”
She pursed her lips. “I’ll think about it.”
“Fair enough.” He held the gun out to her. “We’ll start with how to hold and aim it.”
She took the gun back with far less apprehension, now she knew there were no bullets inside.
“Now,” he said, “there are three rules when handling a gun. One, all guns are loaded.”
“Even the ones that aren’t,” she said, still a little unsure about how that worked.
“Right. Two, you don’t ever point a gun at anything or anyone you aren’t willing to shoot.”
She looked at the gun in her hands. “But I don’t want to shoot anything or anyone, so why do I need to learn how?”
Taking hold of her shoulders, he looked into her eyes. “Because we’re on our own out here and I need to know you’ll be able to protect yourself when I’m not around.”
Sighing, she nodded. Even though she didn’t like it, she understood.
His hands slipped from her shoulders. “Okay. The third rule is, don’t ever shoot at anything without knowing what’s behind it.”
Finally, a rule she wasn’t confused about. “Got it.”
“Good. Now, hold the gun in your right hand, pointed at the ground, index finger inside the trigger guard but not on the trigger, and turn side on to the target.”
She did as she was instructed, wrapping her hand around the stock and looking along her right shoulder. So intent was she on the row of cans fifteen feet away that she didn’t notice Gabriel had moved until he was standing right behind her, his chest lightly touching her back.
His breath brushed over the side of her neck as he spoke. “Now pick your target, keep your arm straight, and raise the gun slowly. Keep your eyes on the target. Don’t pull the trigger.”
Swallowing against her suddenly dry mouth, she raised her arm until the gun was pointed at the can she’d chosen.
He slid his fingers along her arm to her wrist. “That’s good, nice and straight, shoulder lined up with your hand. Try not to let the gun shake. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Her trembling hand had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with his proximity doing annoying things to her heartbeat, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. With a supreme effort, she got her limbs more or less under control and the muzzle of the gun steadied.
“That’s real good. You can put your arm down now.”
She expected him to move away as she lowered her arm. He didn’t.
“Now do that again, but this time, keep moving the gun up through the target, without stopping.”
Trying to ignore his closeness, she repeated the action, this time keeping the gun moving until it had passed through the tin can.
“That’s good. We’ll do it a few more times until you have that down, then you can try pulling the trigger.”
She lowered the gun to her side again. “Is there a reason you’re standing so close to me?”
“Just making sure you’re getting it right.”
She could hear the smile in his voice.
“Why do I not believe you?”
The vibrations from his chuckle traveled from his chest down into her spine. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”
As he stepped back, the thought came to her that she shouldn’t have said anything. She ignored it.
Gabriel had her practicing first the basic movement of the gun and then dry firing using spent cartridges for a good twenty minutes before he deemed her ready to fire an actual live round.
“Now when you fire this,” he said, loading a single bullet into the gun, “it’s going to be loud and you’ll feel it kick back through your arm. But if you do it exactly how you’ve been doing it so far, you’ll be just fine.”
He held the gun out to her.
After a moment’s hesitation, she took it, listing the rules in her mind to keep herself calm.
1) All guns are loaded. Including the one she held, for real this time.
2) Never point a gun at anything or anyone you aren’t willing to shoot. So for now, only the tin cans.
3) Don’t ever shoot at anything without knowing what’s behind it.
She leaned slightly to one side to check behind the row of cans.
“Now just raise your arm slowly, like you’ve been doing, and pull the trigger when the muzzle is pointing at the can.”
She drew in a deep breath, ignored the thudding of her heart, and slowly raised her arm, eyes fastened on the can she’d been using as her target.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
She glanced at him in annoyance. “I wasn’t holding my breath.” She had been, but only for a few seconds.
He gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her.
Returning her focus to the can, she began again. Breathe in, breathe out, raise arm slowly, pull trigger.
The gunshot was louder than she was expecting and she yelped and stumbled back with the recoil, almost falling before Gabriel’s arms wrapped around her from behind. She gasped in a breath, her heart pounding.
The first thought that entered her mind was that she never wanted to fire a gun again.
The second was that being held by a man she wasn’t related to felt rather nice.
“Thank you,” she said, when she’d gathered herself enough to speak.
“You’re welcome.”
There were a few moments of silence before she spoke again. “You can let go now.”
“You sure?” There was a smile in his voice.
“Positive.”
He didn’t let go. “I wouldn’t want you to fall or swoon or anything.”
She had the strongest urge to smile, although she didn’t. “May I remind you that I am holding a gun and haven’t yet promised not to shoot you?”
He released her with a chuckle. “That wasn’t bad, apart from the end.”
“Did I hit anything?” She turned to look at the cans. To her disappointment, they were all still firm
ly in place.
“I reckon the ground will be hurting for a while.”
“I hit the ground?” Her shoulders slumped.
“You pulled the trigger too soon. Leave it just a mite longer next time, until the muzzle is covering the can.”
She groaned. “Next time? I have to do it again?”
“Not much point in knowing how to shoot if you can’t hit anything.”
Much as she hated to admit it, he was right, she did need to know how to defend herself. At least the second time she’d know what to expect and wouldn’t be so startled.
“Good morning!”
Grace turned at the unexpected voice to see a man approaching on horseback. He smiled and waved.
“What’s he doing here?” Gabriel muttered, looking none too pleased to see the man, whoever he was.
Brutus lifted his bulk up from the sunny porch where he’d been snoozing and stalked down the steps to the yard, eyeing the stranger warily.
“Good morning,” the man repeated, bringing his horse to a halt in the middle of the yard. “Mr. Silversmith. Ma’am.” He tipped his hat towards Grace. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
Brutus came to stand at Gabriel’s side and the man’s horse snorted a breath, taking a step back. He laid a hand on its neck to calm it.
“Something I can do for you, Fowler?” Gabriel said, his tone cold.
“I heard you’d got yourself a wife and just thought I’d come and see if you’d reconsidered our offer, in light of your new circumstances. And may I say, a lovely wife she is too.” He nodded at Grace, although his smile contained no warmth.
For some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, he made her uneasy.
Gabriel stepped in front of her. “I haven’t reconsidered, because the answer will always be no.”
The smile on Mr. Fowler’s face faltered for a moment. “Are you sure about that? That money would make a world of difference to you and your wife. You could make great improvements to this place. I can’t imagine a woman could be happy living here, especially one of obvious refinement such as Mrs. Silversmith.” He looked around with an exaggerated expression of sadness and disgust.
Grace had no more appreciation for her new home than she’d had the day before. It was tiny and basic, barely more than a shack. It was, however, her shack. Hers and her husband’s.
“Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Fowler,” she said, “but I like my new home just fine.”
Gabriel’s head whipped around to stare at her. She didn’t think he could have looked more surprised if he’d tried.
Mr. Fowler’s narrowed eyes said he didn’t believe her for one second. “That’s very generous of you, Mrs. Silversmith. I’m not sure I would be quite so forgiving if I were forced to live here. Mr. Silversmith is a fortunate man.”
She didn’t respond, well acquainted as she was with such backhanded compliments. There was no good way to answer them.
“Anything else you wanted?” Gabriel said.
“I guess not. When you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Mr. Fowler touched the brim of his hat to Grace. “Ma’am.”
Brutus gave a soft woof as he rode out of the yard and Gabriel placed a hand on his head, watching Mr. Fowler silently until he was a long way off.
Grace went to stand at his side. “Who is he?”
A nerve twitched in his jaw. “Just someone whose employers want to buy my claim. Been trying to convince me to sell for a couple of months now. I don’t know how he found out about you.”
She watched the distant shape of Mr. Fowler as he rode out of sight behind an outcrop of rock. “I don’t like him. He was rude and condescending.”
A small smile drifted across Gabriel’s face. “Well then, we agree on one thing, at least.”
She smiled. “At least.”
“Did you mean that, about liking this place just fine?”
She shrugged and looked around. “I won’t deny it’s a little basic. Well, very basic. But I think I might learn to like it one day.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets, his gaze lowering to the ground. “I’ll make it better. Soon as my claim starts producing more, I’ll add on a room and get a well dug. Maybe even get some of that indoor plumbing.”
In that moment, Grace saw her husband in a new light. Yes, he was rough around the edges, lacked manners, had some disgusting habits, and had not the slightest idea of how to treat a lady. But underneath it all, he cared about what she thought of him and her new home. It was still true that he’d take some work, but it was a start. A good start.
She reached out to touch his arm. “Come on, I need to learn how to shoot, just in case Mr. Fowler comes round again.”
Tiny lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “Best get you so you can hit something then.”
~ ~ ~
By the time they ate supper that evening, Grace looked exhausted.
Gabriel was slightly worried he’d got her doing too much. Despite her sturdy appearance and her insistence otherwise, he knew she had to be used to servants doing the bulk of the work around a house for her. Still, she’d done well.
She’d learned to handle both his revolver and his rifle, and with more practice he was sure she’d eventually be able to hit what she was aiming at. She’d also learned all about taking care of the animals and given the stove a thorough cleaning. He had told her it didn’t need it, but she’d insisted so he’d just let her get on with it. He didn’t understand women sometimes. Well, most of the time, if he was honest.
As she was tired, he helped her with the cooking, and after supper he offered to clean the dishes by himself while she rested. It wasn’t an entirely selfless act on his part since he planned on partaking of the marriage bed that evening, but he was still pleased with himself. He could be a good husband. He understood wives had needs too.
So he washed and dried the dishes alone in the lowering light outside on the porch, whistling softly and thinking about the fun he was going to have teaching Grace about the best part of being married.
By the time he’d finished and carried the pile of clean dishes back inside, he’d been grinning for a good solid ten minutes straight.
The moment he stepped over the threshold, however, his smile faded.
Grace lay on the bed fully dressed, curled on her side on top of the bedclothes with her clasped hands tucked beneath her chin. And she was fast asleep.
He placed the dishes on the table and walked over to her. “Grace?”
There was no response.
He repeated her name a little louder, touching her shoulder gently
Still nothing.
Straightening, he stared at his soundly sleeping wife, one hand still stretched towards her as he considered what to do.
He could wake her, he knew. He could wake her and join her in bed and insist she fulfilled her wifely duties. He wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. It was his right, as a husband, to enjoy the pleasures of the marriage bed. It said so in the Bible. Well, he wasn’t sure of that, but he was pretty sure it said God created men and women to come together in union, or something like that. So it wouldn’t be wrong for him to wake her and do what was natural for a husband and wife to do.
Sighing, he dropped his hand to his side. It might not have been wrong, but if he had to convince himself of that, something was.
Taking the blanket folded on the end of the bed, he shook it out and draped it over her gently.
“Goodnight, Grace,” he whispered.
As he headed for the door, Brutus raised his head from where he lay on the rug beside the stove.
Gabriel considered for a moment, then shook his head. “No, you stay here, Brute. She might need you.”
He took the lamp from the table and with a final, regretful glance back at his sleeping wife, walked out the door.
Tomorrow. He’d let her sleep tonight, but tomorrow he was definitely getting back into his own bed.
With his wife in it.
Awak
e.
Chapter 6
Grace felt surprisingly refreshed when she woke the next morning.
She was somewhat confused to find she was lying on top of the bedcovers, albeit with a blanket draped across her. She couldn’t remember falling asleep the night before. Had Gabriel put the blanket over her?
Sitting up, she rubbed at her eyes and looked around. Brutus was fast asleep by the stove. Gabriel wasn’t in the room. He must have left to sleep in the barn.
She’d been a little nervous at the prospect of sending him out there again. Not that she hadn’t planned to, but she’d been anticipating having to argue. And then she must have fallen asleep and he’d gone by himself. Not only that, he’d left Brutus with her.
A sense of peace rolled over her. Underneath the rough exterior, she was beginning to suspect there was a very good man lurking, just as Mrs. Jones had said.
She went through her list of good things about being in California, married to Gabriel, once more.
1) Felicia wasn’t there, making snide remarks about Grace’s attire or size or lack of male attention.
2) The scenery outside the house, with the mountains behind and the valley stretched out in front, was the most beautiful she’d ever seen.
3) She liked animals, and she was enjoying getting to know Brutus and the horses and Goat and the chickens. Well, Brutus, the horses and the chickens. Goat scared her a little.
4) The town seemed nice. Maybe she’d make some friends. Gabriel had said at supper that they could travel in today.
5) Gabriel. He was solidly in her list now.
6) The house was small and lacking in basic amenities, but it had a certain cozy charm.
She ran her hand over the blanket Gabriel had placed over her and made a revision, moving him up to fourth. That kind of thoughtfulness definitely deserved an extra place.
Her watch was still in her pocket and she dug it out to find it was just after seven. Time enough to get washed and dressed and maybe even start breakfast before he was up.
She swiveled her feet off the bed, pulled on her shoes, and stood.
As she folded the blanket, she realized she was smiling.
~ ~ ~
