Ever since her first lesson with Harvey a few days back, she had been practicing after she’d finished her chores for the day. Determined to improve, she was very conscientious about it. Diligent.
The sun was slipping toward the horizon, casting the sky in fiery shades of orange and red. Dark would be upon her soon. She knew her brother’s workers would be coming in from the fields, done for the day, and she needed to get something on for dinner.
Wanting to take a few more shots, she set a few more cans up on the stumps as targets and cut a quick glance around her and saw that she was alone. She strapped on the gunbelt her brother had given her and checked the two six-shooters on her hips and smiled to herself.
She was used to the weight of it by now and she had gotten comfortable with how it felt around her waist. It was getting to the point that it felt natural to her.
Squaring her shoulders and putting a slight bend in her knee like Harvey had showed her, Isabelle stared down the cans she had set up, imagining them to be bandits or raiders. Taking a breath, she let it out and tried to clear her mind.
In one more or less fluid motion, Isabelle pulled her pistol and fired off three shots in quick succession. One of the slugs hit the stump but she had missed the cans with all three shots − as she had every other time she had practiced her quick-draw.
She frowned at the cans sitting on the stump, almost staring back at her judgmentally. But she knew just as with the rifle, her accuracy would come with practice. For the moment, she was content to be getting her gun out smoothly and cleanly. Being able to get a clean draw was critical.
Not that she ever expected to actually find herself in a situation where she would be facing somebody down like a gunfighter. This was more for her own enjoyment and yes, her own vanity.
But she rationalized it by telling herself that you just never knew what could happen. Being able to get your gun out and fire it fast could be the difference between life and death. She knew it wasn’t likely, but it was better to be prepared and not use a certain skillset than need it and not having those skills.
Isabelle squared herself up again and drew, firing off three more quick shots. The high-pitched ping of a bullet strike sounded a moment before one of the cans she had set up flew backward and disappeared behind the stump. Isabelle stared at it for a long moment, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open, gripped by shock.
The sound of applause behind her made her heart jump and made her cheeks flush with heat. She quickly holstered her pistol and spun around to find her brother standing there, a broad smile on his face, applauding her.
“Now that was a fine piece of shootin’, little sister,” he said.
Isabelle felt a flower of pride blossom within her and she returned his smile, giving him a small curtsy.
“Thank you,” she beamed.
“You’re like a regular Calamity Jane. Or maybe Belle Starr,” he grinned. “No wait, with that nose on you, maybe you’re more like Big Nose Kate.”
She squealed with laughter then gave him a faux look of annoyance.
“Do not make me shoot you, big brother.”
His smile was mischievous. “I think you need a little more practice before you’d actually be able to hit me,” he laughed. “But you’re gettin’ there.”
“You are so mean to me.”
He shrugged. “Somebody has to keep you on your toes.”
“Which you are obviously more than happy to do, thanks.”
Mark grinned. “Harvey is bringing Charley over for dinner tonight,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
Isabelle felt a sudden lurch in her heart and stomach at the same time, suddenly excited about the evening ahead. She had been trying to contrive a reason to go see Harvey and had almost gone over to his house a couple of times to ask for more “instruction” with her shooting. But she had not been able to work up the nerve to go through with it.
She felt close to Harvey and wanted to get to know him better and learn all there was to know about the man. He was a handsome man and he intrigued her like no other man had in her life. She felt drawn to him in ways that confused and yet excited her all at the same time.
Isabelle walked back toward the house with Mark, lost in thought. She looked up to see her brother smiling at her.
“What?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Just noticed that you perked up a bit when I mentioned that Harv was coming to dinner.”
“I did not.”
“You really did,” he laughed.
Isabelle did not know what to say so they walked in silence for a moment. She was embarrassed and did not realize she had been so obvious about her attraction to his friend.
“He’s a good man, Izzy. Just be careful,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “I don’t think he’s in the right spot to be thinkin’ on romance and I don’t want to see you get your hopes up and get hurt. He’s still pretty tore up about his wife.”
Isabelle nodded. “I’m not getting my hopes up at all. Promise.”
“That’s good,” he replied. “But I will say it’s nice to see you smiling like that again. It’s been a while.”
Isabelle gave him a silent smile, then started thinking. She knew that if Harvey was still mourning his wife, he would not be in a place where entertaining the idea of romance was reasonable.
She knew she should resist the feelings that gripped her. That she should not let herself get too caught up in a man who might be emotionally unavailable to her. Letting herself grow more attached to Harvey, letting herself get too wrapped up in him had the potential to devastate her.
The problem was, she had already started down that slope and did not know how to stop herself from sliding further.
* * *
“Izzy’s been out there shootin’ everyday,” Mark said. “Looks like those lessons you gave her are paying off.”
“Yeah?” Harvey asked.
Mark nodded. “Yup. She’s going to be able to hit a fly from a hundred yards before long.”
Harvey grinned. “I told her she’d be better than both of us with the rifle in no time flat.”
“She’s well on her way at that,” Mark said.
Isabelle sat in her chair with Charley on her lap, doing her best to hide the smile on her lips and the flush in her cheeks. Though it pleased her to hear them praising her, it also embarrassed her.
She bounced Charley on her lap, cooing in his ear, which made him giggle. Chenoa sat at the table watching them as she ate, a strange and mysterious smile on her face. Isabelle liked the Indian woman enormously but she was impossible to read, which was a little disconcerting to her.
Harvey wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it down on the table beside his empty plate. He favored Isabelle with a smile.
“That was another mighty fine meal, Izzy,” he said.
“It really was, sis,” Mark added.
“Yes, thank you for a delicious meal,” Chenoa added.
The woman grabbed another drumstick from the platter and spooned herself out some more of the trimmings. She gave Isabelle a grateful smile for holding onto Charley while she ate.
Mark stood and cleared the table of their empty plates, taking them into the kitchen and setting them in the basin. But he left the platters of food so Chenoa could eat her fill. After that, he sat back down and they made small talk for a while.
As they talked business, Isabelle tuned them out and focused on Charley, enjoying her time with him. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and Isabelle felt the eyes on her. She looked up to find Chenoa staring at her, that enigmatic smile playing upon her lips.
“He likes you,” Chenoa said.
“He’s a sweet boy,” Isabelle replied.
“His life has been challenging so far. Sickly. Small.”
Isabelle shrugged. “But like you said, he’s growing bigger and stronger every day.”
She nodded. “He is a fighter. Has a good spirit.”
Isabelle
cut a glance at her brother and Harvey, who were engrossed in their discussion and were ignoring them completely.
“Like his father,” she said.
Chenoa gave her a nod. “Very much like his father.”
Charley squirmed on Isabelle’s lap and started to fuss up a storm. She tried everything she could think of to calm him but nothing seemed to work for her. Charley started to wail, a high pitched keening sound that shook the rafters in the house. From his spot near the fireplace, Wolf raised his head and looked annoyed at the crying child.
“He’s tired,” Chenoa said. “He did not want to nap today.”
“And he gets cranky when he misses a nap,” Harvey said.
Chenoa gave Isabelle a grin. “Also much like his father.”
The two women laughed together as Harvey looked at them with confusion on his face. Chenoa got to her feet and walked around the table. Isabelle gave Charley a kiss on the top of his head before handing his squirming, writhing body over to her.
“I’m going to take him home and put him to bed,” she said.
Harvey nodded. “Thank you, Chenoa.”
Isabelle walked her to the door and watched her cross the yard and go through the gate. Only when she was sure Chenoa made it back home safely did she close the door. She cleared the rest of the table and put the dishes in the basin with the others. She would clean up later − Isabelle did not want to miss a moment with Harvey.
“Shall I bring out some coffee?” Isabelle asked. “I made a cinnamon crumb cake as well.”
“That would be great,” Mark replied.
Wolf followed Isabelle into the kitchen, no doubt hoping for a treat. When she turned around, she found him sitting down, waiting patiently for her to acknowledge him with a treat. She laughed softly as she tore a piece of chicken from the bone on one of the plates and tossed it to him. Wolf snatched it out of mid-air and chomped it down happily before turning and looking at her as if asking for more.
Never able to not indulge the big dog, Isabelle tore off another hunk of meat and tossed it to him then turned around and put a pot of coffee to brew on the stove. Once that was going, she went to the coldroom to fetch the cake and set it all on the tray she’d set out on the counter.
As she was setting up the coffee service though, a noise outside drew her attention. She wasn’t sure what it was but it set her on edge. She moved slowly over to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
Beyond the window she could make out the silhouette of the barn set against the darkness of the night. She peered harder through the gloom and when she saw the darkness move, it nearly stopped her heart in her chest. She stifled the sharp gasp that threatened to burst from her throat and forced herself to look harder.
As she stared, she saw the shadows moving among the darkness near the barn. Her heart raced and she began to tremble. There were definitely people moving out there. Movement behind her drew Isabelle’s attention and when she turned around, she found that Wolf was on his feet, his hackles raised, a low, menacing growl rumbling from his throat. The big dog’s unease only fueled her own but it did break her out of the paralysis that gripped her.
She turned and rushed from the kitchen out into the dining room where Mark and Harvey sat talking. When she burst in, they looked up at her, questions in their eyes.
“Th - there’s somebody out there,” she stammered. “Outside by the barn. I saw them out there.”
“Who?” Mark asked. “Who’s out there?”
Isabelle shook her head. “I don’t know. I just saw people out there.”
Mark and Harvey were on their feet and exchanged a look. Mark ran back to his office and returned a moment later with his gunbelt strapped on, carrying a shotgun and one of his rifles. He handed the shotgun to Harvey and a handful of shells. They loaded the guns and headed for the door.
“Stay here and lock the door behind us,” Mark ordered. “Don’t open it for anybody but us.”
Fear setting her every nerve ending on fire, Isabelle watched them step out through the door. She closed and locked it behind them then ran to Mark’s office and grabbed a rifle herself. She did not intend to stand there feeling useless and helpless.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The cloud cover overhead was thick and blotted out the moonlight, casting the world around them in perfect darkness. Harvey and Mark stood at the bottom of the stairs, weapons at the ready, peering intently into the shadows.
Everything was perfectly still and silent. There was not a breath of wind stirring the leaves in the undergrowth, no insects or birds singing their night songs, or animals howling in the distance. It was as if the entire world around them was holding its breath and waiting for something to happen.
Living out in that land as long as he had, Harvey had grown accustomed to the sounds of the night. The coyotes howling. The different species of birds that filled the darkness with their song. The insects that creaked and chirped in harmony with the birds. Out in the open land like that, there was a rhythm and natural energy that Harvey knew intimately.
And as he stared out into the darkness around them, he knew that natural rhythm had been disrupted. Something that didn’t belong out there had disturbed it.
“You see anything?” Mark asked.
Harvey shook his head. “Not a thing. And that’s what has me unnerved.”
“That makes two of us.”
“You go around one side of the barn and I’ll take the other,” Harvey said. “I’ll meet you around the back side.”
Mark nodded and they both headed for the barn, moving as quickly and quietly as they could. They split off and Harvey went around the western side of the barn, moving low with his shotgun at the ready. He scanned the gloom around him, trying to peer into the deep, thick pockets of shadow.
Harvey stopped in his tracks and knelt down, bringing the shotgun up. Off to his left, he thought he’d heard the crunch of a bootstep on the hard packed dirt. He swung the barrel of the gun to his left then swept it to the right, his finger light on the trigger, ready to squeeze off a shot.
Nothing moved and the sound did not repeat for a long moment. But then he heard the low whicker of a horse out in the paddock and heard it stomp its hoof on the ground. Relief washed through him thinking all he had heard was a horse rather than somebody trying to sneak through the shadows to get the drop on him from behind.
He took a breath and let it out slowly, recognizing the fact he was too keyed up and liable to make a mistake in his present condition. He gave it a beat, waiting to settle down enough that he could trust himself again.
Slowly, he got to his feet and moved down the side of the barn, the business end of his shotgun still up and ready. He moved down the side of the barn, his stomach tight, his muscles taut, and his focus razor sharp.
Harvey made it to the back of the barn and stepped around the corner. A moment later, Mark appeared from the other side, his weapon also up and ready. They looked at each other then swept the darkness around them but Harvey saw nothing. As he stood there though, seeing nothing out of place, a sudden thought seized control of his mind and it chilled him to the core.
“Let’s go check your place,” Mark said, as if reading his mind.
They moved quickly, crashing through the gate and quickly making their way up the path to Harvey’s house. He went through the door first with Mark right on his heels, a few oil lanterns lighting the room and allowing them to see. They checked the front rooms and then made their way to the back, moving swiftly. Nothing seemed out of place on the surface but Harvey’s stomach was churning.
He moved to the rear of the house and pushed open the door to Charley’s room with the barrel of his rifle, his eyes cutting through the darkness inside. He spotted Chenoa sitting quietly in the rocker in the corner, one of his shotguns setting across her lap.
Her dark eyes glittered in the darkness and even though he couldn’t fully see her, he could almost feel her relax. Harvey looked over at the small bed and saw
the still form of his son ticked up under the covers, his breathing soft and regular. He let out a soft sigh of relief, the tightness leaving his body much as it had Chenoa’s a moment ago.
“Everything all right in here?” he whispered.
He could see the shadow of her nod. “Everything is fine,” she said. “But the night is filled with a dark energy that is hovering over all of us tonight.”
“Yeah, I kinda got that feeling too,” he said. “I don’t know where it’s comin’ from.”
“Me either. But you can taste the violence in the air,” she said. “The wind smells like blood.”
A Healing Love For The Broken Cowboy (Historical Western Romance) Page 14