by DiAnn Mills
“I didn’t care for him much.”
“That’s understandable considering his moods. I will say he’s done so much better since he’s come home for good.”
“I’m real glad for all of you.”
“When did you two start being friends?”
Casey hesitated. Perhaps she should tell her friend now. “After Morgan and Jocelyn return, I’ll tell you everything.”
Bonnie looked at her thoughtfully, as though questioning herself before speaking. “Shawne.” She folded her hands on the table. “As much as I want to know about you and Morgan and your life before you came to Kahlerville, I can’t help but wonder if he has told you about his wife.”
Casey often wondered if his ill temperament had something to do with his marriage. Had she been unfaithful? Died during childbirth or gotten sick? “Not yet, but I’m going to insist on it tonight after I explain a few things to your family.”
Bonnie stood from the table and clasped her hands behind her. “Those days were a nightmare. We thought he’d never get over her death.” She shrugged ever so daintily. “Our whole family is grateful for what you’ve done for him.”
Casey reached for her hand. Morgan should tell her this part of his life. “Enough of this gloom. What do you say about stirring together a batch of sugar cookies?”
A sharp sound cracked in the afternoon silence. Gunfire. A mixture of alarm and old memories sent Casey to her feet. “I wonder where that’s coming from.”
“Oh, it’s most likely Grant.” Bonnie sipped at her coffee.
“What’s he doing?”
“Target practice. He doesn’t bring out the rifle and revolver when Mama’s around. She says it’s a waste of ammunition and time.”
“Why does he do it?” Casey peered through the kitchen window in the direction of the shots.
“Probably has something to do with his curiosity with outlaws. I mean he reads the dime novels—everything he can find about the Dalton Brothers, Jessie and Frank James, Cole Younger, Billie the Kid, but not Davis Jenkins.”
“I thought he wanted to be a doctor. You mean he wants to be a lawman?”
“Maybe. Mama and he fussed about the revolver until he told her he wouldn’t bring it out again. He still wants to do everything as well as Morgan. And Morgan is fast.”
Casey’s stomach knotted. “Being fast with a gun doesn’t make him more of a man.” Uneasiness about Grant’s obsession crept around her heart. A whirlwind of outlaw faces—dead and alive—swept across her mind.
“I agree, but he’s up there practicing with it now.” Bonnie smiled. “I don’t see any harm in target practice, but Mama says the gun leads to other things.”
“She’s right.” Visions of Tim swept across Casey’s mind. “I’ve never seen any of his friends.”
“That’s ’cause Mama and Morgan ran most of them off. Grant had a wild streak for a while, but he’s doing much better. Mama didn’t realize how Morgan’s tragedy had affected him.”
What had happened to Morgan and his wife? A thought struck her. Did Morgan accidentally shoot his wife? “I have to talk to Grant. Can you tell me where to find him?”
“He won’t like you interfering.” Bonnie’s eyes flashed a warning. “My brother can be as bullheaded as Morgan. Mercy, Shawne, I really think you should stay here. I’ll talk to him about stopping, I promise.”
Casey headed for the door. Grant worried her, for she’d met his stubborn nature a time or two, an admirable trait if led in the right direction but harmful if not controlled. She knew Jocelyn and Grant argued at times, and Casey thought their arguments had to do with a young man seeking to become a man.
“I don’t know who’s more headstrong in this family. All right, he’s on the southwest ridge. Let’s get our horses, and I’ll take you myself.”
“I need to talk to him alone.”
Bonnie expelled a heavy sigh. “All right. I’ll show you where he is and then ride back.”
Casey hurried to the barn with Bonnie close at her heels. It marked one of the few occasions when the younger woman had nothing to say. Each time the gunfire echoed, Casey quickened the motions of saddling Stampede. She glanced at Bonnie struggling with the cinch on her saddle and wordlessly assisted her.
How could she stop Grant? Perhaps she could reason with him. He liked her. She’d have to be blind not to see that. The whole idea of him pumping bullet after bullet into a target infuriated her. And his interest in outlaws? But not Jenkins? So much she didn’t understand about this family.
Too well she recalled the squeeze of the trigger and the feel of metal against the palm of her hand. She remembered the smell of gunfire smoke and the best-forgotten nightmares of riding with an outlaw gang.
Grant must be made to understand the severity of his private game.
Oh God, please help me convince him of this foolishness. Help me to speak the words of wisdom.
The two women mounted their horses and spurred the animals on toward the ridge. Casey realized she must end Grant’s folly no matter what the cost.
“Over there.” Bonnie pointed and pulled in the reins on her horse. “You can see him from that grassy area near the top of the hill,” she said. “There’s a clearing just beyond it.”
“Thanks.” Casey surveyed the hilltop. “Pray for me. I don’t want to say the wrong things.”
“Shawne, I’m confused about your concern over Grant’s target practice.”
“I know you are.” Casey’s gaze swept over Bonnie’s face. “But on this matter, you need to trust me until we have a chance to talk. I’ve waited too long to tell you and your family about me. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
She sunk her heels into her horse’s sides and left Bonnie behind. At the clearing, Grant spotted her and waved. “Afternoon, Shawne.” His wide smile revealed his infatuation with her. “What brings you out here?”
“To see you, naturally.” She dismounted and wrapped the reins around a sapling. “When I heard gunfire, Bonnie told me what you were doing.”
“Do you want to watch? I’m getting pretty good. Almost as good as Morgan.” He lifted his chin and gave her a half smile.
Now I see Morgan in him. “No, I’d rather talk.” She moved closer, wanting to see every muscle in his young face. He used a Smith and Wesson revolver, and a rifle leaned against a tree. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
“You disapprove of me learning to shoot?” Grant filled the revolver with cartridges.
She sickened. “Depends on your reasons for doing it. There’s a rifle match going on next week to raise money for the town’s orphans, but nothing was said about a revolver.”
“Oh, I already entered. Mama signed me up.”
“Why are you doing this today?”
“Did my sister send you up here, or is she going to complain to Mama and Morgan?”
“Neither. I came on my own. Grant, guns can hurt people—kill people and make men selfish and greedy.”
He scowled. “In this country, a man needs to know how to use a revolver.” He set the target for the next round of shots.
“For what purpose?”
Grant chuckled. “You women are all alike.” He turned and fired into a burlap bull’s-eye nailed to a tree. The bullet lodged a few inches from the center.
“What can I say so you’ll see the mistake you’re making?” She feared angering him, but desperation for him to see the problems ahead urged her on. “This country is getting safer all the time. The time will come when none of us will have to worry about protecting ourselves.”
He laughed and spun the cartridge. The sound grated against her nerves. “Shawne, I might listen if I thought you knew what you were talking about. But you’re a woman and know nothing about a man’s world. Morgan of all people should have told you what happens when faced with dangerous men.”
“You mean outlaws? Don’t be too sure of that. I’ve lived most of my life where wits took over every breath I took.”
> He turned, and she noticed his shoulders were already as broad as Morgan’s. “Can’t possibly be the same. A man has to do what he feels is right. My brother’s fast with a gun, and I don’t intend for him to outdo me.”
She took a deep breath and pushed aside the danger signals going off in her head. “If I proved to you I could handle myself with that Smith and Wesson, would you leave the revolver alone?”
“I might.” Amusement spread across his face. “Except I’m sure you can’t.”
A wagonload of ugly memories burdened her. She’d do anything to keep Grant from experiencing such nightmares. “All right, Grant. Give me the gun, and step back from the target.” She purposely backed up several feet from where he stood.
A smile played on his lips as he positioned himself to the side of her. “Don’t hurt yourself, Shawne. Do you want me to show you how it’s done?”
Casey ignored him. She raised the weapon and squeezed off five shots dead center in the target. With the revolver empty, she held out her hand for more cartridges. Grant strode her way and silently gave her a handful more. She skillfully filled the cleared chambers. His gaze focused on her, but she refused to look at him. Casey turned her back on the target, then whirled around and fired four more shots into the bullseye.
“I dare you to match that,” she said. “But I know you can’t. Of course, it’s a little different looking into the face of a man who wants to kill you. If you’re fast enough, you can watch the blood ooze the very life out of him. It’s not a pretty sight, Grant, and you’re too smart to get in the middle of gunslingers.” She stared into his startled face and braved on. “Maybe the first time you shoot a man, you think it’s over. You’ve had enough, but what you’ve done spreads like wildfire. Someone else wants to call you out, and the list goes on.”
“Shawne—”
“Please put this crazy passion aside. I’ve heard you say you want to be a doctor. Make something worthwhile of yourself. I beg you. Leave the revolver alone.”
Grant glanced at the target, then back at her. “Where did you learn to shoot? Morgan?”
“Years of practice.” She pressed her lips together. “I had nothing better to do while my brother rode with Davis Jenkins.”
“Casey O’Hare,” he whispered, as though someone might hear. “You ran off from the Jenkins gang. Neither he nor the law has been able to find you.”
She eyed him squarely. “Yes, that’s who I am. I’ve lied to you and everyone else here in Kahlerville to save my own skin. I escaped from Jenkins, dodged the law and bounty hunters. My face is on more wanted posters than most men can count. It’s an awful life, Grant. I figure it’s my own hell.”
“This can’t be.” He swung around as though the truth hit him in the stomach. “But you’re nursing Sarah Rainer? You’re living at the parsonage? You and my brother?”
“The Rainers and Morgan know about me.” She was more shaken than she cared to acknowledge. “Where do you think I learned how to take care of dying people but through nursing outlaws?” she said. “That leg your brother favors? Do you really want to know what happened?” She took a ragged breath. “I’ve seen enough blood and heard enough screaming men to last forever.”
He shook his head. “You took a big chance by telling me all this. Why?”
“Because God gave me a second chance, and now I want you to have the same. I couldn’t ignore what you’re doing any more than I could deny Jesus Christ. Some might think this is harmless, but I saw my brother turn from a good young man into a killer.” Suddenly she felt at ease. A sense of peace flowed through her veins.
“Morgan knows.” Troubled lines creased Grant’s brow, and he frowned. “Now I understand so much more.”
“Will you give it up?”
Grant sighed deeply and ran his hands through his hair, just as she had seen Morgan do on so many occasions. “I’m not sure I can.”
Morgan’s brother, a boy with grandiose dreams of becoming a man. Oh, dear Jesus, make him see how wrong this is. “Do you want to give up on your future for a wanted poster—or an early grave?”
He hesitated while she stared into his face. Taking a deep breath, he slowly nodded. “Yes, I’ll give it up. I’m not sure what I’ve been thinking. Guess I’ve been jealous of Morgan all my life and wanted to do everything like him.”
“You’re a fine man all by yourself.” She offered a grim smile. “I think I know how you felt. The gun gives you a sense of power. It is, or can be, the one thing you can do better than anyone else. I never had anyone tell me differently. I never had anyone who cared enough to put me on the right road. Your family loves you dearly. They are so proud of you.” She opened her palm to reveal the revolver glittering in the sun. “Putting your faith in this will destroy you.”
Grant shook his head. “I’ve been a fool, and I even told Mama I’d quit.”
“It’s not too late.” She looked at the gun in her hand. “Do you want it back?” Holding it out to him, she waited for a response.
“What’s going on here?” Morgan said. In the intensity of the moment, she hadn’t heard him ride into the clearing. He glared at Casey. “Can’t get it out of your system, can you? Now you’re trying to turn my brother into one of them.”
Chapter 21
“No, Morgan. You’re wrong.” Heat flooded Casey’s face.
“Hold on.” Grant clenched his fists. “Let me explain.”
“I’m not blind.” Morgan’s lip curled. “The young lady here is demonstrating her skills with a revolver, and she does it quite well, I may add.”
“I said, let me explain.” Grant’s voice rose.
“Don’t defend her.” Morgan dismounted and stomped toward them. “I’ve seen what the likes of her can do.”
“I will defend her, and you’d better listen to what I have to say! You’re a fool, Morgan. You haven’t the sense of a mule.”
“Don’t quarrel,” Casey said. “Morgan, give us a chance to tell you what happened.”
“Shawne, get back to the house.” Morgan’s stone like glare told fathoms. “I’ve got to talk to my brother.”
“You’re making a terrible mistake.” She stepped between him and Grant.
“Let me be the judge of that,” Morgan said.
She shook with the fury rising in her blood. Turning, she offered the revolver to Grant again, but he shook his head. “I don’t want it.”
“I don’t, either.” She handed the gun to Morgan and stared into his rigid face. “You always believe the worst about me. Always.”
“Go on back,” Grant said. “This is between him and me. Morgan’s going to listen to me whether he likes it or not.”
She shook her head.
“Go, please. You gave me something today to hold on to. Let me do this in return.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat and climbed onto her stallion. Morgan’s words had slashed her heart for the last time. Why, Lord? Are You punishing me for the past? Stinging tears blinded her. She must leave the ranch. Look for a new home, if such a place existed. She’d have to abandon Kahlerville, and this time ride to where no one would ever find her.
Behind her raged the sounds of arguing brothers. She imagined Grant pushing his brother into a fight, and Morgan growing angrier with every word. Their voices roared above the peaceful late afternoon, and she prayed the two didn’t resort to fists. She couldn’t stop them. Neither did she want to hear their heated quarreling. Morgan believed outlaw blood flowed through her veins, and the proof shouted from the gun he’d seen her offer Grant. One more time, he’d succeeded in reaching his own conclusions.
Nearing the house, she saw Jocelyn and Bonnie watching her ride their way. How much should she say? Let Morgan tell them the truth.
“I’ve got to pack.” She swung from the saddle with no thought to her dress and climbed the porch steps. I’m no lady. Never have been. Her eyes burned, and she refused to look their way. She despised this horrible display of emotion.
“Wh
y are you so upset?” Jocelyn followed her into the kitchen. “Can we talk first? I’m sure there must be a misunderstanding.”
Casey shook her head in an attempt to walk past them as though nothing of importance had occurred. “Was it Morgan or Grant?” Bonnie said.
She paused to answer. “Neither. It’s me. I need to stay at the boardinghouse.”
“But we want you here.” Concern resounded in Jocelyn’s tone.
“I can’t. I don’t mean to be rude or unappreciative of your hospitality, but this is how it must be.”
“Won’t you tell us what brought this on?” Jocelyn said.
“Probably Morgan,” Bonnie said. “He spoils everything.”
“Morgan’s fine.” Please leave me alone, so I can do what I have to do. “He and Grant should be along shortly.” She started up the stairs, then whirled back around. “Jocelyn, they aren’t fine. Maybe you should see if you can stop them from fighting.”
“I was afraid they’d fight over you,” Bonnie said. “Stupid men.”
“It’s not what you think. I only wish it was.” Casey climbed the stairs to her bedroom and hoped the two women didn’t follow. She’d wept more for Morgan Andrews than he deserved. All of his promises, his words of following God and of loving her, were lies. She hated him, and she hated herself for falling in love with him.
With a choked sob, she pulled her clothes from the small chest and stacked them on the bed. Never would a man hurt her like this again. She’d said it before, but this time she meant it.
Once she finished with her packing, a knock at the door interrupted her dilemma over how to get back to town. “Please, I’d like to be alone.” Casey snatched up a handkerchief and blew her nose.
“It’s Grant. May I come in?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.” She wiped the wetness from her cheeks. “I’m not good company. Would you mind taking me back to town?”
“Sure. Can we talk first? I won’t stay long.”
She didn’t want to be inconsiderate of him. After all, he’d done nothing but stand up for her. She tucked her undergarments beneath a dress. “Come in, then.”