Shaken, needing to escape from the sight and smell of animals, she wandered past the garden to the wooden seat circling the oak tree, and collapsed onto it.
Her mind, blank from horror of what she'd just witnessed, slowly came back to life.
I can’t do this. I can’t live this way.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and laid her head back against the tree, resisting the urge to run into the house, pack her trunk, and catch the next train to Boston. Surely, residing with Laurence and Genia couldn't be as bad as living on a ranch. At least in Boston, she wasn't subjected to the daily cruelties of sustaining life--would never witness a sweet little chicken slaughtered in front of her.
The vision of the hen's carcass jumped back into her thoughts, and she grimaced, feeling nausea once more rise. Even in Boston, she wouldn't be able to escape the vision. Every time someone served the fowl, no matter how elegant the setting, she'd remember today's scene, and feel repulsed by the artistic creation displayed on the fine china in front of her. Just the thought took away the potential glamour of future dinner parties.
And if Genia found out about Elizabeth's new aversion to chicken, the meat would probably be served in every main course for the rest of Elizabeth's life.
No, when she weighed the options of chicken with Genia, or chicken in Montana, she knew she wanted to stay in Sweetwater Springs. But, oh, her blithe decision to move to the West had acquired a gruesome reality.
#
Several days later, with a swish of her leaf-patterned brown skirt, Pamela entered the dining room. Elizabeth looked up from the overdue letter she'd been writing to Laurence and Genia to congratulate them about the news of Genia's pregnancy.
"Elizabeth, I'm going to practice shooting this morning. Would you like to join me?"
"Practice shooting," Elizabeth echoed. "You mean with guns?"
"Yes, of course with guns, silly." Pamela's eyes crinkled with laughter. "I have my own Winchester rifle and Colt 45. John gave them to me the first year we were married."
"But why would you want to shoot a gun? What would you need it for, and however did you learn?"
"John taught me. In fact, he insisted I learn."
"How very odd." She raised her eyebrows.
"Not at all, my dear. I was reluctant at first, but I wanted to please him, so I let him teach me. Now I practice with Nick when John's not around."
Elizabeth's shock must have shown on her face for Pamela laughed again.
Elizabeth remembered the slaughtered chicken. She'd never be able to kill an animal. "But, Pamela, have you ever actually used your gun to shoot and kill something?"
"No, but I like knowing I could if I had to," Pamela replied, her tone practical. "We usually have enough men around here to take care of any danger, but some wives have to protect their gardens from marauding deer and their chickens from wolves. And you'll have to get John to tell you the story of how his mother shot a grizzly bear."
Elizabeth shuddered.
"Elizabeth, I've told you about the dangers of living around cattle, but there's more. Even though we have a civilized ranch, this is still the wilds of Montana. Some of the Indians around here aren't very friendly. We even have an occasional outlaw."
"I hadn't really thought of that."
"You've only seen the town and our ranch." Pamela made a sweeping movement with her arm. "We have a large, nice house, with staff and ranch hands, but that isn't true for many of the homesteads here. My life is easier and safer than that of most of my neighbors'."
Although a little shaken by the idea that Montana wasn't as secure as she'd assumed, Elizabeth still had reservations about handling a gun.
"Out here, even the children learn to shoot," Pamela continued. "John taught Mark. He's quite good for his age, and he sometimes joins me when I practice."
"What about the girls?"
"Next year John's going to start teaching Sara, but the little imp's trying to persuade him to start sooner."
Elizabeth wavered. "I'll come along and watch you. Maybe I'll bring my sketchbook and draw a picture of you shooting a gun. I'll send it to Genia!"
"Don't you dare! Imagine the gossip that would fly around the city."
"Just think of her reaction. Do tell me, Pamela, dearest," Elizabeth mimicked her sister-in-law in a falsetto voice. "What does one wear when shooting guns?"
Pamela laughed. "I'm just glad Genia isn't here. You might accidentally shoot her!"
Elizabeth joined in her laughter, then she said more soberly, "No, I wouldn't. I don't hate Genia. I just don't like her. Besides, if Laurence hadn't married her, I wouldn't be here."
"That is true. However, Beth, I do want you to learn to shoot."
"I'll learn because you insist. But I'm not killing anything."
Pamela walked over, linked arms with Elizabeth, and pulled her out of her chair. "Come along, dearest Elizabeth," she teased. "I find your pink calico dress perfectly appropriate for a morning of shooting."
Elizabeth laughed and left her half-written letter behind. Arm-in-arm with Pamela, she walked out of the room and down the hall to John's study.
Pamela opened the door. "This is the only room in the house that John asked me to leave alone," she said as they entered his domain. "It's been this way for the last ten years and probably will stay the same for at least the next ten."
"The sacrosanct male bastion. Laurence feels the same about his library. Although I don't think my poor brother will stand a chance against Genia's changes."
"You're probably right."
Elizabeth glanced around at the big cluttered oak desk, shabby leather chairs, and the guns mounted on the wall. She pointed at the mounted head of a huge bear, hung over the fireplace, its mouth frozen in a fierce growl. "That's the bear you told Caleb about. Ugh, Pamela, how can he stand to have something like that on his wall."
"John shot that grizzly bear when he was fourteen and is still very proud of it."
"Looking at that thing would give me nightmares."
Pamela shrugged. "I try not to notice it."
Elizabeth reached up to the mantle and took down one of several tan baskets woven with geometric black designs. "What are these?"
"Indian baskets. They used to trade them to John's father for supplies."
She rotated the basket from side to side, admiring the workmanship. "Do they still make them?"
"Yes."
"I'd like to get one to send to Laurence."
"Ask Dawn. She'll know where you can buy some."
Pamela went to the wall and lifted off a rifle. "This one's mine." Walking over to the desk, she pulled open a drawer. "Here's where I keep my Colt revolver."
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.
Pamela shook her head and rolled her eyes. "It won't bite you, Beth." She reached into the drawer again. "We keep the ammunition in this." She handed a wooden box to Elizabeth. "You can carry it."
Elizabeth tucked the box against her side.
Pamela pulled out two pieces of cloth. "The rifle has quite a recoil. The first time I used it, I had bruises for weeks."
Elizabeth winced.
"I made these to cushion my shoulder." Pamela held up what looked like a gray dishcloth with padding on one end. "I wear it like this," she said draping the cloth over her shoulder with the padded side in front. "The stock of the rifle rests here." She patted the cushioned part, then handed the other one over to Elizabeth. "This one's Mark's. He doesn't use it much anymore because he likes to think he's tough."
"I don't know about this, Pamela. I'm liking this idea less and less."
"It's not so bad. Let's go find Nick."
"Nick?"
"John is out with the men, so Nick will teach you.
Reluctantly, Elizabeth followed Pamela out of the house and to the barn. They found Nick in one of the stalls inspecting a very pregnant bay mare.
"A few more days, girl, before you're ready to foal," he said with a light slap on the horse's rump.
&nb
sp; "Nick, we'd like to have some shooting practice," said Pamela. She glanced playfully at her friend. "Elizabeth is eager to learn."
Elizabeth scrunched a face back at her, but didn't reply.
Nick laughed. "It won't be that bad, Miss Hamilton. You might even like it."
Nick's grin was so infectious, that in spite of her apprehension, Elizabeth couldn't help but acquiesce. "I'll give it a try, but I won't promise to like it."
#
John had designated a small meadow near a part of the river Elizabeth hadn't yet explored for the shooting range. As they approached through the trees, Elizabeth saw faded canvas stretched over stacks of hay bales, riddled with bullet holes. On each one was a rough sketch. She could identify the side view of a deer, and one of a steer, but it was the outline of an erect bear, extended paw showing wicked claws that made her shudder.
"You can see my lack of artistic talent," Pamela said with a wave of her hand toward the targets. "I have to make new ones every few months and these are about due to be changed. Maybe I can get you to help me, Elizabeth. Then they'd look more realistic."
"I'd rather paint animals than shoot at them," Elizabeth said, trying not to think about the possibility of killing any living thing. "Why is the bear standing up?"
Nick gave her a serious look. "A bear has a skull like iron. It's best to hit it though the heart."
Elizabeth's gaze slid away from the target. "It's best to stay away from one entirely," she echoed.
Pamela tapped Elizabeth on the shoulder. "I'll go practice on the bear. I'll use the Colt." She pointed to the side view of the deer. "Why don't you and Nick use the Winchester?"
Nick and Elizabeth walked over to stand about twenty yards in front of the deer. He held up the rifle. "Ever seen one of these fired before?"
"No, for some reason, I've never had that opportunity," Elizabeth answered in a wry tone.
"You do now." He took the box from her hand, placing it on the ground. "First we need to load it." He pulled a cartridge from the box. "You shove the nose of the cartridge into the loading gate." With a push of his fingers, the cartridge disappeared. "Just like this, see? Hear it snap into place?"
Elizabeth nodded.
"Load as many as it will hold." He bent over to pick up another cartridge. "Here, you try." He placed the cartridge in her palm. "I'll hold the gun while you load this one."
Feeling fumble-fingered, Elizabeth leaned forward and forced the cartridge through the loading gate. At the sound of the snap, she straightened, smiling in accomplishment. "That wasn't too hard."
"Naw." Nick grinned at her. "That's the easy part. Now go on, load the rest."
She scooped up a few more cartridges and one by one loaded the rifle.
"That's enough," Nick said. "Now it's time for the fun part. Place the stock against your shoulder like this." Nick demonstrated. "Sight along the top toward the deer. Aim for the heart--right behind the front shoulder." He glanced over at her, his green gaze penetrating.
She nodded her understanding.
He lowered the rifle and pointed to the sights along the top. "Frame your target through these." He raised the rifle again, aimed it at the side of the deer. "Then press this lever down and forward." He motioned with his finger. "That chambers the cartridge and cocks the hammer." His voice took on a cautionary note. "Once that's done, all it takes is a squeeze of the trigger. Watch."
Crack!
Elizabeth flinched.
A new hole appeared in the area of the deer's heart.
Nick lowered the rifle, turned and smiled at Elizabeth. "See. Not hard at all."
She'd regained her outward composure before Nick turned to her. But inside, her stomach churned. This shooting business didn't look quite so easy to her.
"Are you ready?" Nick's encouraging smile lessened some of her nervousness. "Or do you want me to take another turn?"
She took a deep breath and tucked her locket inside her shirtwaist. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
A shot rang out from Pamela's Colt.
Elizabeth winced and tried to ignore the sounds of her friend's target practice.
Nick handed the rifle over.
Elizabeth awkwardly tried to set the stock of the Winchester against the pad on her shoulder.
"Here, let me help." Nick stepped behind her, reached around her body, and placed his hands over hers, steadying the rifle against her shoulder. At his touch, unusual tingling sensations coursed through her.
"Look down the sights to the target," he murmured in her ear. His finger pressed over hers, guiding her movement.
Her whole body warmed at his closeness. Too aware of him, she couldn't concentrate. She just closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. The noise of the shot reverberated in her ears. The recoil of the gun sent her staggering back into Nick.
His arms tightened around her.
She lowered the rifle.
"You missed." Nick's voice teased in her ear.
Elizabeth's heart raced. She relaxed against his chest, loving the feel of his strong arms around her.
The sound of Pamela's pistol firing brought her back to an awareness of her surroundings. She allowed herself the luxury of another few seconds of leaning against Nick before she reluctantly wiggled away.
"I closed my eyes when I fired," Elizabeth admitted with a sheepish look, turning to face him.
He laughed and made as if to hug her, but instead pulled back. "How'd you expect to hit what you're aimin' at with your eyes closed?"
"I don't know. I don't like the whole idea." Her voice quavered. "I'm not sure I want to try it again."
She couldn't tell him the problem wasn't the rifle, but her reaction to being in his arms. She wasn't supposed to feel that way about Nick. But perhaps she'd have those feelings if any attractive man put his arms around her in that manner. She tried to imagine herself in a similar situation with Caleb, but couldn't muster up a vision of it.
"Why don't we trade Miz Carter for the Colt? You might be more comfortable with it."
Although aching with a vague sense of disappointment, she knew she should be relieved to avoid further intimate contact with Nick. Surely he wouldn't have to put his arms around her when she shot a pistol. Pamela managed by herself without any problem.
Her shoulders relaxed, and she flashed him a smile of agreement. "Yes, that would be better."
Without waiting for Nick to respond, Elizabeth walked over to Pamela. "If you don't mind, I'd like to switch guns with you." She shuddered. "I don't think I'm ready for a rifle yet."
"It's still difficult for me, too." Pamela handed over the Colt and took the rifle from Nick. "That recoil can be painful. The first time knocked me clean off my feet."
Elizabeth sent her an exasperated look. "Why didn't you warn me?"
A sly smile tugged at Pamela's mouth; her plump cheeks crinkled in mischief. "I trusted Nick to catch you."
Elizabeth shook her head at Pamela and walked back to stand in front of the deer target. "Show me what to do with this." She handed Nick the gun.
"You aim it with one hand like this." He shifted his body slightly back and to the side, and straightened his right arm. "However, when you're just startin', it might be easier for you to use two hands to hold it like this." Facing forward, he pulled back his hand enough to place his other hand around it, then extended and locked his arms. "This way'll be more steady. Why don't we start with you holdin' the gun with both hands."
Her brow wrinkling in concentration, Elizabeth nodded agreement.
"Thumb the hammer back after each shot. When you pull the trigger, the hammer falls, and the gun shoots the bullet."
With a flourish, he presented the Colt to Elizabeth, handle first. "Think you can keep your eyes open this time?" The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to suppress a grin.
"Yes," she retorted, "but that doesn't mean I'll hit the target."
"Keeping your eyes open will be a good first step, Elizabeth--uh, Miss Hamilton." As Nick sl
ipped up and called her by her first name, his instructive mode vanished, and he stepped away from her.
In spite of her feeling of connection with Nick, Elizabeth tried to ignore his familiarity. But it wasn't easy, given how her body reacted to his touch.
She raised the gun with both hands and pointed it toward the deer, surprised by how heavy it seemed.
Nick reached over from the side and cupped her hands, his touch warm and steadying.
"Are you lookin'?" he asked.
"Yes."
He dropped his hands, stepping behind her. "Then shoot."
Elizabeth pulled the trigger. With a loud report, the pistol jerked into the air, startling her backward into Nick's waiting arms. To her disappointment, no new bullet hole appeared in the target. She lowered the gun until it pointed to the ground, twisted out of his hold, and looked up at him with a question in her eyes.
He lightly tapped her forehead between her eyebrows, leaving a warm spot from his touch. "Did you keep your eyes open?"
"Yes. But I still missed."
"You're just learnin'," he reassured her. "It's more important for you to first get the feel of the gun. Eventually, you'll hit what you're aimin' for."
"And why'd I lose my balance like that?"
"The Colt has a strong recoil that yanks your arms up. After each shot, you're going to have to lower the gun and re-aim."
Elizabeth shook her head and rolled her eyes.
"You'll get used to it," he reassured her. "Ready to try again?"
She nodded and turned to face the target. Much to her surprise, on her next attempt she hit the edge.
"There, you're gettin' closer. In no time at all we'll be callin' you Dead Eye Hamilton."
Elizabeth glowed at Nick's teasing. "But I didn't hit what I aimed for."
"You came close. You've got the hang of it now. You just need more practice."
She fired one more shot.
Then Nick stopped her. "We need to reload."
"How do you know?"
"Because I saw Miz Carter reload and fire two shots before turning the gun over to you. You fired three more. This gun's called a six-shooter because it holds six bullets. However, only five chambers are loaded."
Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) Page 15