by Linda Ford
“Yes, but this time I am really determined.” They reached the clearing and she took out her pistol, got into position and spoke his instructions aloud so he would know she remembered and followed them. She set her sights on the target, gritted her teeth—eyes open, eyes open—and squeezed the trigger. Click. The gun wasn’t loaded so there was no explosion to startle her.
She stared at the target. She’d seen it the whole time.
Lowering the gun, she turned to Seth. “I did it. I did it.” She jumped up and down and ran to his side to grab his arm and shake it. “I kept my eyes open.”
He covered her hand with his, anchoring her to the spot. What was there about him that reached out to her, making her want to stay connected to him?
She withdrew her hand and backed away. “Isn’t it time for a real bullet?”
“I don’t think you should rush. Let’s see if you can keep your eyes open more than once.”
She tipped her head and studied him. “I thought you would be anxious to be on your way now that your leg is ready.”
His gaze watchful, guarded even, his mouth flat, he revealed nothing. He nodded. “Not so anxious to leave before you can shoot a gun with reasonable accuracy and with your eyes open.” His eyes narrowed. “I do not want to live wondering if I’m in any way responsible for someone being injured or dead.”
She hurried back to the place where she must stand. So it was for his conscience. For unknown people. Didn’t he care at all to stay for her sake, because he was concerned about her, or even because he might be enjoying her company a tiny bit?
She jerked the gun into position, and eyed the sights. She gripped it tight and focused and then—
Something brushed her skirts. Her heart crashed against her ribs and she screamed and bolted to the side.
“Smokey.” The cat plopped down where Jayne had been standing and started to groom herself.
Seth scooped the cat into his arms. “What are you doing here?”
Jayne pressed a hand to her chest and willed her heartbeat back to a normal pace. “She about scared me to death.”
Seth chuckled. “You did jump rather high.”
Her breath whooshed out. “Good thing I didn’t have the gun loaded or I might have shot her.” Seeing the shock on Seth’s face, she hurriedly added, “Not on purpose.”
“How many accidents are you planning?” The way he cocked his head and studied her without revealing his thoughts left her floundering, especially as he petted the cat and received grateful purrs.
“I hardly think you plan accidents.” Her fright continued to make her edgy.
He looked out into the distance as if considering her words. “A lot of accidents could be avoided if people planned not to have them.”
The sorrow in his words made her think he wasn’t talking about her. “You’re referring to the death of your friends.” He’d said so little about something that had such an obvious impact on him. She wanted to learn more. “Were they shot?” She shuddered.
“No.” His answer was abrupt.
She waited, giving him plenty of opportunity to say more. When he didn’t, she pretended she wasn’t disappointed and returned to her place before the target.
One by one, deliberate enough to satisfy the most critical teacher, she went through the steps and—click—kept her eyes open.
But when she turned for his approval he still stared into the distance, his hand mindlessly stroking the cat.
Smokey was satisfied with his distracted attention.
Jayne wasn’t. Yet she couldn’t demand more. She didn’t have the right. But her heart went out to him. He looked lost.
Smokey jumped down, jerking Seth back from wherever he had gone. He sighed and when he turned toward her, he blinked as he saw she was watching him.
Had he forgotten her presence? Was she that unimportant? She squared her shoulders. Perhaps she needed this reminder that she must depend on no one.
“Let’s see if you can keep your eyes open again.” His smile, likely meant to be encouraging, seemed rather forced.
But she turned and went through the steps again, keeping her eyes open at the click.
“Good.”
She told herself she wasn’t disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm. Why would she be? But she failed to convince herself. And it made her angry. She was doing this so she could be independent and unafraid. She had no intention of substituting one weakness and dependency for another.
“I’ll do it again.” And again and again, until she was the best, most confident shot in the whole of western Canada. She lined up the sights and squeezed the trigger. This time she didn’t even flinch at the sound.
Without waiting for him to tell her to do it again, she did it over and over, six more times then faced him.
The grin he wore erased all her annoyance. “I think you’re ready.”
“I’m more than ready.” She let him load the shell and as she lifted the gun, she almost did it without giving in to a little quiver of fear.
He stepped close behind her. “This time counts. I’ll make sure the bullet doesn’t go astray.” He cupped his hand over hers on the gun and steadied it.
Heavens but it was tempting to lean back and feel the strength of his chest, the comfort of his arms.
Instead she stiffened and squinted down the sights. Eyes open. Eyes open. She widened her eyes and squeezed.
Crack!
She shuddered at the sound but she kept her eyes open.
He patted her shoulder. “You did it.”
Her hands shook clear to her shoulders. Her breath came in sharp gasps. “I need to sit down.”
He’d left Smokey sunning by a log and she collapsed near the cat and stroked it, finding comfort in the motion and in the gentle rumble in the cat’s chest. “I hate guns,” she muttered.
“Is it really necessary to learn to shoot?”
“We’ve had this discussion already and yes, it is. My fear will not control me. I don’t know if I’ll ever hear a gunshot up close and not have my mind fill with pictures of Oliver’s death.” She shuddered again. “Death is not pretty.”
“No, it’s not.”
She realized she clung to his hand or did he cling to hers? It didn’t matter who had reached first. Nor did it matter that she meant to be strong. At the moment she was a quivering mass of nerves.
“Jayne.” His voice was soft. “You might learn to shoot just fine but that doesn’t mean you’d ever be able to use the gun against a living soul.”
Misery wrapped about her like a wet blanket. “I know it won’t be easy.” She sat up straight and gave him a look full of despair and determination. “But I will if I have to. It’s got to be easier than standing idly by while someone you care about is gunned down.”
Her misery was reflected in his eyes. “I hope you never have to face such a situation.”
“Me, too.” She thought about the sermon Bertie had given. “The Bible says God watches the sparrows. If God watches us for our good why do bad things happen? I don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand? It isn’t like God said he prevents the sparrow from falling. Only that He takes note.”
“That makes it sound like God stands back and observes without any concern for what happens. I can’t believe that.”
“Why not? Like you said, bad things happen.”
“But—” She struggled to think of an argument. “He has promised to never leave us or forsake us. I don’t think I could survive without the sure knowledge that God will help me.”
He studied her. “You have firsthand experience with this aspect of God?”
“After I watched Oliver die I thought I didn’t deserve to live. I was nothing but a useless, foolish woman.” She raised her eyebrows. “Just as you said.”
“I wasn’t referring to something like that. I only meant if you were insistent on doing something without being properly prepared you put yourself and others at risk and that would be foolish.�
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She drew in a deep, sustaining breath and released it slowly, willing tension to leave with it.
He dropped a hand to her shoulder. “Jayne, I think you are very brave to learn to shoot a gun when it brings back such dreadful memories. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
She nodded, clinging to him with her gaze.
He didn’t shift away, didn’t blink. He simply met her look for look.
The moments ticked by as she floundered in fear and uncertainty.
He continued to offer silent support and encouragement.
She swam in the depths of his gaze until she found solid ground. Out of sheer gratitude and relief, she touched his cheek. “Thank you.” His skin was warm, rough with the day’s whiskers.
He smiled beneath her hand. “You’re welcome.”
She should move away but she liked the feel of his cheek…how it crinkled with his smile.
He reached up and caught her hand, held it to his face for a heartbeat then drew it down and curled his fingers around hers. “Jayne.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I will never forget you.”
She lost herself in his eyes, so full of power and strength and purpose.
Purpose. The word seemed to ground her, to bring her back to reality. Her purpose was to be independent. His was to teach her to shoot and then move on.
She touched his injured leg. “I expect you’ll remember me every time you look at the scar your leg will have.”
He blinked. His eyes went from forest green to hazel, all full of golden flecks, and he burst out laughing. “I’ll always have that, won’t I?”
They grinned at each other. The tension-filled moment had ended and they had settled back into a relaxed friendliness.
“Do you want to try another bullet today?”
“Not really, but I will.”
He again came along to steady her arm. “I don’t want to take any chances that you’ll close your eyes and have the shot go amiss.”
She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Nor do I.” Nor could she object to his steadying arm about her.
Because it was only temporary and she could allow herself a few hours, or even days, of something that would soon be gone.
* * *
Seth had been up and down a wide range of emotions. Her question about how Frank and Sarah died punched him in the middle of his chest with the force of a hammer blow. He never talked about them. His folks had never talked about them. No friends had ever asked about them. Yet he felt he could tell Jayne and she would understand the pain, the shock, the helplessness, the anger and finally the determination to make sure something like that never happened again. She’d been through a similar experience. He almost opened the door to his memories and told her how they had died.
But once open, would he ever be able to close the doors again? And if he couldn’t, would the memories and regrets and pain consume him?
It wasn’t worth the risk.
Then she’d wondered if God cared about sparrows. What she really asked was did God care about people even when bad things happen? It wasn’t a question he could answer.
He had reluctantly released her to shoot again at the target when he would have preferred to hold her close and tell her to forget about the gun. Guns were dangerous.
She fired one more shot. She kept her eyes open but the bullet splintered a stump to the right. Her shoulders sank. “That’s enough for today. Who knew learning to shoot could be so exhausting.”
Likely it was the memories and emotions that the sound of a gunshot brought to mind that left her shaking.
He took the gun from her hand and wiped it clean then dropped it into her bag. He draped an arm about her shoulders, felt her quivering and pulled her close. For a heartbeat, he considered pulling her into his arms and crushing her to his heart. He’d hold her fears at bay. But she didn’t want that. She wanted to prove she didn’t need anyone.
And he had other plans, as well. A pa to take care of. A heart to guard against risk.
They returned to the house and joined the others for dinner.
As they ate, Linette announced, “There are peas ready to pick.”
“I’ll help,” Jayne said. Mercy and Sybil echoed her offer.
“Thank you. I warn you, it will take all afternoon.”
“That’s fine.” The three girls nodded. “We don’t mind.”
No one suggested Seth should help. He got the feeling the garden was the women’s domain so he didn’t offer. Which left him the entire afternoon to amuse himself. He would check on his horse. Maybe exercise him.
As the meal ended and people dispersed, he headed down the hill to the barn. His saddle was in the tack room and he went to inspect it. Buster had done a good job of cleaning it.
A bunch of leather hung on the wall ready to be used to repair harnesses and saddles. Pa had been a leather worker, a tanner, saddle maker and repairer so Seth examined the leather with a knowledgeable eye. And he had an idea. If Eddie approved, he would make Buster a real belt.
As he selected the leather he would choose for the project, the voices of children reached him.
“Billy, that knife is sharp. Put it down.”
Seth guessed Billy’s older brother, Neil, was the speaker.
“I’m just looking.”
“You’re also touching and that’s not safe.”
“Aww, I won’t hurt myself.”
“Billy, put it back.” Neil’s voice was firm.
“I’m being careful.”
Seth’s scalp prickled. Seems Billy was set on getting into trouble. Trouble with a sharp knife could be disastrous. Seth headed for the tack room door, ready to intervene and prevent an accident.
“No, Billy. You could get hurt. Put it back.”
Seth heard something thunk and he paused before he reentered the barn, out of sight.
Neil spoke again. “That’s better.”
“Why’s it matter to you, anyways?” Billy groused.
“Because you’re my brother. Remember how our mama made us promise to be responsible for each other?”
“Before she died?” The resentment level in Billy’s voice lowered.
“Yes.”
“That was when we come looking for Pa, right?”
“That’s right.”
“He was already dead, too, huh?” Billy sounded confused about the events.
“‘Fraid so. Good thing our new pa found us.”
“Neil, what does ‘sponsible mean?”
The boys scuffed along the barn floor as they moved about.
“It means we watch out for each other. I make sure you’re safe. You watch out for me and make sure I’m safe. We do the same for Pansy and Daisy.”
“‘Specially Pansy ‘cause she’s still little.”
“That’s right. Now let’s take water to the chickens like Ma said.”
They trotted from the barn. Buckets banged the side of the water trough and water sloshed. Then their voices faded into the distance.
Seth stepped into the barn and picked up the knife Billy had wanted to examine. He stuck it in the slot of wood where it belonged and where it would be safe from little fingers.
He and Frank had watched out for each other. Many a time, Frank had pulled him back from falling through the hole in the loft of the barn, or helped him get down from a tree that he’d climbed too high. And although younger, he’d helped Frank, too. One time he’d helped him hold a colt Frank had roped and found too much to hold. Then there was the time Frank got into a fist fight with several town boys. He was outnumbered but when Seth stepped in, they’d been able to defend themselves and chase away the tormentors. He could think of many other times he and Frank had helped each other.
But you couldn’t take care of someone set on doing something foolhardy.
He walked the length of the barn, glanced out the back door then wheeled around and returned to the front. He stared at the busy ranch scene. A cowboy he didn’t recognize rode past the far pens
. Women’s voices reached him from the garden.
He had to find something to do or he would drown in memories.
Eddie stepped into view toward Roper’s house and Seth trotted in that direction.
“I find myself at loose ends this afternoon and idleness bores me. Could you give me a job?”
Eddie stopped and rubbed his chin. “You good with hammer and nails?”
“Good enough, I think.”
“Fine. A bull damaged the wall of the oat bin.” He indicated a building near the barn. “You’ll find supplies in the barn if you care to fix it.”
“I sure would.” He trotted back to the barn, limping on his sore leg. He fetched hammer and nails then went to the bin. Someone had placed new pieces of wood nearby so he was set.
Pounding nails to fix the damaged wall did little to make him forget how foolhardy Frank had been. Reckless. Irresponsible. Bang, bang, bang. Every hammer blow echoed in his head.
He fixed one side and moved around the corner. His position gave him a view of the garden and the women bent over plucking peas from the vines. The sun shone hot and furious, something he hadn’t noticed until he saw Jayne and her friends out in the open with nothing but broad-brimmed hats for protection. The blue sky held only one frothy cloud in the distance. A reluctant breeze barely stirred the grass. They must be sweltering in the sun.
Shouldn’t he warn them not to get overheated?
Jayne’s laughter drifted to him. Seems she wasn’t bothered by the heat. Or did she think she was impervious? Perhaps she gave no thought to consequences.
Was she foolhardy? Or strong and brave? Could she be both?
He grabbed a nail and drove it in with one vicious blow.
It didn’t matter who or what Jayne was, only that he did what he could to prevent any more accidents. Then he would be on his way.
Chapter Ten
“Are you ready for another shooting lesson?” Seth asked Jayne the next morning.
She resisted an urge to rub the pain in her neck and swallowed back a moan. Who knew picking peas was backbreaking work? Or that the sun could be so demanding? “Linette needs help shelling peas. We’re all going down to the cookhouse to help.”
“Well, have fun.”