Delighted with the attention, Johnny grinned. “The contest. My pa’s having a contest. Best shooting gets a brand-new saddle blanket. A red one. You’re going to win, ain’t you?”
“I wasn’t figuring on it.”
“How come? Nobody shoots better’n you. It’s a real nice blanket, too.”
“Go on, Jake.” Maggie gave him a slap on the arm.
“The boy’s counting on you.”
“I don’t shoot for sport.” He meant to walk on, but he saw Johnny’s face fall. “A red blanket?”
The boy’s eyes lit instantly. “Yessiree, about the prettiest one I ever seen.”
“I guess we could look.” Before the sentence was complete, Johnny had him by the hand and was pulling him across the street.
At the back of the store Cody had set up empty bottles and cans of varying sizes. Each contestant stood behind a line drawn in the dirt and took his best six shots. Broken glass littered the ground already. “It costs two bits to enter,” Johnny told him. “I got a short bit if you need it.”
Jake looked at the dime the boy offered. The gesture touched him in a way that only those who had been offered very little through life would have understood. “Thanks, but I think I got two bits.”
“You can shoot better than Jim Carlson. He’s winning now.” Johnny glanced over to where Jim was showing off a fancy railman’s spin with his shiny new Smith amp; Wesson.44. “Can you do that?”
“Why? It doesn’t help you shoot any better.” He flipped a quarter to Johnny. “Why don’t you go put my name down?”
“Yessir. Yessiree.” He took time out to have a friendly shoving match with another boy, then raced away.
“Going to shoot for the blanket?” Lucius asked from behind him.
“Thinking about it.” But he was watching Jim
Carlson. He remembered that Jim rode a big white gelding. Jake had seen the gleam of a white horse riding away the night Sarah’s shed had burned.
Lucius tipped his hat to Maggie. “Ma’am.”
“That you, Lucius? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you with that beard shaved.”
He colored up and stepped away. “I guess a man can shave now and then without a body gawking at him.”
“I forgot you had a face under there,” Jake commented as he watched Will Metcalf hit four out of six bottles. “You looking for a new red blanket, too?” “Nope. Just thought I’d come around and tell you Hurt Donley rode into town.”
Only his eyes changed. “Is that so? I thought he was in Laramie.”
“Not anymore. He came this way while you were in New Mexico. Started working for Carlson.”
In an easy move, Jake turned and scanned the area behind him. “Donley doesn’t punch cattle.”
“Hasn’t been known to. Could be Carlson hired him to do something else.”
“Could be,” Jake murmured, watching Donley walk toward the crowd.
He was a big man, burly at the shoulders, thick at the waist. He wore his graying hair long, so long it merged with his beard. And he was fast. Jake had good reason to know just how fast. If the law hadn’t stepped in two years before, one of them would be dead now. “Heard you had some trouble a while back.”
“Some.” Through the crowd, Jake’s eyes met Donley’s.
They didn’t need words. There was unfinished business between them.
As she stood beside Liza, Sarah watched Jake. And shivered. Something had come into his eyes. Something cold and deadly and inevitable. Then the crowd roared when the next contestant shattered all six bottles. “Oh, look.” Liza gave Sarah a quick shake.
“Jake’s going to shoot. I know it’s wrong, but I’ve always wanted to see how he does it. You hear such stories. There was one-” Her mouth fell open when he drew his right hand and fired.
“I didn’t even see him take it out,” she whispered.
“It was just in his hand, quick as a blink.”
“He hit them all.” Sarah wrapped her shawl tighter around her. He had hardly moved. His gun was still smoking when he slid it back in place.
Donley strode over, flipped a quarter and waited until more targets were set. Sarah watched his big hand curl over the butt of his gun. Then he drew and fired.
“Goodness. He hit all of them, too. That leaves Dave Jeffrey, Jim Carlson, Jake and Burt Donley.” “Who is he?” she asked, wondering why Jake looked like he wanted to kill him. “The big man in the leather vest.”
“Donley? He works for Samuel Carlson. I’ve heard talk about him, too. The same kind of talk as you hear about Jake. Only…”
“Only?”
“Well, you know how I told you Johnny’s been tagging after Jake, pestering him and talking his ear off? I can’t say it worries me any. But if he got within ten feet of Burt Donley I’d skin him alive.”
The crowd shifted as Cody brought the line back five feet. When the first man aimed and fired, missing two bottles, Sarah saw Johnny tug on Jake’s arm and whisper something. To her surprise, Jake grinned and ruffled the boy’s hair. There it was again, she thought. That goodness. That basic kindness. Yet she remembered the look that had come into his eyes only moments before.
Who are you? she wanted to ask.
As if he’d heard her, Jake turned his head. Their eyes met and held. She felt a flood of emotions rise up uncontrollably and again wished she could hate him for that alone.
“You keep looking at her like that,” Maggie murmured at his side, “you’re going to have to marry her or ride fast in the other direction.”
“Shut up, Maggie.”
She smiled as sweetly as if he’d kissed her cheek. “Just thought you’d like to know that Sam Carlson ain’t too pleased by the way you two are carrying on.” Jake’s gaze shifted and met Carlson’s. He had come up to stand behind Sarah and lay a proprietary hand on her shoulder. Jake considered allowing himself the pleasure of shooting him for that alone. “He’s got no claim.”
“Not for lack of trying. Better move fast, boyo.” The onlookers cheered again as Jim Carlson nipped five out of six targets.
Taking his time, Jake reloaded his pistol, then moved to the line. The six shots sounded almost like one. When he lowered his Colt, six bottles had been shattered.
Donley took his place. Six shots, six hits.
The line was moved farther back.
“They can’t do it from here,” Liza whispered to Sarah. “No one could.”
Sarah just shook her head. It wasn’t a game any more. There was something between the two men, something much deeper, much darker, than a simple contest of skill. Others sensed it, too. She could hear the murmur of the crowd and see the uneasy looks. Jake moved behind the line. He scanned the targets, judging the distance, taking mental aim. Then he did what he did best. He drew and fired on instinct. Bottles exploded, one by one. There was nothing left but a single jagged base. Without pausing, he drew his other gun and shattered even that.
There was silence as Donley stepped forward. He drew, and the gun kicked in his hand with each shot. When he was done, a single bottle remained unbroken. “Congratulations, Redman.” Cody brought the blanket over, hoping to dispel some of the tension. Relief made him let out his breath audibly when Sheriff Barker strolled over.
“That was some shooting, boys.” He gave each man a casual nod. Will Metcalf stood at his shoulder as directed. “Good to get it out of your system with a few bottles. Either one of you catches a bullet tonight, there’s sure no way I can doubt who put it there.”
The warning was given with a smile that was friendly enough. Behind Sarah, Carlson gave a quick shake of his head. Without speaking, Donley made his way through the crowd, which parted for him.
“I ain’t never seen nobody shoot like that.” Johnny looked up at Jake with awe and wonder in his eyes. Jake tossed the blanket to him. “There you go.”
His eyes widened even farther. “I can have it?”
“You got a horse, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I got me a bay pony.”
“Red ought to look real nice on a bay. Why don’t you go see?”