It was close to six when Jo came out onto the porch, a wide smile on her face. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had that much drop-in traffic. You worked magic, Ambrose.”
“Everyone loves a show, particularly the tourists, and this time of year they pass right by here on their way to the national tribal powwow in Albuquerque. That’s a huge draw.”
“You could make some good money selling stuff there,” Jo said.
“Maybe, but I haven’t wanted to travel to the city lately. It’s a long trip and I don’t want that much time alone to think.”
“Yeah, I hear that,” she said.
“What’s going on, Jo? When I took a restroom break, I noticed the rifle in your office. And I saw that tribal cop stop by.”
“He wanted to ask me about last night,” Jo explained, then filled him in on what had happened at her house and why she was now traveling to work with a rifle handy.
“Look, sweetheart, I live less than twenty minutes from your place. If you’re in trouble, call me.”
“Ben mentioned that you promised to keep an eye on us here, but you don’t really have to do that.”
“You’re wrong, Jo, I do. Ben and I are friends and that means something to both of us. If our situations were reversed, I know I could count on him to help me—no matter how tough it got. I have no intention of letting him down, so use speed dial. I can get there faster than most cops and I’m a good man to have beside you in a fight.”
“I have no doubt of that,” she said.
“Good. Now I’m going to talk to Leigh Ann. I think she needs a friend, too.”
Jo nodded slowly. “She’s investigating some stuff related to her late husband and getting in way over her head. She’s proud, too much so if you ask me, but sometimes pride’s the only thing a person has left.”
“Yeah, and we both know what that’s like, don’t we?” He looked back at the table. “I finished three pieces this afternoon and Samantha put them on display. I know there was a lot of interest, but did any of them actually sell?”
“All of them,” Jo said with a grin. “I can cut you a check before you leave.”
“Good enough. Let me get my tools and torch packed up, then I’ll grab another mineral water and talk to Leigh Ann while I wait.”
“I’ll send someone to help.”
Jo went back inside, and a minute later, Leigh Ann came out. “I sure wish you’d stop by more often,” she said.
“For my wares?” he said, teasing her as he buttoned up his shirt.
“Yeah—all of them,” Leigh Ann answered, laughing.
“So, tell me, Leigh Ann, what’s happening with you lately? I ran into Rachel at the Bullfrog,” he said, lowering his voice. “She said you’re now packing a .38 for protection?”
“Rachel has a big mouth.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m just easy to talk to, or haven’t you noticed? Women know they don’t have anything to worry about around me.”
“But they can still dream, huh?”
“All they want. It’s free,” he said with an irrepressible grin. “It’s a great ego boost, too.”
She smiled.
“Rachel hinted that you were having problems, and that the law had been paying visits. You going to tell me what’s up?”
“The short version,” she said, and briefly explained about Kurt’s stash and the subsequent events.
“That sucks, darlin’.”
“Yeah, major league. But it is what it is. That’s why I’ve started carrying a .38.”
“How long as it been since you fired a revolver?”
“I don’t know … high school? Kurt was a rifleman and that’s what we’d always shoot at the range. I don’t remember him having a revolver at all until the .38 turned up. To be honest, I don’t even know if he got it legally.”
“I didn’t hear that.”
“I never said it,” Leigh Ann whispered, wishing she’d just learn to keep her mouth shut.
“I’m a member of the Zia Shooting Range—this side of Farmington. Why don’t we go over there and practice?”
“I don’t know … I was planning to run some errands,” she said. Target practice was something she and Kurt had done together and she really didn’t want to stir up old memories.
“If you’re going to be carrying that .38 around, Leigh Ann, loading, unloading, and firing it has to be second nature to you or you’re likely to shoot yourself.”
“No, I grew up around guns. I shot in competition a few times back in high school, too. Sight picture, trigger control, all that is practically instinctive to me,” she countered, “but you make a good argument. I need to fire this particular revolver and get much better acquainted with it.”
“Let’s go get in some practice.” Seeing Jo listening, he added, “You should come, too, darling. Bring that rifle of yours.”
She considered it and nodded. “All right. I can use a confidence builder. Once the last of the customers leave, we’ll lock up and head on over.”
Several minutes later, Leigh Ann crossed the room to lock the front door and set the alarm. As she did, she saw John and Melvin pulling into a parking spot.
“Whoever’s out there, ask them to come back tomorrow,” Jo called from the back of the store. “We’re closed.”
“It’s John and Melvin,” Leigh Ann answered.
“Were you expecting them?” Jo asked.
“No, I wasn’t.” The men walked up onto the porch and Leigh Ann let them in.
“Hey, Leigh Ann, Jo,” Melvin said, looking in their direction.
“Okay, no way you caught a whiff of my perfume, or even my hair spray. By now both have faded away,” Leigh Ann said, smiling.
“True, but there’s still enough light for me to tell you two apart. Your height, hairstyle, scent, posture; they’re all clues in sorting out the mystery. You work with what you’ve got. We all do the same thing to one extent or another.”
“I see keys in hand, so I’m guessing everyone here’s about to leave, Melvin,” John said, “so we should shove off, too. I’m already late.”
“Since you’re in a hurry, John, would you like me to give Melvin a ride somewhere?” Leigh Ann asked, guessing what had prompted the visit and eager to enjoy some more time with Melvin.
“John’s got a date tonight,” Melvin said, “and we took too long running errands.”
“We were about to go with Ambrose to the shooting range and take in some target practice,” Leigh Ann said, “but I can hold off on that and take you home or wherever you need to go.”
“No, don’t bother. Getting some target practice in is a real good idea, all things considered,” Melvin said. “If you let me come along, and someone can give me a ride home afterwards, I’ll be happy to buy everyone dinner.”
Knowing Melvin needed to get his swamp cooler fixed, Leigh Ann decided to decline. “I have some things I need to do later tonight, so let me take you home once we’re finished, okay?”
“I’ve got plans, too,” Jo said. “I’ve got to catch up on some paperwork.”
“Well, I can give you a ride to the range and then back to your place, bro,” Ambrose said. “That should entitle me to a Navajo taco, chips, and salsa.”
Melvin laughed. “You got it, Ambrose,” he said, then added, “John, we’re good here. Go ahead and take off to meet your lady friend.”
After John left, Leigh Ann started to take Melvin’s arm so she could lead him outside, but Ambrose stepped in and put his hand on Melvin’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy, do you still have a thing for classic cars?”
“Sure. I just enjoy them in a different way. Engine sounds, acceleration, four on the floor, the room of a bench instead of sunken-down seats. They’re all good.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. I just restored the interior and there’s acres of legroom,” he said, taking Melvin to his truck.
Leigh Ann watched them, lost in thought. She had a feeling Ambrose wanted to talk to Melvin about something specific. Wondering what it could be, she walked to her Jeep.
* * *
Melvin climbed into the passenger’s side of Ambrose’s truck with ease, thanks to the running board.
“I like your truck already. The bench seats and back are comfortable, and the leather has that new smell.”
“I oil the hell out of it,” Ambrose said.
“So what’s on your mind. My gut tells me it’s something important.”
“Yeah, it is. I promised Ben I’d keep an eye on the trading post family, but I’ve got my hands full with Jo. I was hoping you’d stick closer to Leigh Ann until we can get a better handle on whatever’s going down.”
“Something else has happened, hasn’t it?” Melvin asked.
“Yeah. Somebody tried to set fire to Jo’s house late last night. Thankfully the noise woke her and she was able to run the guy off. Tribal cops are investigating.”
“I’ll stay close to Leigh Ann, but I need you to do something for me. Keep a sharp eye on how she handles and fires that revolver. She talks a good game, but if she’s a bigger danger to herself than an attacker could be, I’m going to try to convince her to lock it up somewhere.”
“All right. Let’s see how it goes,” Ambrose said.
“I wish she’d stay with me and let the detectives do their jobs, but that’s not going to happen.”
“You’ve asked her to move in?”
“No, we’re not there in our relationship yet,” Melvin answered, “but even if we were, she wouldn’t do it. She’s hell-bent on finding her own answers. My going to her place won’t help either. I’m not familiar with the layout. I’d be … a liability,” he said, spitting out the word.
“Somehow I doubt it. Your other senses help make up for what you can’t see, and in a dark room, you’re an equal.”
“To a degree, yes,” Melvin said, “but what I lost to that drunk driver still puts me at a disadvantage. I know my limitations—that’s how I overcome them.”
“Our biggest problem is that we’re fighting an unseen enemy.”
“And that’s where the playing field levels,” Melvin said with a grin.
* * *
Once they’d all reached the shooting range—a collection of firing locations and small buildings surrounded by a massive fifteen-foot-high earthen berm—Leigh Ann bought a box of ammunition for her .38 at the clubhouse.
From there Ambrose led them to the rifle range, a row of wooden tables along a firing line about fifty yards away. Jo carried her rifle, and in her jacket pocket was the nearly full box of shells she’d had in her car.
As they walked toward the site, Ambrose described what they’d be facing. “The target stands downrange are spaced at one hundred, three hundred, and five hundred yards. You think you can handle the hundred? I’ve got some fifty-foot bull’s-eye pistol targets in my truck. They’ll do for practice.”
“It should be a nice challenge with my rifle. Sure,” Jo replied.
They went to their assigned table—actually one of ten shooter’s bench rests along the firing line. The club wasn’t crowded and soon a cease-fire was announced over the loudspeaker, which allowed Ambrose to set up their targets.
“I think I know what’s on your mind, Ambrose,” Jo said when he returned to the firing line. “You want to be able to tell Ben that I can handle the rifle and safely defend myself. He was a sniper for his first deployment, so he’d worry about that.”
Leigh Ann squinted. “That sucker’s way out there, Jo. It’s nothing more than a little black dot. And you’ve got open sights. We didn’t bring a spotting scope, so how can we tell if you’re even close?”
“Ten-power binoculars,” Ambrose said, bringing them out of his pocket. “I can see the bullet holes from here—if you manage to punch the paper, that is.”
“Just stand back and watch the target,” Jo said, sitting down and taking her position at the bench rest as the range officer announced the range was ‘hot.’
They stepped back to the observer’s position and Ambrose watched as she levered a round into the chamber of the Winchester Model 1894, took careful aim and squeezed off a round. Carefully feeding in another round, she took a second shot, then set the rifle down on the wooden bench and looked at Ambrose. “Well?”
Ambrose lowered the binoculars. “One’s dead center, in the ten. Can’t find where the other round hit.”
“Look again,” Jo said calmly.
“There’s one hole, darling.”
“Keep looking.”
Ambrose lifted the binoculars to his eyes again, then whistled low. “Twins. They’re next to each other, almost touching. I thought it was just one big hole.”
“Even when shooting offhand, I generally hit what I aim for,” Jo said quietly, “and I sight in this rifle once a year. Before my dad took ill, we went deer hunting every season. Never came home empty-handed, either.”
“I didn’t know you liked to go hunting,” Ambrose said. “Maybe you and I—”
She held up a hand. “That’s history now. All things considered, I prefer to bring home my meat nicely wrapped in butcher paper.”
Ambrose laughed. “I understand. For the past few years, except for paper targets, all I’ve been shooting are sheet-metal critters, where you have to tip them over to score points.” He glanced at Leigh Ann. “Now that we’ve established Jo doesn’t need the practice, what do you say we move over to the handgun range?”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Leigh Ann said, suddenly more conscious of the weight of the revolver and the box of bullets in her purse.
They walked away from the rifle range and a few minutes later arrived at their new stations in the section reserved for pistols.
Ambrose was carrying a hard plastic case that contained his shooting paraphernalia and he sat it down on his bench, which was adjacent to Leigh Ann’s. “There are target stands set up at twenty-five, fifty, seventy-five, and a hundred yards. I’ve got all kinds of range-approved targets here to choose from, everything from bull’s-eyes to paper practice silhouettes of chickens, pigs, turkeys, and rams. What do you want to shoot at, Leigh Ann?”
She hesitated, placing her purse on her shooting bench and bringing out the new ammo.
“How about if we work our way up to the harder targets? We begin at twenty-five yards with the chicken silhouettes, then switch to fifty with the pigs?” He smiled. “And we can compete, if you want.”
She nodded. “I’m game. What do you have in mind?”
“We get five shots at each distance, starting with the chickens, and score one point each time we’re in the black. We’ll also use the same weapon—your revolver—since it wouldn’t be fair for me to use my Colt 1911 competition .45,” he said. “The one who accumulates the most points win.”
“Wait a sec. It’s not a fair match. You’ve won championships—” Jo began.
“No, it’s okay,” Leigh Ann said. “Let’s see how it goes. At least we’ll be using the same pistol and ammunition. If I win, you help me clean out my attic, Ambrose. Deal?”
“Yeah, you’ve got it. And if I win?”
“I’ll wash and wax your truck two Sundays in a row.”
“Done,” Ambrose said, bringing out the targets. They were the only shooters now, so a cease-fire was already in effect.
Melvin moved closer to her as Ambrose went downrange to set up the targets. “You walked right into that,” he said. “Last year Ambrose won the state championship in metallic silhouette competition, beating an ATF agent in a shoot-off.”
“I used to be pretty good, too.…”
A few minutes later, once the range was hot, Leigh Ann began to load the .38. A familiar voice greeted her. She turned her head and saw Wayne Hurley standing on the access path, Pierre Boone beside him.
“I didn’t know you were into handgun shooting, Leigh Ann,” Wayne said, greeting her with a smile.
“I’m just here to see if I still remember…”
Pierre Boone spoke up next. “Fancy meeting you here!”
She shrugged, uneasy now. The good news, at least, was that she was the one who was armed. All they were carrying were shopping bags with the range logo on them. The bad news was that it seemed a little coincidental. Had Wayne and Pierre followed them here?
“Mind if we watch for a few minutes?” Wayne asked.
“Go right ahead,” she replied. It would let them know she was ready and able to defend herself if necessary. Hopefully everything she’d learned way back as a member of the junior NRA would come flooding back to her.
Melvin and Jo were standing farther down the path, remaining behind the firing line at the designated distance for observers. Ambrose, meanwhile, ignored the newcomers and opened up the box with his supplies.
They were tied after the first round and Ambrose gave Leigh Ann a more respectful look. “You’re a natural. Nine out of ten for both of us. So what do you say we complicate things a little more and up the difficulty factor?”
She nodded and glanced back at the box. “How about pistol competition, fifty-yard slow fire? High score wins.”
“Uh-oh, I think I’ve been hustled,” Ambrose said.
“Maybe,” she said, smiling. There was already a cease-fire, so he picked up two targets and used a staple gun to fasten them in place.
Since she’d chosen the range and targets, Ambrose went first, firing double action, which was more difficult because without cocking the hammer first, the trigger pull was heavier.
Equipped with his binoculars, she announced that he’d grouped all six shots in the center of the black circle in an area roughly the size of a fist.
“Think you can top that?” he baited her with a grin.
“Don’t know,” Leigh Ann said honestly, setting down the binoculars.
She fired carefully, cocking back the hammer then firing single action, which gave her more of a light, hair-trigger pull. It was slow, noncombat mode, but she maintained accuracy.
After the cease-fire, Ambrose retrieved the targets, brought them over into the shade, and Jo tallied up the points. “So far you two are still tied.”
“Really?” Leigh Ann said, surprised. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the guarded look Pierre and Wayne exchanged.
“Okay, let’s go again, but we’ll finish up with a different kind of target,” Ambrose said, bringing out police silhouettes.
“Ugh,” Leigh Ann said.
“Problem?” Ambrose said.
“Don’t you have any more of the competition targets? Black dots are fine, but I hate the people-shaped ones. To me, those have a dark side that makes it less of a game. You get points for shooting in the head or heart area. The more deadly, the better. Ick.”
Wayne laughed loudly and said, “It’s okay, hon. You just don’t have the killer instinct.”
Pierre came up to the shooter’s bench and patted her on the back. “You done good, girl. This kind of competition just isn’t your thing. I remember Kurt saying that you wouldn’t even play first-person shooter video games with him.”
“That’s true, but I can shoot. If it came down to it, I would defend myself.”
Pierre shook his head. “I think you’d hesitate, Leigh Ann. You’d lose—just like you’re about to do today,” he added quietly.
She suppressed a shudder. His voice had reminded her of the sound made by a rattler poised to strike. If he’d meant to creep her out, he’d succeeded. She was relieved when he stepped back to the path.
“If you want, we’ll aim for the torso instead of the head,” Ambrose said.
“Good idea.” It was time to prove her skills. Taking a position at the firing line, she shot six times. When they tallied the results, her rounds were mostly clustered around the X at the center of the target. Two, however, had gone in the circle outside that, still in the torso, but earning her nine points each instead of ten.
“Nice, Leigh Ann,” Wayne said. “You’ve got a score of fifty-eight—almost perfect.”
Ambrose took his position on the firing line. When his target was checked, all six shots were in a tight cluster in the ten circle, making his score a sixty.
He joined her seconds later, handing back the .38, barrel up for safety, plus the six shell casings.
Pierre came up and patted her on the shoulder as she placed the weapon back in her purse. “Good try, Leigh Ann.”
She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but she could have sworn she’d heard a sneer winding through his words.
“See you later, all. Wayne and I need to take off now,” Pierre said.
“I’m going to give you a pass on the truck,” Ambrose whispered. “You were at a disadvantage with those two watching over your shoulder, sending bad vibes.”
“Nah, a bet’s a bet,” she said and managed a smile.
“How about a compromise? I’ll help you with the attic and you cook dinner for me and Melvin tonight?”
She smiled and gave Ambrose a quick hug. “You’re all muscle, but inside you’re an old softie.”
He laughed. “Don’t ever let anyone hear you say that.”
“Like it’s a secret?” Jo teased, coming up.
Ambrose laughed.
“I’m going back to the trading post,” Jo said. “I want to email Ben and tell him about tonight, do some work, then head home.”
“Remember that you can call me—day or night,” Ambrose added.
“You’re on my speed dial now,” Jo said, and waved good-bye.
* * *
Two hours later, Ambrose climbed down from the attic, covered in dust. “The truss beam is braced now, sandwiched between those one-by-sixes I found in your shed. I used long wood screws to attach the supports so they should hold just fine. I also dug out the buckshot and filled the holes with wood putty.”
“Thanks, Ambrose. Dinner’s almost done,” Leigh Ann said as Rachel set the table.
“It smells wonderful!” Ambrose said.
“Texas chili,” Leigh Ann said and smiled. “I made homemade tortillas to go with it.”
“She gave me a taste of the chili,” Melvin said. “It’s incredibly good. It has just the right amount of bite in it.”
“With or without beans?” Ambrose asked.
“Get serious, guy. Real Texas chili doesn’t have beans! That’s almost heresy!” Leigh Ann said.
He laughed. “Just testing.”
“We’ve got German beer, too,” Rachel said.
Leigh Ann crossed to the stove and stirred the cast-iron pot. “Whoa, I made enough here for an army. If we don’t get someone else to help us eat all this up, Rache, we’ll be eating leftovers for a week.”
“Too bad Ben isn’t around, he eats enough for three people,” Ambrose pointed out.
“Well, we can’t feed him, but what about Jo? She’s having a real tough time of it lately, and could use a little more company. I gave her a call a while ago and she’s still at the trading post, hoping to get a call from her sweetie. Why don’t we put all this in the Jeep and take it over? We can eat there, do some brainstorming, and see what we can do about our situations.”
“I like that idea,” Ambrose said.
“Let me give her a call and let her know we’re coming,” Leigh Ann said.
Jo answered on the first ring, which told Leigh Ann just how worried her boss and friend was about Ben. “It’s just me again, hon,” she said and told her about their plans.
“Sam’s here, too, working on the computers. If there’s going to be enough for her, too, then come on over,” Jo said.
“Jo, there’s more than enough in that Dutch oven for all of us twice over,” she said, laughing. “I always make extra.”
“Then by all means, get moving. Neither of us has eaten yet, and we’d love sharing your dinner.”
They set out less than five minutes later. By then it was close to eight and the sun had dropped over the horizon.
“I’m still worried about Jo,” Leigh Ann told Melvin, who’d chosen to ride with her to the trading post. “She’s really going through a tough time. Waiting and not knowing creates a hell all its own.”
“I know,” he said, shifting the plastic container with the tortillas and honey he was holding on his lap. On the floorboard was a small cooler containing plates, bowls, and utensils. “That’s why you wanted to take all this over there—comfort food, right? That’s the heart of this meal?”
“Yeah,” she said, and glanced in her rearview mirror at Ambrose and Rachel, who were following in his red pickup. Rachel had custody of the large Dutch oven filled with chili. “I think Jo will enjoy it and she needs friends around her right now.”
“I’ve known Jo for many years and she’s stronger than you think. If she takes a hard enough hit, she may go down, but she’ll always get back up.”
“I agree that she’s a tough cookie, but we all have our limits. Even you.”
He reached out and touched her arm gently. “I’m fine, and you need to stop worrying so much.”
That simple touch sent an intoxicating warmth through Leigh Ann. She needed Melvin, he brought something into her life she’d never had before—tenderness and gentleness.
“Jo has her tribe, her clan, and the teachings of our people to sustain her. In that respect, she may be better equipped to deal with hard times than you are. You tough it out—but she has a support system in place. Of course you have one, too, but it’s harder for you to accept it. There are people, like me, who’d be beside you every step of the way if you’d allow it.”
In the privacy of the Jeep, she was acutely aware of everything about him. She felt alive and filled with a curious sense of expectation … or maybe it was hope. She wanted things to work out for her and Melvin, but there were still obstacles in the way, and not just the assaults on her following the discovery of Kurt’s legacy. If only she could get him to break down his own barriers and let her in.
With a burst of determination, she shut the door on those thoughts. She had to stay focused, now more than ever. “Relying on others is hard for me. I’m not used to it and the one time I did, it was a disaster.”
“Kurt?”
She nodded. “I should have known better, but I was young and tired of always having to be the strong one at home. I wanted to marry my hero, the man who promised I’d never have to worry about anything because he’d always take care of me,” she said, and added, “Rachel and I went through really hard times back in Texas.”
“You never told me about that,” he said.
“Even now, looking back is difficult,” she said. “Dad was far from perfect, but Mom loved him and so did we. Then one day he decided he wasn’t cut out for family life. He just split. Mom was never the same after that. She did her best by us though, and worked as long as she could, even after she got sick. I was only twelve and Rachel, eleven, but we took care of her.” She took a deep breath. “Mom’s disability check didn’t go far, so we got whatever little jobs we could get to keep food on the table.”
“Nobody helped you out?”
“Our town was dirt poor, but neighbors helped us fix up the house and drove us places when we needed it. As for my relatives … not so much. They all had a million excuses,” she said, then jutting out her jaw, recaptured her determination. “The mess I’m facing now comes from my own bad choices, and I have to clean things up. It’s time for me to stop looking for someone to come to my rescue. I’ve got to be my own hero.”
“I understand where you’re coming from. After what you’ve been through it’s hard for you to trust, and accept help from a friend. Pride, and the fear that it’ll make you dependent on someone else, sometimes gets in your way. Like they say, it takes one to know one.”
Leigh Ann glanced at him, then back at the road, realizing he’d given her another clue to what was holding him back. They were two souls wounded by life and looking for redemption … or maybe a miracle.
Nothing else was forthcoming, though, and if her ability to read his expression meant anything, he was brooding. A long silence settled over them, and lasted until they arrived at The Outpost.