Chapter 10

Neelie dragged a soapy cloth over the table, her nerves as twitchy as a trigger finger in a showdown. Walking the trail today, she’d shared some of her frustrations with Anna, who said all she and Ian needed was more time alone. They’d no sooner set up camp, before Caleb and Anna took Davonna and the children to practice for the upcoming Independence Day relay races.

“If the table’s not clean by now, it never will be.”

Heat rushing into her face, Neelie glanced at the three-legged stool where Ian sat, whittling on a piece of wood. “I already washed it?”

He nodded, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “And all the dishes and pots.”

He’d been watching her. It shouldn’t matter whether he kept track of what she did. It didn’t matter, really. But it felt good to know he at least cared enough to notice her.

“Without the children and your mother here, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Ian pointed to an empty stool. “Come sit down and relax. Rhoda would quilt or do mend—” He stopped mid-word, a frown deepening the lines framing his mouth. “I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”

Neelie laid the cloth out to dry on the table. “I confess, comparisons to her do upset me. I always come up short.”

Ian set his knife and carving on the ground and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I was wrong to blame you for my children’s behavior the other day, and my mother’s fall was an accident.”

Neelie glanced at the cloth, wanting to scrub something. “We’re not ourselves when we’re grieving.”

“Rhoda isn’t coming back. I know that. I buried her.” He walked to the other end of the table. “And I am glad you’re here.”

She felt her mouth drop open and quickly closed it.

“Despite my thoughtless accusations, you’re good with the children. And Mither really likes you.”

Of course he was glad she was here. As a nanny to his children and a companion to his mother.

“I’ve not seen you stitch or quilt. What do you do, just for yourself?” He glanced at the guns holstered on her hips. “You shoot things?”

“Yes. But you’ve made it clear that I shouldn’t.”

“I don’t like you to shoot when it causes a stampede. I’m not comfortable in trees.”

“Fair enough.” Was he saying she could take time away from the family for some shooting practice?

Ian glanced at the sky. “There’s plenty of daylight left and no sign of buffalo. What do you say we knock over a few targets?”

“You and me?”

“According to your brother, the preacher, we are married. I’m sure that would fall well within our rights.” A warm smile curved his full lips.

At a loss for words, she simply nodded.

Ian didn’t stand a chance against her. She liked those odds and couldn’t help but smile.

Pulling the horse around, Ian guided his palomino toward the riverbank for some target shooting. They’d let the captain know they’d be shooting and from which direction. Ian carried his Colt revolving rifle in a scabbard strapped to the saddle. He couldn’t say when he’d been this excited about an outing.

Neelie rode the chestnut mare, Rhoda’s favorite. A sack of bottles hung, clinking, from the saddle horn, and the brim of her sombrero bounced with each clomp of the horse’s hooves. The cross-draw revolvers rode high and ready at her slender waist. He’d never actually seen Neelie shoot, but she had nailed a running rabbit with one shot and done it again with a charging cougar. Chances were better than good that she was about to show him up. He’d never pitted his skill against a marksman.

Or a marks woman.

After seeing Neelie wearing that green dress during their wedding ceremony, without holsters, there was no denying she was a woman. A handsome one, at that. A twinge of guilt knotted his stomach. He had no business thinking on such things. She seemed to need his help, and he certainly needed hers—that was why he’d married her. While he had yet to figure out why she’d agreed, he knew it wasn’t because she was expecting … that kind of marriage. Or any modicum of romance, for that matter. She’d confirmed it the very next day when she stepped out of the farm wagon wearing the men’s trousers and shirt.

“Ian?”

Startled out of his thoughts, he drew in a deep breath and looked at her. “Did I miss something?”

“I asked if you’re sure you want to do this.”

“See you shoot? Yes. I’m sure.” It was competition that had him nervous, and being alone with her wasn’t helping matters.

His heart might still belong to Rhoda, but Neelie was his wife now. And she’d already done a lot to help him with the children and Mither, all while he was still mourning. Providing her with a little recreation was the least he could do.

“Well, then, I think we’ve found the perfect place.” Neelie pointed to the embankment about fifty yards away. “We can set the bottles along the ledge about halfway up.”

“Looks good to me.”

When Neelie dismounted, Ian swung down from his horse and looped the reins over a low branch, grabbed his rifle and scabbard, and followed her. She stopped just before reaching the bank wall and turned around. He’d been following closer than he’d realized and had trouble stopping in time to avoid a collision. As he looked down at her, she moistened her lips. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one whose mouth had gone dry.

Neelie reached inside the sack and pulled out a couple of medicine bottles.

“I’ll set some up on the other end.” Ian reached into the sack. When he brushed her thumb, she looked up at him, her face flushing. He turned away.

In awkward silence, they set up a neat row of bottles on the berm and then walked out about thirty yards.

While he pulled his rifle from its scabbard, Neelie shattered the air and the smallest bottle with one shot. A smile lit her face and reached her brown eyes, now sparkling with golden flecks.

“I hope to get in at least one good shot. I do have some manly pride, you know.” Ian lifted the rifle and carefully sighted on the largest of the bottles. Releasing a cloud of smoke, the .44 exploded the bottle.

Neelie’s eyebrows arched as she pulled both revolvers from their holsters and shattered the two targets on the end.

He let out a low whistle. “I am on your good side now, right?”

She tipped her head and grinned. “You’re getting there.”

This outing was one of his better ideas. She was having fun, and so was he. He liked seeing her playful side. And her competitive side.

“No wonder shooting has been your livelihood. You’re really quite good.” He slid the rifle back into the scabbard. “I figure my job is to keep food on the table, and if that big bottle were a stag, I’d be dressing him out by now.”

“I’m sure you would.” Neelie holstered one of her revolvers. “But you never know when you may want to impress your wee ones.” She spun the other revolver then offered him the grip. “Ever shoot a gun like this?”

Ian shook his head. “Never shot a revolver before. I’m a rifle man.”

“Well, if you don’t mind taking tips from a woman, I could give you a couple.”

There was no comparison; Neelie was nothing like Rhoda. He swallowed hard and took the pistol from her. “Teaching this dog new tricks might be more difficult than you think.”

“I’ll take my chances.” After a quick smile, Neelie pressed her hand to his elbow and turned him toward the embankment. Then she set one hand on his forearm and braced his hand with the other.

Suddenly feeling a little light-headed, Ian shifted his weight to his other leg.

Neelie looked up at him. “Relax. Let yourself feel the pistol as an extension of your finger pointing at the target.” A curl the color of honey bounced in front of her ear, not far from her mouth.

She suddenly let go of his arm, and despite the sweat beading on his neck, he felt a chill shimmy up his spine.

He’d been staring, and she didn’t like it.

“We best get back to camp.” Neelie reached for her pistol and seemed almost afraid to touch him.

“Good tips.”

“Thank you.” She holstered her gun and retrieved the two bottles they hadn’t shattered.

As they walked back to their horses in silence, Ian’s light-headedness returned, along with some of Rhoda’s last words. “You will need a wife and the children will need a mother. Let yourself find someone.”

He had.

But Neelie had agreed to a marriage of convenience, and nothing more. Would that be enough?

It would have to be.