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RISING EARLY THE NEXT day, Lena settled herself at her desk, determined to write a letter to Jessie. She planned to ask Mr. Baxter to deliver it once he arrived in Hailey. As she picked up her pen, gazing out the window for inspiration, she saw Evan riding up the road leading Rosie. Laying aside her pen, she walked out onto the porch to greet him.
“Lena, I want you to take a ride with me. We won't be gone long. Think I can have you back by noon. Can you put on that old jacket of Nash's and some sensible pants?” His inviting smile pushed away all thoughts of letter writing.
“What do you have in mind?”
Evan leaned forward, resting his arm on the saddle horn, the smile touching his eyes with a merry light. “Why ma'am, if you're determined to become a frontier woman, I think it stands to reason you know how to shoot a gun. Have you?”
“Shot a gun?” Lena asked, incredulous.
“Shot a gun, yes, ma'am.”
“Well, no. Do you really think it's necessary?”
Evan's eyebrow lifted at that. “Remember that cub you saw a few weeks back, the one you thought was so adorable?”
“Yes.”
“Well, its mama or some other cub's mama, ripped the door off a cabin a little farther up the creek here. Started rampaging through the kitchen. No one was home at the time, so it didn't become the problem it could have. And what if something goes after your chickens? Are you going to throw a frying pan at a two-hundred-pound cougar?”
“I'll just be a moment.”
“Wait!” Evan took a step to Lena's side.
“What? What am I doing wrong?” Lena continued to tilt her head with her eye on the sights of the Remington carbine, afraid to move her head from the position he'd recommended.
“You're doing fine, Lena. I just don't want you to hurt yourself with the recoil. It won't be as bad as the shotgun Nash has over the fireplace, but . . . well, here, let me show you.” He moved her right arm farther back, adjusting the butt to touch her shoulder.
“But won't that hurt more?”
“Not as likely. Now just keep your eye on the sights and squeeze the trigger, nice and slow. And keep your feet a little farther apart for balance. Okay?”
Lena held her breath, trying to remember everything. She put a gentle pressure on the trigger, but it resisted more than she'd expected. The tensed muscle in her finger twitched, the explosion of powder rocking her back on her heels. She looked around at Evan with wide eyes and the faintest suggestion of a smile. “I did it!”
Evan nodded. “Yes, ma'am you pulled the trigger.” He looked toward the target and she followed his gaze. “Next time, you want to try hitting the target.”
Her excitement cooled a bit as she saw the can still sitting solidly on the rock. She swung back to him, the gun now pointing at Evan's stomach.
“Hold on!” Evan yelped and skittered to the side. He reached for the gun, gently redirecting the barrel. “Always assume a gun is loaded, which, by the way, it is.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She lowered the barrel, looking chagrined.
He gave her a reassuring grin. “Why don't you try again.”
After going through half a box of ammunition, only three cans showed any damage. Lena looked over at him, her disappointment evident. “I'm not very good, am I?”
Evan drew his hand from his face where he'd been stroking it more steadily with every missed shot. “Well, let's just say the wildlife haven't much to worry them until you can aim a little better.” He saw her expression fall a bit farther. “But you'll probably be able to scare them off if you just keep firing—and the gun doesn't jam.” The last part he muttered under his breath.
“Sorry.” She handed the gun back to Evan.
“That's okay, really. You just need to keep practicing. Maybe go out to the creek behind the house and pick a log you can shoot at every day for a while.” Squinting at the cans still sitting undamaged upon the rock, he added, “And maybe we should try the shotgun next time.”
Arriving back at the house, Lena slipped from the saddle, looking far less awkward than she had on their first outing. Handing Rosie's reins to Evan, she asked him, “I know we haven't mentioned it for two weeks, but I would like to know something. Your opinion does matter to me. Taking me out today, to teach me to shoot, was that because you aren't opposed to my staying through the winter, as you once were?”
Evan fingered the reins for a moment before meeting her gaze. “Lena, you're a strong-willed woman. I'm not saying that's bad. It'll sure make the battle you're going to be up against easier if you are strong and determined about your decision. But what I said about the challenges, even to your survival—I still hold to those warnings. This isn't a friendly place for women alone—or anyone, really.”
Gambit snorted his impatience, emphasizing with an irritable stomp of a foreleg. Lena lay her hand gently behind his soft ear and stroked him. She turned his words over in her mind, before saying softly, “But you haven't really answered the question.”
Evan sat up straighter in the saddle, gathering the reins in his hands. “I'm thinking that this house is your gambit. You're willing to risk everything on keeping it and making a go of it here. I'm just trying to help you hedge your bet.”
Lena stepped back as Gambit lifted his head, clearly feeling the soft pressure of the bit giving him the signal that they were about to move.
“I'll see you this evening. Got some things to do.” With that, Evan turned the horse's head to the road back to town.
From the top step of the porch, she watched him go, a man so apparently comfortable in his skin and his place in the world. She envied him, envied his confidence in his abilities to do most everything that would ensure his survival in the world. Just by being a man, he had an edge on that survival, an edge she would never possess. She felt the sting of the disparity and her analytical mind sought for a way to enhance her odds. He'd called it a gambit.
She swung around, taking in the wide front porch, the spacious windows, the sturdy structure she'd claimed for her own. This permanence and stability was what she longed for when she'd first read of Mr. Nash's offer to join him in his endeavor. Was it worth the risk? Was it truly the answer to her longing?
The fading sound of Gambit's strong hooves beating out a steady rhythm with Rosie's quieter ones keeping a harmonious cadence beside him, drew her gaze back to the road. Evan's body seemed to flow with the stallion's movements, his rise and fall matching perfectly the horse's gait.
As the facets of her heart and mind struggled to align, she feared that no single gain would be enough.
Gambit's nicker reminded Evan that he'd not given the stallion his usual grain after their ride out that morning. “Sorry, boy. Think I'm distracted.” He scooped a measure into the horse's bucket, then resting his arms on the stall door, watched Gambit wiggle his lips seeking out every morsel. Gambit looked up at him, grain and drool seeping from the corners of his mouth.
“So, should I have told her to leave, Gambit? Was it selfish of me not to?”
Gambit stared at him a while before dropping his head to seek out another mouthful of sweet grain, ignoring the question.
“So, you refuse to give an opinion too? Must be us men. We'll think it, but not say it, right?”
There was still no answer from the stallion, but the mare called out her disapproval of Evan's favoritism.
Shoveling another scoop of grain, Evan dropped it before the little mare. For just a moment, he could have sworn her look had an extra measure of scorn.
Evan raised a hand to his face to scratch at a day's growth of whiskers. As he'd stood before the mirror yesterday, he'd reminded himself why a man grew a beard up here as he put the razor to the side, unused. Pride didn't keep away frostbite. Hefting Gambit's saddle, he went back to work setting his tack to rights.
The barn door creaked open, admitting a draft of cold wind, lifting and redepositing the loose straw strewn about the floor. Naomi, dressed in a man's canvas coat and sensible boots, entered, tugging a heavy scarf away from her face as she did. She looked smaller than usual, dwarfed in winter clothes too big for her petite frame.
“Naomi, what brings you out here?” Evan stood, stretching expansively. The tiny stool he'd been using while oiling and mending an old pack harness did not agree with his spine. He welcomed the interruption.
“Good morning, Evan.” She threw a glance over her shoulder, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the thin disk hovering high in the sky behind her. “Well, I guess I should make that, good afternoon.”
“Were you looking for me?” Evan scrubbed the oil from his hands onto a dirty rag.
“Well you might flatter yourself to think so.” Probably more out of habit than true flirtation, she arched her neck and winked at him. The next moment, artifice dissolved and her years suddenly showed in the anxiety creasing her face. “Truth is, you are a good sight at a time like this.”
“What's going on?”
“I really thought the girls and I could hold out till spring, but things are bad, Evan. Have you seen how many wagons have been heading down that trail to Ketchum and Hailey? I just don't think we can stick it out. Truth is, I'm here about hiring a wagon, or buying one if I can't.”
“What will you do?” Evan knew how much she'd invested in the house, losing it would be quite a blow.
“Start over, I guess. Sell it to them that wants it for the lumber and windows and such. Scrap is about all it's worth now.”
“Hailey?”
“No, I think I'll go back to Boise City and take any of the girls who want to come along.”
“That's a hard choice. Know you've put a lot into this place.”
“Been thinking I might try a different line of work, you know? I've gotten pretty good at designing clothes and hats for the girls, since none of these fine shops will see fit to serve our kind.”
Her tone held less bitterness than he would have expected in those last words. She just seemed to be reporting a fact. “So, you're thinking of setting up business in Boise? Certainly is a big enough town for it.”
“Maybe at first, I'll just take in some mending, just to earn some respectability, you know. But later, maybe try my hand at the millinery trade. That's my fancy.”
Evan searched her face, seeing a spark of hope flickering there, hope to start again. He gave her a warm smile, unable to resist pulling her to his side in a brotherly hug. “You're an amazing woman, Naomi.”
She pulled away, swiping at her eye with a sleeve. “It's a long road from here to there.”
He knew she referred to more than the road over the pass to Boise City. She'd have to navigate the wags and busybodies who would try to pry into her past. “Who's going to handle the wagon for you? You'll need something more than a buggy to carry all your things and a few passengers, I expect.”
The crease between her eyes deepened. “Have to manage that, just like the rest of the details.”
Evan pulled a hand to his unshaved face for only a moment, his mind already decided. “I'll drive you.”
Looking up at him, Naomi's face could not have registered more surprise if he'd asked her to a church social. “You'd do that?”
Evan shrugged. “Why not? You surely need the help. You don't think I can manage the team?” He gave her a lopsided grin.
“Evan Hartmann, you know that ain't it at all.” She stared at him for long thoughtful moments. “I never knew a man with a heart as big as yours. And I gotta' tell you, the idea of drivin' a team up and over that mountain about takes the nerves right outta' me.” She twisted her hands together. “Evan, I'd be grateful beyond words if you'd do that for us. Can't pay you much, but what I can, I will!”
“We'll talk about that later. Why don't you go on back and do your packing while I see about renting a wagon for you?” He turned from her as though everything was settled, but her voice called him back.
“Evan, you are the straightest man I ever knew. God in heaven must have known this ramshackle excuse for a city needed a guardian angel when he sent the likes of you here.” She turned on her heel without giving Evan a chance to reply.
