CHAPTER 24

Nearly one hundred people thronged around the pie table as the judges—Charles Walker, Bertha Runnels, and Micah Landry—sampled the entries. Much fidgeting and whispering ensued while the three conferred.

At last Charles Walker stepped forward and held up his hands. “Folks, it’s a tough decision, but we’ve decided on the winners. The grand prize, which is that magnificent new set of bakeware over yonder donated by the Paragon Emporium, goes to Augie Moore for his pecan pie.”

Everyone cheered. Augie and Bitsy stood near Ethan, and he grinned at the new restaurateurs.

“Congratulations, Augie.”

The bald, muscular man blushed to the tips of his ears. “Thanks, Sheriff.” He walked up to shake the judges’ hands.

“Folks, the rest of Augie’s pie will be sold by the slice when we’re finished,” Walker said. “Now, as to the best fruit pie, that was very difficult, but we’ve decided on a fresh rhubarb and strawberry pie by Rilla Thistle.”

Again the people cheered and applauded. Mrs. Thistle, her face pink with pleasure, accepted the gift of a new apron, pieced by Orissa Walker.

“And in the cream pie division,” Walker called out, “the judges are unanimous. The set of linen napkins embroidered by Ruth Robinson goes to our very own schoolteacher, Miss Isabel Fennel, for her lemon meringue.”

Isabel gasped and left her father’s side to retrieve her prize.

“Now, folks,” Walker continued, “you know these three are mighty fine cooks. Some of the best eating in town is to be found at the Spur & Saddle and the Fennel House. And Miss Isabel showed her skills, as well, last summer during the opening of the boardinghouse. So you know you’re getting your money’s worth when you pay two bits for a slice of one of these winning pies. The other pies can be had for ten cents a slice. All the proceeds will go toward furnishing and equipping Dr. Kincaid’s new office. So eat up and pay up.”

The doctor stepped up beside Walker for a moment, and the laughter and murmuring stilled.

“Folks, I just want you to know how much I appreciate all you’re doing. The town council has worked with me to help me give you the finest medical care I can. But I didn’t expect the entire town to turn out and support the effort like this. All I can say is thank you, and I’ll be there for you when you need medical attention.”

Everyone clapped as Dr. Kincaid beamed and nodded.

“That’s great,” Walker said. “The ladies will serve the pies now, and I believe Miss Dooley and her helpers will be setting up for the shooting contest while that’s going on.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “Let’s say the first round of the shooting match will begin in thirty minutes.” He looked questioningly at Trudy, and she nodded.

Cowboys, miners, and townspeople lined up for pie. Ethan noted that Kenton Smith and a couple of his men were among them. He could relax as long as they kept busy. If they started getting bored, things might heat up.

He strolled toward the fence that served as a hitching rail, where a dozen wagons stood and thirty or more horses and mules switched their tails at flies. Wouldn’t hurt to make sure nobody was poking around the wagons and sneaking flasks out of saddlebags. He greeted a couple of ranchers feeding their animals and ambled around the perimeter of the yard where others had hobbled their teams. Griffin and Parnell had cans of flour and were sprinkling it in a line across the road.

“You getting ready for the horse race?” Ethan asked.

“Yup.” Griffin frowned as he shook the can gently. “This is the starting and finishing line. They’ll ride into town, grab a flag from Ted Hire at the Nugget, and come back here. First one to cross the finish holding his flag wins.”

Ethan nodded. Sounded simple enough.

Goldie and Vashti had teamed with Myra and Florence to organize games for the schoolchildren. Ethan stood for a few minutes watching the girls hand out feed sacks for the sack race. Parents and cowboys alike mingled to cheer the youngsters on. Will Ingram collected the prize of a peppermint stick. Myra announced that for the next event, the children would divide into teams for an egg-and-spoon relay. Ethan walked on to the back of the schoolhouse. Behind the building, Trudy, Libby, and Starr had set up four targets, with the shooting range facing the open prairie and the distant mountains.

Trudy came to meet him in the knee-high grass. “Ethan, we can’t decide how to set up the divisions. We had planned to just let anyone enter who wanted to and not split up the contestants, but nearly thirty people have signed up. Some say we ought to separate the men and the ladies. But some of the ladies from the club want to try their skills against the men.”

“How many prizes do you have?”

“Three. The grand prize, a free dinner at the Spur & Saddle for second place, and a box of ammunition for third.”

Ethan nodded, thinking about the possibilities. “That Colt pistol for the grand prize is something. If I thought I had a chance, I’d enter myself.”

“Libby talked the town council into buying it wholesale out of the proceeds of the day. They decided it would be a good draw for the contests, and it seems as though it worked. It’s only two bits to enter, and it’s for a good cause.”

Ethan chuckled. “Well, in my case, it would be money thrown away, because I happen to know several ladies who can outshoot me. Probably a lot of the men can, too, but I don’t think I’ll stand up today and let the whole town know. If you need people who aren’t competing to be judges or help change the targets, I’m willing.”

“Thank you.”

Libby and Starr came to join them.

“So, what do you think, Sheriff?” Starr pointed to the four identical bull’s-eye targets they’d set up. “We decided that to be really fair, we’ll have to change the targets for each shooter.”

“It’s a good thing we brought the paper and paint,” Libby said. “Twelve more people have signed up since this morning. We’ve got Opal and Bitsy working on more targets.”

“They look good.” Ethan surveyed the shooting range. “Will you be ready on time?”

Trudy’s brow wrinkled. “I think so.”

“Some of the men were muttering at lunchtime,” Starr said. “They don’t think we should let the ladies compete against them.”

Libby waved one hand in dismissal. “What you mean is they don’t think we ought to make them compete against us ladies.”

Starr nodded with a smirk. “Guess you’re right. They’re afraid we’ll outshoot them.”

“And everybody will see,” Trudy said.

Ethan raised his hands palms up, smiling. “It’s up to you, but shooting’s one skill that doesn’t favor men or women, so far as I can see. Some have put in more practice than others, and there’s always folks who have a natural talent for it.”

“That’s right.” Starr scowled at Trudy. “Why shouldn’t we be allowed to go against them?”

“Well, uh …” Trudy glanced at Libby. “Sometimes men get all …”

“Humiliated?” Libby suggested.

“Well yes. We don’t want to embarrass the men that badly, do we?”

Starr let out a whoop. “Of course we do! We’ve been working for nigh on a year now to become good shots.”

“Yes, but our purpose was to protect our families and property, not to outdo our fellow citizens.” Libby arched her brows. The three ladies waited, obviously expecting Ethan to settle the matter.

“Well, if you have a first round where all the contestants shoot their rounds, then narrow it down for the next round … And if some of them are ladies, who can argue?”

Trudy nodded. “That’s the way we were figuring to do it. If we have thirty in the first round, then we can let the ten best move on to the second round, and three for the final. Or four if it’s close. We’ll use fresh targets for the final go. I think we’ll have enough.”

“We can circle their shots on the targets from the first round and reuse them in the second round,” Libby said.

Starr grinned. “Yes, and if some of them miss the target completely, we can certainly reuse those.”

“Oh my, you ladies don’t think much of the competition, do you?” Ethan laughed. “Are you all entering?”

“I don’t know as we should,” Trudy said. “We’re setting up the range, after all.”

“Ah, that’s nothing. I’d like to see you gals shoot. I think a lot of people would. Let us see the fruits of your hard labor.”

Trudy chewed her bottom lip. “Cyrus is entered.”

“Is he, now?” Ethan asked.

“Yes,” Starr said. “All those new cowpokes, too, and Augie and Griff and Doc Kincaid. Half the town’s going to shoot this afternoon.”

“Trudy, you have to enter.” Libby laid a hand on her friend’s sleeve, her blue eyes coaxing.

Trudy inhaled deeply and eyed the far targets. “I will if you will.”

“Done!” Libby hugged her.

“We’ll have to borrow a rifle.” Trudy seemed to have forgotten her hesitation. “This contest is for long guns.”

“You know I haven’t shot much with a rifle.” Libby frowned. “Hiram’s is the only one I’ve practiced with.”

“He’ll let us both use it.” Trudy turned eagerly to Ethan. “Do you know where he is? One of us will have to run home and get it.”

“I could ride into town on Scout. I’d be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Would you?” Trudy’s eyes lit, and he was glad he’d offered.

“Sure. I’ll find Hiram and speak to him first. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, no more, I promise.”

“Good,” Trudy said. “Libby and I will go sign up and pay our two bits each.”

“I wish we had time to get a few practice shots in.” Libby looked along the barrel of Hiram’s Sharps repeating rifle and squinted at the sights.

“You’ll do great,” Trudy said.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t handle like my pistol.” Libby lowered the rifle.

“Here comes Mayor Nash.” Trudy took the Sharps and rested it on her shoulder, pointing skyward. She and Libby walked toward the shooting line and met Peter just beyond it.

“Are you ladies all set?” He looked out over the range. “Looks good. Four shooters at a time?”

“That’s right,” Trudy said. “We have the list of names. And Sheriff Chapman has offered to help with the scoring and such. If he and Mrs. Runnels and Mrs. Walker handle it, we reckon it’ll be all right for the members of the Ladies’ Shooting Club to enter.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Hadn’t thought about it much, but I know my Florence wants to shoot.”

Myra hurried toward them waving a sheaf of papers. “Trudy! Look! More people have signed up. We have forty-two entries now.”

“That’s ten dollars and a half in entry fees.” Libby stared at the young woman. “I can hardly believe it.”

Myra laughed and handed her the papers. “You can believe it, all right. And eighteen of them are ladies.”

Trudy cleared her throat. “Mr. Mayor, we women would like to compete against the men. That is, we don’t want a separate division for the women.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

Peter threw back his head and laughed. “Oh yes, I think I do. Fine, ladies. When folks gather over here, I’ll announce it.”

Trudy nodded and scanned the papers. “For the first round, you can just read off the names four at a time, I guess. The judges will decide who moves on to the next round.”

“We’re setting up a table,” Peter said. “Mrs. Runnels and Mrs. Walker will let the contestants draw numbers for their shooting order.”

Libby nodded with approval. “That’s a good idea. Then no one can complain.”

Bitsy and Opal approached with Augie helping carry stacks of large paper targets.

“These things are barely dry,” Bitsy called, swishing along in her red bloomers, “but I think we’ve got plenty now.”

Libby grabbed Trudy’s arm and pulled her aside. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I really don’t want to intimidate the men. Some of them are our friends.”

Trudy frowned and placed her free hand on her hip. “Libby, if you don’t want to shoot, that’s fine. Just go cross your name off the list. But I’ve worked hard for the club, and I’ve taken a lot of grousing from the men of this town. I’m going to shoot today.”

Libby glanced toward where Hiram and Ethan were helping the mayor set up seats for the judges. “All right. I guess.” She bit her bottom lip. “Is your brother shooting?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Trudy shrugged. “Hiram hates to call attention to himself.”

“Well … so do I. And if Hiram can be modest, so can I.”

“Aw, Libby, no.”

She felt the annoying blush begin under her lacy collar. “I don’t think I want all those cowboys watching me shoot. And what if I miss completely?”

“Then you’ll be out after the first round, and no one will stare at you any longer. Come on, Libby. Please? You’re just nervous. Hi will be disappointed if you don’t do it.”

“You’re just saying that.” Libby couldn’t help sneaking a glance toward the cluster of men. Hiram met her gaze from twenty yards away and smiled gently.

“I’m serious. When he came back with Ethan, carrying this rifle, he said to me, ‘Libby’s going to give it a try, isn’t she?’ I told him you were, and he grinned like a little kid with a nickel in his pocket. He wants to see you shoot his rifle.”

“That’s silly.” Libby felt her face go a shade deeper.

“No, it’s not. He’s been more supportive of our club than anyone else in town. He wants to see us beat those men.”

Libby flicked another glance. Hiram was moving benches and didn’t see her this time. “I’ll lose.”

“So what? You’ll be the most beautiful contestant of the day.” Trudy turned toward the starting line. “Oh look! Bertha and Orissa have set up a table and are giving out the numbers. Let’s get ours.” She took Libby’s arm and propelled her toward the judges’ table.

“Hello, ladies.” Bertha’s wide frame dwarfed the chair the men had brought out from the schoolhouse. “Would you like to pick your numbers?”

“Yes, we would.” Trudy shot a hard glance at Libby. “Both of us.” She stuck her hand into the flour sack Orissa held. “Twenty-seven. Could be worse.”

“Hey.”

The soft voice in her ear sent tingles down Libby’s spine. She whirled and faced Hiram.

“You gonna shoot my Sharps?” he asked.

“Well …”

Hiram shoved his hat back and smiled. “It’s a sight I’m looking forward to.”

She swallowed down the lump in the back of her throat. “It seems so silly.”

He shook his head. “No. This town needs some good, wholesome entertainment now and then.”

Ethan stood beside him, smiling broadly. “It would be dishonest if you ladies didn’t shoot. You wouldn’t let some half-baked cowpoke take the prize, would you, when you could shoot circles around him?”

“Come on, Libby, pick your number.” Trudy’s blue gray eyes coaxed her. “Those cowboys that caused the trouble at Bitsy’s place are bragging how they’re going to win the pistol.”

Hiram’s eyes perfectly matched his sister’s and had a powerful effect on Libby. Sometimes she thought his eyes spoke when he kept quiet. But today he actually voiced his opinion. “You can do it. We all want to see you put those loudmouthed hands from the Martin ranch in their place.”

Her cheeks grew warm. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. Maybe Trudy could.”

Hiram nodded. “Sure. Let Trudy dig their grave with her shooting. Then you come along and push ‘em in.”

Libby had to laugh. “All right, I’ll take my turn. But I don’t expect to be in the final round.” She stepped forward, her pulse pounding. It still felt boastful to set herself up to shoot against half the men in town, but how could she refuse Hiram’s gentle prodding?

She thrust her hand into Orissa’s flour sack and pulled it out.

“Oh no.”

Hiram grinned. “Number one. You’ll show them how it’s done.”

She found herself smiling but blushing as she shook her head in protest.

A scant fifteen minutes later, Peter called, “Ladies and gentlemen, the first four contestants in our shooting match: Mrs. Elizabeth Adams, Miss Vashti Edwards, Mr. Augie Moore, and Mr. Arthur Tinen Jr.”

The four walked to the shooting line carrying their weapons. Everyone in town crowded the edges of the line. Libby shoved her bonnet off her forehead and let it fall down her back.

“You will fire five rounds at your targets,” Peter said. Stillness fell over the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on your marks. Get ready. Fire at will.”

Libby’s hands shook as she raised the Sharps. Hiram’s rifle. And he was watching. Three guns cracked, and she hadn’t fired with them. She inhaled and held her breath then pulled the trigger. She was sure she’d missed the target clean.

“Come on, Miz Adams!” Florence yelled from the side. Of course, Starr would root for Arthur, but the rest of the ladies would want Libby and Vashti to shine.

Then she heard it. Low and quiet, just before the others fired again, Hiram’s voice reached her.

“You can do it, Libby.”

She gritted her teeth and focused on the target.

“I’ll now announce the names of the ten shooters who will advance to the second round,” Peter shouted. “Let me say that it was a difficult choice.”

Ethan looked over at Ted Hire, who had joined him, Bertha, and Orissa in examining the targets and judging the scores.

“Really difficult,” Ted muttered. “Hope no one holds it against me.”

Ethan smiled. He scanned the crowd and located Trudy and Libby standing near the other club members who had entered the contest.

Peter coughed and held up the sheet of paper Orissa had delivered to him. “I’ll read the names in order of score, with the highest score first. These ten will start with a clean slate in round two. They are: Miss Gertrude Dooley.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Ethan grinned as the enthusiastic shooting club women surged around Trudy for hugs.

Peter waited for the rumble of voices to subside. “Second, Mr. Cyrus Fennel.”

Less ardent applause sounded.

“Mr. Augie Moore. And Mrs. Augie Moore.”

Everyone laughed and called their congratulations to Bitsy and her husband.

“Dr. James Kincaid.”

“Ooh, I knew it.” Rose squealed and catapulted into the doctor’s reluctant embrace.

“That’s five.” Peter paused, looking over the people. “Mrs. Arthur Tinen Jr.”

“Congratulations, Starr!” Her husband good-naturedly slapped her on the back.

“Mr. Ned Harmon.”

The stagecoach messenger grinned and accepted the praise of his friends.

“Miss Vashti Edwards.”

The saloon girl, lately become a waitress and dishwasher, hugged Bitsy, Goldie, and the other members of the club. Peter waited until everyone was quiet again.

“I have two more names. If you’re not among ‘em, I’m sorry. We’re going by where the lead hit the targets. So if you didn’t pass muster, why maybe you should go practice more often.” He nodded and looked down at the paper. “Mr. Wilfred Sterling.”

The young cowboy swaggered about, shaking hands with the other ranch hands.

“And the tenth person moving on to the next round …”

All eyes were on Peter.

“This person missed one shot completely, but the other four shots were good enough to secure her a place in the next round.”

The men exhaled, realizing a fifth woman had made the grade.

Peter smiled. “I’m happy to say it’s another of our town council members, Mrs. Elizabeth Adams.”