CHAPTER 25

Hiram was so proud he thought he might need a bigger hat. His own little sister had outshot the whole town in the first round. That hadn’t shocked him, but Libby—lovely, fine-boned, soft-spoken Libby—had also made the final ten.

True, she’d just squeaked into the elite ranks, but it was enough.

The saloon girls in their satin gowns and the ranchers’ wives in cotton dresses milled about the five women who’d qualified, squeezing them and kissing their cheeks. Hiram stayed clear for a good ten minutes. It was only when Peter gave the call for the first four of the ten to come forward and shoot again that he edged close to Libby.

“Good shooting.”

She spun and looked into his face, her china blue eyes dancing. “Thank you.”

He nodded, still looking into those fascinating eyes. Her cheeks already bore a becoming flush. A few strands of her golden hair had escaped her bun and cascaded down along her smooth neck.

He inhaled slowly. “Mighty good.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes widened suddenly, as though she realized she’d repeated herself. “Oh. I—”

They stood for a moment, gazing at each other.

“Fire at will,” Peter shouted, and four rifles cracked.

Libby leaned toward Hiram. “I froze up at first.”

He nodded. “Take your time. Remember all the things you’ve practiced. That’s a good gun. It’ll be kind to you if you keep steady.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, Trudy’s shooting.”

They both turned and stood, shoulder to shoulder, watching the contestants fire off the rest of their rounds.

When all the shooters rested their gunstocks on the ground, Ethan and Ted went to gather in the targets and replace them with new ones.

“The next four will shoot now.” Peter called the names.

“Looks like you’ll shoot last, against that cowboy.” Hiram frowned as he looked at her.

“It’s all right,” Libby said. “I know I won’t make the final. I’ll just do my best and be done with it.”

“Well, I’m proud of you.”

“Are you?”

Her tone nearly knocked him over. Was Libby flirting with him? He smiled without meaning to. “Oh yes I am.”

It seemed as though she’d leaned a little closer, and her shoulder touched his arm as they watched Doc, Starr, Ned, and Vashti prepare to fire.

Hiram reached up with his free hand and settled his hat so that the brim shaded his eyes a little better. Then he stood perfectly still, feeling the warmth of Libby’s arm through the cotton sleeve of his shirt and watching the contest.

All too soon it was Libby’s turn to shoot against Sterling.

“Good luck,” Hiram said as Trudy handed her the rifle.

Libby looked up at him and nodded before she strode to the line.

Hiram glanced at Trudy. “How’d you do?”

“Don’t know yet.”

He nodded, but he knew. Even from a distance, he’d seen how close her second group lay on the target. She must know it, too, but she wouldn’t say so. He sent up a silent prayer for Libby, that she wouldn’t be nervous.

“Hey, Wilfred,” one of Kenton Smith’s men shouted, “you can’t get beat by a woman. Let’s see some good shootin’.”

“Don’t worry,” Sterling replied. “I ain’t never been whupped by anything in skirts, and I don’t intend to commence now.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the scores in this round are very close, so we’ll have four people advancing.”

Libby held her breath. To her surprise, she wanted to be in that final group.

Peter consulted his notes and called out, “Those shooting in our final round will be Miss Gertrude Dooley, Mrs. Elizabeth Adams, Mr. Wilfred Sterling, and Dr. James Kincaid.”

Libby clapped her hands to her face. Trudy patted her back, laughing.

“Congratulations! I knew you could do it.”

“Unbelievable,” Libby whispered.

“The finalists will have a few more minutes to prepare while we change the targets,” the mayor said.

Ethan was busy setting up the final targets, but Hiram hovered at his sister’s side.

“Can I get you ladies a drink of lemonade before the next round?”

Trudy smiled at him and leaned on the rifle with the stock on the ground. “Thanks. That would be nice.”

He hurried off before Libby could even fathom his offer.

“I’m so nervous.”

“Just take your time with each shot, but don’t overthink it,” Trudy said.

Libby wondered how she could do both. The other women clustered around them.

“Miss Trudy, I’m so proud of you.” Goldie hugged Trudy, and Vashti moved in on Libby.

“You did great, Miz Adams.”

Bitsy, Starr, Jessie, Florence, and half a dozen other women surrounded them, giving advice and wishing them luck.

“Pardon, ladies.” Hiram’s quiet voice was enough to part the waters, and a path opened for him. He handed a tin cup of lemonade to Libby and another to Trudy.

“Thank you,” Libby murmured.

“Miss Dooley, do you want me to check your gun and make sure it’s ready?” Vashti asked.

Trudy’s eyes widened. “How can we both shoot in the same round? We’re using the same rifle.”

Bitsy put an arm across her shoulders. “There, now, dearie, don’t fret. One of you can use Augie’s rifle.”

Trudy’s face cleared. “Thank you, Bitsy. I’ll use it, and Libby can take this one.” She held the Sharps out to Libby.

“Oh no. I wouldn’t think of taking your gun. I’ll accept Bitsy’s offer.”

“But you’ve never shot any other rifle,” Trudy said.

Libby shook her head adamantly. “You’re the best shot in Fergus, and we women all know it. It would be tragic if you lost because you had to shoot the final round with a gun you weren’t acquainted with. It won’t matter if I do poorly, but you’ve led this whole contest. I insist.” She reached to take the Winchester Augie had brought over.

“Oh now—”

“Hush, Trudy.” Libby glared at her. “I’m putting my foot down on this. You’re representing all of us.”

“She’s right,” Starr said. “We all want to see you win, Trudy.”

“We need to see you win,” Goldie added.

Bitsy pushed the Sharps back against Trudy’s chest. “Libby will be fine with Augie’s gun. Don’t you let that nasty cowboy take the prize, now, will ya?”

Peter Nash stood on the bench near the judges’ table. “Will the finalists please take their places?”

Trudy squared her shoulders. “If you really feel that way …”

“We do.” Libby hugged her, rifle and all. “I’m tickled to be standing up there with you. Now, do us proud.”

Dr. Kincaid and Sterling already waited at the shooting line. Libby and Trudy carried their weapons over and stood beside them.

“Everyone satisfied with his or her target?” Peter asked. Libby, Trudy, and the doctor nodded.

Sterling squinted down the range. “I had an end target last time.”

“By all means, switch with me, sir.” Libby sidled around him to stand between the two men.

Peter looked them all over. “Anyone object to the new positions?”

“Fine with me,” Trudy said.

The others nodded.

“Then get ready.” Peter paused while they took their shooting stances and raised their rifles.

“Fire at will.”

Libby squeezed off her five rounds quickly. The smoke hung thick around them, putting a bitter taste on her tongue. The others finished shooting.

“Check your weapons for safety, please,” Peter said.

Libby opened the breach on Augie’s gun and made sure no cartridges were left in the chamber or the magazine.

“The judges will now inspect the targets.”

Ethan, Ted, and Orissa walked across the field. Tension hung over the crowd, along with the dissipating smoke. Libby walked slowly over to Bitsy and Augie and held out the gun.

“Thank you very much.”

“My pleasure.” Augie accepted the Winchester and held it in his beefy hands.

Libby sensed someone close behind her. She looked over her shoulder. Hiram and Trudy had followed her. Hiram smiled reassuringly. Trudy kept her eyes on the field and sucked her bottom lip.

“I’m not sure about my third shot,” she muttered.

Everyone watched the three judges walk from one target to another. At last, Ethan detached them from the stands, and they ambled back toward Peter, talking in low tones.

With the mayor, the judges formed a huddle.

Griff Bane came to stand near the Dooleys and Libby.

“Ethan will give you first place no matter what.”

Trudy whirled. Her eyes shot daggers at him. “You take that back.”

Hiram stared up into the blacksmith’s dark eyes. “You know Ethan wouldn’t throw the match. He’s an honest man.”

Griffin smiled. “Reckon he is. I was just teasing, but your sister’s got a feisty temper, ain’t she?”

Peter climbed up on the bench again. His smile drooped a little.

“Folks, it’s hot, and we’re all eager to get the horse race started, but the judges have decided we need one last round. Miss Gertrude Dooley and Dr. James Kincaid will shoot again if they’re willing, to determine the winner. Oh, and third place goes to Mrs. Elizabeth Adams.”

Libby staggered. She felt as though one of Oscar’s freighting mules had kicked her. Hiram reached and took her elbow.

“You all right, Miz Adams?”

She managed to breathe. “I … I think so.”

The next few minutes blurred into a noisy clutch of women hugging, patting, and congratulating her. From the corner of her eye, Libby saw Wilfred Sterling stalk off toward the hitching rail.

“Hey, you won the box of cartridges.” Goldie grinned at her.

“I guess I did. I’d rather have won the free dinner.”

Hiram caught her eye. Libby had never seen him smile so thoroughly. With his long sorrow lifted momentarily from his shoulders, he looked as handsome and debonair as the doctor. Or even handsomer.

“Will the finalists please step forward.”

Trudy and Dr. Kincaid went to the line.

“Come on, Trudy,” Myra Harper called. “Make us proud.”

“May the best man win,” Micah Landry shouted. His wife elbowed him.

Rose, who had shared her box lunch with the doctor, stood at the edge of the crowd, breathlessly waving a lacy handkerchief.

“On your mark,” Peter called.

Trudy and Doc squared up, facing the targets.

“Get ready.”

They raised their rifles.

“Fire at will.”

The ten shots rang out quickly, and the crowd exhaled. The contestants broke their rifles open, and Ethan and Orissa again made the trek to the targets. Bertha, who carried extra weight, sat at the judges’ table fanning herself; and Ted had headed back into town to set up the flags for the horse race. Ethan and Orissa fetched the targets back to Bertha and laid them out on the table. All three judges leaned over them and consulted for a moment. Ethan straightened and walked over to Peter, who hadn’t bothered to climb down from his perch.

The mayor held up both hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, the judges are unanimous. The best shot in Fergus, and the winner of the Colt pistol, is Miss Gertrude Dooley.”

The women and most of the men erupted in cheers. A few sore losers shot off disparaging remarks and went in search of lemonade or something stronger. Ellie carried the wooden box with the prize to Peter, and he called Trudy over.

“Miss Dooley, it gives me great pleasure to present you with this pistol. Congratulations. I know you’ll use it well.”

Trudy’s scarlet face beamed as she accepted the prize.

“She deserves it,” Libby said.

Hiram nodded. “She’s never had a gun of her own. She was hankering to win that, but she never said so. This means a lot to her.”

Libby’s insides warmed, and not just from the sun. She was glad she’d chosen the latest Colt model when the council had told her to pick out a pistol for the prize, and glad Trudy had won it. She hadn’t thought of how the young woman always used her brother’s rifle. But Trudy gave generously of her time to help other women learn to shoot safely and accurately. She’d fired nearly every gun in town as part of her aid to her brother’s business or the shooting club, but she’d never had her own weapon.

Trudy hurried to them amid the applause. She held out the box, and Hiram steadied it while she lifted the cover. Her face settled into lines of deep satisfaction, and she sighed.

“It’s a beaut, isn’t it?”

Hiram held the box and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You did fine today.”

Libby squeezed Trudy’s shoulders. “You surely did.” The day seemed nearly perfect. Her pleasure at having come in third in the contest increased when she saw Trudy’s delight and her friends clustering around her. But perhaps the one element that tipped her toward giddiness was Hiram’s subtle attention throughout the day.

People crowded around Trudy and Dr. Kincaid, offering their felicitations. Isabel, Rose, Myra, and the saloon girls gathered so thickly about the doctor that all Libby could see was his gleaming blond hair as he bent to receive their praise. Truthfully, the man was well-favored, but she couldn’t see that he was any handsomer than …

She felt her cheeks flush once more as she looked toward Hiram and caught his smile again. Was the shy gunsmith coming out of his mournful shell at last?