Page 63 of Return to Satterthwaite Court

She lowered the rifle, handing it back to Kate with a bashful smile. “It shouldn’t count for as much as a shot from farther away.

“I propose that Heywood make up the difference,” Jack said. “He can consider it a handicap.”

“Fair enough,” Charles said.

Jack went next. Positioning himself at an angle, he aimed and fired down the length of the wall, striking three of the pine cones at once. “Ha ha!” he crowed. “Top that, Ivo!”

“You know I can’t,” Ivo said sourly.

“You can try.” Jack reloaded his rifle and passed it to his brother.

Squinting at the nearest pine cone, Ivo pointed and squeezed the trigger. When the smoke cleared, his pine cone remained standing.

Jack burst out laughing.

Ivo scowled. “Had I known we’d be shooting today, I’d have brought my spectacles.”

“The loser’s lament,” Jack said. “‘If only I’d worn my specs, Jack wouldn’t have won.'”

“Jack hasn’t won,” Ivo retorted. He looked to Charles. “I’m counting on you to humble him Heywood.”

“Two and twenty yards,” Jack reminded Charles. “That’s Kate’s twelve plus Miss Heywood’s ten.”

Charles glanced at the cottage, frowning.

Kate at once grasped his dilemma. “It’s impossible from here,” she said. “Unless you take your shot from inside the house.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Charles turned back to the wall. He looked past it, focusing on the woods that loomed in the distance. “How far would you say that pine tree is?”

Kate came to stand beside him. She followed his gaze. “Good Lord! That’s easily more than forty yards. Surely you’re not proposing to hit it?”

“No,” Charles raised his rifle. He pointed the muzzle toward the single remaining pine cone that was nestled, almost invisibly, in the tree’s branches. “I’m proposing to hit that.”

Her eyes widened as he took aim and fired. His shot struck the pine cone, sending it flying out of the branch.

Ivo, Jack, and Hannah converged upon Charles in an excited rush.

Kate stared up at him in wonder, all but forgetting her own sense of competition in the face of such extraordinary skill. “How—?”

“Practice,” he said simply, lowering his weapon.

“Bollocks.” Jack slapped Charles on the back. “That, my friend, is God-given talent.”

“He can do it with both hands,” Hannah informed them proudly. “Can’t you, Charles?”

Charles gave Kate a lopsided smile. “Would you like to see it?”

Kate’s heart raced. Competence was a powerful allurement. But this level of mastery quite took her breath away. “Oh yes. What shall you aim at next?”

“You choose,” he said.

“What about that icicle?” It hung from the same tree on a branch high above the ground. “That’s not too difficult, is it?”

In answer, Charles reloaded his rifle. Taking it in his opposite hand, he sighted the icicle and fired. The icicle shattered into the snow.

Kate clapped wildly as her brothers cheered, the smoke from the rifle billowing around them.

Charles set down his weapon. “With that, I respectfully withdraw from competition.”