Page 31 of The Widow and the Wanted

He steps to my side now instead of behind me, close enough that our sleeves brush.

“Deep breath,” he says. “Ready?”

I nod. My throat feels tight. The Colt has grown heavier in my hands.

“Try not to get knocked back on your ass, half-pint,” Boone says.

I tighten my grip and plant my feet.

“Boone the buffoon,” I reply, waggling my hips just enough to taunt. I catch his slack-jawed stare from the corner of my eye and am wickedly pleased with myself.

“Mean little thing.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Okee says.

I draw in a breath. Cold air bites my lungs. The world narrows to the front sight, the can dulled by winter light, the faint tremor in my arms.

Four clicks.

I let my breath ease out and hold.

The shot cracks sharp and clean.

The can jumps from the rail, spinning into the snow.

For one proud heartbeat, I can only stare. Smoke curls thin from the muzzle. My ears ring. Everything beyond the gunshot feels far away.

Then the sound finds the place in me where the other shots still live.

I am back in the yard with screams splitting the dark. Back with my cheek in the dirt. Christ, how it stung with cold and cruelty both. Back with blood hot under my palm and my own breath buried so deep inside me I thought it might never come loose. The air. Forced from my lungs.

Run.

Run!

For heaven’s sake, woman, crawl if that’s all you can muster!

The Colt hangs heavy in my trembling hands.

My fingers forget their shape around it.

“Lula?”

Okee says my name sharply enough to cut through the ringing. The barrel dips. He lunges, closing his hand over mine as he turns the pistol toward the snow.

“Mind where you point that.”

The words are plain. Almost stern. It stops me cold.

I blink hard. The fence rail swims back into place. Snow. Cottonwoods. Boone standing near the cans, his grin gone slack at the edges.

“Are you all right?” Okee asks. Eyebrows drawn together, concern settles into the crease between them.

My heart is still racing when I finally manage, “I hit it.”

“You did,” Okee says.

My laugh tries to come and catches in my chest. “Then why can’t I breathe?”