Page 25 of Love’s Silver Bullet

Which would not be Sheridan Donovan if Jake had anything to say about it.

And he did.

Whoops and hollers and gunshots peppered the air, signaling the main show had finally begun, and Jake expelled a giant sigh of relief as he and the ladies displayed their tickets for re-entrance. Road shows usually blew in and blew out like the wind, which was a darn good thing because those dandies were notorious for womanizing, hog-tying women’s hearts from town to town as often as they did steers.

Guiding the ladies to their seats, Jake felt his blood pressure returning to normal once again. “Well, next time, ladies, I’d appreciate you asking Blaze, Dash, or me to escort you, because with so many strangers in town, you can never trust men you don’t know.”

“And sometimes, not even those you do,” Sheridan said in a sweet tone over her shoulder, her insinuation blasting his face with fire.

Lips pinched, he worked hard to keep the grumpy Jake at bay, unwilling to give the little brat the dignity of a response. Oh, she could trust him all right.

To keep her sassy self out of trouble by putting as much distance as humanly possible between her and any want-to-be suitors that might look her way. Taking his seat at the end of the row, resolve hardened his bones as he focused on the show.

And I’m right at the top of the list.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“So, what do you think, Maggie?” Sheridan whispered, stomach skittering with anticipation like the corn pones Angus was frying in bacon drippings for Sheridan’s graduation barbecue. The heavenly smell floated in the air along with the scent of Aunt Libby’s roses while the two women descended the steps of the two-story log ranch house they all called home.

Tucked at the base of the Sierra Nevada mountains, Uncle Finn’s ranch house provided a majestic backdrop for miles of wood-slatted fence and meadows dotted with cattle, horses, and pines. Working her lower lip, Sheridan slid a sideways peek at her sister-in-law, so very grateful for their close friendship. “You think he’ll come?”

“Ha! Is the sky blue?” Maggie gave Sheridan a playful pinch, her hazel eyes gleaming more than the shiny gold horseshoes Blaze was pitching in a practice round with Shaylee. Not only to give his baby sister tips on how to throw before the game stated, but to practice himself as well in tossing with a cast on his wrist and palm. He’d gifted the horseshoes to Uncle Finn one Christmas, using nuggets of gold and silver he’d gleaned from her uncle’s mine to gold- and silver-plate a full set for Finn’s favorite game.

Sheridan grinned, gaze drinking in the sapphire sky kissed by occasional puffs of clouds. “It is, indeed, and I’m hoping and praying it stays that way till long after Mr. Morgan arrives.” She snuck a peek over her shoulder to where Uncle Finn, Libby and her parents all chatted in rocking chairs on the wrap-around porch. “Do you think Jake will even care?”

A low chuckle rolled from Maggie’s lips as she nodded to Dash and Jake. The two of them were sprawled in log-hewn lawn chairs beneath a wispy copse of quaking aspen, the trees’ delicate, heart-shaped leaves fluttering in a rare summer breeze. “Is Jake’s mood black?”

Sheridan sighed as she glanced Jake’s way, a rare scowl on his face while he and Dash watched Blaze finish up with Shaylee before the horseshoe tournament could begin.

Darker than a black angus bull seeing red.

She knew he didn’t want to be here because she’d overheard him arguing with Blaze in the barn a few days back, claiming he had too much training to do.

“Hang it all, Sully, it’s Sunday, and you need a blasted day off!” Blaze had been all but shouting as Sheridan approached the barn, so she’d quickly hid outside the door to avoid interrupting. “Besides, this is a family tournament, dog-gone-it, and you’re family whether you want to be or not. And if I can play with a pound of plaster of Paris on my dad-gum hand, you sure in the devil can, Sheridan or no. Besides, Shaylee needs a partner and you’re it, my friend. You’re one of the best at horseshoes, and poor Shaylee is one of the worst, so she needs you, Sul.”

“I suppose I should be grateful you’re making me partner with Shaylee instead of Sheridan,” he’d all but growled, his voice tinged with a frustrated edge that pierced Sheridan straight through.

“Yes, you should be, because I’ve honored both your request to take your suppers with the hands for a season and to find someone else to teach Sheridan to shoot, opting to do it myself once my hand heals.”

Sheridan’s lids had weighted closed, not really believing Jake had meant what he’d said about ending their lessons.

“You’re my best friend, Jake,” Blaze had continued, a note of desperation lacing his words, “and an important part of this family, so I refuse to let”—his voice hesitated as if he were trying to find the right word—“this … this thing between you and Sher destroy what we have.”

This thing. Moisture had stung the back of Sheridan’s lids. An inconvenience. A regret. A denial of all that was meant to be.

A loud and cumbersome sigh drifted out the barn door, and Sheridan had no doubt it had come from Jake. “All right, Blaze,” Jake finally said, his consent quiet, but his unwillingness loud and clear. “You win.”

And I lost. Swiping the wetness from her eyes, Sheridan had quickly made her way back to the house, heart cramping in her chest.

“Sher? Are you all right?” Maggie’s question jolted her back from her unwelcome reverie, melancholy stealing her good mood as her gaze shifted from the unhappy look on Jake’s face to the look of concern on Maggie’s.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said with a square of her shoulders, chin rising in challenge, “at least a whole lot better than Jake will be after Mr. Morgan arrives.” A smile wrapped around her sigh. “If Mr. Morgan arrives.”

“Oh, he’ll be here,” Maggie said with the utmost confidence, peeking down at the watch pinned to her bodice before she gave Sheridan a squeeze. “Any minute now, as a matter of fact. And if Jake cares at all—which based on what you told me, sure seems like he does—I’d say Mr. Clay Morgan should sufficiently rattle Jake’s spurs whether your uncle says yes or not.” Maggie’s smile took a slant as she huffed out a heavy sigh. “Which is probably as likely as snow in July.”

Or Jake talking to me, Sheridan mused, thinking snow in July would be a whole lot warmer than Jake had been to her of late. Her thoughts drifted to Clay Morgan, and some of the sting of Jake’s rejection eased somewhat because after all, Clay was a mighty attractive man …

Dash stretched in the chair with an exaggerated yawn. “You two done practicing yet? I’d like to be young enough to still hurl a horseshoe.”