Page 51 of Love’s Silver Bullet

Kathy Jean hooked an arm to Sheridan’s waist, sympathy lacing her tone. “No, Sher, but I think Sophia may be right”—a pucker popped at the bridge of her friend’s nose —“it may be Clay’s advances that strike the match to singe Jake’s temper.”

“Not ‘may’—will,” Sophia stressed with a dip of her head, black eyes glinting with assurance.

Sheridan glanced from Sophia’s confident gaze to Kathy Jean’s apologetic smile and back, finally huffing out a sigh of surrender. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with you both, especially since the sensible one”—she gave a nod over her shoulder toward Kathy Jean—“is in agreement.” A tiny shiver rippled through her body. “Although I do worry you’re rubbing off on her, Sophia Lopez, instead of the other way around, just like your sister is rubbing off on you.”

“Ay, caramba! One can only hope,” Sophia said with a dramatic pose, palms pressed in prayer as she fixed her gaze on the heavens.

By the time the girls reached the front of the tent city, it was three minutes before nine, allowing Sheridan a final moment of panic where she considered a sprint in the opposite direction. Or ducking behind one of half a dozen wagons in front, where men were unloading supplies.

“Ah, right on time!” Clay Morgan grinned as he strode toward them from the inner sanctum of the arena, where a blur of cowboys and Indians galloped in the main ring amid clouds of dust. “I like that in a person,” he said, halting before her and her friends while her stomach flapped more than the American flag on a pole at the top of the tent. He glanced at the watch in his pocket and grinned, giving Sheridan a wink. “Or early, actually, which I like even better, given the company. Right this way, ladies.”

Pressing a casual palm to the small of Sheridan’s back, he took the lead while Sophia and Kathy Jean followed, all of them goggle-eyed as Clay highlighted points of interest and occasionally made introductions.

Sheridan’s jaw ached from falling open! She and the girls were gob-smacked at the enormity of the production, with cast and staff numbering almost five hundred according to Clay, all living in wall tents festooned with flags. “Twenty-five cowboys, a dozen cowgirls, and one hundred Indian men, women, and children were all fed three hot meals a day cooked on twenty-foot-long ranges,” he explained with a look of pride in his eyes, “and we generate our own electricity and even staff our own fire department.”

Yes, Sheridan had seen the show on the day it opened, of course. But even so, she wasn’t prepared for the amount of equipment, animals, people, vehicles, and staging needed for acts such as the bison hunt, train robbery, Indian war battle reenactment, and the grand finale—an Indian attack on a burning cabin. She shivered at the memory, which had appeared all too real, with war cries and flames of fire violating the starry sky before Buffalo Bill and his cowboys road in to the rescue.

“That’s an inside glimpse of the inner workings of our show, so how about a behind-the-scenes demonstration few people ever get to see?” Clay nodded to a young cowboy, who strolled forward with a wide grin. “Chet Randall here is one of our show-stoppers, ladies, and he’s going to escort Sophia and Kathy Jean to a private practice for none other than Miss Annie Oakley herself while I teach Sheridan to shoot.”

A collective gasp rose from all three girls who stared with mouths agape, the news managing to leave even Sophia speechless.

Clay paused, surveying them with a twinkle in his eyes. “Unless, of course, you’d rather not?”

“No!” Kathy Jean managed to squeak out, “we definitely want to!”

“Ay, caramba,” Sophia muttered with a quick sign of the cross, Annie Oakley being one of the women she admired most in the world.

“Good!” Clay clapped his hands together, causing Sheridan’s stomach to jump. Sweet Mother of Mercy—if he could do that with a clap of his hands, what could he do with his lips? “Chet, I want you to take good care of Sophia and Kathy Jean here,” he said with a nod at both of the girls before laying a hand on Sheridan’s shoulder, “because they’re good friends of my student here, all right?”

“Yes, sir. Shall we go, ladies?” Extending an arm to each, Chet shot a wink at both girls that instantly put a blush on Kathy Jean’s face and a smile on Sophia’s.

Sheridan gulped as Chet ushered them away.

And panic on hers.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Arms clutched to her waist, Sheridan watched them go, almost wishing she could leave with them. She startled when Clay gently tugged her arm to face him.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, Sheridan,” he said with a kind smile, as if he could see the skitters in her stomach. “Guns are safe as long as you know how to handle them.”

A lump bobbed in her throat as she peered up, reminded all over again how handsome he was. But will I be able to “handle” you?

“Did you bring your derringer?” he asked, offering his arm to guide her to the entrance they just came in.

“No, not today.” She balked, eyes spanning wide. “Wait—where are we going?”

He patted her arm with a reassuring smile while he hiked a thumb over his shoulder toward the main center ring. “I’m taking you to the shooting range set up behind the tents since practice is going on inside the arena, and we don’t want to get run over. Same place as Chet took the girls, actually, only we’ll be shooting on the opposite end away from Annie and the crowd she always draws so we won’t be distracted, all right?”

She gave a shaky nod as she snuck a peek up at Clay while he continued to point things out on their way around the tent, thinking he might possibly be even better looking than Jake and her brothers. Won’t be distracted? She gulped. Not likely.

“Okay,” he said as he led her to a nearly deserted side of the tent. Only a young boy in his early teens waited near a makeshift table of plywood on sawhorses with several rifles and pistols on top. “I’ve got a selection of firearms here that I thought might be easiest for you, Sheridan.” Slipping his coat off, he laid it neatly across the table and pulled a coin from his pocket, flipping it to the boy, who caught it handily. “There you go, Jimmy—thanks for keeping an eye on things.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Clay. Anytime.” He loped away with a wave, causing Sheridan’s heart to hammer double time.

She glanced around, hoping to see other people while he selected a rifle from the table, but although she heard shots from a distance, she and Clay seemed completely alone.

Her attention jolted back when she heard the cock of a gun while he inspected the chamber to make sure it was empty. Closing it again, he waved her over. “Okay, Sheridan, this is a Remington 76 and one of Annie’s favorites, so she recommended it for you.” He winked. “And it happens to be Teddy Roosevelt’s favorite too.”